Celia Gurevitch Jewish Community Library

Eli Cohen and Elizabeth Boyd donated a book to the library recently that I wanted to read for a while. It is Pearl Abraham’s The seventh beggar. I was interested in it, because I heard that it incorporates elements from Kabbalah. Now that I had a chance to examine the book and learn more about it I know that it is centered on the writings of Rabbi Nachman of Bratslav, one of my favorite 19th century Hasidic rabbis. Here is the partial description of the book from the author’s website itself,

A novel about the possibilities-and perils-of storytelling and creation, The Seventh Beggar takes us from the contemporary life of a Hasidic teenager to Nachman’s past world of lost writings and courtly ritual, from a religious community in upstate New York to the scientific halls of M.I.T., from New York to Palestine to the Ukraine, all the while breaking literary conventions and boundaries.

Instead of revealing more from the story let me provide a quote, so you would get to know the style of the author. Hopefully it is to your liking.

The Berditchever took out of his pocket a book of Psalms, which went with him everywhere. At thirteen he’d set himself the task of a complete reading a day, which with some effort was possible then, though often he’d stayed up late to finish. These days he made do with one or two readings a week. His reward for so much prayer: complete lines of poetry came to him at various times of day, poetry in response to life’s snares and snarls. If necessary, he could recite the psalms from memory. Without thinking about it, he often found himself reciting while walking from the study house and back. It had become habitual. This gift of prayer had come from his dear mother. Even near death, she’d insisted that he leave her bedside to attend services. He’d hurry to the nearest synagogue and then race back, afraid she wouldn’t be there on his return. He’d sprint through the streets, mumbling the few psalms he knew then, repeating the same line when he was stuck for the next one, his heart pounding not as a result of the physical exertion but in fear. He’d begun reciting psalms to save his mother, but in the end the psalms had come to his own aid. One morning, she was no longer there. It was said that in the Russian gulag the Jews who remained sane were those who knew enough psalms and prayers to recite them from memory. The Berditchever had recommended the psalms to all his children, but none had made reciting a habit, and it seemed Joel wouldn’t, either. A fine scholar and avid reader, he had no patience for mere reciting. He needed to read and know.