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El destacado fue un escritor y ensayista Efraím Szmulewicz ampliamente conocido en el ámbito nacional y la hispanoamericana. Su vida obedeció más que nada al interés de la Secretaria de Relaciones Culturales de Gobierno por promover entre los estudiantes el hábito de la buena lectura y también informar acerca del desarrollo literario nacional y sus proyecciones futuras. Szmulewicz es un escritor que avanza con claridad de consagrado y es humanista cabal. Tiene una amplia cultura, de diálogo ameno y de una experiencia vital en tratar los problemas que tiene la literatura contemporánea, como de las nuevas técnicas aplicadas para su mejor comprensión… Szmulewicz es un escritor cuyo objetivo no complica las obras y tiene un tono claro y muy personal compostura su sentir. Polaco de nacimiento, de amplias lecturas y una memoria poderosa. Ganó el Premio Municipal por su Biografía de Pablo Neruda. Escribió biografías de Gabriela Mistral y Vicente Huidobro y también de su Diccionario de la literatura chilena. Un hijo judío es una de sus cuatro novelas. — adaptado de Federico Tatter

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The distinguished writer and essayist Efraím Szmulewicz was a figure widely renowned figure both nationally and throughout the Hispanic American sphere. His life was driven, above all, by the interest of the Government’s Secretariat of Cultural Relations in fostering the habit of quality reading among students, as well as in providing insight into the development of national literature and its future trajectory. Szmulewicz is a writer who moves with the assured clarity of an established master, and he is, at heart, a consummate humanist. Possessing a vast breadth of knowledge, he is a delightful conversationalist with a wealth of lived experience in addressing the challenges facing contemporary literature—including the new techniques applied to facilitate its deeper understanding. Szmulewicz is an objective writer who avoids overcomplicating his subjects; his tone is lucid, and his style reflects a deeply personal sensibility. Polish by birth, he is a voracious reader endowed with a powerful memory. He was awarded the Municipal Prize for his biography of Pablo Neruda. He has also authored biographies of Gabriela Mistral and Vicente Huidobro, as well as his Dictionary of Chilean Literature. Un hijo judío (A Jewish Son) is one of his four novels. — Adapted from Federico Tatter

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De: Santiago de Chile: Empresa Editora Zig-Zag, (1940). 192 pp. con 6 b/n grabados de Carlos Hermosilla Alvarez. Gracias a Joel y Lilian Rosenthal por su ayuda en esta entrada/192 pp. con 6 b/w woodcuts by Carlos Hermosilla Alvarez./Thanks to Joel and Liliana Rosenthal for their help on this post.

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“Un niño nació judío”

(La historia tiene lugar en Polonia)

Capítulo Segundo

JOSEF tenía seis años y dormía con su madre. Los compañeros del “Cheider” (1) se burlaban de él… “tan grande y todavia duerme con la mamá; ¿será porque tiene miedo a las ánimas?”. Las burlas de liviano humor precedían a las criticas hirientes y de mala intención. Muchas veces el niño tuvo que morderse los puños y apretar los dientes para no llorar, al encontrarse con sus compañeros. Una pelea con Wolf, un niño de siete años y de la misma escuela, fue uno de los motivos que decidieron el comienzo del aislamiento parcial de Josef.       .

Wolf era un chiquillo robusto y vivía en el mismo edificio que Josef. Jugaban con botones. Los dos iban aumentando su desagrado por la compañía mutua. Habla entre ellos una rivalidad oculta, que se exteriorizaba en diversas ocasiones. Las tareas escritas y orales del hebreo daban generalmente un resultado de empate entre los dos. Wolf llevaba el tercer año de estudios, mientras que Josef cursaba el segundo. La lectura del Pentateuco con 1108 comentarios de Rashay era el punto álgido de la discordia. El profesor trataba de calmar los ánimos de los muchachos, dando a cada uno una tarea diferente para desarrollar, pero su esfuerzo era inútil.

