The Unquiet Sound

Will the New Year
ever come to
Chelm.again?

MARK BINDER

SPECIAL TO THE JEWISH NEWS

(Translated from the scrolls of
Bogesh ben-hahah'a)

PT he week before Rosh
Hashanah, the Qui-
et Man of Chelm
spoke.
Most communi-
ties have some citi-
zens who like to
keep to themselves.
Maybe it's a woman who's got
nothing to say; maybe it's a man
who's got a lot to say, but doesn't
know where to begin. Regardless
of the reason, they just don't talk
much.
In Chelm., that small village
filled with so many distinguished
and learned Jews, the Quiet Man
was so quiet that no one knew his
true name. He hadn't spoken in
years. His wife, Gittel, could talk
the ears off an elephant, but even
she had forgotten her husband's
name, and couldn't find the ke-
tubah, which might
have given her a clue. Instead,
she just called him "Husband."
It worked for her.
It was "Husband do this," or
"Husband get that," or "Husband,
did you hear about the cow that
rolled down a hill and started giv-
ing butter instead of milk?"
As for him, he didn't argue, so
who could tell whether he liked
it or not?
The week before Rosh
Hashanah, the two of them were
sitting in the kitchen after din-
ner doing what they both liked to
do best. The Quiet Man in his
rocking chair smoked his pipe
and read Torah, and Gittel in her
rocking chair chattered.
It was a perfect evening, near
the end of a perfect day, near the
end of a perfect year.
The last year had been good for
the town of Chelm. Crops had
grown, children had grown,

Mark Binder is a novelist and

playwright in Providence, R.I.

waistlines had grown. Everyone
was happy and content.
So, how come the Quiet Man
chose that night to talk? We may
never know.
But we know what he said.
All of a sudden, the Quiet Man
stopped rocking. Gittel looked up,
thinking perhaps that her hus-
band had a bit of gas.
"Eh-chum," he coughed. She
reached to pass him a napkin.
Then, the unthinkable hap-
pened.
"Gittel," he said in a crystal-
clear voice. "What if the New
Year doesn't come?"
Well, Gittel, who was leaning
backward to take a napkin from
the kitchen table, was so sur-
prised that she fell right out of
her rocking chair. Her husband
was up in an instant, helping her
to her feet. She was all right, but
for once in her life, she was dumb-
struck.
After making certain that his
beloved wife was unhurt, the Qui-
et Man began pacing
back and forth across
the kitchen floor, ob-
viously troubled.
"Husband," Gittel
finally gasped. "What
if the New Year
doesn't come? That
is a terrifying
thought!"
Her
husband
shrugged, and nodded
sadly.
"We must go to the
rabbi," Gittel said. The
Quiet Man shook his
head to protest, but
dragging her husband
by the elbow, she im-
mediately hustled
him across town to the
synagogue.
In recent years,
Rabbi Kibbitz and
Rabbi Yonon
Abrahms the Mash-
giach had held
evening discussion
groups about pas-
sages of Scripture.
Many of the men, and
even some of the women of
Chelm, participated in these
study sessions at one time or an-
other.
That evening, Reb Stein the
baker, Reb Cohen the tailor, Reb
Gold the cobbler, and Mrs. Chaip-
ul, who ran the kosher res-
taurant, were dozing over a

particularly invigorating pas-
sage of Leviticus.
When Gittel and her husband
burst into the study hall, they all
leapt to their feet (except for Rab-
bi Kibbutz, who sort of stood up
slowly).
"My husband has posed the
unthinkable: 'What if the New
Year never comes?' " she asked
the assembly.
"What if the New Year never
comes?" Reb Gold said.
"Yes, what if?" answered Reb
Stein.
"It would be horrible," said Reb
Cohen.
"It will ruin," agreed Mrs.
Chaipul, "my Yom Kippur break-
the-fast!"
"The New Year has always
come," said Rabbi Yonon
Abrahms with a
dismissive wave. "In the Torah,
God promised Abraham that his
seed shall be multiplied 'as the
stars of heaven and as the sand
which is upon the shore of the

