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There was no Hasidic rabbi in our shtetl that had followers who would stream from other communities. There was no rabbi's “court” in Czyzewo. But it was a Hasidic city that was tied to great rabbinical courts with their admo'rim (plural of admo'r, acronym for adonenu moyrenu v'rabenu. The title of a Hasidic rabbi. Literally, our lord, teacher and master), sons of historic dynasties in the Hasidic world and primarily: Ger, Aleksander, Amszynow, Sokolow. There were individual Hasidim who traveled to the pious men of the Rishener dynasty. And the Hasidim traveled to their rabbis for Shabes (Sabbath) and yontoyvim (High Holidays) and for yomim neroim (the Days of Awe, i.e. the High Holidays, the ten days from Rosh Hashanah to Yom Kippur). They would be with their rabbi in prayer, at the “table” and in giving a gift of money.

On his return from the rabbi's table to the shtibl (Hasidic prayer house), he would tell long stories about wonderful performances, about the rabbi's kiddush (blessing over the wine) and words about the Torah, seasoned with incomprehensible talk about kabbalah (Jewish mysticism) and computation of the numerical # value of words. The men would dance and sing the new melodies that were brought back from the rabbi's court. The melodies and chats reflected the peculiarity that made each Hasidic rabbi distinct. They were lyrical, quiet and absorbed in the mystery of all mysteries, in the soul of the world. They were stormy and noisy with feverish ardor, ladders that reach to the heavens, flames that strike at every movement, every turn, burning the footprint of he who turns away to the eternal deceiver and enticer of men's temperament. They girded for the rush of fresh suffering and the need for strength in divine service.

From all of them there remains extinguished ash.

This text must serve as a matzevah (memorial) to their great beauty, to the light that was extinguished.

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The Czyzewo Jewish population was made up of two classes: Hasidim and Mitnagdim (literally, opponents, opposed to Hasidsm). But the Hasidim belonged to various sects: Gerer, Aleksanderer, Sokolower, Amszynower and others. The names came from the cities where the rabbis lived. Each rabbi had his way, his manner of divine service.

Ger, a small town not far from Warszawa after the death of old Kocker, zts'l (zeykher tsadek livrokhe means may the memory of a righteous person be blessed) his greatness was revealed. When the Kocker Hasidim split up, they began to search for a leader, someone worthy of succeeding the Kocker. But too well known was the Chidushei Harim and Sfas Emet ^[1] and the “truthful words” around which were grouped a large number of Hasidim.

The other rabbis: Aleksanderer, Sokolower and Amszynower were also famous and also had their followers in Czyzewo. But just as in the other cities, the Gerer was the strongest and largest group in Czyzewo. The reason for this is a study unto itself. In fact, the Gerer Hasidim in Czyzewo were the most eminent, like in every other city and town.

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Generally the Hasidim and especially the Gerer remained apart from the Mitnagdim – in every way; in their clothing, where they prayed and how they prayed. Gerer Hasidim were the “shtreimel-Jews”. It was said, “under every shtreimel (round, fur-trimmed hat) is a Gerer Hasid”. Only the very poor wore a “velvet” hat on Shabesn (Sabbath, Saturday). But in shtibl, one did not see a Hasid without a satin kapote (long, black coat worn by Orthodox Jews). One had yet to see a “collar” on a talis (prayer shawl), but always a satin kapote. A faint mark still remained on the kapotes to show that they had once been “satin”. All that remained of the satin was a pair of yellow torn up small stripes, but so long as the lining remained on the shoulders, the “kapote” served as a Shabes-Yontifdike (Sabbath and holiday) garment.

In general Hasidim used the form of prayers used by the Sephardic Jews. The manner of praying is remarkable. A Hasid, especially a Gerer did not sit at the table or generally sit anywhere while praying. He ran around and rocked in great ecstasy, yelled and clapped his hands – back and forth in the length and the breadth of the prayer house. Once,

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by accident such a Hasid was invited as the tenth to a Mitnagid minion (quorum of ten men needed to conduct certain prayer services). For him this was the worst kind of suffering. One must not refuse and poor thing, he had to pray in the Ashkenazy manner.

For the Hasidim, home was a temporary lodging, where they stayed between one visit to the rabbi and the next.

The custom of traveling from time to time to the rabbi was for Hasidim, and especially the Gerer, entirely natural.

