Page 1 of The Golem of Mala Lubovnya
1
The first thing he knew was the touch of fingers. Later he learned the difference between a scholar’s gentle, hesitant strokes and a stonemason’s calloused caresses, but in the beginning there were only fingers rubbing lines into the clay of his chest.
He opened his eyes and discovered the world.
It was only a small piece of the world, as he also learned later. Great wooden beams over him, and between them, smaller slats of wood in neat rows. He studied the pattern for a moment and was pleased with it. But then he saw the sparkle of dust motes in a shaft of sunlight, and he was so delighted he reached up to touch them. That was when he discovered his hand, and it was a wonder. His fingers were long and broad and pale, and they moved as he willed them. He played with them, making them dance along with the dust. He heard a sound like rocks tumbling down a mountainside and realized it was his own laughter, and he was so happy to be able to make the sound that he laughed some more.
“Golem!”
He turned his head and was astonished to see a man standing beside him. But of course—those fingers on his chest must have belonged to someone. The man was small, dressed in dark clothing and a dark skullcap, and his dark beard was threaded with gray. His eyes were wide. “Stand!” he ordered.
The golem slowly rose to his feet. Feet! They were large, and the toes moved nearly as nimbly as his fingers. He curled the toes under and stretched them out, and he pressed his feet more firmly against the floor so as to feel the splintery floorboards.
“Look at me,” said the man.
The golem towered over him. Could easily have lifted the little man into the air and torn him in two. But the man glared at him fiercely and pointed at him with a finger still wet with clay. “Do you know who I am?” asked the man.
The answer required thought, which was also new for the golem, and clumsy. “My master?” he finally rumbled. He liked the way the sounds hummed and hissed in his mouth.
“Yes. I am Rabbi Eleazer of Mala Lubovnya, and I am your master. This means you will obey me in all things.”
The golem nodded. He was glad to have a master, because the golem knew nothing and surely Rabbi Eleazer knew everything. “Who am I, Master?” he asked.
The rabbi shook his head. “You are not a who but a what. You are a golem. I made you in man’s image, but you are not a man. Just as men are made in God’s image but we are not God.”
A heaviness churned in the golem’s belly as he looked down at himself. He had skin like his master’s, two legs, a thick soft penis, a heavy scrotum. His broad chest was hairless, and letters were carved into his sternum. He couldn’t read them. “I’m not a man?” he whispered, sounding like shifting sands. “Then what am I?”
“Golem.”
It wasn’t a nice word. The golem’s legs felt weak, and he collapsed to the floor. He gathered his knees to his chest and closed his eyes. He wasn’t real. He was nothing but an object made of clay and he had no family, no friends.
“What’s wrong with you?” asked the rabbi. “Are you broken?”
The golem shook his head mutely. He was everything a golem ought to be. He didn’t understand how he knew about things like family and friends, but various bits of knowledge rattled around in his head.
After a long silence, the rabbi sighed. “It’s nearly dinnertime. You stay here and keep quiet. Tomorrow I will test you.”
The golem’s eyes were still closed, but he heard his master’s footfalls on the floor, the creak and thud of a door, more footsteps descending stairs. And then he was alone in the silence. He sat until he felt cramped, and then he carefully stood. The light had begun to dim, and the air was chill on his bare skin. Remembering his master’s orders, he tiptoed to the room’s single window and peered outside.
The world was so much larger than he’d imagined! He nearly fell back in surprise. Peering through the rippled pane of glass, he saw the sky, huge and violet. Down below him—for his window was several stories up—were stone buildings. Most had red tile roofs and boxes of colorful flowers outside the windows. One structure was only partially complete, nothing yet but an open rectangle. The spaces between the buildings were paved with small blocks. Two cats, one orange and one brown, lapped at a small bowl. A trio of girls hurried by with their arms linked, a man carried an armload of wood into one of the buildings, and a black-and-gray bird watched from a nearby rooftop.
None of the other buildings were as tall as the one where the golem stood. He leaned his forehead against the dusty glass and watched all the activity, and he wondered whether there were other golems observing from other windows.
As the light continued to wane, several men approached the golem’s building. He couldn’t see them well from his angle, but he thought they entered through a door. He hoped they were coming to see him, to speak with him. They looked happy. But nobody came clomping up the stairs.
He padded quietly to the room’s door and leaned his ear against it. At first he heard nothing, then the soft rumble of many voices speaking at once. When the speaking stopped, it was replaced by chanting. They were praying. He didn’t understand the words, but he liked the sound of them—sometimes somber and sometimes joyous—and he liked the way the men’s voices joined together into one complex tapestry. One voice rose above the others, however, clear and strong. The golem wished he could hum along, but his master had told him to be silent. Besides, perhaps prayers were meant only for real people. Perhaps a prayer from a golem was an abomination.
The golem curled up on the floor with his ear to the narrow crack under the door, and he listened until he fell asleep.
“You’re in the way,”said Rabbi Eleazar. He stood in the doorway, the doorknob still in his hand, and he looked down at the golem. He had a pile of fabric tucked under his arm.
“I’m sorry, Master.” The golem stood and backed away. Although morning light flooded his room, he rubbed his arms to chase away the nighttime’s lingering cold.
Rabbi Eleazer held the fabric toward the golem. “Put these on. Make yourself decent.” He shook his head. “I hope they fit. It’s not easy to find something your size.”
There were trousers, coarsely made and patched, too big around the waist, and falling barely below the golem’s knees, but it was real clothing, and that felt good. He put on an equally well-used vest, which couldn’t close across his chest and covered him only to the bottom of his ribs. But it had two shiny metal buttons, which the golem liked very much. He smiled at his master once he was dressed. “Thank you.”
“Next time I’ll bring you some rope to use as a belt. Can’t have your trousers falling down.” For the first time in the golem’s presence, the rabbi allowed himself a small grin. “You’ll be a shock enough to the congregation as it is.”
