The Romantic Messiah

Sabbatai still did not seem to understand the cause of all the commontion.

It was then that Rabbi Eliezer, the old Kabbnalist, appeared on the thre-shold. Those in the congregation who did not know how to judge Sabbatai’s sacrilege greeted him with joy. Rabbi Eliezer disxliked confusion.

“Come! What has happened?” he asked, ignoring the beadle’s recriminations.

“Rabbi Eliezer, that man has passed the night in the tabernacle. He has uttered the Name of God aloud!”

“What? He opened the tabernacle? Uttered the Name of God? Who is the man?

Surrounded by the crowd, the Rabbi moved forward.

“Sabbatai Zevy. Sabbatai,” repeated the headle, as with short steps he walked before the Rabbi.

But the Rabbi had already reached the alter. Sheltering his eyes with his hands, he looked at his pupil. Then he stepped back, as the truth of the story bore in upon him.

“You, you, Sabbatai?” he cried. “You have done this, you? You profaned the sanctity of the tabernacle ! You uttered aloud the Sacred Name ! You, Sabbatai, my son!”

In the growing light of the synagogue one could observe the strange, child like expression of pain spreading over the face of the Rabbi, deepening the dark lines of his face and making his large bloodless lips tremble.

The words of the Kabbalist broght Sabbatai to a realization of the issue. The congregation and with them his beloved teacher were outraged at the sacrilege he had committed. But had he committed sacrilege? No! And he felt buoyant with the thought that he could explain to everyone, but particularly to Rabbi Eliezer, all had passed.

“Why do you remain silent, Sabbatai?” went on the old man reproachfully, as he held out his short, weak hands. “Answer. Is it true?”

At this moment Primo and Pinheiro entered the synagogue. They at once felt the imminence of a great event, and it filled them with both jubilance and fear. Pinheiro pushed his way through the crowd and stood beside the alter, undaunted, vibrant, already deeply excited. He fixed his eyes upon sabbatai and seemed joined to Fim by some magnetic force. He burned and trembled with an emotion similar to that of the man his flery soul had long ago selected.

“It is true, Rabbi,” the ecstatic and sweet voice of Sabbatai and solemnity. “The truth! All night I have been close to God, and at dawn,

“Rabbi Eliezer,” he said to the old Kabbalist, who was dumb with honor, “Rabbi Eliezer, do you hear his steps upon the mountain, His steps behind the door?”

“I hear the ravings of a madman,” shouted the old man in a harsh, hysterical voice. “I hear a lunatic who has polluted the sanctuary of the holy Torah, an audacious heretic!”

Until then the crowd had wavered in indecision, but seeing the frief of Rabbi Eliezer, their gathering emotions broke into fury.

“Down form the alter” they clamored. “Down from the alter! Madman! Blasphemer! Down from the altar!”

From all corners of the now crowded synagogue cries of renzy, wrath, and hatred were hurled at Sabbatai. A few Jews with raised fists flung themselves upon the young man.

“Profane not hte temple!” commanded Rabbi Eliezer. “Do not touch him! And you, Sabbatai Zevy, depart from this holy place. Heap burning ashes upon your head, and in the dust of the market place repent, repent with tears and groans.”

His voice rose with renewed danger.

“What was he dreaming of? He, a guttersnipe, a dunce, to demand blessings of God! He, to demand belssings of God! he, to demand, to compel! And because he has no time to wait. And who then are you?”

A teerible cry rose from the latar “Rabbi!”

His face flaming with holy wrath, Moses Pinheiro hurled himself upon the old Kabbalist.

“Do not dare insult the Messiah!” he cried. “Do not dare insult the Messiah of Israel, the messanger of God! Return to your senses, Rabbi!”

He seized Eliezer’s hand, and in a frenzy of despair, implored him.

“Rabbi, he is the Messiah, the true Messiah! Rabbi, Rabbi!”

Stirred by the unexpected violence of Pinheiro’s agony, by the words he uttered, and even by his cry, “Mesiah!”, the crowd trembled.

Pale with emotion, Sabbatai, standing beside the altar, truned sharply on Pinheiro as if to restrain him. But meeting the imporihng and fearful eyes of Samuel Primo, he read within them that now no retreat was possible.

Slowly turning away from the crowd he hid his face in the curtain of the tabernacle. But at that moment something more startling than Pinheiro’s outburst occurred. Swaying slightly, Rabbi Eliezer was suddenly seized with a fit of ague. Then throwing back his head he burst into deep and raucus langhter. So unbearable was the laughter the crowd remained spechless.

“The MEssiah!”

The word burst from Rabbi Eliezer’s throat like an oath.

“He, the messiah! He, O Jews! He, the Messia!”

The Kabbalist choked. His laughter had become a cry of passionate anger.

“The Messiah! The son of an egg merchant! A boy who has swallowed a few drops of Kabbala! So he is the Messiah of the Jews! The messenger of our All Powerful God Sabaoth! Mandman!”

He pushed Pinheiro roughly aside, and raising his arms to Heaven continued in an impassioned voice:

“The true Messiah of Israel will rise like the sun over Jerusalem! The brightness of his glory will dim the splendor of all earthly kings. he will come clothed i gold and purple, like Solomon, and with psalms upon his lips like King David.”

Sabbatai turned abruptly upon the crownd. He was no longer the same man. The schollboy, wretched and ashemed before the wrath of his teacher, had disappeared. for noew he stood, proud and dominating, him self the Master. He raised his head, spread out his armes, and in the light of dawn which poured in through the window, he cried:

“No, old Rabbi, guardian of a withered vine, no! Not in garments of purple will the Messiah of Israel appear. In the darkness of these days, int the shadow of men’s hearts will he be clothed. Wormwood he adorn himself with gold when the tears of his he sang songs of joy, would the sadness of Israel respond to them? O my people! You have wept too plentifully to become drunk with music, you have fasted too long to find happiness in wine. But have you not suffered enough to beieve? O people of Israel, my beloved, my chosen people. Awake! Believe! Learn! The hour has sounded and the time has come! Allelluia! Alleluia!”

Sabbatai flung out his arms in ecstasy. Eliezer, overcome, moved slowly back from the altar. It would have neen difficult to dicide whether fear or scorn possessed him. With howed head he moved toward his coner, muttering to himself.

The crowd had forgotten him. It was carried away, hypnotized, by Sabbai’s words, his faith, his voice. A confused uproar filled the synagogue.

There were cries of welcome and indignation” “Alleluia!” “Blasphemer!”

An hysterical sob rose above the noise and silenced the mob for an instant. Pinheiro, standing upon the bimeh, opposite the latar, was praying passionately.

“Belessed be the Lord, my God. who giveth me the happiness this day to see his Messiah. Belssed be the Lord.”

“Blessed be the Lord, our God!” repeated a scattering of voices in the synagogue. To be continued tomorrow