THE GOLEM

Stories; some stories were not read in books, but heard from older storytellers.  Some were sad, some happy, some gave one courage and hope.  Some were told in times of danger, in darkened homes, or even in cellars – they formed our lives, educated us, and gave directions in a violent and disturbed world.

They were all once originals – never heard before, and having been once heard, were never retold quite the same way again.

The story of the Golem of Prague was told and retold.  I am amused when I hear, read, or watch how it is repeated and corrupted in our modern times. There are many, many, cleaned up, sanitized, and amusing, forms to the telling of this ancient tale.  It migrated from folklore to literature, the written words into music, including an opera, and now into the movies and theater.

Even the great, corrupted version about Frankenstein, a being put together from spare human parts, and using metal screws and bolts to keep this assemblage in some shape of a real man, has an element of the Golem about it.  

The real story is about being a man of good mission, a man to do positive deeds, to save the good humans, perhaps the whole Jewish people.  He always appears when needed – and he completes his job.  Our Superhero.

There have always been difficult and despairing times, impossible to live times, for the Jews.  The inquisition prevailed in the fifteenth century.  The Jewish people were shunned, killed, and expelled from country to country in the Christian world.  There was no help nor hope.  False messiahs emerged, but to no avail.

In a space that is now Czechoslovakia, especially in the Capital city of Prague, there was a good sized Jewish community.  There was peace, and the people prospered, but not for long.  Anti-Semites emerged.  They were jealous of the Jewish success and accumulation of property.  They first started small pogroms, and finally prepared for the complete eradication of the Jews.  No hope came from any side. The Jewish prayers did not help.  The people ran to the chief rabbi with the plea for help and religious intervention.

Finally, the rabbi, after fasting and pleading with God, received a message to do what God himself did: create a being from clay and dust.  Rabbi Loeb did just this in the courtyard of the great Synagogue.  He molded a huge figure, strong and fierce.  He then whispered into this creature's ear the great Kabalistic name and direction of God himself,  placed an invocation under his tongue, and awakened the giant.

There are two versions of what happened next.  One, that this giant walked into the masses that were preparing for the killing of the hated Hebrews.  They threw lances, spears, sabers, knives, and other killing instruments into this body.  Nothing hurt or bothered him.  They were scared of seeing this Golem, ran away, and never abused or threatened the Jews again.

The other version is that the Golem started to kill all the gentiles that were hostile.  The city was covered with their dead bodies.  The rest gave up, and the Jews were saved.

The great Rabbi Loeb then removed the parchment from the mouth of the Golem and put him to sleep in the attic of the synagogue, where he is still resting, covered with spider webs, and waiting to be awakened again in times of great danger.  If anybody should disturb him, or even touch the spider web, he will surely die immediately.

My distant relative, I. L. Peretz, the great writer, in one of his small stories, recounts that Golem story.  He concludes that when the slaughter of the gentiles went on, the Jews ran to the rabbi with a plea not to kill all the non-Jews.

"Save some please! Who will light our stoves and warm our meals on the Sabbath when we are not allowed to do so? We must use the goyim (non-Jews)."

I think this is very funny, and I like Peretz for this.

As a child, during the First World War, I heard many stories about the coming of the Golem.

Our section of Poland was invaded and looted by many armies. The Russians, Germans, Austrians, Pollacks, Ukrainians, and many groups of just plain bandits all looted, raped, and abused this peaceful population.  We were helpless – and the stories of the Golem of our Synagogue started all over.

"A copy of the Golem is asleep in the attic of our Synagogue and he is awakening to help!"

"The Golem is leading a Jewish brigade, and is just across the river, and will be here soon."

"Far off there is a river, the Sambation, that is turbulent six days a week but rests on Saturdays.  It will allow the Jewish brigade, with the Golem in front, to cross and save all of us.  Just wait and see!"

It gave us hope and courage to wait out the bad times. Without fantasy and belief, we would have perished.  With the story of the Golem, we survived and live to tell the memories.