Read Online The Time of the Uprooted by Elie Wiesel - Free Book Online Page A

the more she imposed her ungodly and provocative presence on him. Only by weeks of pitilessly mortifying his flesh— long fasts, self-laceration, and plunging into the cold river—was he able to calm his spirit and drive the vision of her from his mind. Then, at the supreme moment when, at the side of his Kabbalist Master, he was going to force the hand of the Lord and so bring salvation and safety to his people—at that moment, the woman appeared once more, voluptuous and laughing, before his tightly closed eyes. It was then that the raging dog had leapt at them and attacked his Master. And so the Messiah remained in chains behind the iron gate of his celestial prison. And it was because of Hananèl’s weakness that the children of Israel remained in exile and now were in the shadow of death.
    Yes, Hananèl did indeed owe reparation to his people.
    Hananèl has not given up his study of the Kabbalah. Does he, then, know the perilous art of penetrating the dreams of others? The art is mentioned in
The
Gaze of the Abyss,
a work as old as the Sefer Yetzira, the Book of Creation. He who masters that art has the power to remake the dreams of others as he wishes; he can make bitter the dreams of the irreverent and happy those of the just. The Blessed Madman does not know it, but sensing the coming calamity as Passover is approaching, he invades the Archbishop’s dream to enlist him as an ally against the enemy’s evil intentions toward the Jewish community.
    But hasn’t the decree spelling out those intentions already been sealed?
    When Mendel returns, he is out of breath. He is leading a young priest, a frail-looking person with a thin face, hidden behind tortoiseshell glasses. The man’s furtive glance suggests he is nowhere at ease. He keeps his hands in the sleeves of his cassock and tries to overcome his nervousness. He bows respectfully, and when he speaks, it sounds as if he is speaking reluctantly. He starts out haltingly and keeps interrupting himself by coughing.
    “The Honorable Rabbi will please . . . will please excuse us . . . excuse us for coming . . . coming and disturbing him in the middle of the night . . . but . . . but please understand, sir. . . . It’s a matter . . . it’s an urgent matter. . . .” He looks down and then casts a sidelong glance at Mendel before stammering: “And to tell the truth, sir, it’s a private matter. . . . The Rabbi will please understand. . . .”
    As he listens to the priest, Hananèl is thinking, If he wants to be alone with me, he must be embarrassed about something. Who knows, maybe he’s sick, he or someone in his family. But I’m not a doctor. So maybe he wants me to intercede with heaven for him? The young scholar signals to Big Mendel to leave. Mendel backs out of the room, obviously disapproving, as if he fears some threat to his Master.
    “Now, what may I do for you?” Hananèl asks the priest in a tone he hopes is both courteous and self-assured.
    “I have a message . . . a message for . . . for His Honor the Rabbi,” the priest replies.
    “I am not a rabbi.”
    “Your assistant believes . . . he believes you are. . . . And so does the person . . . so does the person who sent me.”
    So this is not the one who is expecting something from me; it’s not about him or his personal problems. The thought worries Hananèl. Then who is it about? Who else could have need of a Jew like me? The Archbishop, that’s who it must be. What’s he suffering from? Insomnia perhaps? What’s he afraid of?
    “I’m listening,” Hananèl says. “You have a message for me?”
    “From . . . it is from His Eminence Archbishop Báranyi.”
    “And what is the message?”
    “His Eminence asks . . . he asks to speak with you . . . in person.”
    “Well then, tell him I’ll receive him.”
    “If I may . . . if I may make a suggestion to The Honorable Rabbi . . . His Eminence is expecting him at his residence . . . at the Archbishop’s residence.”
    “When would he