En una tarde calurosa, cuando Josef le iba ganando todos los botones a su rival, éste intentó hacer trampa, corriendo uno de los botones para que la palma de Josef no alcanzase a abarcarlos. El tramposo fue descubierto por

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(1) Escuela religiosa judía, donde los niños se aprenden a leer la Biblia y a rezar, según los dictámenes de Moisés

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otro compañero que estaba presente. Se entabló una pelea entre los dos jugadores. El rencor acumulado durante más de medio año se convirtió en una acción directa y decisiva. El combate se prolongó por la escalera de la casa de Wolf; y allí, éste, al ver salir a su padre, empezó a pegar con más furia. Josef estaba desesperado. Los golpes que recibió le enfurecieron más. En un momento de inconsciencia se dejó caer con los dientes en el muslo del rival. Wolf lanzó un grito angustia y le golpeó con el otro pie en plena cara. Josef cayó de la escalera con las narices y la boca ensangrentadas.  Acudieron su padre y su hermano.  El primero, al verle en ese estado, le pegó en presencia de su adversario; le tomó por una oreja y lo arrastró a la casa. Allí. quedó arrinconado en el patio, llorando furiosamente con una impotencia que le hacía renegar de su padre. Juró vengarse, no tanto por los golpes, sino por la enorme humillación en que su padre tuvo una parte considerable de culpa. Las heridas de su amor propio haciéndole olvidar las físicas. En este corazón tan pequeño se trababa en estos instantes una lucha feroz. De un laido, la niñez inconsciente con el estupor de ojos redondeados; del otro, la vergüenza de la derrota. Él era algo. Ya había sufrido un fracaso. Era el momento de hacerse fuerte para vencer a tanto enemigo. Consideraba que todo el mundo era su enemigo personal y que su misión no consistía en aclarar su inocencia, sino en vencer al “enemigo”. Las Ideas se sucedían con la rapidez de un rayo. . . “Cuando yo sea grande … ” No sabía a ciencia cierta lo que haría cuando fuese grande…, “de cualquier modo cobraré por la derrota … Todos vendrán a mi …  Además, seré un gran hombre…”

Llegó la tia Jaya, trayéndole dulces. No aceptó ninguno; y cuando ella fue a conversar con los padres, el dolor habla vencido a la soberbia. Josef lloraba ardorosamente y en silencio.

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CAPÍTULO TERCERO

PARA Josef todo había cambiado. La preocupación por sus compañeros se hacía más escasa. Frecuentaba el par-que de la ciudad. Las burlas iban disminuyendo a medida que él se despreocupaba de ellas. Su rostro cobró una atmósfera grave y de preocupación interior. Seguía durmiendo con su madre, pero ya sabía que no está por miedo a los espíritus malos ni por ser muy niño, sino porque amaba mucho a su querida “mameshi” (1). Jugaba raramente con botones y al escondite. La madre le daba permiso para salir y él aprovechaba el tiempo. Iba al parque, tratando de no encontrarse con alguno de sus compañeros. Allí se ten-día sobre el pasto, de cara al cielo, mirando distraídamente a las blancas ovejitas que pastaban por las hierbas azules del firmamento. No siempre habla ovejas; entonces escuchaba el murmullo eterno del rio, que corría a ras de la avenida y por el que, con frecuencia, se deslizaban elásticamente botes con parejas o grupos. El agua estaba siempre transparente y tranquila; pero no así el cielo; éste se enfurecía a veces con una tormenta.

El río hablaba largo. El cielo tenla muchas ovejas e inagotable pasto. El sol desaparecía lentamente detrás de la barraca de Gotfried y las primeras estrellas le guiaban como para advertirle de la avanzada hora. Llegaba a la casa sin sentir el camino. El padre le reprendía por su indisciplina:

– ¿Son éstas horas de llegar a comer? La sopa y las papas están frías.

La madre le defendía con argumentos un poco humillantes para él. Que era un niño todavia y que necesitaba distraerse. Le molestaba, a ratos, •esta clase de defensa de parte de su madre; pero se lo perdonaba generosamente. Siempre sucedía lo mismo: el padre lo resondraba y la madre lo defendía. Por esto él amaba más a su madre que al padre. A éste le respetaba y le temía. A veces sentía un verdadero orgullo por el respeto que le inspiraba. Por cierto, que no se lo daba a entender. La diferencia en los afectos consistía en que a su madre la amaba; la amaba con toda franqueza, con todas las atribuciones manifiestas, mientras que al padre lo veneraba ocultamente con una adoración mística; como los adultos adoran y temen, al mismo tiempo, a Dios, quien resuelve todos los problemas y quien lo sabe todo. El padre de Josef sabia todo; y, más que eso, era convincente y se hacía obedecer.

