At that time many Jews were waiting for Immigration Certificates. Hitler won the democratic elections in Germany at the beginning of 1933, and since then (as even before) the number of applications for such Certificates by European Jews had highly increased. The British authority in Plestine, however, was continuously pressured by the Arabs to limit Jewish immigration.
Rabbi Aaron Hittin had made a mistake, which added to the regular delay in receiving his Certificate. When he originally filled in the Application Form, he stated in the column ’occupation’ for his son: ‘an invalid’. The Jewish Agency ‘clerk’ in Istanbul, who had not checked the document’s details precisely, sent it to Palestine as is.
He really did not care so much- if its approval would be sooner or later. He believed that Rabbi Hittin was not a productive person nor a vital element for the Jewish residence in the country under the British Mandate. (the total Jewish population there- at that time - was three hundred thousands).
The Istanbul ‘clerk’ was quite sure, that a clergyman like Rabbi Aaron, would find very soon his place in a Rabbinical staff of some American Jewish community; (‘I hope he is also a Cantor, even a bad one ’- he said to himself, ‘then his future will be really well; what Americans really seek is entertainment, even in praying).
But Rabbi Aaron was a special kind of person, as we know. So, he continued to send memos to Istanbul. He was twice asked to repair his Application for Immigration: First- ommit the original ‘occupation’ box that he had filled regarding himself, revealing the fact that he is a ‘Rabbi–Butcher’. Instead - he should mention in that box: “agricultural worker.” Of course he should not have exposed the fact that his son was lame; so he had done before, thinking that it would make the British Authority have pity on him, and prompt his family’s immigration. As for his wife Natalya- “the best will be,” wrote him the Istanbul Zionist Agency rep.(in a “private non-official advice”, and not on an ofiicial papaer) “if you describe her occupation: ‘a practical nurse and diplomed social worker’”…
So, more than a year was Rabbi Aaron waiting in Brooklyn for the approved Certificate of Immigration. He received it at last by mail from Istanbul, through the Istanbul Jewish Agency’s Office. Through that agency ‘clerk’ Rabbi Aaron had also found an anchor for his future first days of settlement in the small country. The clerk wrote him to contact a person named Isaiah-Shaye Shapiro. That Mandate’s citizen was living in the town of Tel Aviv -but born in Minsk. He did not recall nor heard of Hittin family there. However, he remembered that in his boyhood he was playing -together with a boy named Elya Ruhin- the Jewish Hanuka Dradle (Spining Top). He started to correspond with Rabbi Aaron by the mail, and promised to host him and his family in their first days in the holy land….
Aaron’s family arrived in Palestine/Eretz Israel at the beginning of the summer, after Pentecost holiday. Shaya Shapiro had prepared a reasonable lodging for his ex-town members’ family: He settled them in a hut, set up in his courtyard in Motifioree suburb. It was quite fit for living in summer, a season in which rain would never drop down on the thirsty land of Israel. Inside the hut was not too warm, because the owner would splint water- by a rubber pipe- over the tiles’ roof at noontime.
When Isaiah-Shaye Shapiro looked at the maimed child, he was surprised. He had previously read Aaron’s letter, stating that his kid was ‘maimed,’ but he had not imagined the cut-hands kind of his invalidity. When he remained alone with his wife, Zosha, he asked her: “For God’s sake, what can be done to release our new comers – the Rabbi and his wife - from that disaster?”
His wife, Zosha Shapiro, was a diplomed mechanic engineer from Poland. She seemed also worried by the boy’s appearance. But out of that flashed an idea in her mind: Just at that time - she was busy in preparing a registration of a patent for some machinery that she had invented.
“You surely think,” she said to her husband, “about the institute of Mrs. Marlen Dichter, in Kfar Saba.”
“Yes,” said her husband, “but as far as I know- she would receive only a certain type of kids: helpless boys with some severe mental disadvantage. Till now she had chosen only such children, who would be capable to work in agriculture - when they grow up and become thirteen. But this kid seems to need an Infirmary, he seems to be …totally helpless. ”
“No,” said Zosha, “We shouldn’t get into despair. Last month Dichter has changed her policy. She would receive also partly hand paralysed kids to her institute.”
“That’s fine,” said Shaya, “So, you talk about her institution to Rabbi Aaron’s wife. Visit there with her tomorrow morning, even without the Rabbi’s knowledge.”
