18 April 1908, Lodz
“I must admit I had not thought the numbers would be so large.” General Rabinovicz rubbed the bridge of his nose. Rabbi Landauer knew the mannerism well – three years had left many a mark on the young man, but beneath the immaculate dark blue uniform, the sinewy muscle and brittle hardness, this was still the brainy, odd kid who had aced his every question and answer session.
“We are doing everything on a grand scale these days, I fear.” The old man explained patiently. “Good things and bad, in numbers that make the individual act seem to lose all meaning.”
“Still…” Rabinovicz thought of the girl from the cellar in Lublin. How was she doing these days? He had never checked.
Landauer nodded. “The good news remains that thousands of our people are coming out of Russia still. I had feared that it would end with the closing of the Black Sea, but wherever the fronts go, Jews come to them. If that is a burden, it is one I will happily bear.”
A burden it was. All along the frontline, puzzled soldiers found themselves confronted with ragged, joyful people who had often walked for weeks with no clearer goal than ‘westwards’ - to the safety of the new state, the Kingdom of Poland that had promised them shelter and protection. How word had spread he would never know. Even the exploits of legendary Moses Zorn and his gang of avenging angels never travelled half as fast or wide. But every day, new people arrived, pointed to the Grand Rabbinate in Lodz by every soldier and civilian in the country, needing shelter, food, care, support, comfort. The cost in money was great enough, but money was barely tight. Donors in America and England had deep pockets, and a dollar or pound could go a long way in a world of paper zloty and military scrip. It was that money did not buy what wasn’t there. You could get food enough, now that the winter was over, but shelter, living space, clothing, coal, household goods, all were simply not to be had. Improvisation could only take you so far. Even with receiving centres in several other cities, Lodz was bursting with starved, desperate, homeless Jews. And – the others.
For over a year he had heard stories of Russians who acted like Jews, who had sheltered Jews at the height of the Union pogroms or fled with them. Last autumn, the first had shown up in the Austro-Hungarian command, and had naturally gravitated towards Lodz. Which had landed the problem on Rabinovicz’s desk. Here was a man – now, several, almost a hundred, in fact – who wanted to volunteer for the Jewish Division, and he might have to turn them away. At least, according to the opinions of many. Rabinovicz was inclined to be pragmatic, but uncertain if he was not setting a dangerous precedent here.
“So, rebbe, have you come to a conclusion what we are to do with them?”
“The question is one of precedence.” Landauer explained. The general settled into his chair. He’d be taking the scenic route – this could be a while.
“Whether they are Jews by birth is a question we cannot answer with any certainty. Where are the records? But since they themselves admit they are not – why would they lie about it when they could so easily pass for Jews? No, much as I would wish to assume they are lying – or misinformed – I dare not.” Landauer looked in the direction of the window, where the sun was glinting off the windows of the Great Synagogue. Rabinovicz followed his gave and nodded. There were some things a provincial rabbi might do, but the Grand Rabbinate of Poland could not be seen to tolerate.
“The question then is how we must regard their status with a view to giyur. Some would argue that their willingness to defend the Jewish people in itself would be enough to qualify them, but you know that it is not that easy. In fact, the more I look at the rules, the more I am convinced that a man of such qualities would need to be thought of as ger tzedek, a righteous gentile, out of kindness and regard for his soul. And I fear a large number of our more traditional brothers agree with me there, and no,”
Landauer raised his hand and Rabinovicz closed his mouth, the objection unspoken.
“I know you would be happier with a body of biddable, reasonable men. Men who would make pilgrimage to the Hamburg temple and discuss gemorah over cigars and port – no, that was Ferber.” He winked. “Anyways, that is not what I want, or will have. You can look down at our miracle rabbis and Chassidim, but these are the people who keep the faith alive in times of persecution. The flame burns bright in them. I must listen to them, and if only for the respect I have for their faith, I shall. I will take no facile quibbling over the letter of the laws here. They are not converts.”
Landauer paused.
“They are Jews.”
Rabinovicz’s eyes widened.
“What? How…”
“Precedence of law. The words in the Book of Ruth are specific: For whither thou goest, I will go; and where thou lodgest, I will lodge; thy people shall be my people, and thy God my God; where thou diest, will I die, and there will I be buried; the LORD do so to me, and more also, if aught but death part thee and me.”
He had slipped into Hebrew, and as he cleared his throat, Rabinovicz thought he could see a tear in the old man’s eye.
“The error of the Gaonim is that they think of those words solely as words. But a man does not speak his will solely through the word. They have gone where we went, they lodge where we lodge, our people shall be their people, and they are now offering to die where we do and be buried side by side with the most pure-blooded Kohen among your riflemen. They have taken the oath of Ruth through their actions. No rabbi needed reject them thrice – the world sought to make them abandon their faith and yet they held true to it. We put too much store by ritual and memory, Yossel.”
Landauer rose.
“Too much store by the ways and wisdoms and errors of our little communities. That will have to change. Not with me – I am too old for it anyway. But there is more to being a Jew than shul and bris. We will need very wise men to figure it out in the years to come.” He cocked his head, almost mischievously. “Yossel, if you ever want to go back to yeshivah, I am sure…”
“No.” Rabinovicz shook his head firmly, hoping he was not too undiplomatic. “You knew a different man then, rebbe. I have my calling, and it is of this world.”
Landauer nodded. “A pity. Most years, we lost the best ones to banking and commerce. Now we lose them to the general staff and government, too. But it is well enough, we may need good generals more than good disputants. But will you abide by my judgement?”
“Happily, rebbe.” Rabinovicz rose to shake his hand. “You have made them Jews, I shall make them soldiers.”
Landauer smiled, but he could not resist correcting his erstwhile pupil. “I made them nothing. They made themselves Jews. Better ones than you or me, perhaps.”
He's clearly less of a traitor than Arnold was and acted for more sympathetic reasons, so either he won't have to flee into exile or else maybe he will get a head start while those bound to nab him look the other way--if Poland isn't far enough to run to, surely he can live out his life safely in the USA, or even Britain. Macnamara of course never did anything any court would find treasonous and later enjoyed some prestigious positions he was appointed to that would be out of the question for Rathenau.