Al acostarse, rezaba la última plegaria del día, y en silencio, rogaba a Jehovah para la salud de sus padres y por la de su hermano. Le imploraba que no mandara el ángel malo para quitarle los botones y las pelotitas de trapo (también tenía una de goma) durante el sueño. Josef supo que todo lo que era de él y lo que e encontraba a su alrededor pertenencia a Jehovah. No recordaba si esto se lo hablan contado o si lo tenía en la conciencia antes de nacer. Dios estaba en condiciones de quitarle el rio, los juguetes, las ovejitas del cielo, el profesor y aun sus propios padres. Bastaba un solo aliento de su boca divina.

Jehovah era el gran Dios que habitaba el inmenso terreno azul por donde se paseaban las ovejas blancas. El profesor le habla dicho que eran siete las esferas celestes y que en la última se encontraba la habitación dorada del Altísimo. Adonay, estaba siempre rodeado de una legión de ángeles. Cada uno de ellos poseía seis alas: dos para tapar la vergüenza, Dos para cubrir la cara, a fin de no perder la vista ante la deslumbrante claridad del espíritu de Él; y, por último, dos alas para volar. Rabí Jaim (así se llamaba el profesor) enseriaba a los alumnos una cantidad de tarjetas con las imágenes de Dios, de los ángeles y de otras celebridades celestes. Rabí Jalm decía que Dios era bueno; pero que no se debla abusar de su bondad, pues entonces se transformaba en implacable. Josef tenla mucho el enojo de Jehovah; más que el de su padre. Conocía el castigo que le esperaba al faltarle el respeto a éste, mientras que la pena del primero no 1a conocía. Siempre que el cielo se poníafurioso y lanzaba fuego y aguacero, Josef pronunciaba la frase hebrea que debiera servir, según las palabras del maestro, para espantar los truenos y relámpagos. Rezaba todos los días las tres plegarias de rigor, fuera de las frases pronunciadas en la cama, antes de dormirse, después de las cuales no era permitido hablar más aquel día. En estas últimas frases el niño ponla todo su ardor de creyente. Era para implorar que el día siguiente no lo encontrase sin los juguetes. Como era de esperar, el buen Dios no le quitaba las chucherías ni el alma que Josef hablaba confiado durante el sueño. Así transcurrieron los días y el muchacho seguía creyendo con más fervor en Él repetía diariamente las oraciones reglamentarias.

Otra duda representaba su nombre.

Que a él le llamaban Josef, no cabía duda; pero no sabía si este nombre sería siempre suyo, o si de un día a otro se lo cambiarían. Era natural que su madre se llamara “mad­re” y su padre, “padre”. Ellos eran grandes y los grandes lo saben y lo comprenden todo. Después de varios días de continua preocupación se atrevió a formular la pregunta a su mamá.

-Por supuesto que si: siempre te llamarán del mismo modo. Nunca te cambiarán el nombre. Además, yo no me llamo “madre”. Tengo otro nombre. ¿No oyes acaso que las vecinas me llaman Denora? Lo mismo sucede con tu padre; su nombre es David. Somos padres de ustedes y de nadie más. Algún serás padre y entenderás lo que esto significa.

No entendía las últimas palabras de su madre; pero le bastaban las primeras. Se sentía sobre un terreno firme con su nombre propio; era algo así como una personalidad.

