Die Pinchasgasse

“What you spend in honor of the holy days, the Lord will richly reward!” says the Talmud, and pious Pinchas granted everything his wife demanded. Clothes for the children and ornaments for herself were bought, pure white linens, golden headpieces and other treasures: neither the best wines nor the fattest meats were lacking, and in the home, where yesterday there was only the most oppressive need, today was found only joy and wellbeing. Never since the Israelites fled Egypt has a Passover been celebrated with such joyful spirits and pious devotion as it was this time at Reb Pinchas’s home. The eight-pointed lamp over the table and the candelabra on the walls with their circular, polished backing plates spread a bright halo of light in the clean, warm room. Next to the table, a divan of cushions decorated with large flowers had been built for the master of the house who, dressed in his finest robes, stretched out on it like a Pasha. The housewife sat opposite her husband and filled the glasses with red wine. She was clothed in a long, plentifully pleated white gown and wore a golden head covering decorated with stiffened lace and silk ribbons. The children sat around the table with happy faces, impatiently waiting for what was to come. Only the youngest enjoyed the privilege of sitting on the throne-bed at his father’s feet. On the table was a round tin dish, on which lay three unleavened loaves wrapped in a long hand-towel, as well as horseradish, watercress, cooked eggs, a piece of roasted meat, and a vessel with saltwater. Now the whole family raised the dish, and spoke with one voice the words: “This is the poor bread that our forefathers ate in the Land of Egypt; he who is hungry, let him come in and eat with us.”

Just then, the sound of wagon wheels was heard in the lane, and before Reb Pinchas could finish the blessing, someone was knocking on the window (their dwelling was on the ground floor). Pale with shock and all a-tremble, Reb Pinchas rose from his divan to see what was causing the disturbance. With a quaking voice, he went to the window and asked who was there. A voice from outside could be heard saying, “Just open up, Pinchas! I am here to celebrate Passover with you.” For a moment, everyone thought that the latecomer must be no other than the Prophet Elijah who at this time appears in the home of pious people, which is why a special glass, filled with wine, must be placed on the table. The bolt was quickly slid back; the door was opened, and in walked—Count B., Pinchas’s patron. “Almighty God! Can this be possible? Your Honor! Children—remove your caps, kiss his hand!” cried Reb Pinchas, totally beside himself, tearing the caps from the amazed children’s heads. “Don’t mind me, Pinchas, go on with your devotions! But what do I see?” cried the count in amazement, as he looked around the room, “Have you suddenly become a wealthy man?” “Yes, Your Honor!” said the Jew with a joyful smile. “Yes, God the Almighty has helped me! Just a few days ago, I was still a poor man and did not know whether I would be able to celebrate this Passover as a believer should; God’s help came just at the right time, and I am now a wealthy man.”

“Will you not tell me,” said the count, “how your situation changed so quickly?” “Yes, Your Honor, I can tell you of the miracle God bestowed upon his servant, for Your Honor always acted like an angel, heaping beneficence upon me,” replied Pinchas, and then truthfully began to tell the story. The count listened carefully, but when the Jew mentioned the monkey, he could no longer contain his amazement and cried out “What, a dead monkey! It must be mine! Truly, that would be amazing! My monkey died suddenly, three days ago and, so as not to see the animal anymore, I immediately had it removed from the house; but go on—how is that connected to your good fortune?” When Reb Pinchas heard these words, his anxiety peaked, his whole body began to tremble, his face turned deathly white, and he could not utter a single word. Silently he went to the cupboard, opened it, took out a pouch, and handed it to the count with the words “Your Honor! Here is all of it, except for a few pieces that I spent to honor the holy days.” “What do you want with that pouch?” asked the count in astonishment. “Well, this gold was in the monkey and if the monkey is Your Honor’s property, then so is the gold,” replied the frightened Jew. “Ach! The beautiful golden ducats!” sighed Pinchas’s wife. “Be quiet, woman. The Lord gave and the Lord hath taken away; blessed be his name!” cried Pinchas. The count turned to his servant, who stood, pale-faced, at some distance from him, and asked “Do you perhaps know something more specific about this? Speak, I want to hear it; what happened with the dead monkey?” “Forgive me, Your Excellency,” replied the frightened servant. “Jakob wanted to play a trick on poor Pinchas, and he threw the animal into his chamber—several other servants knew about it.” “What, Jakob? The joke turned out strangely,” said the count with a smile, “So, it seems that I had the poor boy locked up unjustly—but it might be a penalty for the misdeed that he committed against Pinchas. It is very likely that the foolish animal, with its instinct to imitate, ate the gold that was taken from my desk. It saw that I took the small gold coins and bent them between my teeth to mark them, so it thought that gold was edible.” “Yes indeed, Your Honor! The monkey died from eating the ducats—here is the gold,” Pinchas chimed in, as he extended the pouch to the count. “But no, honest Pinchas! The God of your fathers bestowed this treasure upon you, and it remains with you. I denied you the usual gift this year to see whether your God alone would help you, for you always said, ‘God has helped me.’ Now I realize that trust in God is worthwhile.” Who could now describe the joy of Reb Pinchas who again saw himself in possession of such a sum? “Children! Woman! Kiss the feet of your benefactor, kneel before the Angel of the Lord!” cried the happy man who seized the hand of the noble count and kissed it many times. The children fell down, embraced the knees of the magnanimous man, and kissed his coat. The count smiled down on the group with genuine pleasure, his truly noble spirits rose and found sweet recompense in the gallant deed. “I wish to spend this evening with you,” he said, “and watch the ceremonies that you conduct today; don’t worry about it, just act as though I were not here. My lady must also come quickly to learn of this wonderful coincidence.” Indeed, the wagon was sent off, and after a short time, the countess arrived. The noble couple stayed almost until midnight in the home of Reb Pinchas, who was not allowed to omit even the least important ceremony, and the two only departed after the so-called Seder came to an end and Reb Pinchas concluded with the verse “One day God will strike down the Angel of Death.”

Through hard work and intelligence, and with the count’s money, Rabbi Pinchas earned a great fortune after some years. Just as his money continuously increased, so, too, increased his reputation among his people: he was soon elected head of the Israelite community. But he remained as pious, honest, and modest as when he was in poverty. His house was a meeting place for the wisest rabbis, his purse was open to every request, and every day the hungry ate at his table. He also had several dwellings built for poor fellow-religionists in the lane where he lived, and on the same narrow street, he built with his own money a grand synagogue, which today still bears the name of its patron, so that the lane also is known as the “Pinchasgasse” (Pinchas Lane). Rabbi Pinchas died at a blessedly advanced age, after all his children had been married off and provided for.