Shaya Shapiro adviced that to his wife – after having heard from Rabbi Aron, that next morning he would also take a bus to the small town Kfar Saba. He was going to meet there the local Rabbi, Simon Rapoport.
“Why him?” Shaya asked his new friend, Rabbi Aaron.
“Because many years ago - he had met with Rabbi Haneles in Minsk. I heard about that from the Minsker Rabbi himself. So, hopefully – that Rabbi, Rapoport, would appreciate my Rabbinical Authorization letter. He can recommend me to communities all over the country. I’ll go to wherever a Rabbi is needed .”
“Have a good luck, God bless you,” said Shaya, who made his living by selling orange fruits from his own orchard. It was after the fruit picking season, and Shapiro decided to remain at home with his daughter and with Raphael. By that he would enable the Rabbi to travel to Rapoport - and Natalya and his wife Zosha to drive - without the boy- to the ‘Dichter institution’.
Shaya’s wife, Zosha, was not a hired worker. She had a partial job – as a ‘small business owner’ in maintaing wells’ pumps for the irrigation of many orchards in the country. Therefore she could travel freely with Natalya at that day, without having a problem with an employer.
The bus in which Rabbi Aaron arrived to the small town Kfar Saba, rounded the sqaure near Fiddler Café, and stopped at its last station. Rabbi Aaron got out, dressed in the holiday suit that he had bought in Brooklyn. He had known that Rabbi Rapoport was living in Barone Rothchild’s street, on which the final bus station had been located, and found his house easily. While walking, there appeared a blick of a thought in his mind: Perhaps he had made a mistake- leaving Russia. There he had seen the same Jewish sinners’, as here in the land of Israel: Jewish workers walking publicly without covering the head by a hat or a cap. In America he had also seen Jews who had become ‘secular’, without fearing from Heaven. But here, on the sidewalk of the Towns Rabbi house - no one would even rebuke the sinners for their Hutspa? Messiah time has not yet arrived, Oh- Father!
A living fence of Jasmin and Oleander bushes was planted between Rapoport house and the sidewalk Rabbi Aaron saw it was full of flies and bees. He rushed to the gate at its middle. The path leading to the front door of Rapoprt was paved by nice designed old colored floor-tiles. Rabbi Aron climbed three steps and knocked at the door, and heard a female’s voice: “Come in.”
He nodded to the Rebetzen - Rabbi Rapoport’s wife- and of course did not shake hands with her. Soon she entered a side room, who had been Rapoport’s library. She was heard telling her husband that a visitor had come to meet him.
After shaking hands with Rabbi Rapoport, Rabbi Aaron was invited to sit opposite to him, at the studying table of the Town’sRabbi. (in addition to that he had – of course – also a ‘Rabbi’s Stand’ for learning and praying while standing). Most of Rapoport’s books, seen in his bookcase’s shelves - were very old; some had scratched covers. However- on that table Rabbi Aaron discerned a pile of new books. Among them was one of Rabbi Abraham Isaac Ha-Cohen Kuk’s, once the chief Rabbi in Israel.
“So, has his honor arrived for a certain purpose?” asked Rapoport, speaking Hebrew - in third person, as was the habit for addressing a respectable personality, “or just to consult with me about settling here??
??
“I have arrived for. . . I am interested in a job of a local Rabbi - here in the country’s center, or even far away.”
Rabbi Aaron pulled the old ‘Rabbinical authorization Letter’ he had gotten from Rabbi Haneles. Rabbi Rapoprt took the letter, read it very fast, and soon returned it to Aaron Hittin.
“I would advice him, with all respect,” he told Rabbi Aaron, and wrote in his copybook some words with his pencil, “to have patience. I would like very much to help, but may I hear from him about his activities- since he had gotten this letter? It’s interesting, that a Rabbi living in Russia had been allowed by the Regime to emmigrate outside.”
“Shall I tell you about all my suffering and humiliation there? Three days won’t be sufficient for that,” said Rabbi Aaron, “ But God was merciful on me, and showed me his wonders. So- I had succeeded to arrive here.”