Se acostó temprano y se durmió pensando en su nombre. El aire se hizo vago y comenzó a soñar:

Recostado sobre el pasto del parque, miraba hacia el cielo. El rio estaba quieto y los árboles cantaban gloria al Altísimo. De pronto sintióse un ruido y algo anubló ligeramente la atmósfera. Josef dirigió los ojos hacia el rio. Ante él .se encontraba un hombre vestido de negro y con un enorme cuchillo en una mano. Su rostro estaba cubierto con la misma tela que el cuerpo. Sólo se le velan los ojos a través de dos huecos. Eran profundos y penetraban con agudeza. los contornos de la cara, como también los del cuerpo, eran huesudos. Al hombre le seguía una sombra, que no estaba acostada sobre el prado. Andaba detrás de él, parada como si fuera otra persona. Josef trató de levantarse, pero no pudo. Una fuerza poderosa 1e sujetaba a la tierra. Apenas consiguió incorporar la cabeza; vio entonces que debajo de él estaba su propia sombra y que ésta no le dejaba levantarse. Mientras tanto, el extraño huésped se acercó y le habló de ·esta manera:

-Bienvenido a mi tierra, amigo. Llegaste en hora oportuna. Tendré el mayor placer en librarte de tu sombra con este cuchillo, pues de otra manera ella continuará reteniéndote en el suelo toda la vida; pero junto con la sombra perderás tu nombre y te llamarás “padre”. Aquí, en mi reino, todos andamos sin las sombras pegadas a los cuerpos. Ellas nos siguen detrás. Si quieres convencerte de mis palabras, llamaré a los míos.

Y sin esperar la respuesta de Josef, lanzó un silbido agudo y estridente.

De todas partes comenzaron a brotar hombres semejantes a él. El ruido era como las enormes alas. Detrás de ellos seguía un ejército de sombras livianas y transparentes a la luz de la luna.

-¿Ves?, todos son felices. ¿No es verdad? -se dirigió a los suyos.

-¡Sííííí!! Se oyó un vocerío terrible.

Josef tiritaba. Intentó gritar, pero no pudo sacar de la garganta más que un sonido sordo. Desesperado veía el muchacho el hombre acercársele con su enorme cuchillo en la mano y rodeado de sus amigos. El muchacho movía la cabeza derecha a izquierda. No, quería que le cortasen la sombra y le quitasen el nombre; pero el otro no le hizo caso y se dispuso a realizar su tarea.

Un sudor de escarcha envolvía todo el cuerpo del niño. La madre estaba al lado ide la cama. Josef la abrazó apoyando su cabeza en el pecho de ella, y murmuró:

–iMadre! -y su cuerpo cayó sobre el 1echo.

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“Child is Born Jewish”

(The story takes place in Poland)

Josef was six years old and still slept with his mother. His classmates at the Cheider (1) would mock him: “So big, yet he still sleeps with his mommy? Is it because he’s afraid of ghosts?” These lighthearted taunts soon gave way to hurtful, malicious criticism. Often, upon encountering his classmates, the boy had to bite his fists and clench his teeth to keep from crying. A fight with Wolf—a seven-year-old boy from the same school—was one of the events that marked the beginning of Josef’s partial isolation.

Wolf was a sturdy little boy who lived in the same building as Josef. They used to play games with buttons. As time went on, their mutual dislike for one another grew. A hidden rivalry simmered between them, surfacing on various occasions. Their written and oral Hebrew assignments usually ended in a tie. Wolf was in his third year of studies, while Josef was in his second. Reading the Pentateuch—along with the commentaries by Rashi—was the primary flashpoint of their discord. Their teacher tried to calm the boys down by assigning each a different task to complete, but his efforts were in vain.

One sweltering afternoon, just as Josef was winning all of his rival’s buttons, Wolf tried to cheat by nudging one of the buttons out of place so that Josef’s outstretched palm could not cover them all. The cheater was caught by

(1) A Jewish religious school where children learn to read the Bible and pray, in accordance with the precepts of Moses.

