I Dream Awake

…return to first principles:

And it came to pass that the great Rebbi Israel Baal Shem Tov, Master of the Good Name, known for his powers in heaven as well as on earth, decided to try once more to force his Creator’s hand.

He had tried many times before—and failed. Burning with impatience, he wanted to end the ordeals of exile forcibly; and this time he was but one step away from success. The gates were ajar; the Messiah was about to appear and console the children and old men awaiting him, awaiting no one else but him. The Diaspora had lasted long enough; now men everywhere would gather and rejoice.

The heavens were in an uproar. The angels were dancing. Red with anger, outraged, Satan demanded an audience with God. Brought before Him, he protested, invoking laws and precedents, history and reason. Look at man’s impudence, he said, how dare he take things in his own hands? Does the world deserve redemption? And the conditions to warrant the Messiah’s coming, have they been met?

God listened. And had to recognize the validity of Satan’s arguments: Lo ikhshar dara, the Rebbe’s gesture was judged premature; his generation was not yet ready for a miracle of such magnitude. Moreover, since the order of creation may not be disturbed with impunity, he and his faithful scribe Reb Tzvi-Hersh Soifer were deported to a distant uncharted island. Where they were promptly taken prisoners by a band of pirates.

Never has the Master been so submissive, so resigned.

“Master,” the scribe pleaded, “do something, say something!”

“I can’t,” said the Baal Shem Tov, “my powers are gone.”

“What about your secret knowledge, your divine gifts: your yikhuddim? What happened to them?”

“Forgotten,” said the Master. “Disappeared, vanished. All my knowledge has been taken away; I remember nothing.”

But when he saw Hersh Soifer’s despair, he was moved to pity. “Don’t give up,” he said, “we still have one chance. You are here, and that is good. For you can save us. There must be one thing I taught you that you remember. Anything—a parable, a prayer. Anything will do.”

Unfortunately, the scribe too had forgotten everything. Like his Master, he was a man without memory.

“You really remember nothing,” the Master asked again, “nothing at all?”

“Nothing, Master. Except…”

“…except what?”

“…the aleph, beith.”

“Then what are you waiting for?” Shouted the Master, suddenly excited. “Start reciting! Right now!”

Obedient as always, the scribe proceeded to recite slowly, painfully, the first of the sacred letters which together contain all of the mysteries of the entire universe: “Aleph, beith, gimmel, daleth…”

And the Master, impatiently, repeated after him: “Aleph, beith, gimmel, daleth…”

Then they started all over again, from the beginning. And their voices became stronger and clearer: aleph, beith, gimmel, daleth… until the Baal Shem became so entranced that he forgot who and where he was. When the Baal Shem was in such ecstacy, nothing could resist him, that is well known. Oblivious to the world, he transcended the laws of time and geography. He broke the chains and revoked the curse: Master and scribe found themselves back home, unharmed, richer, wiser and more nostalgic than ever before.

The Messiah had not come.

Souls on Fire, by Elie Wiesel.