The B'nai B'rith magazine · 1927-06-01 · 9 (6.1927) · p. Seite 384

384 B'NAI B'RITH MAGAZINE shortly. Except that he had no cross, he was clad exactly like a Catholic cleric—with a long black soutane reaching to his feet, a black silk sash round his waist, a flat black billy-cock on his head, and a square jabot of beautiful lace on his breast. Evidently the writ of the Shulchan Aruch, that called upon the Jews to eschew the garb of Gentiles, did not apply in Provence. But the face of the minister, with its fringe of beard, and especially his nose, were unmistakably Jewish. We exchanged greetings, and he told us about himself and his community. He came from Nice, was trained at the Rabbinical Seminary in Paris, and had been here for the last two years. Once Avignon was a large and famous community; now, owing to the exodus of the Jews following the decline of the city's greatness, it numbered only sixty families, but only a few of them | were loyal to the tenets and rites of their faith. Service was held every Sabbath, but not always with a Minyan. His apologetic tone seemed to suggest that the attendance of the prescribed quorum was rather the exception than the rule.' Until some time ago—it was not clear how recently or how long ago—there had been a Shochet in the town, but now it was impossible to obtain kosher meat. I expressed curiosity concerning the Ark of the Law and its contents, and he at once opened it. It was similar in design to the Ark that I had seen in a Calcutta synagogue, though by no means as large. The scrolls for immediate use were in a small cabinet in front, while behind this was a semicircular chamber with a shelf on which reposed a number of others, there being thirteen in all. Meanwhile some worshippers had come in—men, women, and children—all of whom gathered on the ground floor of the synagogue. As they entered they extended their right hands toward the Ark, and then touched each eyebrow and their lips with their forefingers. The movement was done so quickly that it looked almost like the sign of the cross. A little girl of about eight who came in with a younger brother, made him repeat the rite to her satisfaction. Most of them had the typical Provencal features—blue eyes, short nose, and broad face of fairish tint—which was not surprising in view of the many centuries during which physical assimilation was able to take Town Gate, Avignon place; but, withal, they had not shed the inherited trait of restlessness in worship. For the Rabbi, retaining his ordinary head-gear, and merely donning a talith, began the evening service, and soon various members of the small congregation were strolling to and fro, exchanging remarks, in defiance of the posted rules. The Portuguese ritual was followed, and the prayer-book that I was given stated on its title-page that it had been compiled in conformity with the decisions of the "sages and judges of Carpentras." The Rabbi pitched his voice unnecessarily high for his scanty flock, though its loftiness may have been accentuated by the echo from the cupola. The service over, I asked the Rabbi about "the sages and judges of Carpentras." "They are no longer there," he replied, "and there are very few Jews there altogether. But there is a very interesting synagogue, which I would advise you to go and see. It has been closed for some years, but the key is kept by a Jewish woman at a bootshop in the Place de 1'Hotel de Ville, and she will be very glad to let you in. There is a diligence that will take you from Avignon to Carpentras in an hour." "There is a Matzo factory there, too," added a member of the congregation, "but it is no longer used." "Then where do you get your Matzos?" I asked. A faint smile flickered on the face of the Rabbi: "From some other place— Marseilles," he said. "Judaism here is no longer what it was when the Jews of Avignon formed with those of Carpentras, Lisle, and Cavaillon, the four communities—the Arba Kehilloth, as they were styled—in which alone, Jews were tolerated in French Papal territory. They;had a special liturgy called Comtadin, the name formerly borne by this province, to distinguish it from the Portuguese ritual. Judaism, alas, is dying out here and in other parts of Provence. When Jews were compelled to listen to Christian sermons in this synagogue and in others, they clung to the yoke of Judaism. Now that they are free, they have cast aside the Jewish yoke too." Porte D'Orange, Carpentras And he heaved a sigh of philosophic resignation amid the nods of assent of his diminishing flock. They were the staunch remnant of a community that had crumbled beneath the assaults of centuries upon its religious loyalty, and yet betrayed only too clearly that their own powers of resistance were also ebbing away. Carpentras \Y/E were early in entering the motor diligence that was to leave from Avignon station in the afternoon, for we were warned that it usually was filled some time before the appointed hour of departure. Most of the passengers were simple country folk, middle-aged men and women in quaint native dress, who had come in town in the morning to shop and had regaled themselves with lunch in the park, where they could quaff freely from the purling fountain. They were burdened with panniers and packages of all kinds, which rested on knees or were stowed away under the seats, while heavier loads were secured to the roof. The vehicle was soon crammed, so that perspiring late-comers were left panting and disappointed. From behind, we overheard some muffled criticism about this diligence not being intended for tourists, but we were unaware of any such restriction. I considered the purpose of our journey at least as legitimate, if not as necessary, as that of our fellow-passengers, and wondered what these good folk would think if I explained to them that we were going to Carpentras to see the old synagogue. But I doubted whether they knew what a synagogue was, and, as the buzzing gossip around us soon fed upon other themes, I deemed it wisest to hold my peace. Presently the lumbering vehicle throbbed and snorted with unsuspected energy, and we left the ramparts of Avignon behind. The road was lined with plane trees, which formed a picturesque avenue against the deepblue sky, diversified here and there by trees laden with figs and by sprawling vines with their luscious fruits. Fortunately there was little traffic, so that our progress was speedy and uninterrupted, except for an occasional halt to enable some people to alight and others to take their place, and for one or two stops in the high streets of the townlets through which we passed. It was the road that the Jews of Avignon must