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another classmate who happened to be present. A brawl broke out between the two players. The resentment that had been festering for over six months finally erupted into direct, decisive action. The fight spilled out onto the stairwell of Wolf’s building; there, upon seeing his father emerge, Wolf began to strike with even greater fury. Josef was in despair. The blows he received only fueled his rage. In a moment of blind fury, he threw himself forward and sank his teeth into his opponent’s thigh. Wolf let out a cry of anguish and kicked him squarely in the face with his other foot. Josef tumbled down the stairs, his nose and mouth streaming with blood. His father and brother rushed to his side. The former, upon seeing him in such a state, struck him right there in the presence of his adversary; he grabbed him by the ear and dragged him into the house. There, he was left cornered in the courtyard, weeping furiously—a weeping born of a sense of helplessness that made him curse his own father. He vowed revenge—not so much for the blows themselves, but for the immense humiliation for which his father bore a considerable share of the blame. The wounds to his pride made him forget his physical injuries. Within that small heart, a fierce battle was being waged in those very moments. On one side stood unthinking childhood, with its wide-eyed bewilderment; on the other, the shame of defeat. He was somebody. He had already suffered a failure. Now was the moment to steel himself, to grow strong enough to vanquish so many enemies. He came to view the entire world as his personal foe, and his mission not as proving his innocence, but as defeating the “enemy.” Thoughts flashed through his mind with the speed of lightning… “When I grow up…” He did not know for certain what he would do when he grew up… “but one way or another, I will exact my price for this defeat… Everyone will come to me… And what’s more, I will be a great man…”

CHAPTER THREE

For Josef, everything had changed. His concern for his schoolmates was waning. He began frequenting the city park. The taunts diminished as he ceased to care about them. His face took on an air of gravity and inner preoccupation. He still slept with his mother, though he now knew that this was not out of fear of evil spirits, nor because he was still a little boy, but simply because he loved his dear “Mameshi” (1) so very much. He rarely played with buttons or at hide-and-seek anymore. His mother gave him permission to go out, and he made the most of the time. He would go to the park, trying to avoid running into any of his schoolmates. There, he would lie stretched out on the grass, face turned toward the sky, gazing absently at the little white sheep grazing amidst the blue grasses of the firmament. There were not always sheep; at such times, he would listen to the eternal murmur of the river, which flowed right alongside the avenue—a river along which boats carrying couples or groups would frequently glide with fluid ease. The water was always transparent and calm; the sky, however, was not; at times, it would rage with a storm.

The river spoke at great length. The sky held many sheep and inexhaustible pastures. The sun would slowly vanish behind Gotfried’s shed, and the first stars would guide him home, as if to warn him of the late hour. He would arrive at the house without even noticing the journey. His father would scold him for his lack of discipline:

“Is this a proper time to show up for dinner? The soup and potatoes are cold.”

His mother would defend him with arguments that, at times, felt somewhat humiliating to him—insisting that he was still just a child and needed to find ways to amuse himself. Occasionally, this manner of defense on his mother’s part would irk him; yet he would always forgive her for it with generous affection. It always played out the same way: his father would scold him, and his mother would defend him. For this reason, he loved his mother more than his father. The latter, he respected and feared. At times, he felt a genuine sense of pride in the respect his father inspired. Of course, he never let on. The difference in his affections lay in this: he loved his mother—loved her with utter openness, with all the overt expressions of affection—whereas he venerated his father in secret, with a mystical adoration; much as adults simultaneously worship and fear God—He who resolves all problems and knows all things. Josef’s father knew everything; and, more than that, he was commanding and ensured he was obeyed.

Upon going to bed, he would recite his final prayer of the day, silently beseeching Jehovah to grant good health to his parents and to his brother. He implored Him not to send the “bad angel” to take away his buttons and his little cloth balls (he had a rubber one, too) while he slept. Josef knew that everything he possessed—and everything that surrounded him—belonged to Jehovah. He could not recall whether he had been told this, or if the knowledge had been imprinted upon his consciousness even before he was born. God had the power to take away the river, his toys, the little sheep in the sky, his teacher, and even his own parents. A single breath from His divine mouth would suffice.

