Chapter 3 Chapter 1 Calm

People called him Curate Moshe, like he never had a last name.In the Hasidic mystic prayer room, he did everything, a handyman.Segat is a small town in Faya, Transylvania, where I spent my childhood.The locals love Mao Shi, who is poor and has nothing.People in our town often help the poor, but don't like them, and curate Reverend Mush is not one of them.He lives alone and does not cause trouble to others.He has mastered an art of making himself insignificant and unobtrusive. He had the clumsiness of a clown, and people laughed at the slovenliness and shyness of his appearance.I like his big dreamy eyes, he often stares into the distance.He seldom speaks, he sings, no, it should be hummed.I could hear, in fragmentary, unclear lyrics, that he was humming about the Passion of the Gods and the exile of Shekina, who, according to the mystical teachings, awaited redemption, and his redemption was bound up with the redemption of man.

I met him in 1941, when I was less than thirteen years old, I carefully observed the religious rules, studied the Talmud during the day, and often went to the church at night to cry bitterly over the destruction of the temple. One day, I asked my father to help me find a master to guide me in learning the mystical teachings. "You are too young. Maimonides said that a person under thirty cannot venture into the world of mysticism. That world is full of dangers. You should learn the basics first, the ones you can understand." My father was a cultured man, seldom emotional, even to his own family, and cared more for the welfare of others than his own.The Jewish residents of Segat respected him very much, and he was often consulted on public issues, and sometimes even on private matters.There are four of us, Hilda is the eldest, Bea is the second, I am the third and only boy, and the younger is Zipolo.

My parents opened a store.Hilda and Bea helped in the shop; as for me, my place was in the study, so they said. "There are no occultists in Segat," my father used to say to me. He wanted me to completely dispel the idea of ​​learning the mystical teachings, but I still found a master, and he was Assistant Pastor Moshi. One evening, I was praying, and he was watching. "Why do you keep crying when you pray?" he asked, as if he knew me well. "I don't know." I replied, also confused. I've never asked myself that question.I cry because... because I feel an inner need to cry.That's all.

"Why do you pray?" he asked again after a while. why i prayThis question is so weird.why am i alivewhy do i breathe "I don't know," I said to him, growing more confused and more uncomfortable, "I don't know." From that day on, I saw him often.He explained earnestly that all questions have a power that disappears as soon as they are answered... He likes to say that a dialogue is a real dialogue when man approaches God by asking God questions.Man asks, God answers.But we cannot comprehend God's answer, it is impossible to comprehend.Because the answer is hidden deep in our hearts, and it will be there until death.The real answer, Eliza, can only be found in your heart.

"So, Mosh, why are you praying?" I asked. "I pray to the God in me to give me the courage to ask questions, to ask God real questions." We talked like this every night after the devout people left the church.We sat in the half-darkness save for a few half-burned candles flickering and flickering. One night, I told him that I was depressed because I couldn't find a master in Segat who could teach me the Great Light, which is a classic of Jewish mysticism, the mystery of mysteries.He smiled deeply, and after a long silence he said: "The garden of mystic truths has a thousand and one doors. Every man has his own door. He cannot make a mistake, nor can he hope to enter the garden through someone else's door. If a man enters the garden by mistake, If you open the door, you will not only be in danger, but also endanger the people in the garden."

The assistant pastor Moshe, the poorest man in Segat, talked to me for hours about the revelations and mysteries of the Jewish occult.This is my introductory class.We recite the same passage of the "Great Light Sutra" together, not to keep it firmly in our hearts, but to explore the essence of the gods. As many nights passed, I came to believe that Assistant Pastor Mosh could help me enter eternity, into a time and place where questions and answers are one. The following day, all foreign Jews were deported, and Moshi was a foreigner. They were weeping silently as the Hungarian police packed them into cattle cars.We stood on the platform of the train station and wept too.The train disappeared beyond the skyline, leaving only a cloud of filthy smoke.

Someone sighed behind my back: "Can you count on anything? This is war..." The deportees are quickly forgotten.A few days after their departure there were rumors that they were working in Galicia, and that they were even content with their lot. Days passed, weeks passed, months passed.Things are back to normal, and a calm, reassuring wind has come to our hometown.Shopkeepers are doing business as usual, students are busy reading, and children are playing on the street. One day, as I was going into the church, I saw the assistant pastor, Moshe, sitting on the bench by the door. He told me what happened to him and his companions.The train full of exiles crossed the Hungarian border and was seized by the Gestapo as soon as it entered Poland.The train stopped, and they ordered the Jews to get off and onto waiting trucks.The truck drove into a forest, and then everyone was forced out of the vehicle and they were forced to dig several deep ditches.When the work was done, the Gestapo moved in.They forced the Jews to go to the ditch one by one, and then shot the prisoners calmly and calmly, and the prisoners could only be killed by their necks.Babies were thrown into the air and made machine gun targets.The killing took place in the Galician forest, not far from Crome.How, then, was the assistant pastor, Mosh, able to escape death?It can only be called a miracle - he was shot in the leg and fell among the dead...

