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Rabbi Lazarus Axelrod
Through the ethereal spaces, far
away behind the towering monument
of the “Maarath Hamachpclah”, the
early morning star, sparkling and glit
tering as a costly jewel in the dusky
firmament, heralds the approach of
Erev Yom Kippur. On the distant
horizon, a faint dull yellow light creeps
cautiously out from its nocturnal
abode, and casts a few shafts of
powdered gold over most ancient of
cities—Hebron. Soon The Great Ar
tist, flourishing His pencils of Para
dise, draws a huge streak of red across
where the range of hills merges into
the vast barron plains of Judea, and
the mighty monarch of the celestial
planets, in ruddy apparel, announces
the birth of another day. With one
sweep of her fiery optics, the sun, by
now a dazzling disc of gold, sets the
whole city ahlaze with colour, and
smiling forth upon a world yet fast
in the arms of Morpheus, picks out
a medley of objects in her range of
vision. The half moon and star,
perched conspicuously on the spires
and steeples of the Arab Mosques, the
shimmering dome of the Russian
church. David's Braieha, or water
basin, the clump of pines and cypress
which encircles the “Echel Abra
ham”, Abraham's tamarisk, all these
are but a few of the innumerable
forms and shapes that come to life
with the rising of the sun.
Roused by the slanting rays of sun
shine which pierce through the half
closed shutters, Hebron stretches it
self, yawns widely, and commences its
daily labours. Soon a blending of dis
cordant sounds make their debut on the
stage of nature. The piping sound of
the flute-like reed, played upon by the
picturesque shepherd boy and the dis
tant braying of the asses, mingles with
the monotonous jeal of the camel bells,
as both shepherd and camel driver ap
pear upon the highways of Hebron,
driving their respective flocks along
the dusty road, that winds snakelike
through the Emek, the valley, and
trails away, a long narrow white streak,
to the Holy City.
Somewhere outside of the old city,
in a small unassuming stone building,
a different play was being enacted,
forming a striking contrast to the life
The Southern Israelite
“Yom Kippur In Hebron "
By RABBI LAZARUS AXELROD
outside. Here a large group of stu
dents, members of the Yeshivath Knes
set h Israel, of Slohodka, are engaged
in repeating the Selichoth. The at
mosphere is heavily laden with a sol
emn spirit of gravity and repentance.
Each hoy is bent over his prayer
book, oblivious to the world and its
chaotic problems, meditating philo
sophically upon the mysteries of the
universe, and the fulfillment of his life
mission. He is taking stock of the
past year’s proceedings, of the moral
improvements for the future made pos
sible by the year’s experience. Pon
dering deeply over some slight error
committed under certain provocations,
he is alert to the future. His mind is
working rapidly: a blending of mental
visions, reminiscences both hitter and
sweet, memorable scenes of the past
are painted and repainted on the can
vas of his brain in quick succession.
He is awakened occasionally from his
reveries hv the sonorous notes of the
reader, as lie terminates the various
selections of the Piyut. In the ashen
grey of dawn, with only two flickering
candles sputtering in a shallow of the
Almemar, the faint outlines of the
building’s occupants are dimly disccrn-
ablc. On the right .hand of the Holy
Ark sits the Rosh Yeshiva, Rabbi
Moshe Mordecai Epstein. His pres
ence in the Yeshiva casts a vast feel
ing of awe and reverence over the hall.
To his left, in regal posture, the fig
ure of Reb Leib, the “Baal Mooser”,
can he seen as he sways backwards
and forwards, spasmodically and con
vulsively, expressing his emotions
through the words of the Selichoths—
“Selach Lonu Avinu Ke Chotonu”. . .
Two or three Sephardic paupers arc
huddled together at the entrance, clad
in rags and tatters, blinking dismally
through half closed eyelids, at the
Bachoorim at prayer. They are ulti
mately rewarded for their vigil. At
the termination of the service, the
hoys throw Milliemes and occasionally
Piastres to these stricken Jews, who
have probably never been outside the
precincts of Hebron.
