Shapiro, The Jewish State and Other Stories

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VIOLENCE AGAINST THE JEWISH PEOPLE IS NOTHING NEW.

It began with the maltreatment of Jewish slaves by the

Pharaoh, continued through the twelfth-century Crusade

slaughters and the 1648 Cossack massacres, and

culminated in the destruction of European Jewry during the

Holocaust. As David Roskies has explained in his

groundbreaking Against the Apocalypse, part of the Jewish

response to these catastrophes has been the creation of a

remarkably rich and powerful literature.

The great Jewish modernist writer Lamed Shapiro, the

author of Pour Out Thy Wrath (1908), introduced a new lit-

e r a ry perspective on anti-Jewish violence. He was the first

Jewish writer to show how Jews, in response to victimization,

could themselves become victimizers. For Shapiro, violence

was an elemental force that plowed down everything in its

path and infected the receiver as well as the giver. In Shapiro s

most famous story, The Cross (1909), the protagonist rapes

and kills his girlfriend after he has witnessed his own mother

t o rt u red and killed by pogromists. In many of Shapiro s tales,

violence does not lead Jews to become saints; instead, it can

cause them to mimic their oppressors.

In the tradition of the Yiddish and Russian writers

I. L. Peretz and Anton Chekhov, Shapiro wrote highly crafted

short stories. Yet unlike his literary mentors, what he chose

to describe was the chaos of modern Jewish life. His tales

thus often express the basest elements of human behavior

rape, sadism, murder through the medium of high art.

Shapiros stories have a taut, highly condensed form that

contrasts dramatically with the chaotic events he describes.

Pour Out Thy Wrath is one of Shapiros most troubling

pogrom stories. It is told from the perspective of a young

boy who witnesses how a pogrom in Eastern Europe contin-

ues to destroy his parents even after they have immigrated

to New York. In this story, physical violence transgresses all

boundaries and brings ruin even to the children of those

who are subjected to it. No one is untouched.

In Shapiro s controlled narrative, chaotic violence is played

out in the cold New York City tenement of the escaped immi-

grants. The boys parents remain so damaged by the pogro m

that they neglect him, leaving him lonely, frustrated, and lost.

Only at the end of the tale does the son begin to understand

that his fathers coldness and fury and his mothers perpetual

tears and re c u rrent illness are the outcomes of the violence

they experienced in the Old World. The New World, which

should offer the potential for limitless reinvention, has been

c o rrupted by a shadow that hangs over everything.

Rather than describing the violence directly, as he does

in other stories, Shapiro has his boy protagonist stand at

the edge and witness its permanent effects. He is apart

from the violence both geographically, by being in America,

and through time, by reexperiencing it in a confusing

whirlwind of memories. In his father, however, the pogrom

has created a repressed tide of fury and pain that builds

until he can no longer contain it. It transforms the man

into a raging monster that the son does not recognize.

As is typical in Shapiro s stories, Judaism itself is infected

and transformed by the violence. Even the four questions of

Passover become emblematic of the complete lack of commu-

nication within the boys family. And the Haggadah passage

that ends the story is recast as the fathers plaintive, angry,

and impotent cry against the attackers who have ruined him

and his family. Shapiro s story reminds us that while Jewish

immigrants to America may have landed on a safe shore,

many still carried the permanent psychological scars of anti-

Semitism. And for some, the profound trauma was physical

as well, as manifested in the unwanted child of rape gro w i n g

in the womb of the boys mother. Leah Garre t t

Leah Garrett is assistant professor of English and Judaic

studies at the University of Denver and author of Journeys

Beyond the Pale: Yiddish Travel Writing in the Modern

World (University of Wisconsin Press, 2003).

F A L L 2 0 0 4

Forthcoming from The New Yiddish Library

The Jewish State and Other Stories

by Lamed ShapiroLeah Garrett, Editor / David G. Roskies, Series Editor

T R A N S L AT I O N


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Pour Out Thy Wrath

BY LAMED SHAPIRO

TRANSLATED BY HEATHER VALENCIA

True, it had been a terrible storm. Yet when you

are nine years old you quickly forget even the

most violent tempest. And Meyerl had turned

nine a few weeks before Passover. However, it was also true

that winds were always blowing through their house: biting,

icy gusts which cut into him and reminded him of that

storm. In fact Meyerl spent more time in the wild streets of

New York than in the house. Tartylw and then New York.

