Chapter I: The Scales of Justice

Somewhere many and many a year ago, a Jew breathed his last.

No one, of course, may live for ever. The man was dead; the attentions due the dead were paid, and a grave among the folk of his own faith lodged him.

The grave closed over him, the orphaned son recited his Kaddish and the soul flew upward--to Judgment.

On arriving there it found the scales of Justice already swinging in the court chamber. Here the good deeds and the evil were to be weighed. And forthwith the dead man’s Advocate enters, the Good Spirit of his former life. A pure, snow-white sack is in his hand and he stands near the right scale of the Balance.

And behold the dead man’s Accuser enters--the Evil Spirit of his former life. An unclean sack is in his hands and he stands near the left scale of the Balance. The sack of pure white contains the good deeds. The sack that is begrimed and black--the evil, sinful deeds. And the vindicator of the soul pours out the contents of the white sack on the right scale. The good deeds are of the odor of incense and glow with the radiancy of the stars. The Accuser pours out the contents of the unclean sack on the left scale of the Balance. The evil deeds--Heaven protect us--are as black as coal, and reek of the very stench of tar and pitch.

And the poor soul stares at it all--and gasps. It never dreamt to behold such a distinction between the “Good” and the “Evil.” “There” it had often recognized neither of them and had mistaken the one for the other.

The scales rise gradually. Now the one, now the other moves up and down ... and the indicator oscillates now a hair’s breadth to the left, now a trifle towards the right. But a hair’s breadth variation and that gradually ... an ordinary mortal this soul must have been; neither rebellious to the Holy Spirit nor yet dwelling much within it ... capable of trivial virtues and trivial vices only. The scales held but little particles, tiny dots of things, at times hardly visible to the eye.

And yet, what a clamor of joy and of gladness from the empyrean when the Balance indicator turns but a trifle towards the right and what racking cries of agony mark every turn to the left. And slowly, ever so slowly the angels empty the sacks. With a zest they show up the tiny particles, just as decent burghers will add one farthing to another in self-exhibition to a seeing world.

However, the deepest well will run dry--and the sacks, too, are soon empty.

“Is that all?” inquires the court-usher. He, too, is an angel among his like. Both the Good and the Evil Spirits turn their sacks inside out. Absolutely nothing more. The court-usher steps forward to the Balance. He examines the indicator to see whether it is inclined towards the right or the left; and he stares at it good and long; for he beholds something that none ever saw since first the Heavens and the Earth knew creation....

“Why such hesitancy?” demands the Chief Justice. And the usher mutters:

“But one moment! The index is exactly in the center. The Evil deeds and the Good are exactly of the same weight.”

“Is that absolutely so?” queries a voice from about the table.

The usher looks yet again: “Yea even to a hair’s breadth.”

The Heavenly Tribunal holds its consultation and the decision as to the sentence is thus pronounced: “Since the Evil deeds do not weigh more than the good--the soul, of course, is free from Hell. But, on the other hand, since the Good deeds do not prevail over the Evil--neither can Paradise receive her.[3] Therefore she is to be neither here, nor there, but a wanderer between the realms of Heaven and Earth, until the Lord have mercy upon her and in His goodness call her unto him.”

And the usher of the courts leads the soul away.

She sobs, and bemoans her fate.

“Why art thou weeping?” he asks her. “’Tis true thou wilt not know the joy and the gladness of Eden, but neither will the agonies and pangs of Hell be thine.”

But the soul, unconsoled, replies:

“The worst agony is preferable to nothing at all. Nothing is most dreadful....”

And the heavenly usher pities her and offers her some advice.

“Fly downward little soul, and hover about the living world of men. Gaze not unto heaven. For what canst thou see on the other side, but the little stars. Radiant little people--they certainly are, but alas, very cold. They know no pity. They’ll never speak to the Lord about you. Only the pious souls of Paradise will go to such trouble for a poor, exiled soul ... but they ... hearken unto me ... they do love gifts, fair and beautiful gifts.”

The usher talked bitterly. “Such are the ways of Paradise, nowadays. Fly downward, then, to the living world and watch life there and its course. And if thou only catchest a glimpse of something that is surpassingly fair or good, seize thou it, and fly up to heaven. Present it as a gift to the pious there. Knock at the little window and in my name, speak to the angel-guard. And when thou wilt have brought three gifts--why then be certain that the gates of Heaven will be unbarred ... they will manage to have it so for thee.... At the Throne of Honor, the well-born are not loved ... but the well-grown....”

And in this wise, and with compassion, he thrusts her out of Paradise.