Satan in Goray

Goray grew quieter and quieter. It was as if the inhabitants of the town had deserted it one by one, or had gone into hiding. The curtains of the houses were drawn; here and there shutters were bolted. The shops were either closed or were tended by children. The market was empty; the sand in the market place was hot as in a desert, and nettles grew at the edge of the circle. The whole town seemed to be holding its breath. When people met they discoursed in whispers, and they avoided each other's eyes. In this hour of eclipse they seemed to be dazzled.
    Only three days remained before the eve of the High Holy Day, and according to all calculations this was the day on which the great blast was to be heard. But the sun set--and nothing had occurred. Nor had the people of Goray prepared for the holy days. Children and adults went barefoot and in tatters; there was no flour with which to bake the bread for the holy days; there was no fish or honey. Reb Gedaliya was sought to explain the significance of this, but it was discovered that he had gone to commune in the hills. As for Rechele, she had been in a coma for several days, and Chinkele would permit no one to see her. At the last moment runners had been sent out to the surrounding villages to buy the most necessary articles. But they had not as yet returned. The unpainted houses huddled together, their roofs torn and their interiors visible: dusty attics full of cobwebs and rubbish. That summer the people of Goray had destroyed their most valuable possessions: they had ripped up floors and dismembered chests and shelves. At Reb Godel Chasid's they had burned the wall beams in the oven on Friday. All the holiday clothes were soiled and torn because the women had worn them on weekdays.
    Never before had there been such weeping as this year at the Penitential Prayers. No sooner had the Prayer of Sanctification begun than the cantor fell to the ground, as though his legs had collapsed beneath him. At the words, "Behold, I will turn the captivity of Jacob's tents," the congregation burst into lamentation. One old man beat his head with his fists, and cried: "Father in Heaven, you have tested us sufficiently! Now display your might!"
    Rosh Hashana eve was cool and damp. The sky, which all summer long had been as blue as the curtain of the Torah Ark, and somewhat broader and higher than usual, contracted. Now the town seemed enclosed in a dark canvas tent. The hills, which had been green and evocative of the holy land, disappeared, wiped off the face of the earth. The smoke, reluctant to leave the chimneys, spread over the houses, as though space had shrunken.
    Not until sunset did the pious lose hope in the possibility of a miracle. Miracles, they knew, always occur unexpectedly, when people are looking the other way. Perhaps just an instant before sunset the cloud would appear and carry them all off to the holy land. Some had even had a presentiment that it would happen thus. Reb Godel Chasid was steadfast; God, he argued, was testing the people of Goray to see whether they truly believed in Him with their whole heart. He went so far in his obstinacy that it angered him to see his household preparing food; he put out the fire in the oven, so certain that the eve-ning meal would be eaten in the Land of Israel. Not until it grew dark and the stars could be seen peeping through the clouds did it become clear to the people of Goray that the Exile was to continue during the High Holy Days. The women sat with downcast eyes and rigid bodies in the unlit houses. The unkempt men hastened to the prayer house, unwashed and with straggly beards. Too ashamed to commune with one another, they immediately began the long overdue afternoon prayers.
    Reb Gedaliya had returned from the hills a few hours before. He stood at the lectern reading the evening prayers, singing in a loud tearful voice and completely enveloped in his prayer shawl and white robe. His every groan set the congregation shaking, like trees in a storm. The women wailed as though they were mourning for the dead. After the prayers, the worshipers left quickly, without wishing one an-other a happy new year. There were no candles in town, and so the people of Goray sat in the darkness that night, or burned kindling chips. At the holiday feast they had nothing but meat and last year's kidney beans, though they were weary of meat. Those who were fortunate enough to have a loaf of bread divided it into slices which were sent