At that moment the Rebetzen came with tea and a ‘honey black cake’. Both Rabbies murmured the prayer of foods, and ate a little. Slowly Rabbi Aaron opened his heart, talking shortly about the Gepau’s chases on him, about his tragedy of having a cut hands child, and about his second marriage. He emphasized his strong decision through all his life - to leave Russia…
At that point Rabbi Rapoport took a third of a cigarette into his narrow smoking pipe. While he was busying his fingers with it, Rabbi Aaron suddenly felt that he had been tiring him. Actually – Rapoport had hardly shown an interest in his tale about himself. So Rabbi Aaron cut his story and said abruptly:
”Well, after I have pretended madness, they have released me, with God’s help.”
Rabbi Rapoport’s smoke distorted his face in Rabbi Aaron’s eyes, and he drew it away by his palm. Rapoport did not inquire for how long had Rabbi Aaron disguised as mad, nor where he had been, nor how the Russians had not suspected that he was faking up...Rabbi Aaron had prepared himself to tell Rapoport how the idea to disguise mad had come to him in a sacred blick and click - but he became as silent as a wall. He just waited and waited for the smoker’s verbal reaction to his story. At that moment the Rebetzen returned to the room, and gathered the empty glasses and plates.
“Oh, I would like to make acquaintance with Rabbi Aaron’s wife,” she reckond, and he understood that she had stayed over the wall and listened to their talk.
“Well, I’ll be glad to bring her next time,” said Rabbi Aaron, and she went away.
“What books…” asked Rapoport “of the Halakha have you studied? I mean- except the Talmud…Shulkhan Orukh?”
Rabbi Aaron nodded. His mind recalled Gepau’s Antonov inquiries.
“Also the Maimonides- Rambam,” he added.
“Is ‘Mishna Berura’ book – by Rabbi Hofetz Haim, known to you?”
“No,” said Rabbi Aaron, “I have only heard the name. The Regime had prevented us from receiving any new sacred books.”
“Thast’s a big disadvantage,” said Rapoprt, in meditating-like face. He lit a new third particle of a cigarette in his narrow pipe, and blowed a cloud of smoke.
“You can study again in Yeshiva here. Refresh all your old studies and learn new books. There’s an ocean of Rabbies’ new decisions and verdicts.”
“No, I . . .can’t, I won’t. I know Halakha! And I can update my knowledge quickly by myself. Adoshem(God) is my witness!” said Aaron Hittin in an excited, whimpering-like voice.
“Please, don’t raise your tone, Reb Jew,” said Rabbi Rapoprt in anger, now talking to Aaron in ‘grammatical direct second person’ like he had been a simple Jewish man from the marketplace.
“Your matter seems to be clear cut- as by a razor: I thank you for telling me about the atheistic, defiled, God’s defiant Russia. Because of your too long stay there, we have to relate to your matter very pedantly and cautiously. We’ve to think. It’s hard to solve. You have to understand that. So, we . ..”
“You can speak only on behalf of yourself,” said Rabbi Aron, trying to restrain himself from calling Rapoprt ‘Gepau Pashkudnaik(dirty – in Russian).
“The whole Rabbinical Institution in the Land of Israel,” answered Rabbi Rapoport calmly, “would not allow you to have an official Rabbinical job. However, I offer you a position of an official butcher, after a short examination. I consider it to be fair enough.”
Rabbi Aron’s eyes dropped salty tears. Rabbi Rapoport had not seen them, as Aaron’s round glasses stopped them from falling on his beard. He took his handkerchief and coughed into it, feeling that the cigarrete’s smoke was disturbinbg him. Then he wiped off his forehead perspiration and said: “Oh, what a warm day today. I’m not familiar with such a climate.”
“You’ll get used to it too,” said Rabbi Rapoport with a smile and rose, giving his hand to pitiable Rabbi Aaron Hittin.
At the same hour - Zosha Shapiro told Natalya, that she was going to visit at madam Dichter’s Institution.
“You are invited to join me,” she said. “I’ve heard that you were a social worker, so it would interest you. People name it: ‘Imbeciles and Abnormal Youths Institution,” (today- instead of ‘abnormal’, it would be: ‘Outists’).
Natalya agreed to travel with her, thinking that it would be beneficial to befriend that woman. At first engineer Zosha had not told Natalya what would be the exact purpose of that travel; but inside the bus leading to that institution, Zosha revealed that she herself was having there a pitiable kid.
“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that,” said Natalya.
“You will see him. Maybe we can try to find a solution there also for your kid. Madam Dichter may consult you: Either get him in her House - or …she would know of some institution outside.”
