The 11th Commandment

By E. G. Walker

God proclaimed the Kohanim of the Tribe of Judah, to be guardians of the Tabernacle which held the tablets inscribed with the ten commandments. He made one additional commandment: “The guardians may not marry except she be a member of the Tribe of Judah.” The edict was observed until, in 1920, Paul Golden, a direct descendant of the Priests of Israael, takes a gentile woman as his wife.

• Language: English
• Publisher: E. G. Walker
• Release date: Jun 9, 2013
• ISBN: 9781301553549

E. G. Walker

Esther G. Walker, thirty-five-year desert resident, writes stories under the pen name E. G. Walker. Her short stories have been published in national and local magazines, including the Los Angeles Times as a regular contract writer for the children’s page. Esther teaches at the Braille Institute in Rancho Mirage, California, conducts “Esther-size” classes at the Coachella Valley Recreation District; she taught “Creative Writing” at the La Quinta Senior Center. She retired from Esther’s Typesetting in 1996 and began a second career as a writer.

Book preview

Eleventh COMMANDMENT

An Epic Tale of a

Dysfunctional Jewish Family

by E. G. Walker

Published by E. G. Walker at Smashwords

This book is available at most online retailers.

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

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Table of Contents

Chapter 1---Lithuania - 1892

Chapter 2---Journey To The New World

Chapter 3---Where Is The Gold?

Chapter 4---Where Is Benjamin?

Chapter 5---The Little Rooster

Chapter 6---Eva’s Story - 1900

Chapter 7---Where Love Has Gone

Chapter 8---Eva And Allen Jr.

Chapter 9---The Meeting

Chapter 10---The Lessons

Chapter 11---The Wandering Jew

Chapter 12---And So It Began

Chapter 13---A Rule Is A Rule

Chapter 14---Life Goes On

Chapter 15---A Corner Turned

Chapter 16---Allen, The Rest Of His Story

Chapter 17---Taking Care Of Business

Chapter 18---Charles, The Last Hope

Chapter 19---End Of The Line

Chapter 20---The Destruction Continues

Epilogue

PREFACE

Travel back in time to ancient Egypt. After the exodus, God gave the laws (the Torah) to the Hebrews. To insure that there would always be caretakers of the Torah, the right of guardianship of the Tabernacle was given to the Priests of the tribe of Judah who were called the Kohanim. It was commanded that marriages of the Kohanim must be only to women of the Tribe of Judah. This was the Eleventh Commandment. This responsibility would be passed from father to first-born son.

God warned that breaking this law was punishable by expulsion from the Priesthood and, in addition, the Kohan who broke this commandment would be written out of God’s book and that punishment would extend to his children and their children.

CHAPTER 1

Lithuania - 1892

They're coming!

Woe unto us all!

May a plague take them!

"Rachmones! Pity!"

Shouts were followed by cries and screams and the thunder of hoofs as the soldiers, with their warm mittens, astrakhan hats and greatcoats, swaggered into the village, laughing boisterously.

The sky was slate gray. Snow had been falling. Nathan Wassertreiger and his family shivered close to the stove. The threadbare garments did little to keep out the cold as it whistled through the cracks in the walls that dripped with yesterday's rain. The room was lit by a single oil lamp.

Nathan Wassertreiger was proud of his claim to be a Kohan, one of the priests, a direct descendant of the tribe of Judah. His home was only a shack, silvered by wind and rain. There was a board leaning against the inside east wall and in front, a pile of cordwood for the kitchen stove. Behind the board, out of sight, was a cupboard, gleaming with daily polish, not a speck of dust to be seen. Over the cupboard hung a tapestry, embroidered with painstaking care, showing the Hebrew letters which signified the ten commandments. The tapestry was a rich blue, with stitches of gold. Here were mended worn places, indicating many years of use. Nathan, the Kohan, guarded the tabernacle, which belonged to the inhabitants of this shtetl, this village.

As he heard the shouts, Nathan quickly removed the floorboards covering a makeshift cellar and hurried his two older sons into position to jump down. Schmuel and Benjamin huddled into the earth, scarcely breathing as Nathan replaced the covering. They heard the door shatter and horses' hoofs crashed overhead. The crack of a whip echoed through the floor.

We're here for those two no-good sons of yours. They're to report to the army recruiters, a gray-beard snarled, then spat on the floor and wiped his mustache.

What have you done with that revolutionary speech-making Jew? shouted the cossack chief.