Mainly they traveled during Slikhos (one of the prayers said during the days preceding the High Holidays through Yom Kippur) and lay around in the “besmedresh ” (synagogue, study house), sleeping on the hard benches with their bundle under their heads or in some cheap inn where one had to pay. The joyous inebriation came from the rabbi, his teaching Torah, and his virtuous example and later, on returning home being able to tell about the great wonders performed by “him”. Because of this it was worth the trouble from the several weeks until the end of the yomim noroim (Days of Awe, High Holidays) and once until the end of sukus (Feast of Tabernacles).

In Czyzewo, the Gerer and Aleksander Hasidim were closest to each other. For many tens of years they had their shtiblach together on the floor over the town besmedresh, although their demeanor, clothes and character were distinctly different, there were no quarrels between them. In the well known “Wizna-Sniadowo feud, the Aleksander Hasidim undertook a passive position and some even sympathized with the Mitnagdim – the Wizna side.

Each young shtibl student studied in his own shtibl and although the shtiblach were neighbors, nobody from either side every crossed the other's threshold. They both had respect

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for the Sokolower and Amszynower Hasidim.

There was only a small number of Amszynower Hasidim in Czyzewo, headed by Rabbi, Reb Szmuel Dawid Zabludower, who was well liked by everyone. The Sokolower Hasidim had prayed in the besmedresh until the beginning of the twentieth century. Then they rented a shtibl that was also attended by Amszynowers.

The prayer format used by all the Hasidim was “Sefard ” nevertheless there were distinct differences in the prayer format, especially by the “Gerer”.

Friday night the Gerer Hasidim had an interval between Kbalas Shabes (Welcoming the Sabbath) and Maariv (evening prayers). During the interval they did not study gemore (part of the Talmud which comments on the Mishnah [post-biblical laws and rabbinical discussions of the 2^nd century B.C.E.), but that short period was used for reading a book or telling stories about great, pious men.

Shabes morning, winter and summer, the men drank “khamin” (warm drink or food) tea, coffee or milk which they would get from the bakery oven where it had been kept warm all night. In contrast, on Friday the Mitnagdim would by “kvitlakh” (tickets) in the gentile “teahouse” and Shabes morning they all went to get a glass of tea that they had already paid for.

After drinking a hot drink, the Gerer Hasidim went to the Hot “ mikvah ” (ritual bath house). Rarely did one notice any other Hasid and especially Rava Demata who did not feel the need any Shabes and any Yontif to immerse himself in the mikvah before praying.

Between morning and additional prayers only the Gerer Hasidim had a custom of taking a break of not more than an hour and then they studied gemore. They studied alone, by themselves. Others learned in a group,

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where one of the old men or a young man, a respected scholar, read a lesson.

In studying, just as in the economic situation, there were differences, but in the shtibl everyone was equal there. Still, it was decided that the older Hasidim always took the seat of honor, the eastern wall. But it was remarkable that all the older men were also the richest merchants in the shtetl and as a matter of course the most influential in city affairs.

One of the ones particularly strict about wearing traditional clothing was Reb Berish Frydman, a rich grain merchant. Every young man in the shtibl had to wear a yarmulke (skullcap) under his hat and a belt. He always had some in reserve, skullcaps and belts, that he would give for free to each young man who did not have a skullcap or a belt or both.

He took care that even outside the shtibl walls, in the street or out for a walk, men would wear them. If he, or his assistants, saw a young man or a boy in the street without the two things, Reb Berish would warn him with sharp words so that it would not happen a second time. A lot of young men among them the writer of these lines, were expelled from the shtibl as a punishment for disobeying the demands of Reb Berish Frydman. He would pretend not to see and looked away, as if not interested in the least, in a cut beard. But he did forgo the “belt and skullcap”.

There was one young man in the shtibl who was favored with a special privilege. That was Jesheja the grave stone

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engraver's son. Even Shabes he wore a “cloth hat” without a skull cap, yet to pray he had a silk belt.

The Aleksander Hasidim had an entirely different appearance. If in the department of “everything being equal” they were not far from the Gerer, but one saw young men sitting and studying even without a yarmulke and without a belt.

There were some who wore a white “collar” with “a little necktie” and even “ties”. Among the so called “aristocratic” young men, as the Gerer Hasidim called them, were Josef the soap-boiler's (Rubinowicz) