Hassagot השגות

Kav veNaki 2: On one occasion, the teacher

On one occasion, the teacher of youth received a package from the land of Israel.  He brought it to his office and opened it with excitement.  The package contained a photocopy of a manuscript in a beautiful hand.  Together with the copies was a letter.  A scholar in the land of Israel sent a copy of the manuscript for the teacher’s interest, in the hope that the teacher would seek support for the preparation of a printed edition with commentary.  The manuscript was a rare find from a library in London or Parma or Budapest.   It described conversations with Elijah and an account of the world to come. 

The teacher of youth was filled with excitement to read the book.  He began by looking at each page.  The hand was beautiful, the letters well-spaced and legible from first page to last.  The teacher found himself becoming drowsy and resolved to sit down soon and read the book through from the first page.  In any event, he had to stop reading in order to meet with several people and respond to his electronic mail.

Two weeks later, the teacher of youth carved out some time in his day to begin reading the manuscript.  Again, he soon found himself becoming drowsy.  However, he continued to read.  After ten pages, he noticed that the text was becoming dim.  Indeed, several pages of the manuscript were blank before the hand reappeared clearly.  He put the manuscript away.

More time passed before he returned to the manuscript.  He had to look for the manuscript on his desk under a small pile of new mail that he had received.  He was surprised to see that the pages that had previously appeared dim were clearly visible.  He read them with an intense joy.  Soon, however, the letters appeared to dim again and he was overcome by sleep. 

In this way, he made his way through the manuscript.

Kav veNaki 1: Once, a Young Man

Once, a young man heard the news that his father was in a neighboring town. He was happy to hear the news, for he had not seen his father. He traveled by train and came to the town where his father was staying. When he alighted the train, he made his way to his father’s hotel. The concierge informed him of his father’s room. He took the elevator to the correct floor and walked to the room. When he knocked on his father’s door, he was shown in by a friend of his father’s who was also visiting. “Your father is down the hall,” the friend said. The young man walked to his father’s room. When he came there, he saw a vast space in white. Where one would expect to see comfortable chairs, it was white. Where one would expect shelves with books, it was white. Where he expected to see his father approaching to embrace him, there too it was white.

 The son left the hotel and boarded the train. His father’s friend had told him, “Your dad has already left for such and such a town.” He went to that town, where he found his way to his father’s hotel. When he came to the room where his father was expected, he saw a vast space in light blue. He could make out the space where his father had been.

 In another town, his father’s room was gold; in another, purple. In each town, the impression of his father grew stronger and stronger. 

The man did not cease in his travels.