From the sounds, Schmuel and Benjamin knew that soldiers were breaking what little furniture remained in the room above. There was a crash and a horrendous cry from their father and they knew that the soldiers had knocked down the protective board and found the Tabernacle. They heard the scuffle of feet as the scroll was thrown to the ground and defiled in unspeakable ways. They smelled the warm horse droppings being ground into the sacred papers. In the triumph of finding the village's Torah, the soldiers forgot that their errand was to find Schmuel and Benjamin, and the hoots of ridiculing laughter and the sobs of their mother reached the ears of the boys.

From their father they heard the litany of all Jews proclaiming their everlasting belief in one God. "Shema yisroel adonoi elohenu, adenoi echod."

From without, they heard the sound of shots, screams of children, the crackle of flames and the curses of the soldiers.

Damn Christ killers, get 'em all!

Strip off the pants and let's see those circumcised cocks!

Hey! Nicholas, is she any good? Let me have a turn at it.

Then, silence.

There was a hush throughout the ghetto, shattered only by moans and keening over bruised bodies and broken homes.

Nathan quickly removed the floorboard. Too close, too close. Now you must go!.

Nathan removed his long overcoat and gave it to Schmuel and then he covered Benjamin's shoulders with a warm blanket; Leah had been gathering up what few vegetables survived the horse hoofs and wrapped them with a scrap of bread, in a grimy cloth. From a hiding place, a small bag of coins was taken. A mezuzah which had fallen from the doorpost was dropped into the package and the boys were hurried out the door and down the path.

God only knows what you will find, or what will find you, their mother cautioned.

Take with you remembrance of our flight from Egypt, Nathan instructed. Remember your fathers and their fathers and what they endured. Keep the Word within your heart, my sons. Wherever you go, never lose hope. A Jew must always hope. May we meet in Jerusalem.

Mama, Papa, if we don't see you again in this life, we'll see you in the next, Schmuel vowed.

As Nathan and Leah attempted to repair the damage done by this latest pogrom, Nathan thought of how it had been: a magnificent cock called out that dawn was breaking. Nathan replaced his nightcap with his yarmulkeh. He approached the cupboard in his stocking feet and behind him came the bearded villagers, in their work clothes. They put on their tallis, prayer shawls, preparing to chant their morning devotions. With pious care, Nathan pushed aside the sheet of lumber, drew the tapestry, and opened the door of the cupboard. Within was the Torah.

Nathan placed it on the table, which glowed from the many loving strokes that had polished the rough wood to perfection. Nathan unrolled the scroll and the morning prayers began: And let us affirm the grandeur and holiness of this day. May there be abundant peace from heaven and a happy life for us and for all Israel and say ye, Amen.

But there was no abundant peace for these villagers. For many years, they had been sacked, beaten and put in fear of their lives by the authorities. They were ridiculed by the gentiles. The traditional lock of hair, the little skullcaps and their manner of dress were pointed to with derision by the neighboring merchants. Although they kept within the boundaries of their ghetto, there was no protection, as soldiers charged in on their horses, cutting a swath through the streets, knocking down anyone in their way.

After prayers, Nathan replaced the leaning board and restacked the cordwood in front of the cupboard, hoping to disguise it from the eyes of the gentiles. Then Nathan made his way to the town pump. Now that his duty as Kohan, protector of the law, was over, he became Nathan, carrier of water. He filled the troughs so that the soldiers might slake the thirst of their horses. He filled the barrels that stood outside the ghetto, and hung the tin cup on the nearby hook.

When Nathan returned home, Leah brought food to the table. Nathan recited the blessing over the food: "Boruch atoh adonoi elohenu melech ha-olom, ha-motzee lechem min ha-artez."

Nathan recalled how Schmuel, when he was not yet ten years old, had helped his mother; he washed the floor of the one-room house and at the same time, he watched his younger brother and two sisters, then returned to the corner table to study. Schmuel was already preparing for his bar mitzvah, his entry into manhood.

So, Nathan queried, Did you recite your morning prayers?

Yes, Papa.

Did you wash before you said your prayers?

Yes, Papa.

Did you bow your head while you said your prayers?

No, Papa. You said that God said we should raise up our eyes, and bow our heads to no one.

"Mazel tov, good boy, Schmuel. Remember, you are of the Kohanim, a priest of Israel. One day, you will take my place as guardian of the Torah, as Kohan. And, never forget the Edict to the priests: that joining with others not of our faith will bring God's worst punishment -- to be written out of His book."