must make certain that this New
Year comes!"
"But how?" said Reb Stein.
"Yes, how?" said Reb Cantor.
"Shush already!" said Mrs.
Chaipul interrupting Reb Gold,
who looked a little put out. "Lis-
ten to the rabbi."
They all gathered around Rab-
bi Kibbitz.
"Ordinarily, it takes the Cre-
ator at least a night and a day for
the celebration of Rosh
Hashanah, the New Year," the
rabbi said. "If the New Year were
not to come, it would probably not
happen between the night and
the day."
The women nodded and the
men pulled their beards in un-
comprehending agreement.
"We must not let the New
Year's day escape us!" Rabbi Kib-
butz said so loudly he startled
everyone.
"But, how?" said Reb Stein.
"Yes, how?" echoed Reb Can-
tor.
Reb Gold didn't
even bother, he just
looked at Mrs. Chaip-
ul and shrugged.
"From this day un-
til the New Year, if it
comes," said Rabbi
Kibbitz, "everyone in
the town of Chelm
shall stay awake! At
the very least, we
shall enjoy every mo-
ment of the last week
of this year. But more
importantly, it will be
impossible for the
New Year to slip
away without us
noticing. We will cap-
ture the
New Year!"
"We will capture
the New Year!"
shouted everyone, ex-
cept for the Quiet
Man, who still looked
rather troubled.
From that mo-
ment, all the towns-
people of Chelm from
the tiniest baby to the
sea.' There aren't that many of us oldest gentleman stayed awake.
yet."
They played pinochle, they
The men and women nodded, worked, they ate, they told sto-
much reassured, until Rabbi Kib- ries, they shook each other's
bitz spoke.
shoulders.
The children loved the holiday,
"If the Quiet Man said it, then
it must mean something," the because after the second day, the
wise teacher said. He patted the rabbis gave them permission to
Quiet Man on his hand. "We make as much noise banging pots

and pans as they possibly could.
None of the cows or chickens in
the village slept either, and milk
and egg production tripled! Reb
Stein the baker baked 24 hours
a day to feed the
constantly hungry population,
and Mrs. Chaipul did an incred-
ible business selling coffee by the
cup.
Toward the end of the fourth
day, only three days until Rosh
Hashanah, the citizens were
dragging their feet. They'd taken
to walking in circles to stay
awake. The children played
hopscotch over and over and
over. But it wasn't enough. Eye-
lids began to grow heavy; the cof-
fee didn't seem to be helping.
Mr. Levitsky, the janitor at the
synagogue, went to the rabbi and
sadly reported that his youngest
girl, Chaya, had taken to dozing.
The rabbi himself was having
trouble, so he called the entire
town together in the square, and
formally gave children, old peo-
ple, and sick people permission
to nap, if they must. Everyone
else would gather in the syna-
gogue to begin Rosh Hashanah
prayers early.
"At the least, we'll be together
and stay awake," yawned the rab-
bi. "At the best, the Lord will
bring the New Year to us early,
as a favor."
And so the world's longest
Rosh Hashanah service began.
Day and night the lights of the
main synagogue of Chelm were
lit. For once, the rabbi allowed
cups of coffee (which Mrs. Chaip-
ul donated in the name of chari-
ty) into the sanctuary. Amid the
sound of slurping coffee, psalms
and praises were sung.
On the sixth day, Rabbi Yonon
Abrahms excused himself to
make his journey to the town of
Smyrna. Rabbi Abrahms was the
only ba'al tekiah in the area, and
so he took turns blowing the sho-
far, the ram's horn of celebration,
in Smyrna one year and in Chelm
the next. Before he left, he gave
a rousing speech
(which no one remembered),
and told the townspeople that he
would ask the people of Smyrna
to help capture the New Year.
Finally, Erev Rosh Hashanah
arrived. Rabbi Kibbitz asked
everyone to turn their prayer
books back to Page 1, for the fifth
time. The pages turned and the
people prayed louder and harder

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