Direct from the Yeshiva, the youths
make their way to the tomb of the
Patriarchs, which is situated in the
ghetto of Hebron, in the heart of
the Arab quarters. It is the custom
here to visit the tomb on every solemn
occasion. Only strict adherers of the
Moslem creed are allowed to enter the
inner vaults, Jews and other "aliens”
being permitted to ascend a few steps
only (to conduct their prayers). Under
the guidance of a few members of the
Arab gendarmierie, who are present
to keep a strict watch over the crowd
of Arab urchins that gathers to wit
ness "A1 Yahud" at prayer, the Bac
hoorim commence the service. In slow
measured tones one of the boys chants
the opening words of the Psalms—
"Shir Hamaaloth, Mimamakim” . . . .
“from the depths of my soul I call to
Thee, O Lord”. Imperceptible at first,
hut gradually gathering in intensity,
a murmur of sighs and lamentations
resound throughout the city, echoing
over the distant hills. Ah! their emo
tions loosened, they give vent to their
pent-up feelings. The very walls re
verberate with the melancholy echo
of those heart-rending strains and
harrowing outcries, forced from op
pressed bosoms, now rising to a wail,
now breaking to a choking sob, and
sinking to a dread whisper. The spec
tacle is indeed awe-inspiring, as with
their faces pressed against the com
forting walls, in reverential homage,
they invoke the tender mercies of the
Most High . . . “Ke Imcho Haselicho.”
The day has passed in preparations,
in short visits to fellow students to
crave pardon and forgiveness, and to
offer their heartfelt blessings for the
coming year. The shadows of night
are falling, a few tiny fleecy clouds
are drifting dreamily through space:
the Day of Atonement is near at hand.
The main street of Hebron is now
bathed in a glory of pale silver, as
the moon, typically Palestinian, beams
patronizingly down from her limitless
heights. All roads lead to the Yeshiva,
and the thoroughfares of this ancient
city are thronged with the Bachoorim
as they wend their way in twos and
threes to the Yeshiva for the evening
service. Inside the institution some of
the boys are engrossed in studying
certain appropriate selections of the
tractate “Yomah”, and are drawn
away by the mystic language of the
sages, into higher spheres, soaring in
ecstatic flight far above the coarseness
of this world, into rarified Utopias,
where all is holy and Godly . . .
1 he building is brilliantly illuminated
by numerous gas lamps and innumer
able candles are arranged in various
parts of the Yeshiva, throwing a lurid
flare over the scene—"Neshama Licht”
—soul luminaries. The Rosh Yeshiva,
the Baal Moosar, and the
of the Yeshiva are all assembh
respective seats, enswathed
and kittel, and are gazing v
unconcealed pride at tin- 1
product of their united lab,,
air is full with hidden “Ruach Halo'
desh”, the Divine Presence.
Holy Ark, one could almost see the
flame-flashing Cherubim and Sera-
phim and hear the rustling of tin
multifold wings, as exultant and radiant
they acclaim the sovereignty of the
Lord .... Suddenly in res|x,nse t
a sharp clap by one of the hoys, the
voluble dialogues of the youth cease.
All retire to their allotted seats, and
the evening service begins. The can
tor, one of the older members of the
Yeshiva, is standing before the Alme
mar, and in a voice, clear, resonant
and musical, he commences the open
ing words of “Kol Nidre”. The words,
suffused with the melancholia of the
Jewish tradition, pierce all hearts, and
play divine music on the heart-string'
of the enthralled audience. Glistening
dewy tears swell to the eyes of a!!
present, as the words on their Mach-
zorim suddenly come to life. They
see the tragedy of the Jew, persecuted
and oppressed throughout the ages, as
the cantor, in his deep bass voice,
thunders forth the annulment of all
vows. . . “Ushvuosono Lo Shovimth."
All eyes are now turned on the “Baal
Moosar” as amidst solemn silence,
with measured tread, lie ascends t
few steps that lead to the Holy Ark,
and delivers a short sermon before tl
commencement of the evening servii
By his magnetic personality, and <
quence of oratory, he casts a spell over
the boys, and they are in his hands
even as the plastic clay in the hands
of the potter. The lecture is
and the evening service is repeated
great solemnity. A new niterpretatio
of the words so common in the mouth?
(Continued on Page 11 1