than one

The ancient rabbis of the Talmud, the Tanaim of the earlier period
and the Amorairn of later generations, were living men. I could
almost see them, each of them individualized in my mind by some
of his sayings, by his manner in debate, by some particular word
he used, or by some particular incident in which he figured. I
pictured their faces, their beards, their voices.

Some of them had won a warmer corner in my heart than others,
but they were all superior human beings, godly, unearthly,
denizens of a world that had been ages ago and would come back
in the remote future when Messiah should make his appearance

Added to the mystery of that world was the mystery of my own
singsong. Who is there?--I seemed to be wondering, my tune or
recitative sounding like the voice of some other fellow. It was as
if somebody were hidden within me.

What did he look like? If you study the Talmud you please God
even more than you do by praying or fasting. As you sit reading
the great folio He looks down from heaven upon you. Sometimes I
seemed to feel His gaze shining down upon me, as though casting
a halo over my bead

My relations with God were of a personal and of a rather familiar
character.

He was interested in everything I did or said; He watched my every
move or thought; He was always in heaven, yet, somehow, he was