Oh, yes, Papa. I would not want to be written out of God's book. What does it mean to be written out of the book?

Son, if you are written out, it is as if you never existed. Whatever you have done is undone. Your undone-ness would be a curse to your children, and to their children, and to their children's children and --All right, Papa, I understand!"

Get back to your books, Schmuel. He spoke gruffly, but his chest expanded with pride as he muttered, "A jewel, oy God, what a jewel!" Nathan returned to the present and stood at the smashed door and studied what was left of his surroundings.

The little village was a microcosm, a complete little world. The main street of packed earth and gravel was full of potholes. Here, a neat house with two rooms and a porch. There, a wretched, dark little hut with damp walls, smelling moldy. Down the road was a one-room shack that housed the cheder, and the many books for the bar mitzvah studies. Menasha, the melamid, a teacher of Hebrew, arithmetic, bookkeeping and penmanship, lived in the lean-to adjoining the school. There was the mikveh with its dark, smoke-stained walls where the men went before the sabbath prayers to cleanse and schmooze and brag and complain.

Each family had its own little garden and barnyard.They shared the fruit of their labors; the horseradish for pesach, perhaps parsnips or onions. One garden grew oats to be sold to the lucky villager who had a horse. If one had a cow, he bartered milk and cheese with his neighbors. If one had chickens, eggs were money to be used to buy dress material or the services of a seamstress. The villager with the millwheel became the meal seller. The villager with the good oven became the baker. They brought their wheat to the meal seller, and then to the baker to prepare their staff of life, the chollah. The shochet was always available with his sharp knife to kosher-kill the shabbas chicken, and the mohel, with his sharp knife and accurate eye, was welcomed by all except the newborn babes.

Nathan recalled that often the soldiers swept through the village and rounded up a number of able-bodied men to work on public projects for the government, but, for the most part, these families were allowed to live within the walls, making their own internal laws. They would reward and punish without going through any authority other than themselves and the Talmud.

He thought of the soldiers at the gate who allowed the tradesmen to ply their trades in the other sections of the city. Tribute we paid them. Our gelt they took. Our cobbler attended the rich and brought kopecks back to hide in a hole in the dirt floor. The tailor was also allowed to vend his services in the town. I recall he brought worn, discarded garments to be made over for his family.

Often Nathan had been at the gate and watched as a nursing mother was taken into town to be a wet nurse for an infant unable to suckle at his mother's breast. She might be given food, blankets, cast-off clothing, and maybe money. The bookbinders and tanners were artisans welcomed into town. The fishmonger and the dairyman made daily rounds, and the stone cutter followed the Angel of Death.

Poor though this ghetto was, the people were always able to find candles for the Shabbas table, a fine cloth for a chuppah for a lucky bride and groom, a special silken shawl or a shroud. There was always time to perform the rituals of prayer. They were always able to find some small gift for the blessing of a bar mitzvah. There was almost always sufficient food on the table to keep away the pangs of hunger. Sometimes the pungent aroma of goose fat rendering on a tin stove wafted through the air. At the very least, each day, they were able to break their daily bread.

'But,' thought Nathan, 'there was never money for the taxes from Alexander II, the Czar of Russia, a curse be on his name!' Nathan spat to complete the curse. 'That's why the Black Hundreds come so often. I remember just last pesach, when they threatened and blustered and rode through our poor cabins, slapping and pummeling, destroying, looking for fine candlesticks or a samovar or for caches of coins. And what they can't use, they destroy.'

In his memory, he could still hear Leah wailing: They have trampled over all the chickens and there is not an egg with which to make the sabbath loaves.

But we have our lives.

How can the government allow this to happen?

Happen what? questioned Nathan. They left us our children and our lives.

Not ready to give up her weeping, Leah cried out, How can God allow this? Where is God that he should not protect us? I see no God!

Sha! Sha! Do you need proof of God? Does one light a torch to see the sun? Look in your children's faces, blessed be they, and see the face of God.

Leah snorted, And if they discover your precious Tabernacle, then what will you say?

"I will say that the Tabernacle is broken, but the Talmud is intact, in here." Nathan gestured to his forehead.

Coming back to the present, Nathan shook his head, then added, Now it has come to pass.

Nathan had endured many attacks. Each time, he and Leah and their children rebuilt the shack and repaired the furniture. They thanked God for their lives and they began life anew. Blessed art Thou, oh God, who hast kept us in life and enabled us to reach this season.

Nathan and Leah had seen many of their friends' sons taken for military service