Über die Autorin bzw. den Autor

Isaac Bashevis Singer (1904-91) was the author of many novels, stories, and children's books. His books include The Slave and Gimpel the Fool and Other Stories. He received the Nobel Prize in Literature in 1978.

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More Stories from My Father's Court

Farrar Straus Giroux

Chapter One

CHAIM THE LOCKSMITH

* * *

Although everyone called him Chaim the locksmith, he wasactually what we here in America call a plumber. He repairedwater pipes, especially clogged toilet lines, a frequent problemin our street.

    Chaim was a man of middling height, strong and broad-shouldered,with a face brown as bronze and a beard to match.His clothes seemed to be dusted with rust. Although he was stillyoung, his face had the lines and wrinkles of a laboring manwho does not spare himself. Summer and winter he wore a shortjacket and high boots. He always carried pipes, hammers, files,pliers, and odd pieces of iron. Even his voice had a metallictwang. On Sabbath, Chaim the locksmith prayed in our apartmentand ate the Third Sabbath Meal with us. Sometimes,while drinking a tumbler of brandy, he would shake my hand.His hand was hard as iron.

    Aside from fixing toilets, Chaim was summoned whereverthere was trouble: a fire, a collapsed ceiling, a stuck door, a brokenoven. He was the only one who didn't mind getting smearedwith ashes and soot. He burdened himself with other oneroustasks as well. In addition to being part of the group that prayedin our apartment, Chaim belonged to the Sleepover Volunteers,whose members would spend nights with the sick. After a hardday's work, Chaim was sent to care for people suffering fromtyphus or delirium who needed the help of a strong man. Godhad blessed Chaim with strength, and with it he served God.When people begged Chaim not to exhaust himself, he wouldshrug his shoulders and reply, "If you're given broad shoulders,you must bear the burden."

    Chaim the locksmith had a few daughters; his youngestchild was a boy about nine or ten years older than I, namedZanvel. Chaim's love for his only son was boundless. I neverheard him speak of anything but the boy: Zanvel can alreadyread syllables, Zanvel has just started the Five Books of Moses,Zanvel has begun studying Gemara. Chaim had already decidedthat Zanvel must be a scholar and become a rabbi. WheneverChaim visited us he would say, "My Zanvele will be arabbi."

    "God willing," Father replied.

    "I just want to live to see one thing?my Zanvele decidingrabbinic questions."

    This wasn't merely a wish; it was the only hope on whichChaim the locksmith's efforts were focused. He sent Zanvel tostudy with the best teachers; early on, he dressed him in Hasidicclothing. Chaim paid a young Hasid to watch over him, studywith him, and discuss Torah and Hasidic rebbes with him.Zanvel displayed a love of learning; yet with his fair skin, blueeyes, and blond sidecurls, he resembled his mother, not hisfather. With his thin, high-pitched voice, it was hard to believethat he was Chaim's son.

    Chaim brought Zanvel to Father for an oral examination eachSabbath. Mother would offer him fruit, and as Zanvel sat with us,wearing a cap and a belted satin gaberdine, Father would discussHasidic matters with him. A bit farther away sat the locksmith,his face shining with an otherworldly joy. His bronzed faceseemed to melt with pleasure, and the eyes beneath his bushybrows were filled with light. Perhaps such was the happiness ofthe Jews at Mount Sinai when God revealed Himself amid fire.

    When Chaim's wife complained that he paid scant attentionto his daughters, he would defend himself by saying, Don't Ilove the girls? He loved them more than his own life. But afterall, girls cannot study Torah. They run around in the courtyardand are interested only in clothing, trifles, and nonsense. Howcould Chaim compare the joy the girls gave him with that ofZanvel? Zanvel sat over a Talmud and his little voice echoedthroughout the courtyard. In the study house respectable Jewscame and discussed a bit of Gemara with him. One hundredyears from now Zanvel would recite the Kaddish after Chaim'sdeath. And what's more, Zanvel was weak and gentle, a silkenlad. The girls resembled him, Chaim.

    Indeed, it was true. The girls had brown faces, thick braids,high chests. They sang plaintive songs about the Titanic andabout various love affairs. On Sabbaths they cracked pumpkinseeds at the gate of the apartment house and secretly went to themovies. So how could they be compared to little Zanvel?

    Just yesterday Zanvel was a cheder lad?and now he wasalready on the threshold of young adulthood. He studied Torahwith my father and attended Talmud lectures given by somehead of a yeshiva. He was awarded a nickel-plated watch for hismastery of fifty pages of Talmud. This was the time whenyeshiva students strayed from the straight and narrow path,reading newspapers and perusing forbidden secular books. Inour house we feared for Zanvel. Everyone knew that if Zanvelstumbled, the heart of that strong Jew, Chaim the locksmith,would burst like an overfilled balloon. Chaim would have beenable to withstand any blow, except a tragedy involving Zanvel.

    But, thank God, Zanvel did not go down the crooked path. Hecraved studying, swayed during prayers, and in time also went tosee a Hasidic rebbe. One day, Chaim the locksmith came to usand declared, "My Zanvel is in Gur ... at the rebbe's court."

    And he humbly bent his head as if silently wondering, Whyam I worthy of such joy? Do I deserve it? It's unbelievable ...incredible!

    When the First World War began and Zanvel had to reportto the draft board, it was a catastrophe for Chaim the locksmith.If Zanvel was sent to the barracks and to the front, all his planswould be ruined. Chaim wandered around distraught, his faceno longer brown but black as a chimney sweep's. Some suggestedthat Zanvel should injure himself just enough to makehim unfit for military service. But Chaim couldn't bear the ideathat Zanvel would somehow be disfigured. In his mind Zanvelwas like a Temple sacrifice which had to be absolutely withoutblemish.

    After a while Chaim the locksmith decided to place Zanvelin hiding instead. He found a garret where Zanvel sat and studiedfor days on end. He did not set foot on the street, lest he beasked for identity papers. Chaim the locksmith himself watchedout for an inspector who might enter the courtyard. Chaim wascareful, his wife was careful, his daughters were careful. Theentire courtyard was on the alert. In the meantime, Zanvel satsurrounded by books and studied. He drank tea, swayed,hummed some melody, and ate the food his mother broughthim.

    Then Warsaw was beset by inflation and Chaim the locksmithhad little work. The poor people of the neighborhoodcould no longer afford to have their toilets fixed. But Chaim'smeager income provided soups and grits and fresh little rolls forhis little Zanvel. For under no circumstances should a youngman sitting in a prisonlike setting and studying Torah suffer anywant.

    When the Germans entered Warsaw, Zanvel no longer had tohide from the gentile authorities. He was free to come and go ashe pleased, and Chaim the locksmith made a banquet. By nowZanvel had a little blond beard; he had straightened up, developeda long neck, sunken cheeks, and a pointy Adam's apple,which bobbed up and down his throat. He already spoke with arabbinic...