Gimpel the Fool

“I was no weakling. If I slapped someone he’d see all the way to Cracow. But I’m not a slugger by nature. I think to myself: Let it pass. So they take advantage of me.”

Gimpel’s choice to examine the lies he is told and to ultimately accept them as truth is a motif that underscores the theme that a human being has freedom of choice, by which they can control their own destiny insofar as how they accept it. They have to power to feel deceived and used or to refuse to be deflated by the apparent abuse.

“When the pranksters and leg-pullers found that I was easy to fool, every one of them tried his luck with me.”

Gimple’s refusal to reject the liars and their lies is a kind of foolishness, or rather self-deception. But his willingness to find a way to believe them shows his empathy, his understanding of human behavior, his wisdom.

“To tell the truth, I knew very well nothing of the sort had happened, but all the same, folks were talking. So I threw on my wool vest and went out. Maybe something had happened. What did I stand to lose by looking?”

Gimpel is not gullible. He examines every lie that he is fed, and when he chooses to believe the lie, it is out of his own well-reasoned examination that the belief comes. In a greater sense, his faith in people is not blind faith. It is reasoned and considered and therefore unshakable.

“It is written, better to be a fool all your days than for one hour to be evil. You are not a fool. They are the fools. For he who causes his neighbor to feel shame loses Paradise himself.”

The rabbi articulates the premise by which Gimpel fashions his life. A consistently compassionate, loving man, Gimpel is no fool, and the rabbi is the only one who truly understands the nature of Gimpel’s personality. Gimpel is not the story’s fool; the people of Frampol are the fools.

“That was how it was; they argued me dumb. But then, who really knows how such things are?”

Gimpel’s choice to examine the lies he is told and to ultimately accept them as truth is a motif that underscores the theme that a human being has freedom of choice, by which they can control their own destiny insofar as how they accept it. They have to power to feel deceived and used or to refuse to be deflated by the apparent abuse.

“I began to forget my sorrow. I loved the child madly, and he loved me too.”

For Gimpel, love is the ultimate healer. He will never be lonely, thanks to this child, and he will always feel well-used. Innocence loves innocence.

“I didn’t dislike Elka either, for that matter. She swore at me and cursed, and I couldn’t get enough of her. What strength she had. One word from her could rob you of the power of speech. And her orations! Pitch and sulphur, that’s what they were full of, and yet somehow also full of charm. I adored her every word.”

Gimpel consistently chooses acceptance over judgment, forgiveness over resentment, and love over hate. Also, in saying this about Elka, Gimpel echoes a sensibility that appears again and again in Singer’s work: Women are not chattel, and strong, intelligent women must be admired and encouraged to be who they are.

“Ten times a day she threatened to divorce me. Another man in my place would have taken French leave and disappeared. But I’m the type that bears it and says nothing. What’s one to do? Shoulders are from God, and burdens too.”

Gimpel believes that both the strength to bear trials and the trials themselves are a natural part of life, which comes from God. This allows him to contextualize others’ poor treatment of him within the realm of his faith. Gimpel is saved, then, by letting his trust in God—the same faith that has caused him so much ridicule—lead him.

“I wanted to be angry, but that’s my misfortune exactly, I don’t have it in me to be really angry. […] You can’t live without errors.”

Gimpel is a nonviolent man who lives in the service of forgiveness. Here, he states his attitude toward Elka, an archetype of the lost and degraded woman, who is loved by a truly good man, and thus is cleansed of her faults and finds her way to heaven.

“However, I resolved that I would always believe what I was told. What’s the good of not believing? Today it’s your wife you don’t believe: tomorrow it’s God Himself you won’t take stock in.”

Throughout the story, Gimpel finds comfort in forgiving those who try to hurt him. By forgiving, he averts pain and lives a relatively happy life. Through forgiveness, he finds his true voice and enables himself as a storyteller.

“To make a long story short, I lived twenty years with my wife. She bore me six children, four daughters and two sons. All kinds of things happened, but I neither saw nor heard. I believed, and that’s all. The rabbi recently said to me, ‘Belief in itself is beneficial. It is written that a good man lives by his faith.’”

Love between Gimpel and children is a motif that runs through the story. The innocents recognize Gimpel’s innocence and love him unconditionally. In the end, he is buoyed by children’s attention to his stories. They are the ones who will accept his message and follow his example.

“‘Well then,’ I said, ‘and is there a God?’

He answered, ‘There is no God either.’

‘What,’ I said, ‘is there, then?’

‘A thick mire.’”

The visit by the Evil Spirit is symbolic of the serpent in the garden of Eden, a reminder of biblical Adam and Eve. Gimpel is a happy man, who has no desire for violence or hatred, but the spirit tempts Gimpel with promises of righteous retribution. His response that the world is nothing but a “thick mire” reflects the idea that because everyone else is bad, Gimpel should be bad too. This false moral equation temporarily makes Gimpel lose his way and give into mean-spiritedness.

“Sometimes they ask for particular stories, and I try to please them. A fat young boy once said to me, ‘Grandfather, it’s the same story you told us before.’ The little rogue, he was right.”

Here, Gimpel is Isaac Bashevis Singer’s alter ego. He has granted himself permission to take on the role of writer, storyteller, but he must tell his stories in the service of truth. And he must never deceive himself into thinking he is unique. He tells the stories of his people, stories that are told again and again.