The day the whole town prayed for rain, by Isaac Yetiv

The day the whole town prayed for rain

By Isaac Yetiv, Ph.D.

LA JOLLA, California—Even today I shiver when I recall this story of my childhood.

I was growing up in a Jewish family in the town of Nabeul on the Mediterranean coast of Northeast Tunisia. My father owned and operated a store in the central market area.At the entrance of the store there were two chairs reserved for his best friends, Chief Rabbi Nathan and Sheikh Sliman, the leader of the Arab majority in town.

Rabbi Nathan visited my father every day, and Sheikh Sliman joined them on Fridays in conversations about life, the kinship between Judaism and Islam,and general philosophical exchanges. In those days, under the rule of the French colonial regime, Jews and Arabs lived in peace, in mutual respect and trust.

One of my most vivid memories is when the whole area was afflicted by a terrible drought. Weeks passed without rain. Crops withered in the fields.People became hysterical with fear. Arabs flocked to their mosques and prayed to Allah to send them rain.None came. The drought intensified. The danger of famine loomed large on the horizon.

Then one day, Sheikh Sliman appeared at the store, accompanied by two Arab dignitaries. It was not Friday, and my father sensed the gravity of the situation. "My most venerable Rabbi," said the Sheikh, "the earth is scorched, cattle are dying, people will die by the thousands. We have prayed to Allah, in vain. Now it is your turn to pray to appease God's wrath. In the name of Allah, the compassionate, the merciful, pray to Adonai, do something to save the innocent children from starvation and death !"

The Rabbi was moved by his friend's plea. He glanced furtively at my father as if to secure an undoubted approval, then said to the Sheikh :"Children, you said ! Then only children shall save us, God will listen to his innocent creatures." He immediately dispatched his SHALIAH, the messenger, to the rabbis of three Jewish schools of the city, ordering them to assemble within the hour in the market place with all their pupils. I was one of those children.

Rabbi Nathan led the procession toward the Jewish cemetery. The oher rabbis and their schoolchildren followed, and behind them walked the whole population of the city, Jews and Arabs and a few French Catholics, thousands of people. Half an hour later Rabbi Nathan stopped the march and, with his arms raised to the heavens, he addressed the Almighty. His voice was monumental, awe-inspiring; the silence of the multitudes was deafening. Rabbi Nathan intoned Hebrew verses from the Bible, beseeching God to suspend his sentence forever and reminding him how He had saved Moses and the Israelites from the cruel Pharaoh, and Jonah from the belly of the whale, and other miracles. He repeated each verse seven times and we, the choir of children,repeated after him, and the huge assembly echoed after us. Even the Arabs mumbled a few Hebrew words with the crowd.

And then, Rabbi Nathan shouted at the heavens; "Our father who are in Heaven, why are you killing the people you have created, with the innocent children who have committed no sin? Give us life! Give us water!"

He stood silent for a few seconds, his eyes closed. Then he turned around. His face was red and he was sweating profusely. After a pause, he whispered a word to his aide who ordered the crowd to disperse.
We walked toward home for some time. Then, lo and behold, dark clouds gathered in the sky. The first droplets fell on our heads. When we arrived home, we were soaked from the rain.

The Arabs had always shown great veneration for Rabbi Nathan, but after this miracle, they went crazy. They touched him, they kissed his hands, they knelt before him, they tore pieces of coat which they would treasure as talismans to protect them from future calamities.

The next day, Rabbi Nathan came to see my father. He was very sad about the whole episode. He felt he had battled with the Almighty and had forced His hand, for which he deserved punishment. Calm and resigned, he confided to my father: " Yaacov, my dear friend, I shall not live long. They are worshipping me like God. But He, Blessed-be-his-name, does not tolerate competition on earth. 'Hear,O Israel, the Lord is our God, the Lord is ONE!' Adonai will take my soul soon."

My father protested with tears in his eyes. He was profoundly shaken by this revelation.But he knew the TSADDIK (righteous) Nathan never spoke untruth. Two days later, Rabbi Nathan was dead.
* * * * *
IN May 1995, after 43 years of absence, I returned to Tunisia. I visited the cemetery and Rabbi Nathan's tomb. It was a simple stone with no adornments as he had wished in his life. I said a KADDISH in memory of the prodigious event, then read the inscription: Rabbi Nathan Uzan died on February 7, 1936. I was 7 years old.

Columnist Yetiv may be contacted at yetivi@sandiegojewishworld.com

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