Read Online Schreiber's Secret by Roger Radford - Free Book Online Page A

Anyway, Brisk was also the destination of the salesmen. The rabbi left the train and he was immediately surrounded by admirers welcoming him and shaking his hand.
    “‘Who is this man?’ asked the salesmen who had spoken to him. ‘You don’t know him? You don’t know the famous rabbi of Brisk?’ The salesman’s heart sank. He had not realized whom he had offended. He quickly went over to the rabbi to ask forgiveness. The rabbi declined. In his hotel room, the salesman could find no peace. He went to the rabbi’s house and was admitted to his study. ‘Rabbi,’ he said, ‘I am not a rich man. I have, however, savings of three hundred rubles. I will give them to you for charity if you will forgive me.’ The rabbi’s answer was brief: ‘No.’
    “The salesman’s anxiety was unbearable. He went to the synagogue to seek solace. When he shared his anxiety with some people in the synagogue, they were deeply surprised. How could their rabbi, so gentle a person, be so unforgiving? Their advice was for him to speak to the rabbi’s eldest son and to tell him of the surprising attitude taken by his father.
    “When the rabbi’s son heard the story, he could not understand his father’s obstinacy. Seeing the anxiety of the man, he promised to discuss the matter with his father. As you know, it is not proper, according to Jewish law, for a son to criticize his father directly. So the son entered his father’s study and began a general discussion about Jewish law and in time turned the conversation to the laws of forgiveness. The son mentioned the name of the man who was so anxious. The rabbi of Brisk said, ‘I cannot forgive him. He did not know who I was. He offended what he thought was a common man. Let the salesman go to him and beseech forgiveness.’”
    Sonntag paused for a moment, as if waiting for a sign that his guest fully understood the implications of the story.
    “The moral is”, he continued, “that no one can forgive crimes committed against other people. It’s therefore preposterous to assume that anybody alive can extend forgiveness for the suffering of any one of the six million people who perished. According to Jewish tradition, even God himself can only forgive sins committed against Himself, not against Man.”
    Danielle, in the pregnant pause that followed the apocryphal tale, was once again astounded by her host’s conviction and learning. “That’s some story,” she said at last. “Certainly a provocative after dinner turn.”
    “What do you mean?”
    “Nothing,” she shrugged, adding quickly, “It’s just that I imagine you must have told this story to friends before. It’s the sort of thing that exercises the grey matter. Tell me, Henry,” she continued, altering course, “are you religious? I believe you belong to the loca l shu l .”
    “I’m like most of my Jewish clients. I go three times a year on the High Holy days. You’re the same, aren’t you?”
    Danielle suddenly wished she had been a more observant Jew. “I’m afraid I don’t even bother to go on Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur, although I do take the days off work. I spend most of the time in bed.”
    “Do you fast?”
    “Sometimes, if the mood takes me. Do you?”
    Sonntag smiled conspiratorially. “Off the record, no. I’m a bit of a chameleon, in point of fact. I act religious if I need to.”
    “What do you mean?” asked Danielle, genuinely surprised.
    “With my ultraorthodox clients I wear a kipp a . It makes them feel more comfortable.”
    “It’s funny,” Danielle laughed, “but I can’t imagine you wearing a skullcap.”
    “No, I suppose not.” He winked.
    Danielle returned to her point. “By religious, I really meant in a spiritual way. In effect, do you believe in God?”
    Sonntag’s eyes glazed momentarily. “It depends on how you define God,” he said wistfully. “The God of the Jews?”
    “If you must.”
    “The God of the Jews died in the concentration camps,” he said