Jehovah was the great God who dwelt in the immense blue expanse where white sheep roamed. The teacher had told him that there were seven celestial spheres, and that within the last of them lay the golden chamber of the Most High. Adonai was always surrounded by a legion of angels. Each of them possessed six wings: two to conceal their nakedness, two to cover their faces—lest they lose their sight before the dazzling brilliance of His spirit—and, finally, two wings for flight. Rabbi Chaim (for that was the teacher’s name) would show his students a collection of cards bearing images of God, the angels, and other celestial luminaries. Rabbi Chaim taught that God was good, yet one must not take His goodness for granted, for then He would become implacable. Josef feared Jehovah’s wrath deeply—even more so than his own father’s. He knew the punishment that awaited him should he disrespect the latter, whereas the penalty exacted by the former remained an unknown quantity. Whenever the heavens grew furious, unleashing fire and torrential rain, Josef would recite the Hebrew phrase that—according to his teacher—was meant to ward off thunder and lightning. He recited the three obligatory prayers every day, in addition to the phrases spoken from his bed just before falling asleep—after which, no further speech was permitted for the remainder of the day. In these final utterances, the boy poured out the full fervor of his faith. They were meant to implore that the coming day would not find him bereft of his toys. As was to be expected, the good Lord never took away his trinkets—nor the soul that Josef, in his slumber, had entrusted to His care. Thus the days passed, and the boy continued to believe in Him with ever-increasing fervor, reciting his prescribed prayers day after day.

CHAPTER FOUR

Doubts arose quite frequently; yet, because his mother would invariably smile whenever he posed a question, he tended to harbor those doubts within his memory for a very long time. This gave him an air of eternal abstraction. His mother had told him that his questions were naive, but he could not understand why. He meditated upon all things—the stars, the rain—but above all, he dreamed of solving the problem of knowing the good Lord. Jehovah ought to be more condescending toward obedient children like him. Aunt Jaya had warned him that if he continued to insist on seeing Adonai, she would be able to grant him his wish; however, he must bear in mind that death would follow upon seeing Him, for such was the law. From that moment on, he never asked about God again.

Another doubt was about his name.

That they called him Josef, there was no doubt; but he did not know if this name would always be his, or if it would be changed from one day to the next. It was natural that his mother was called “mother” and his father, “father.” They were grown-ups, and grown-ups know and understand everything. After several days of constant worry, he dared to ask his mother the question.

“Of course,” she said, “they’ll always call you the same thing. They’ll never change your name. Besides, my name isn’t ‘mother.’ I have another name. Don’t you hear the neighbors calling me Denora? The same goes for your father; his name is David. We are your parents and no one else’s. Someday you’ll be a father, and you’ll understand what this means.”

He didn’t understand his mother’s last words, but the first ones were enough. He felt on solid ground with his own name; it was something like a personality.

He went to bed early and fell asleep thinking about his name. The air grew thin, and he began to dream:

Lying on the grass in the park, he gazed up at the sky. The river was still, and the trees sang glory to the Almighty. Suddenly there was a noise, and something slightly clouded the atmosphere. Josef turned his eyes toward the river. Before him stood a man dressed in black, holding an enormous knife in one hand. His face was covered with the same cloth as his body. Only his eyes were visible through two slits. They were deep and piercing. The contours of his face, like those of his body, were bony. A shadow followed the man, not lying on the meadow. It walked behind him, standing as if it were another person. Josef tried to get up, but he couldn’t. A powerful force held him to the ground. He barely managed to raise his head; then he saw that his own shadow was beneath him, preventing him from rising. Meanwhile, the strange guest approached and spoke to him thus:

“Welcome to my land, friend. You have arrived at an opportune time.” I will take the greatest pleasure in freeing you from your shadow with this knife, for otherwise it will continue to hold you to the ground for the rest of your life; but along with the shadow, you will lose your name and be called “father.” Here, in my kingdom, we all walk without shadows clinging to our bodies. They follow behind us. If you wish to be convinced of my words, I will summon my people.

And without waiting for Josef’s reply, he let out a sharp, piercing whistle.

Men like himself began to sprout from all sides. The noise was like enormous wings. Behind them followed an army of shadows, light and transparent in the moonlight.

“You see? Everyone is happy. Isn’t that right?” he said to his people.

“Yessss!” A terrible roar erupted.

Josef trembled. He tried to shout, but could only manage a muffled sound. Desperate, the boy watched the man approach him, his enormous knife in hand, surrounded by his friends. The boy shook his head from side to side. No, he didn’t want them to cut off his shadow and take his name; but the other man paid him no heed and proceeded to carry out his task.

A frosty sweat enveloped the boy’s entire body. His mother was beside the bed. Josef embraced her, resting his head on her chest, and murmured:

“Mother!”—and his body fell onto the bed.

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