New York had flooded over Tartylw and washed it out ofhis memory. The only thing he still remembered was a

dream from that time. And besides, when you are nine years

old you quickly forget any storm. But even if it was just a

dream it was still terrifying!

At that time they had been stu dying in heder. Th ey

were re a lly just going thro u gh the moti on s , because at the

end of term , on the Days of Repen t a n ce leading up to Ro s h

Ha s h on a , the rebbe rel a xed a little. So while they were sitti n g

l e a rn i n g, su d den ly from the street came the sound of doors

b a n gi n g, and thro u gh the wi n dows of the heder they saw Jews

running around as if t h ey had gone mad . Th ey were jerk i n gand spinning abo ut , just like leaves in a wh i rlwi n d , wh en a

wi tch rises up from the earth in a pillar of dust and spins

t h ro u gh the street , so swift and unex pected that a shiver goe s

t h o u gh your body. Seeing the people running around in the

s treet , the rebbe co ll a p s ed on to his ch a i r, as wh i te as a corp s e ,

his lower lip trem bling uncon tro ll a bly.

Meyerl never saw him aga i n . Af terw a rds people said that

the rebbe had been mu rdered . Meyerl was not pleased to hear

this even though the rebbe used to beat the pupils brut a lly.

But he also wasnt sorry abo ut it ei t h er. He just didnt re a lly

u n derstand what had happen ed . What did that mean: mu r-

dered? And so the whole puzzling qu e s ti on com p l etely dis-

a ppe a red from his mind, toget h er with the rebbe .

It was on ly then that the real terror bega n . For two days ,

toget h er with some older peop l e , he and some boys hid in the

bathhouse wi t h o ut food , d ri n k , or paren t s . The adu l t s

wo u l d nt all ow him to go hom e , and on ce , wh en he started

s c re a m i n g, t h ey almost smothered him. He carri ed on sob-

bing and shaking, u n a ble to stop crying immed i a tely. A few

times he dozed of f , and wh en he wo ke with a start , n o t h i n g

h ad ch a n ged . In the midst of a ll the horror, he on ly heard on e

word goyi m wh i ch con ju red up in his mind an image of

s om ething re a lly terri bl e . The rest of it was very con f u s ed . In

f act he did not actu a lly wi tness anything direct ly. L a ter, wh en

it was all over, no one came to look for him,and he was taken

to his home by a stra n ger. Nei t h er his father nor his mother

said anything to him, but acted as if he had just come back

f rom heder as usu a l .

Everything in the house was smashed .His father s arm had

been disloc a ted and his face be a ten up. His mother was lyi n g

on the bed with her bl on de hair to u s l ed , h er eyes puffy as if

she had overs l ept , h er face pale and dirty. Her whole body

l oo ked unti dy, l i ke a heav y, c ru m p l ed bed s pre ad . Meyerl s

f a t h er silen t ly paced abo ut the house, not looking at anyon e ,

his bandaged arm hanging in a wh i te sling around his neck .

Meyerl su d den ly sen s ed some kind of h i d den horror and

bu rst out sobbi n g. His father merely loo ked at him with abl e a k , m orose ex pre s s i on and con ti nu ed pacing abo ut the

room wi t h o ut saying a word .

Th ree weeks later they sailed for Am eri c a . Du ring the

voya ge the sea was very ro u gh , and Meyerl s mother lay bel ow

on her bu n k , the whole time vom i ting vi o l en t ly. Meyerl was

f i n e . His father however kept on pacing back w a rds and for-

w a rds on the deck , even in the heaviest ra i n , u n til one of t h e

s h i ps crew came and drove him bel ow deck .

