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Authors: Taylor Caldwell
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own colloquy, but Aristo doubted that they were singing their evening prayers as young Saul had once asserted. Yet, it was a pretty thought, and poesy should be encouraged in the young.
Saul followed the prayers of his father and Reb Isaac, raising his resolute boy’s voice in response. It seemed to him that a vast crystal trumpet had lifted itself to the listening heavens, sparkling in immensity, all its facets charged with a blinding light, and from it came sonorous sound as if the earth and men had come together in one Hosannah of towering music, in salutation, in praise, in thanksgiving.
Chapter 3
I DO NOT understand this matter of alms and charity,” said Aristo the Greek to Saul. “Certainly, Socrates recommended it but it was an astonishing thought to his countrymen and was hardly taken with seriousness. We Greeks understand justice. Aristotle loved the square, for it to him represented perfect justice, equal and balanced with all other sides.” Aristo chuckled. “The Romans love dice, too, but for an entirely different reason, and they are no philosophers.
“But let us consider alms. Mercy, though you Jews do not credit it, was not invented by you. We highly approve of mercy. I can quote you a dozen of our philosophers who esteemed it. But reckless alms, or even prudent ones, as a duty, is not to be understood. Yesterday, you gave your last drachma to a beggar near the gate of the synagogue, and he was repulsive to the eye and distinctly offensive to the nose. You gave it, I observed, with no open sadness and sympathy.”
“I have told you before,” said Saul, with all the exasperation of a youth of fourteen years. “We are commanded to give alms, and tithes. It is a holy command. It is indeed a duty. What if the object of our charity, our alms, is repulsive, perhaps even detestable? That is not to influence us.”
“In short,” said Aristo, “you give because it is a command of your God, and not because you feel sorrow for the object of your alms?”
Saul’s red thick eyebrows drew together in a scowl. Aristo had the vexing ability to drive home a point, like a cunning nettle’s sting. The youth hesitated. “I know my father gives with pity, and Reb Isaac with a blessing. If I feel no response to the beggar, it is my hardness of heart, or my youth which time will repair. In the meanwhile I obey. But that you would not comprehend, my teacher.”
Aristo considered and slowly shook his head. “It has not occurred to you, of course, that charity can destroy the receiver? If a man knew he could not beg bread and a copper for wine, he would work for it, would he not?”
“That, too, is of no importance,”
“You give because it endows you with a feeling of virtue?”
Saul almost shouted with his exasperation. “You refuse to understand!”
“I am only interested.” Aristo grinned, his lively lips spreading almost from ear to ear. “You know, of course, that in Rome, in the middle of their abominable Tiber, there is an island with a hospital upon it, for slaves and the very poor who cannot afford a physician. You know, of course, that we Greeks have hostels for the homeless and the sick, and that our great medical university in Alexandria cares for thousands every year. But it is not guilt which inspires us to aid the infirm and the despairing.” He laughed a little.
“Guilt?” cried Saul.
“Have you not told me so on many occasions, Saul ben Hillel?”
“Again you do not understand.” Saul’s eyes were snapping with angry blue fire. “You have the capacity to infuriate me, Aristo, and you do it with calculated deliberateness. Yet I have explained over and over. The guilt refers to our fallen race, to Adam and Eve—”
Aristo nodded, “We, too, have such a story. But it refers to the Flood, which is an historical event. One perfect couple survived. But they did not breed another race from their own bodies. The gods, taking pity on their lonely state, and listening to their
Saul followed the prayers of his father and Reb Isaac, raising his resolute boy’s voice in response. It seemed to him that a vast crystal trumpet had lifted itself to the listening heavens, sparkling in immensity, all its facets charged with a blinding light, and from it came sonorous sound as if the earth and men had come together in one Hosannah of towering music, in salutation, in praise, in thanksgiving.
Chapter 3
I DO NOT understand this matter of alms and charity,” said Aristo the Greek to Saul. “Certainly, Socrates recommended it but it was an astonishing thought to his countrymen and was hardly taken with seriousness. We Greeks understand justice. Aristotle loved the square, for it to him represented perfect justice, equal and balanced with all other sides.” Aristo chuckled. “The Romans love dice, too, but for an entirely different reason, and they are no philosophers.
“But let us consider alms. Mercy, though you Jews do not credit it, was not invented by you. We highly approve of mercy. I can quote you a dozen of our philosophers who esteemed it. But reckless alms, or even prudent ones, as a duty, is not to be understood. Yesterday, you gave your last drachma to a beggar near the gate of the synagogue, and he was repulsive to the eye and distinctly offensive to the nose. You gave it, I observed, with no open sadness and sympathy.”
“I have told you before,” said Saul, with all the exasperation of a youth of fourteen years. “We are commanded to give alms, and tithes. It is a holy command. It is indeed a duty. What if the object of our charity, our alms, is repulsive, perhaps even detestable? That is not to influence us.”
“In short,” said Aristo, “you give because it is a command of your God, and not because you feel sorrow for the object of your alms?”
Saul’s red thick eyebrows drew together in a scowl. Aristo had the vexing ability to drive home a point, like a cunning nettle’s sting. The youth hesitated. “I know my father gives with pity, and Reb Isaac with a blessing. If I feel no response to the beggar, it is my hardness of heart, or my youth which time will repair. In the meanwhile I obey. But that you would not comprehend, my teacher.”
Aristo considered and slowly shook his head. “It has not occurred to you, of course, that charity can destroy the receiver? If a man knew he could not beg bread and a copper for wine, he would work for it, would he not?”
“That, too, is of no importance,”
“You give because it endows you with a feeling of virtue?”
Saul almost shouted with his exasperation. “You refuse to understand!”
“I am only interested.” Aristo grinned, his lively lips spreading almost from ear to ear. “You know, of course, that in Rome, in the middle of their abominable Tiber, there is an island with a hospital upon it, for slaves and the very poor who cannot afford a physician. You know, of course, that we Greeks have hostels for the homeless and the sick, and that our great medical university in Alexandria cares for thousands every year. But it is not guilt which inspires us to aid the infirm and the despairing.” He laughed a little.
“Guilt?” cried Saul.
“Have you not told me so on many occasions, Saul ben Hillel?”
“Again you do not understand.” Saul’s eyes were snapping with angry blue fire. “You have the capacity to infuriate me, Aristo, and you do it with calculated deliberateness. Yet I have explained over and over. The guilt refers to our fallen race, to Adam and Eve—”
Aristo nodded, “We, too, have such a story. But it refers to the Flood, which is an historical event. One perfect couple survived. But they did not breed another race from their own bodies. The gods, taking pity on their lonely state, and listening to their
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