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Page 4 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