Dobisz’s Sword

One hundred years ago, S.Y. Agnon published a collection of fourteen “Stories of Poland.” This collection, some of which had been penned years earlier, wove together legend and history in telling some of the foundational myths of Polish Jewry. The stories were written in Agnon’s distinct register, echoing the cadences and content of biblical, rabbinic, and medieval Hebrew (for example,“midei shabbat b’shabbato,” translated here as “every Sabbath eve,” echoes Isaiah 66:23, which predicts a future where every Shabbat “all flesh shall come to worship [the Lord]”), and they bolstered Agnon’s reputation as the great bard of the Jewish Old World. Even before Agnon’s audience could have grasped the enormity of that world’s tragic and total destruction, they understood that it was on the precipice. After Agnon’s turn to a more explicit, even surrealist, modernism, critics reread the earlier stories, uncovering new layers beneath the surface of these neo-Hasidic tales. This is the first translation of “Dobisz’s Sword” into English.

Dobisz was a bandit chief who lived in the Carpathian Mountains and Dobisz cast his net over passersby. Dobisz had many friends and Dobisz was their leader. Whoever came upon them recited the deathbed confession, never to return; even before he was killed by the sword he was felled by fear. Dobisz’s men were greedy, none more than Dobisz, and so they made Dobisz their head. And in Dobisz’s hand was a sword, which the Angel of Death himself had given Dobisz.

Nevertheless, Dobisz was at peace with the Kolomyia region, since Kolomyia and its surrounding villages offered him tribute. Dobisz stood with his neighbors. No harm was visited on the neighboring places where Dobisz and his men roamed. Kolomyia and its surrounding villages would bring Dobisz and his men flour and meat and beans and lentils and honey and butter and cheese. When a man slaughtered a hog or a woman fried pancakes, they would send their son or daughter to bring Dobisz and his boys some of the meat and the blood and the pancakes; any tasty food they prepared. At the height of their merrymaking, Dobisz’s boys would go down into the villages to dance with the village girls who wore the lovely dresses which Dobisz’s men had stripped off their victims and given to them.

But one winter no tribute was brought to Dobisz. Dobisz and his men were starving. Nothing was brought up to the mountains, and no passersby came because snow had blanketed the roads. Dobisz’s mighty men hunkered down, their spit frozen in their mouths, their beards iced over. They cursed themselves and the mothers who had borne them, saying, “If we don’t dig up the bones of our mothers from their graves to gnaw on, our carcasses will be left as dung on the open fields of the Carpathian Mountains—Let it not be said, ‘These are Dobisz’s folk!’” 

They said one to another, “What are we doing just sitting here, waiting for death? Let’s go now and raid one of the towns and revive our spirits so we don’t die.” Dobisz decided to attack Kolomyia that very night. At nightfall they came, one and all, to Kolomyia. Reaching the city limits, they could see a light in every home. They said, “Get up and come quickly to the city, there is meat and wine, for today is the Sabbath for Israel.” And so, they entered Kolomyia.

Kolomyia was full of all good things, because many Jews lived there; they were the merchants of the land. In every house a light glowed, and there was eating, drinking, and merriment. Dobisz gazed upon Kolomyia and said, “Over there no one lacks a laden table and a full oven, only we are deprived.” And Dobisz’s men said to Dobisz, “Dobisz, don’t despair. We are about to enter the city and you will eat loaves of bread and drink great quantities of wine. Then, even though your stomach will be stuffed, there will be so much food your mouth will not stop gorging!” Dobisz said to them, “To the plunder my brothers!” Then, Dobisz brandished his sword against the city, where Rabbi Aryeh then happened to live.

Dobisz arrived first at Rabbi Aryeh’s house at the edge of the city. All of Rabbi Aryeh’s household fled for their lives; the terrible fear of Dobisz had fallen upon them and they ran away. But Rabbi Aryeh himself remained standing at his table reciting the Kiddush over wine.

Dobisz said to Rabbi Aryeh, “Why are you just standing there?” Rabbi Aryeh did not answer because he was in the midst of reciting the Kiddush over the wine. Dobisz went for his sword, unsheathed it, and struck Rabbi Aryeh on the hand. The wine splashed from the cup onto Dobisz’s sword. At that, Dobisz was no longer able to move the weapon. 

Time and again, Dobisz tried to move the sword, not realizing that its power had vanished that day. The sword was stilled, all Sabbath eve and all Sabbath day, until the stars came out. Rabbi Aryeh sat in his chair, raised and washed his hands, blessed the bread, and gave some to Dobisz to eat as well. Dobisz blessed Rabbi Aryeh and left.

After eating and drinking, Dobisz got up and he and his men returned to the mountains, robbing everyone they passed along the way. For the men of Dobisz are mighty, and in the hand of Dobisz is a sword, received from the Angel of Death, that rests neither day nor night. 

Yet, every Sabbath eve, as the day is sanctified, the sword upon which the Kiddush wine was spilled when Dobisz came to the house of Rabbi Aryeh that Friday night lies motionless in Dobisz’s hands. The sword will not budge, all Sabbath day long. 

Permission to translate Agnon’s writing is courtesy of Schocken Publishing House, Tel Aviv.