e, in all my moods,
that there was a God who had made the world, in some fashion
unexplained, and who knew about me and my doings; for there was the
world all about me, and somebody must have made it. And it was
conceivable that a being powerful enough to do such work could be
aware of my actions at all times, and yet continue to me invisible.
The question remained, what did He think of my conduct? Was He really
angry when I broke the Sabbath, or pleased when I fasted on the Day of
Atonement? My belief as to these matters wavered. When I swung the
sacrifice around my head on Atonement Eve, repeating, "Be thou my
sacrifice," etc., I certainly believed that I was bargaining with the
Almighty for pardon, and that He was interested in the matter. But
next day, when the fast was over, and I enjoyed all of my chicken that
I could eat, I believed as certainly that God could not be party to
such a foolish transaction, in which He got nothing but words, while I
got both the feast and the pardon. The sacrifice of money, to be spent
for the poor, seemed to me a more reliable insurance against
damnation. The well-to-do pious offered up both living sacrifice and
money for the poor-box, but it was a sign of poverty to offer only
money. Even a lean rooster, to be killed, roasted, and garnished for
the devotee's own table at the breaking of the fast, seemed to be
considered a more respectable sacrifice than a groschen to increase
the charity fund. All this was so illogical that it unsettled my faith
in minor points of doctrine, and on these points I was quite happy to
believe to-day one thing, to-morrow another.

As unwaveringly as I believed that we Jews had a God who was powerful
and wise, I believed that the God of my Christian neighbors was
impotent, cruel, and foolish. I understood that the god of the
Gentiles was no better than a toy, to be dressed up in gaudy stuffs
and carried in processions. I saw it often enough, and turned away in
contempt. While the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob--my God--enjoined
on me honesty and kindness, the god of Vanka bade him beat me and spit
on me whenever he caught me alone. And what a foolish god was that who
taught the stupid Gentiles that we drank the blood of a murdered child
at our Passover feast! Why, I, who was only a child, knew better. And
so I hated and feared and avoided the great white church in the Platz,
and hated every sign and symbol of that monstrous god who was kept
there and