If a visitor to Berditchev wishes to hear a typical Jewish
melody, let him listen to Reb Nisson Belzer's protégé. If
it is Berditchever Chassidic song he desires, he should go
to the Karliner shteibel (small synagogue).
When the holy Shabbos departs, and the Berditchever week
arrives with its barrenness, darkness and destitution, the
Karliner Chassidim are still aflame. Their ecstasy has just
begun, and they don't even dream of bidding farewell to the
Shabbos Queen. I heard their singing from afar one Motza'ei
Shabbos and couldn't detect even a hint of sorrow. Now they
are sitting in the palace of the Divine Presence -- how can
they bother themselves with hunger and pain, poverty and gloom?
To be sure, each one of them has his own bundle of suffering
at home. To be sure these burdens are difficult to bear. To
be sure, many have aging daughters to marry off, bills and
rent and tuition to pay, and an empty money-box to cover all
expenses. If G-d so decrees, he must attempt to heal wife
and children -- and one is himself a bit sick. Old age encroaches,
one's strength begins to fad, the world is stricken, there
is no sustenance. Tear yourself apart, but what will you accomplish?
One sits at the King's table, and when the Holy One, blessed
be He, is present, there is no room for worry. We Jews have
a G-d who lives forever. The merit of Shabbos will stand by
us. The old Karliner Rebbe is surely a good advocate over
there. Besides, why worry when we know that everything our
Father does is for the good? " Even when I walk in the valley
of the shadow of death, I shall fear no evil, for Thou art
with me ..." However, if he would like to hear an altogether
different sort of melody, if he would like to hear a melody
born of the deepest and most difficult sorrow, if one would
like to see ecstasy which is not the result of emotionalism
or fervor but only of the most profound, lucid knowledge,
if one would like to to see how men can actually walk upon
the earth and yet not be here, let him forbear to traverse
the muddy Berditchever streets, let him cling to the crooked
alleyways, let him pass by the ancient cemetery, the broad
desolate field where the night-shadows fall on orphaned hills,
and where one lonely, leafless tree at the edge of the meadow
can bring one to tears. Afterwards, let him also pass the
so-called "Lebedige (Lively) Shul" -- the shul nearest the
old graveyard. Let him pass by many other such shuls, let
him absorb the Jewish dejection and the special melancholy
which can be felt in Jewish settlements. When the divinity
of Shabbos is about to depart from her children, and dark
reality peers out with her lackluster eyes, let him then betake
himself to the shteibel of the Breslover Chassidim.
Let him bring along his own broken spirit. Let him prop himself
up in a dark comer and hear sigh after sigh from the Breslover
Chassidim. who sit around the table, listening to their Rebbe's
teachings. Let him feel in their sighs an expression of the
speaker's words, "Such a yearning for G-d that it is unbearable."
Let him listen well to what is being said. Let him not trouble
himself that this or that interpretation of Scripture is not
so smooth or tidy or may be open to various objections.
Let him hear the main point. Let him hear the tenor of the
words, the greatest of simplicity that emerges with the greatest
wisdom, the most profound insights mentioned in passing without
any indication that here whole worlds have been laid bare,
gradually touching upon everything that exists on earth and
raising it up to the heavens.
Let him feel here the cosmic pathos which after the moment
of inner liberation must be transformed to cosmic joy. Let
him feel that here hovers the spirit of the great rebbe, Reb
Nachman of Breslov, who lifts men up from the darkest depths
of hell to the highest everlasting light. Let him later observe
how silently, one by one, the Chassidim leave the table, join
hands, form a circle and begin to dance. In this dance not
one awkward move can be detected, for every turn, every gesture,
every inclination has been refined, ennobled, sanctified to
the loftiest level.
You look, but you cannot believe your eyes. They seem to
be ordinary people, simple Jews, not great scholars, perhaps
not scholars at all. They look like common laborers and porters,
yet such inwardness, depth of feeling, and clarity of insight,
such spirituality in every gesture, every footstep, and every
note of song is impossible to find elsewhere.
All the days of my childhood were spent among Chassidim,
and in my life I have had occasion to hear and to see various
kinds of Chassidic singing and dancing, including some exceptional
melodies from the old Chabad Chassidim. But I never heard
or saw anything equal to what I experienced in that poorly
lit, forlorn shteibel of the Breslover Chassidim in Berditchev.
Their joy is a true joy, and their song is a song of redemption.
They are free men. Say what you will, these people, particularly
when among themselves, are no longer in exile. They are always
at home -- in G-dliness. Outwardly, they may seem less impressive
than other Chassidim. But one who has an eye to glimpse what
is going on within the next fellow to G-d- must be astounded
by the honest, wholesome rejoicing of these people when through
their dance, they talk. As we approach the Breslover shul,
my companion, whose sympathies do not lie with the Chassidim,
whispers, "Here we must walk more quietly." His observation
is appropriate. A certain quiet holiness rests upon this shteibel.
Quiet is the sigh, yet is splits the heavens. Quiet is the
discourse, yet it penetrates to the depths. Quiet is the dance,
but through it you seem to be carried away, in spite of yourself,
to other worlds. Quiet is the melody which suffuses your very
being. Everything is quiet, everywhere.
Aside from the Chassidim, a number of Jews come here from
off the street. They come by chance or out of curiosity, not
always innocent of a penchant for laughter or scorn -- yet
all remains quiet here. Everyone must listen. By his own choice
or otherwise, the scoffer will be a scoffer no more. He must
become sincere. This in itself testifies to the power of the
spirit: that which is noble and strong must overcome that
which is base and inferior.
During his exposition the speaker remarks, "The Jewish people
must teach all the nations that there is a G-d in the world."
One of the scoffers comes over to me and murmurs, "He means
that gentiles should attend his sermons..."
A little later, I see that very same scoffer watching everything
with an expression of utter seriousness. He doesn't care to
laugh anymore.
As the dance becomes especially beautiful and joyous, I observe
a fourteen year old boy, one of the curious, tell his friend,
"It would be so good if all Jews could be this happy with
their faith!"
Indeed, it would be so good, my child, so good...
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