Day and night, he went door to door and told the Jews about his experience. He said that Malka had been struggling for three days in the dying state, and that the tailor Toby begged the Gestapo to kill him and let his three children go. Mao Shi has changed, the happy eyes are gone, he no longer sings, no longer mentions God and mystical teachings, and only talks about things he has seen with his own eyes.But no one believed his story, or even listened to him.Some said he was full of hallucinations, just trying to win the pity of others.Others nonchalantly said he was crazy. But Maosh was weeping and begging.

"Jews, listen to me! I don't want money, I don't want pity, just listen to me. Listen to me!" he kept shouting in the church between vespers and vespers. Even I don't trust him anymore.I often sat next to him after religious services and listened to his stories, trying to figure out why he was so sad.But I can only pity him. "They all thought I was crazy," he whispered, tears welling up in his eyes like wax beads. Once I asked him: "Why do you have to believe everyone? If I were you, I wouldn't care if others believe it or not..." He closed his eyes as if to escape from time.

"You don't understand," he said in despair, "you can't understand. I miraculously saved my life and managed to escape. Where did I get the strength? I'm going back to Segat to tell everyone that I died Come back, I want everyone to hurry up and prepare to escape. Life? I don’t care whether I am dead or alive. I am very lonely, and I came back to warn everyone. But, no one listens to me..." It was the end of 1942. Later, everything returned to normal.We listened to the London radio every night, and it brought exciting news: Germany and Stalingrad were being bombed every day, and a second front was being opened.The Jews of Segat are waiting for a better day, and it won't be long before that day is sure to come.

I continued to bury my head in reading.Study the Talmud during the day and the mystical teachings at night.My father continued to run the business and run things in the community.My grandpa is here, ready to celebrate New Year's Eve with us, and to attend the religious ceremony presided over by the famous Rabbi Bosh.Mother was thinking about how to find a good match for Hilda. Thus passed 1943. In the spring of 1944, exciting news came from the Russian front.There is no doubt that the Germans are going to collapse, it is only a matter of time, which may be weeks or months. Thousands of trees are verdant and flowers are blooming.This year is no different from previous years. With the arrival of spring, people talk about marriage and have children. People said: "The Red Army is making strides... Hitler can't hurt us anymore, even if he wanted to..." Yes, we even wonder if he really made up his mind to exterminate us. Destroy an entire nation!This nation is scattered in so many countries!Millions of people!By what means?This is the middle of the twentieth century! The older ones discussed all sorts of issues—strategy, diplomacy, politics, Zionism—just not thinking about their own fate. Even the curate, Mosh, was silent.He got bored and stopped talking.He wandered the church or the street, hunched over, with downcast eyes, avoiding other people's eyes. At that time, people could also buy immigration permits and move to Palestine.I begged my father to sell everything, liquidate everything, and leave. "I'm too old, boy," he replied, "too old to start again. Too old to start over in a far country..." Budapest radio announces that a fascist party has seized power; regent Nikolos Hosse is forced to ask the former Nazi leader of the Niles party to form a new government. However, we are still carefree.Of course we've heard of fascism, but it's abstract.For us, it simply means a change of government. The news the next day was heartbreaking.The government allowed German troops to enter Hungary. People are finally getting worried.My friend Maus Chaim Berkowitz, who came back from the capital for Passover, told us: "Jews in Budapest live in panic and fear. There is anti-Semitism in the streets, on the trains, everywhere. , the fascists attacked Jewish shops and churches, the situation is very serious..." The news spread like wildfire through Segat and quickly became the talk of the town.But it didn't take long for optimism to prevail again.The Germans will not travel so far, they will be stranded in Budapest for strategic and political reasons... Three days later, German army vehicles appeared on our streets. Sad!German soldiers with steel helmets and skull badges arrive. However, the Germans gave us a good first impression.Officers were arranged to live in private mansions and even in Jewish homes.They are inseparable from their masters and are gentle and courteous.They did not embarrass everyone, did not curse, and sometimes smiled at the hostess. Kahn's house was just across the street from ours, and a German officer was placed in his house.The officer was said to be charming, quiet, agreeable, and well-mannered.He moved in three days later and gave Mrs. Kahn a box of chocolates.The optimists cheered up: "Well? What did we say? You don't believe it. Here they are, and these are your Germans! What is there to say now? Have they done anything notorious?" The Germans live in our town, the Fascists are in power, the public has passed its judgment—the Jews of Segat are still smiling.