Meyerl didnt know ex act ly what happen ed , but at on e

point a goyon boa rd annoyed his father laughing at him, or

s om ething like that and his father drew himsel f up and gavehim a loo k . It was on ly a loo k , but the goywas fri gh ten ed . He

retre a ted and started crossing himsel f while spitting and mut-

tering inaudibly.Wh en Meyerl saw the way his father twi s ted

up his mouth and ground his teet h , with his eyes pro tru d i n g

o ut of t h eir socket s , he was also scared . Meyerl had never seen

him looking like that. But soon his father started pacing the

deck again with his head bu ri ed in the co llar of his coa t , h i s

hands in his sleeve s , and his back hu n ch ed .

Wh en they landed in New York , Meyerl s head began to

s p i n , and pret ty soon Ta rtylw had tu rn ed into a dre a m .

It was the beginning of wi n ter, and soon masses of

f re s h , wh i te snow began to fall . Meyerl had

become a real Am erican boy. L i ke all boys , he wen t

to sch oo l , he learn ed to throw snowb a ll s , f ly on skate s , a n d

l i ght fires in the middle of the street and no one was upset .

L i ke all boys , he lived mostly on the streets and would on ly

come home to grab some food or sleep.

Cold biting drafts penetrated the house, making it seem

strange and eerie. Meyerls father, a thin, large-boned man

with a dark-skinned face and a black beard, had always

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been quiet and only rarely did one hear him say things to

his wife like: Listen to me, Tsipe... Now he was completely

silent and it was really frightening. Mother, on the other

h a n d , h ad alw ays been lively and talkative , con s t a n t ly

bustling around with her Shloyme this and Shloyme

that, and telling lots of stories. But now all this had changed

completely. Father constantly paced around the room while

Mother followed him with her eyes like a child, as if she was

desperate to say something but did not dare to. And there

was something different about her expression. What was it,

exactly? It was something which reminded Meyerl of the

eyes of the dog Mishka that he loved to play with backthere,

in the shtetlthat had become a dream.

Som eti m e s , waking up su d den ly in the middle of t h e

n i gh t , Meyerl heard his mother sobbi n g. At those times his

f a t h er, in the other bed , would be smoking his ciga r, d rawi n gon it fiercely. It was fri gh tening to see the gl ow flaring up each

time in the darkness as if of its own accord , h overing just over

wh ere his father s dark head must be lyi n g. As sleep overc a m e

Meyerl , his mother, the gl owing ciga r, and the whole room

would ju m ble toget h er in his head and then fade aw ay.

Twi ce that wi n ter his mother was ill .The first time it lasted

for two days and the second time for fo u r, but both times it

s eem ed very seri o u s . Her face was fiery - red , and she bit her

l ower lip so hard with her sharp wh i te teeth that it bl ed .

De s p i te this, terri ble wild groans came from her revealing her

d re adful pain. She vom i ted frequ en t ly as she had du ring thesea voya ge . The vom i ting was so vi o l ent that it seem ed as if

h er inte s tines were going to come up.

At these times she did not look at Meyerls father

pleadingly. No, this was something differentthis was

likewhat was it like?Oh yes! It was like the time when

Mishka had a sharp thorn stuck deep in his paw, and he

squealed and howled with furious rage while chewing his

paw as if to devour it and the thorn together.

Father also was different during those periods. He didnt

just pace but ran about the room with the smoking cigar

crackling ceaselessly between his teeth. Instead of the one

cloud which perpetually hovered motionless over his brow,

now cloud after cloud chased each other, twisting into the

deep broad furrows. From time to time it was as if flashes of

l i gh tning passed over and then were immed i a tely

extinguished again. He did not look at his wife, and neither

of them paid any attention to Meyerl, who felt altogether

lost and lonely.

It was stra n ge , but it was at those times that Meyerl fel t

d rawn to stay at hom e . In the street everything was just as

u su a l , wh ereas at hom e . . . . Th ere , it was ra t h er like the atm o s-

ph ere in the synagogue du ring the Days of Awe wh en the

s h ofar was bl own as tall fathers with prayer- s h awls over thei r

h e ads stood holding their bre a t h , and from far aw ay the note

of the te k i a reverbera ted over the con grega ti on a solitary,

powerf u l , l on g - d rawn - o ut sound: to - to - u - u u u u u u u u u !

