Ascent to Bethel

Six years ago, I spent a spirited, enlightening day with Refoel Franklin on his farm near the upstate New York town of Bethel, home to his Pelleh Poultry slaughterhouse and Bethel Creamery dairy. I had come there to write about Refoel’s fascinating life story for the magazine, and I remember my first question for him, as he stood against the backdrop of acre upon acre of picturesque farmland: “What are you doing here?”

But like a fliegel after shechitah, Refoel was unflappable. He answered with a story from one of the tours he gives, sometimes conducted in his rich heimishe Yiddish (picked up no doubt during his years spent in the Montana wilds). He leads visitors around the farm, explaining patiently what he does, from the making of hay to the spreading of manure and much more. They watch as he milks his cows for the second time daily — the first time was at six that morning.

“So this chassidishe Yid from Williamsburg enjoyed the tour very much, but when it was over he said to me, ‘Ich farshtay nisht ein zach. Farvoos hut ihr oisgevelt aza mudneh parnoossa — There’s one thing I don’t understand. Why did you choose such a strange livelihood?’ I asked him, ‘Zeit mir moichel, vos toot ihr ah maseh — Pardon me, but what do you do?’ He says he’s a building manager in the Bronx.

I said, ‘Ich hub oisgevelt ah mudeneh parnoossa?! Ihr dreytzich dorten in Bronx tz’vishen halb-nakete menschen mit shmitzige lift, und ich bin du mit’n niflu’os haBoireh. Vus iz mudneh — I chose a strange livelihood? You go around in the Bronx among half-dressed people and filthy air, and I’m out here surrounded by G-d’s wonders. What’s so strange?’”