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Just one issue after publishing a symposium on the revival of Jewish literature in America, TIKKUN returns to one of the masters of Jewish fiction by offering an excerpt from Issac Bashevis Singer's Shadows on the Hudson, a novel only recently translated from Yiddish.
Someone woke him and he opened his eyes to see a policeman. Bright day had dawned and cars were already rushing back and forth. For a moment he had no memory of what had happened. What am I doing here? Why am I lying on a park bench? Did I get drunk? Then he remembered.
"You're not allowed to sleep on a city bench," the policeman said, almost apologetically. "Oh, sorry."
Grein rose and started walking. He had fallen into a deep sleep and woken with an ache in his bones. Well, look what I've come to! He sensed that the policeman was still watching him, so he wanted to disappear all the more quickly. He turned into a side street and had walked for nearly half a block when he saw a synagogue, open and lighted inside. Without thinking, he went in and saw something he had long forgotten. Since coming to America he had been to synagogue a great many times, but only on the Sabbath or the High Holy Days, not in the middle of the week. Here, however, a minyan of Jews was reciting the morning prayers before going to work. The prayer leader was swaying over the lectern. Jews in prayer shawls and phylacteries were either standing in place or walking about. One was praying without a prayer shawl-obviously an unmarried man. Grein stared and stared. He already only half recollected how phylacteries were worn-the leather straps, the rolled-back sleeves. A little old man with a gray, close-cropped head and the face of a butcher touched the ritual fringes of his shawl to the phylactery on his head and kissed them. A tall young man turned a page in his little prayer book. So all this still exists! Grein said to himself. They would have prayed together here regardless of whether I had come or not. At a loss about what to do, Grein remained standing at the door. As long as they don't ask...