Page 15 of The Golem of Mala Lubovnya
Emet wanted to embrace him, but he couldn’t even smile. He hoped Jakob somehow sensed his gratitude. And he hoped he could live up to such a great trust.
Rabbi Eleazar did smile. He faced Gospodin Novák and the other gentiles, but he raised his voice so the entire assemblage could hear him. “If anyone wishes to leave Mala Lubovnya, I will not stop him. I will even help him gather his belongings. And if he does not have a cart and cannot afford to buy one, I will give him mine. But I will stay here with the golem God has sent to protect us.”
The tall man made a sour face, as did his companion, a young man in fine clothes who hadn’t said a word. But Novák nodded slightly. “I cannot decide whether you are a very brave man, my friend, or a very foolish one.”
“All men are fools, Gospodin Novák. Most especially those who think themselves wise.”
Novák chuckled. “I hope your golem and your faith protect you, Rabbi. I hope they protect you all.” He grunted and wheezed as he climbed back into his carriage. His friends followed, and the carriage rattled away.
None of the crowd dispersed. In fact, others showed up, until it seemed as if the entire town stood on the street, shivering in the cold and looking at the rabbi and golem with grim faces. Emet would have quailed under those staring eyes if Jakob hadn’t been standing so close by his side, his head held high.
“Perhaps,” said Rabbi Eleazar very loudly, “some of you would like to discuss this matter. Please come inside where it’s warmer.” He walked back inside the shul, followed closely by Jakob’s family and Emet. Most of the rest filed inside as well.
In the foyer, Rabbi Eleazar pointed at the stairs. “Return to the attic,” he said to Emet.
Emet started to obey but was held back when Jakob grabbed his arm. “He’s a part of this too, Rabbi. Let him join us.”
“He’s only a golem.”
“He’s more than you think.”
The rabbi gave them both a long, considering look. “All right,” he finally said.
For the first time, Emet was allowed to enter the large chapel. Women sat upstairs on the mezzanine with the younger children, while older boys and men filled the seats downstairs. Jakob was with his father and brothers in the very front row. But Emet was hesitant to sit—his clothes were too ragged and dirty for such a fine room, and he didn’t feel as if he belonged in a chair. These chairs were meant for those who worshiped God; perhaps God would be offended at a soulless monster among them. So Emet instead chose to stand against a wall, and from that vantage point, he could see Jakob’s face.
When everyone was seated and the whispering had settled down, Rabbi Eleazar addressed the congregation. He summarized the situation with the duke and the plague-ridden city folk, and he told a few dire stories of what had happened to Jews in similar situations in the past. He explained how he’d read ancient stories about golems and decided to try to create one himself. He described Emet’s strength and resistance to injury. And then he allowed the people to ask questions and make comments.
After a while, Emet stopped listening. He didn’t understand much of what people were saying, and anyway his role was clear: obey his master’s orders, whatever they might be. He allowed his attention to focus on the room’s furnishings and the faces of the congregation. And he especially watched Jakob and his family. The father and brothers barely glanced at him, but Jakob looked at him often, usually with a smile Emet couldn’t help but return.
The conversation continued for a long time. Several people yelled and a few cried. But in the end, nobody seemed willing to leave Mala Lubovnya. Rabbi Eleazar stood in front of the dais where the Torah was kept in its decorated ark, and he nodded at his people. “Let us pray that hope and prudence will conquer fear and tyranny.” He began to sing.
The rabbi’s voice was loud but thin. It didn’t matter, however, because the entire congregation joined him. That would have been lovely enough, as several hundred throats opened, several hundred tongues and lips moved in unison, and the notes bounced and thundered throughout the sanctuary like an ocean of sound. But then that one voice chimed in too, clear and pure, cresting the chorus like a wave.
Emet searched the crowd for the source of the sublime singing—and his legs nearly gave out when he realized it was Jakob.
Jakob sang with his eyes closed and his head thrown back. He was always handsome, but now he could have been mistaken for an angel as all his usual doubts and hesitancy fled his face, replaced by an expression Emet thought must be passion. People smiled at Jakob as he sang, but he didn’t see them. His conversation was with God only, as Jakob thanked him and pled for peace.
Jakob had told Emet stories about souls. At the time, Emet had trouble understanding what a soul was, perhaps because he hadn’t one of his own. But now he saw Jakob’s soul very plainly. It was a thing of transcendent beauty.
Only when Emet’s vision blurred did he realize he was crying. He brushed his fingers against his cheeks; they came away wet. He licked one finger—remembering the way Jakob’s finger had so recently entered him—and tasted clay and salt. He could have crumbled to dust at that moment and been content.
When the prayers were over, the congregation slowly left the sanctuary. A few of them smiled at him as they passed, and he smiled back. Jakob was one of the last to leave. He didn’t say anything to Emet, but he looked like he wanted to.
“So,” said Rabbi Eleazar when everyone else was gone. “It seems you have joined the congregation. Do you understand what happens in this room?”
Emet nodded. “Yes. It’s wonderful.”
“Do you understand… God?”
“No. But I am grateful he allowed me to be created. I want to please him and protect his people.”
The rabbi smiled. “Then perhaps you understand enough.”
