Ballad of a Foundling (Ketubot 15b)

Midbar Mattanah – 1998

Once four brothers conversed

The wise, the wicked, the simple, and the one who does not know how to ask

The wicked one spoke—Korah was his name—

Come, and I will tell you how Moses led his people

 

There was once an infant found abandoned

In a small street on the outskirts of the city

And the residents of that city were brothers

All of them descendants of the father of many nations

 

But alas, after a statistical test had been made

No remedy was found for his wound

For among those good and worthy residents

Only half were Jews

 

That infant grew up and went out on the Sabbath in the public domain

And wore no prayer shawl—not even one with invalid fringes

And suddenly a heap collapsed upon him

The Ashkenazim said to him: we cannot clear it away for you

 

Go now to the courtyard of Maimonides’ devotees

And all your days seek only their welfare

For they clear rubble even for Jews of doubtful status

Unlike us, who are no Maimonideans

 

But know, our brother, they continued and said

That the full measure of your troubles is not yet complete

Even those among us who do not rule like the Rosh

You will not be able to demand the return of your lost property from them

 

Once he was rescued and asked them to keep him alive

They said to him: we cannot do this

We are not disciples of Maimonides

If you wish to live, go back again to their courtyard

 

And when this infant came to those hospitable hosts

They told him that in monetary matters they too are like their Ashkenazi brothers

They are stringent so as to satisfy every opinion

For Torah scholars increase peace in the world

 

And when he argued, ‘I may at least maintain that I am permitted to live’

They sent him to the gentiles or to the zoo

But the gentiles, cruel of soul as everyone knows

Fed him bread every day, morning and evening

 

Then his Jewish brothers said to him

Do not enter our congregation, you insolent one

For who permitted you to eat carrion

Even if, when your ox gores, you pay only half the cost

 

When that infant grew up and became a youth

His soul yearned to study the Torah of the Lord through toil

The watchmen who patrol the city drove him away

Let no one enter here whose mouth and heart are not alike

 

‘Moses commanded us the Torah as an inheritance’

But to you it is forbidden like a betrothed maiden

At once he found a gap lying open (in the fence!)

And fled wherever the wind might drive him

 

But even then, as he stood in the street seeking counsel

The watchmen rebuked him, saying, ‘Neglect of Torah study!’

That miserable fellow thought to hasten the end

And they told him: true, you are of doubtful gentile status, but you are not a tree

 

At first glance this seems to be the story

Much like Korah’s mockery

But know, my dear brothers and friends

That this is the version for those who read only the book

 

For whose heart would not be moved on reading the tale

Surely the Lord does not despise the poor and needy