Part 62 (1/2)

”Again, it is a question of the point of view taken. From a practical, our ceremonialism is a training in self-conquest, while it links the generations 'bound each to each by natural piety,' and unifies our atoms dispersed to the four corners of the earth as nothing else could. From a theoretical, it is but an extension of the principle I tried to show you. Eating, drinking, every act of life is holy, is sanctified by some relation to heaven. We will not arbitrarily divorce some portions of life from religion, and say these are of the world, the flesh, or the devil, any more than we will save up our religion for Sundays. There is no devil, no original sin, no need of salvation from it, no need of a mediator. Every Jew is in as direct relation with G.o.d as the Chief Rabbi. Christianity is an historical failure--its counsels of perfection, its command to turn the other cheek--a farce. When a modern spiritual genius, a Tolstoi, repeats it, all Christendom laughs, as at a new freak of insanity. All practical, honorable men are Jews at heart.

Judaism has never tampered with human dignity, nor perverted the moral consciousness. Our housekeeper, a Christian, once said to my sifter Addie, 'I'm so glad to see you do so much charity, Miss; _I_ need not, because I'm saved already.' Judaism is the true 'religion of humanity.'

It does not seek to make men and women angels before their time. Our marriage service blesses the King of the Universe, who has created 'joy and gladness, bridegroom and bride, mirth and exultation, pleasure and delight, love, brotherhood, peace and fellows.h.i.+p.'”

”It is all very beautiful in theory,” said Esther. ”But so is Christianity, which is also not to be charged with its historical caricatures, nor with its superiority to average human nature. As for the doctrine of original sin, it is the one thing that the science of heredity has demonstrated, with a difference. But do not be alarmed, I do not call myself a Christian because I see some relation between the dogmas of Christianity and the truths of experience, nor even because”--here she smiled, wistfully--”I should like to believe in Jesus. But you are less logical. When you said there was no devil, I felt sure I was right; that you belong to the modern schools, who get rid of all the old beliefs but cannot give up the old names. You know, as well as I do, that, take away the belief in h.e.l.l, a real old-fas.h.i.+oned h.e.l.l of fire and brimstone, even such Judaism as survives would freeze to death without that genial warmth.”

”I know nothing of the kind,” he said, ”and I am in no sense a modern. I am (to adopt a phrase which is, to me, tautologous) an orthodox Jew.”

Esther smiled. ”Forgive my smiling,” she said. ”I am thinking of the orthodox Jews I used to know, who used to bind their phylacteries on their arms and foreheads every morning.”

”I bind my phylacteries on my arm and forehead every morning,” he said, simply.

”What!” gasped Esther. ”You an Oxford man!”

”Yes,” he said, gravely. ”Is it so astonis.h.i.+ng to you?”

”Yes, it is. You are the first educated Jew I have ever met who believed in that sort of thing.”

”Nonsense?” he said, inquiringly. ”There are hundreds like me.”

She shook her head.

”There's the Rev. Joseph Strelitski. I suppose _he_ does, but then he's paid for it.”

”Oh, why will you sneer at Strelitski?” he said, pained. ”He has a n.o.ble soul. It is to the privilege of his conversation that I owe my best understanding of Judaism.”

”Ah, I was wondering why the old arguments sounded so different, so much more convincing, from your lips,” murmured Esther. ”Now I know; because he wears a white tie. That sets up all my bristles of contradiction when he opens his mouth.”

”But I wear a white tie, too,” said Raphael, his smile broadening in sympathy with the slow response on the girl's serious face.

”That's not a trade-mark,” she protested. ”But forgive me; I didn't know Strelitski was a friend of yours. I won't say a word against him any more. His sermons really are above the average, and he strives more than the others to make Judaism more spiritual.”

”More spiritual!” he repeated, the pained expression returning. ”Why, the very theory of Judaism has always been the spiritualization of the material.”

”And the practice of Judaism has always been the materialization of the spiritual,” she answered.

He pondered the saying thoughtfully, his face growing sadder.

”You have lived among your books,” Esther went on. ”I have lived among the brutal facts. I was born in the Ghetto, and when you talk of the mission of Israel, silent sardonic laughter goes through me as I think of the squalor and the misery.”

”G.o.d works through human suffering; his ways are large,” said Raphael, almost in a whisper.

”And wasteful,” said Esther. ”Spare me clerical plat.i.tudes a la Strelitski. I have seen so much.”

”And suffered much?” he asked gently.

She nodded scarce perceptibly. ”Oh, if you only knew my life!”

”Tell it me,” he said. His voice was soft and caressing. His frank soul seemed to pierce through all conventionalities, and to go straight to hers.

”I cannot, not now,” she murmured. ”There is so much to tell.”