“I fear the Rabbi’s contradiction,” said Natalya.
“You should struggle with him, to get rid of that boy. Excuse me telling you this so bluntly. The boy’s existence with you both - is a yoke. It’s too heavy and wide, especially for your narrow shoulders. You told me that you hadn’t born him. So, if the Rabbi wishes that y o u will bear a normal baby…doesn’t he?”
“Of course,” said Natalya, and added:
“In Russia they were experiencing porters’ jobs for imbeciles. I was selecting those kids from families in my district. The grown ups would also help the nurses to feed the little ones.”
“In Madame Dichter’s House - the grown ups work also in gathering hens’ eggs from coops, feeding hens and turkeys, and gathering potoatos.”
“But all that would not be fit for our Raphael,” reckoned Natalya.
“I hope that madame Dichter would find,” said Zosha, “something for him to do in the near future. I’ve recently brought an idea to her. It would be helpful for some children, who are just invalids, but have normal minds. ..”
“Does she have anybody like our kid - now?” asked Natalya.
“Yes, she maintains two kids, who can hardly move their paralyzed hands; and another one, who is having limping legs. The minds of all are O’key, as far as I know.”
“I hope that they live in a separate apartment there,” said Natalya.
“Yes. . .Sometime they sit to eat together with the rest. “
“Thank you for telling me all,” said Natalya, “and again – I’m sorry to hear about your problem.”
“I have also a healthy and capable daughter. . .You’ve seen Liza… Now is also the time for you - to try and bring healthy and normal kids.” Natalya nodded.
“In the future – as I’ve said,” continued Zosha, “I hope to develop my invention, that may help invalids like your son to be active there.”
“Is it a technical instrument, or what?”
“It is a machinery, that would entail only moving the feet. Today I will show its drawings to madam Dichter, and explain its operation.”
Zosha described to Natalya a ‘tricycle grass cutter’, that she was designing.
“The regular American grass cutter machine,” she said, “is hand operated;
but I can combine it to a small tricycle, that will move on the grass - I can ‘like-motorize’ that cutter by using the legs.”
“I see,” said Natalya, “But the boy should be tied to the tricycle.”
“Of course. . and all that would take time, of course…” said Zosha.
“I presume,” said Natalya , “that to send our child there, would cost us quite a lot of money.”
“The Social Organiztion for Women may help you. I know the Chairwoman- Haviva Liechtman. She will be generous… Of course, you should have much patience.”
“I know what patience is,” smiled Natalya indignantly, “We had it a lot in Soviet Russia.”
In the afternoon Ntalya brought the issue of Dichter’s institute to Rabbi Aaron. She told him that madame Dichter had principally agreed, even before seeing Raphael, to let him get into her special place.
A nurse there was having a good knowledge in Hebrew and Torah, and she wouldl sit with the boy and teach him an hour or two each day. She would read to him and try show him elementary calculations by using his feet’s fingers. Most of the time a child like him would sit there, tied to a special wagon- or lie on a carpet. He will be in kids’ society of his age, and grab toys in his mouth, He would even learn to draw roughly – holding a pencil in his mouth or foot.. .
Rabbi Aaron did not antagonize to all that. He knew well that it would be the best solution for his poor son.
“If this school-like institution would help - let it be,” he said, and Natalya kissed him in a storm of sentimental mood.
“I will myself bring the message to Raphael.” Added Rabbi Aaron, “He will cry from anger, and may kick the wall or the air by his legs. Yes, he may say that his fate here would be even worse than in the Special Infirmary in Russia, where he was tortured ..But we had been chained enough time to him. I must be cruel to my first son- in order to strengthen you, my dear wife.”
He reckoned suddenly to himself: ‘Now I am mad to think, that God had created this poor boy - in order to rescue me. Without his bad condition and helplessness - Stalin would not have pitied us and let us go out…God had plotted all that complicate voyage.’
The Rabbi and Natalya had wet eyes from sore, when they departed from the helpless boy. They brought him by a taxi to Madam Dichter’s long building. Rabbi Aaron promised Raphael to visit him once a week. He knew that the whole week the boy will be waiting for him, but he reminded himself that it had not been the first time for Raphael to be left alone. In his age- he was more than ten years old- he should stop complaining and crying, so his papa told him quite harshly.
CHAPTER 52