The Romantic Messiah

Prayers mingled with cries of anger. The excitement and tumult grew. One Jew struck his adversary across the chest. There was a general struggle.

Suddenly everyone’s attention was attracted toward the altar where Sabbatai stood. Rabbi Khaim the dockhand, known by all as a silent, learned, and meditative Kabbalist, had prostrated himself before Sabbatai upon the steps of the altar and exborted him passionately:

“Thy people hath thirsted for Thy coming as in the Egyptian desert they thirsted for fresh water. Go among Thy people ! The men of little faith will be silenced and the light will shine. Go among Thy people!”

The crowd silently awaited an answer. Sabbatai bent down, raised him, and laid his hands in blessing upon Khaim’s head. Then his voice rose, tender and slow:

“The hour has not yet sounded for the struggle, Khaim. The seed has been planted; it will take root.”

He closed the tabernacle and drew the curtain together. Having kissed the altar, he descended slowly. Tranguil and radiant he made his way to the door.

The Jews drew back as he passed, some with reverence, some with fear, others uneasily. Pinheiro, Primo, the members of their group, and many new friends Sabbatai had not known before, followed him.

When the door closed upon him, Rabbi Eliezer wept unrestrainedly. And those who had come to pray slowly put on their tallith, went to their places, and with desperate hearts supplicated God to indicate to them which guide they should follow, Eliezer or Sabbatai Zevy.

They did not yet know and their soulds were troubled.

When Mordecai Zevy heard what had happened in the synagogue, he shrugged his shoulders and smiled sourly.

“I have always expected trouble from Sabbatai”, he said. “But what is there to do about it ? He is not norman. Has he not covered me with enough shame by leaving his wife and wasting his time in taverns? It is God’s punishment.”

Mordecai was afraid that the incident would harm his business. But to his great surprise, people began to treat him with respect. Rare were those who avoided him. The old pious Jewish women showed a marked preference for his stall. And yet no one spoke to him about his son.

The subject was not one that could be treated lightly.

Rabbi Eliezer found powerful support among the Rabbis, the official agents of law and order, and among a few influential people of the community. On the other side a small group of active and enthusianstic young men supported Sabbatai. They condemned the old Kabbalist and heaped sarcasm upon the Rabbis, whom they called eunuchs of truth, timid slaves of the Sultan.

The majority of the population-kabbalists, students, common people, artisans and merchants-preferred to remain silent. Those who knew Sabbatai or had heard of him before, doubted, in spite of themselves, the infallibility of Rabbi Eliezer’s blunt judgment upon him.

“There is someting sacred about Sabbatai,” they said, “and the times are such that it is not safe to rely altogether on one’s own judgment.”

And yet the struggle between the two factions subsided for various reasons.

In Rabbi Eliezer’s camp utter confusion reigned, and though it was scrupulously hidden from the would, it paralyzed all his attempts at action. Indeed, one day the old Kabbalist, surrounded in his house by an assemblage of friends, was storming against Sabbatai, accusing him of being a young profligate and a dangerous charlatan into the bargain, when suddenly the earth shook, the walls of the house recled, and the old man was hurled from his chair. The friends about him were also thrown off their feet.

The shock lasted only a second, but Rabbi Eliezer remined stretched upo the ground for a long time, afraid to rise.

The meeting broke up, every one went away full of remorse and uneasiness. Although earthquakes were common in Smyrna, the shock, coming at the precise moment when he was abusing Sabbatai, troubled Rabbi Eliezer in spite of himself. In the depths of his soul he began to doubt his wisdom and to ask himself if this were not a sign of warning. From that moment Sabbatai’s name was no longer mentioned by the group.

But the friends of the young man also kept silent, for a few days after the great event, all Sabbatai’s intimates, Pingeiro, Primo, Khaim and all the others, had left town for unknown destinations. Sabbatai had also departed. His partisans then remembered that, after all, Sabbatai had said nothing about a mission, and that he had not announced himself as the Mesiah. Pinheiro, followed by Khaim, has alone acclaimed him.

As for Sabbatai, he had held his peace. He had merely not denied them. That was all. He had not restrained Pinheiro and he had blesed Khaim as one of the Appointed. I would have meant much if Sabbatai has remained in Snyrna, but it meant little now that he had left the city without a parting message to his friends.

The authoristies learned that the son of the merchant Mordecai Zevy, named Sabbatai, without any definite trade, known as a frequenter of taverns and for his beautiful voice, had publicly incited the people in the synagogue to insurrection against the Commander of the Faithful.

The governor called in the Cadi and ordered him at all cost to find the son of the egg merchant and bring him to court.

The Cadi called his subordinate and passed over to him the mission he had from the Kaimakam.

The subordinate promised his chief to execute the matter personally. But, scixed with a fit of laziness, he called in his scribe and told him that the Sultan of Adrianople had sent orders to arrest the Smyrna vagabond, Sabbati Zevy.

The scribe assured him that he knew Mordecai’s house and that he would find his son. The Cadi’s subordinate added that without doubt the young man would not be found at his father’s house. He should look for him in the synagogues. But, in the name of Allah, it was impossible for him to enter the temples. It was not decent for a Mussulman to do so, and besides, the Jews would receive it as an insult to their religion. The scribe would have to ask someone of Sabbatai’s faith to look for him in the synagogue and tell him the Cadi wished to see him.

As the cribe knew all this quite as well as his master, he listened impatiently.

He prepared to go, but his chief retained him.

“It may be that the man is not in the synagogue, and so you will have to overcome your laziness and go to two or three taverns. You will ask for the young Jew who sings the song of the Sultan’s daughter. he is well known. And if he is not in the cafes, visit his father to see if he has not returned home. You must tell Mordecai that it is a serious matter, an express command from the Sultan of Adrianople. By the way, my greetings to Mordecai, and pick me out a few nice chickens from his hen house. All right You can take a horse. It is quite a long way. I almost forgot to tell you that you may have to look along the seashore, too. The young man often wanders there with friends as lazy as himself. That’s all.”

The scribe, a Turk who was short and well preserved in fat, raised his hand to his stomach, to his turban, and smiled slyly at his chief. Painfully he mounted a small Arab horse which carred him at a slow pace through the crooked streets of Smyrna. Sabbatai was neither in the synagogue nor in the taverns.

To be continued tomorrow