Volodia
I HAD met Volodia in a small town in South Russia. We were both teachers in the only school of that town, but we differed widely as regards our views and sympathies.
It was in the opening of this century, the “Sturm und Drang” period of Russia, when the atmosphere was pregnant with ideals, aspirations, and Utopian views which can never and nowhere be realized. And the Jewish youth with its peculiar ardor and passion, with all the fire of its soul, had thrown itself into the maelstrom of Russian life. It fell entirely under the influence of its surroundings, and its mind was imbued with the ruling tendencies. Volodia was one of those young men who, full of youthful enthusiasm and invincible belief in his ideals, zealously preached his beliefs everywhere.
"I came to this lonely town," he told me, "not for the sake of instructing the eager youngsters in our school, but to enlighten the minds of the masses, particularly of the peasants of the neighboring villages."
Every evening, on a prominent hill five versts from the town, he gathered a big audience of artisans, peasants and other “proletarians” and gave them popular lessons in socialism. He drew their attention to the unjust way in which they were exploited by the government and the capitalists, explained to them the enormous latent power of the proletariat, and with vigorous eloquence drew pictures of a glorious future. Soon he became known as “Volodia the Propagandist.”
There was not a single day that he and I would not engage in fiery disputes on Jewish and social problems. "Our chief task at present," he always said in a convinced tone, "is to uplift the Russian peasants from the depth of ignorance, to open their eyes and let them see the abuses and wrongs committed by the despotic government and the capitalists. In the Russian masses and in them alone lies the security of our long-wished-for future."
“What about the Jewish masses ?” “Again that chauvinistic question!” he would fling back exasperated. “Why differentiate between Jew and Russian? By the term masses I mean all those who are victimized by the bourgeoisie. We must stand beside the weak, no matter whether they are Jewish or gentile, and help them to shake off the yoke of the oppressor.”
“But don’t you realize that beside his bitter struggle for existance, the Jew must also strive for the preservation of his own ideals? In general, do you deny that there are specific national and spiritual needs for each nation ?"
“Of course I deny it! Why separate mankind into nationalities? There are only two nations as far as 1 am concerned; the hungry proletariat no matter on which spot of the globe they live, and the satiated bourgeoisie. With the harrowing cry for bread of the proletariat ringing in one’s ear, one must be utterly insensible to turn one’s mind to nationalism, Zionism and all the other inventions of the bourgeoisie.”
He was a fanatic follower of Marx and believed in his teachings as a religious Jew believes in the Talmud. Being confident of himself and sure of the ultimate triumph of the. proletariat, he heard with disdain all arguments which gainsaid his theories. I knew him for more than two years and during all that time his views remained absolutely unaltered. He ceaselessly preached socialism and assimilation.
There was a great festival in one of the Judaean colonies. Young men and women of the neighborhood had assembled to celebrate together. In an open space, beyond the colony, several bonfires were kindled, and the flames blazing in the silvery moonlight lent the scene a most fantastic aspect. Young girls crowned with garlands of fragrant roses of Sharon, danced gracefully around the fires, Gay lads, splendid in youth and energy, clapped their hands, sang Hebrew songs, and every now and then fired a shot into the air, disturbing the tranquility of the vast fields. And the mountains of Judaea joyfully reverberated every sound, and the earth exulted to see her banished sons and daughters returned once more to her bosom.
The most noticeable figure in this animated scene was that of a young man who was leading the dance with dexterity and elegance.
“It seems to me I have seen this young man somewhere,” I said to myself. I scrutinized him closely and could not believe my eyes. It was none other than Volodia. How had that sworn enemy of Zionism come here? What had that zealous anti-nationalist to do with a traditional Jewish festival? His gaiety and happiness were quite spontaneous; there was not a bit of affectation in his manner. His face beamed with health and satisfaction; his stature was erect, betraying not a vestige of the Ghetto life. Where and how had that metamorphosis taken place? This enigma I could not solve.
When the festival was over I approached him.
When the festival was over I approached him. "Halloa, Volodia!" "Shalom, Habibi!" "To tell you the truth, I did not expect to meet you here."
“Well, ‘tempora mutant nos et mutamur in illis, as the old Romans said.” SR wan darfia) terancfinemoatingn smdond! TW... 1.
"A wonderful transformation, indeed! How long have you been in Erets Israel, my dear proselyte?" "Judging by your faulty Hebrew pronunciation I am
sure that I have been here longer than you,” he said banteringly. “Yes, friend, it is a long story to tell and I hate to leave this charming evening for the recollections of the sad time. But now that I am sobered down by our meeting let us go over to my tent in the vineyard and indulge in reminiscences.”
“I hope you enjoyed the celebration of our colony?” he asked me on the way. 0/0
"Yes, I did. But please tell me, since when has it become 'our colony'?"
Long, ong ago, ever since I realized that to watch ‘strange vineyards’ at a time when our own remain without workers is stupid and despicable. And I confess that it was the owners of those ‘strange vineyards’ who opened my eyes to the truth. They never concealed their unwillingness to regard me as one of themselves. I still suffer when I recall a meeting where the pogrom of Kishinev was discussed, and a low cad cracked a number of jokes at the expense of the Jewish people. My comrades did not protest, but laughed in their sleeves. I found myself personally affronted by his jokes. My heart throbbed and my Jewish soul awoke from its long sleep. I remarked to my friends that I was a Jew. “Then why don’t you’ go and defend your brethren?” some of them jeered at me. “But you, Volodia, don’t bear any resemblance to the Jews,” said my particular friend, trying to console me. I swallowed my