Both times after his mother recovered a dark shadow

would descend on the house. Father became even gloomier

than before, and Mothers expression, as she followed him

with her eyes, was more submissive and dejected than ever.

Meyerl in turn would run out of the house and into the

noisy street.

The wh i te snows had become less frequ ent and

s oon they dep a rted altoget h er like bi rds leavi n g

the nest. It felt as if s om ething new was in the air.

What it actu a lly was, Meyerl co u l d nt re a lly say. But in anyc a s e , it must be som ething good , s om ething very good ,

because all the people in the street were very happy abo ut it.

You could see that in their bri gh ter and fri en dl i er face s .

On the morning of the Eve of Pa s s over the sky also cl e a red

a little at hom e . It was as if the outdoors and the indoors were

clasping hands thro u gh the wi n dow wh i ch had been open ed

for the first ti m e . This fri en dliness made Meyerl feel happ i er.

Fa t h er and Mo t h er made prep a ra ti ons for Pa s s over. Th ey

were , h owever, m e a ger prep a ra ti on s : t h ere was no fe s tive ,

n oisy matzo - b a kery so they inste ad bo u ght a pack a ge of o l d ,

co l d , re ady - b a ked matzo s . Th ere was no barrel of borsht forPa s s over standing in the corn er covered with coa rs e

u n bl e ach ed linen . Th ere were no du s ty Pa s s over dishes to get

down from the attic wh ere they had been kept for ye a rs .

In s te ad , f a t h er bo u ght cheap unmatch ed odds and ends of

c rockery from a street ped dl er. But all the same, t h ere was sti ll

a sligh t ly fe s tive atm o s ph ere that warm ed the heart . O n ce or

t wi ce , b ack in Ta rtyl w, Meyerl had lain in bed at night wi t h

his eyes open , his heart petri f i ed with fe a r, l i s tening to the

d a rk sti ll n e s s . It seem ed as if the whole world his wh o l e

f a m i ly had died . But the su d den simple crowing of a roo s ter

was en o u gh to fill his heart again with a warm stream of j oy

and hom ely com fort .

Fa t h er s face bri gh ten ed up a little. Wh en he was wi p i n g

the wine glasses for Pa s s over, a l t h o u gh his eyes sti ll stared

ra t h er distractedly, his lips loo ked as if t h ey might just bre a k

i n to a smile at any mom en t . Mo t h er loo ked almost ch eerful as

she bu s t l edaround in the kitch en , prep a ring the first of t h e

m a t zo - p a n c a kes wh i ch were sizzling and ch a t tering in the

p a n , wh en a nei gh bor came in to borrow a po t . Meyerl was

standing be s i de his mother. The nei gh bor took her po t , a n d

the wom en started exch a n ging a few words abo ut the fort h-

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coming fe s tiva l . Th en the nei gh bor said: And there ll soon be

s om ething else to cel ebra te in your house, wont there ?

poi n ting at mother with a smile and a wi n k . It was then that

Meyerl su d den ly noti ced for the first time that his mother s

f i g u re had become round and full . But he had no time to

think abo ut it, for he heard the crash of breaking glasses from

the other room . His mother stood as if she had been stru ck

du m b, and his father appe a red in the doorw ay.

G et out !

His voi ce made the wi n dowpanes ra t t l e , as though a heav y

w a gon was riding over the pavem en t .

With a clumsy movem en t , the terri f i ed nei gh bor tu rn ed

round and lef t .

Fa t h er and Mo t h er loo ked awk w a rd in their fe s-

tive cl o t h e s , with their faces like mourn ers at af u n era l . In fact the whole seder seem ed awk w a rd .

The atm o s ph ere was more like the last evening meal before

the fast of Tisha Bov. Wh en Meyerl began ch a n ting the Fo u r

Q u e s ti ons in an ex pre s s i onless voi ce , l i ke som eone hired for

the job, he felt his heart ach i n g ; a round him all was stra n gely

s i l en t , l i ke in the synagogue wh en an orphan is rec i ting his

f i rst Kad d i s h .

Mothers lips were moving without any sound at all.

