Меня зовут Эльдар Эльдано.
Переводчик, писатель, автор книги и репортер-колумнист.
Я начал писать, когда понял, что лист бумаги всегда выслушает тебя до конца, а не бросил, потому, что эти исписанные листы стали интересны другим.
Рассказ “Еврейский Сюртук\Jewish coat“
My Sunday started with thoughts about how to appease Rabi?
I was very tormented by the question I wanted to ask him, and, therefore, to get an answer to it at least I had to visit Rabbi! Where do without it?
Dealing with Rabi mentally still didn’t work.
Now if you come to him there certainly you will not dodge steely glance.
Even not so steely just slightly disapproving.
And it would be okay if I went to him for a glass of water, but I had to go for advice.
But no one wants that the person ,who gives you an important advice, was set up strictly to you and even more accusing.
And now, walking down the main street of the shtetl, or as some people say “a Jewish community – my face expressed concern and modesty.
By the way Jews towns are rarely called Jewish towns!
For them, the towns are not Jewish, these are THEIR towns, so – shtetls.
Only non Jew can tell to another non Jew that the shtetls are Jewish
But no, all logic is broken, I’m sorry God, such a mother, but there were the Jews under the sun,who said “Jewish Town” and not the Shtetl, and it was impossible to hide head from them.
Yes, of course, I have something to feel shame at. If I visit Rabbi how can I appease him.
As for the life of community I participate in it too little. Weekly section of the Torah wasn’t learned.By the way last week I didn’t learn too such as the week before.
Moreover, I do not remember when I was here to learn it.
But the worst thing that Rabbi-remembers exactly when and what I learned last time.
And the question is how to cajole him?
The vile feeling of shame almost got the best of my thoughts, and my feet nearly turned my body for one hundred eighty degrees, when suddenly I saw that I came close to high, quality Rabbi’s house of our community.
His name was Rav Moshe Ackermann, however, everyone just called him Rabbi.
You know, when in your shtetle there is only one street , one synagogue or one sun above a head, you don’t specify the kind of synagogue or sun.
So it was with Rabbi, who was called Rabbi and who for sure was the sun of our community and was shining it with rays of his great wisdom.
His house was large, noble ,wooden, as if it was woven from sturdy wooden beams.
Since childhood I had the feeling that Rabbi sees and knows everything.
Of course with age, the idea that there are things that Rabi might not notice, too, have crossed my mind, but I with a worried face came to his house, stood for a moment, and then left – Rabi could not notice at all desire.
It was clear that to come to him now it was better than to go home.
Besides, I really needed advice. Advice, which I am sure could affect my future.
Walking up the stairs, I meekly knocked.
The door opened a minute later, and Rabi’s wife – Rachel appeared in the doorway.
– And, Efi! How are you? How is your mom? – The voice of this woman was mellow and youthful, despite her age.
– Thank not bad! Is Rabi at home?
– Where would he go? – She said with a smile. – Trying on new lapserdak.
She suddenly moved to my ear and whispered:
– Lapserdak is very good and you like it! Do you understand?
– Yes, of course! – I quickly realized what was happening, and decided that a hidden coalition with the better half Rabbi Ackerman will not hurt me.
I took a step towards the comfortable living room.
Four armchairs, two of which are placed in different corners and two standing at the table.
Big chest of drawers, next to the same old sideboard on which stood a menorah.
The walls are decorated with old and very beautiful paintings.
One of them was painted a portrait of an old man in a black lapserdak with gray peyyot and surprisingly piercing eyes, but so that they seem to mixed all the wisdom of the Jewish people in an equal proportion with his own sadness.
Everyone who visited the house of Rabbi Ackerman knew that this painting shows his father.
On one wall I suddenly saw a new painting.
It was a picture of the situation, as if lit from within idyllic tranquility. Two religious Jews were sitting at a table and played chess.
Apparently, one of them the owner of the house, and next to his friend.
At their feet the kid ran and plays with a cat. The cat was a large white and fluffy.
On the painting cat curiously looking at a ball of yarn lying at the feet of the mistress of the house. She sat in a comfortable chair and something to knit, tightly holding the spokes of old hands.
I obviously liked the painting, looking at it I did not notice that, going out the bedroom, Ruby appeared in the room.
Ruby seemed remarkably similar to his father’s attention who was staring at me from the painting. Except that his peyyot were not gray, despite their age.
It was quite high – over six feet – man with piercing brown eyes, perfect deportment and stubborn chin.
If not lapserdak and peyyot, but when viewed from a distance, it might seem that a kind of highest military rank of General Skobelev’s times.
In front of me he appeared in a perfectly new lapserdak and his disaffected face, I immediately understood what now will be discussed.
– Oh Efi! Shalom, dear!
Actually, my name is Ephraim, and only my mother calls me Efi. Rather, I like to think that only she calls me . In fact, it is also a Rabbi and his wife, and a half of the shtetl.
– What do you think about my coat? – Rabi continued to look at me closely and I could see in his mind emerges the exact date of my last appearance in the synagogue.”