From time to time she wet her finger and turned over the

pages, one after the other, and a large, heavy, shining

teardrop slowly rolled down her beautiful but unhappyface, falling on the siddur, on the white tablecloth, or on her

clothes. Father did not look at her. Did he see her weeping?

And how strangely he recited the Haggoda! He chanted a

little bit of it with a melody, with long-drawn-out tones,

and then suddenly his voice would break down with a

choking sound, as if a hand was squeezing his throat. Then

he would look at the Haggoda again, or his unfocused eyes

would stray around the room. He would start to recite

again, until his voice broke down once more....

They hardly ate anything and each of them said the

grace privately and silently. Suddenly Father said: Meyer,

open the door.

Ra t h er nervo u s ly, f u ll of vague fear of the Proph et Elija h ,

Meyerl pull ed the door open .

Sh foykh khamoskho el hagoyi m , a s h er loy yed oukho Po u r

o ut Thy wrath upon the nati ons that know thee not!

A slight shu d der ran down Meyerl s spine. A voi ce that was

com p l etely stra n ge to him re s o u n ded from one corn er of t h e

room to the other, shot up to the cei l i n g,f lung itsel f down-

w a rds again and began to ri coch et of f the four wall s , l i ke a

c a ged bi rd going bers erk . Meyerl tu rn ed to look at his father

and his hair stood on end with terror. A wild figure in a lon g

s n ow - wh i te robe , as stra i ght as a taut vi o l i n - s tri n g, with a

bl ack be a rd and a thin, d a rk - s k i n n ed face stood by the tabl e .

Its eyes were bu rning with a dark , eerie fire . It gra ted its teet h

and its voi ce tu rn ed into the wild howling of an animal

roa ring for qu ivering flesh and warm bl ood . Mo t h er spra n g

o ut of h er ch a i r, shaking in every limb. She loo ked at Fa t h er

for an instant and then threw hers el f down at his feet ,

clutching the hem of his long wh i te robe with both hands and

l et ting out a wail.

S h l oym e , S h l oym e . Ki ll me, S h l oyme! Put an end to me!

O h , the agony, the agony !

Meyerl felt all his insides tu rning over, as if a large hand

with long talons had dug into and twi s ted them with on e

te a ring movem en t . His mouth open ed wi de , and the scre a m

of a terri f i ed child bu rst out of his throa t . Ta rtylw su d den lywh i rl ed in front of his eye s . Terri f i ed Jews were rushing abo ut

in the street like leaves in a storm . The pale rebbe was sitti n g

on his ch a i r, his lower lip trem bl i n g.Mo t h er was lying on the

bed ,a ll screwed up like a cru m p l ed bed s pre ad . Meyerl sen s ed

as cl e a rly as if it had been wri t ten there in front of his eyes that

a ll that was not over, that it was just begi n n i n g, that the re a l ,

en ormous calamity was just com i n g, was just abo ut to fall on

t h eir house, on their head s , l i ke a thu n dercl a p. O n ce again a

s c ream of wild helpless terror bu rst out of his throa t .

A few Italian nei gh bors were standing in the corri dor,

s t a ring at this incom preh en s i ble scene and wh i s pering fe a r-f u lly to each other. In the room the terri ble curse sti ll

re s o u n ded ; one instant ri n ging out in strong steel - l i ke ton e s ,

and in the nex t , in the ra s p i n g, pers i s tent de a t h - rattle of a

s l a u gh tered man:

Mi gh ty God !

Pour out thy great wrath upon the nati on s

Who have no God in their heart s !

Thy great wrath upon the kingdom s ,

That know not thy name!

My body he has devo u red , devo u red

My house he has laid waste , laid waste !

Let thy wrathful anger pursue them !

Pu rsue them and overt a ke them ,

Overt a ke them and de s troy them ut terly

From under the heavens!

Heather Valencia is an Honorary Research fellow at the University

of Stirling, Scotland. She is currently translating Esther Kreitmans

novelBrilyantn into English.

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A ransacked apartment in the aftermath of a 1919 pogrom in Zhitomir, Ukraine. Photograph courtesy of YIVO Institute for Jewish Research.

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Shapiro, The Jewish State and Other Stories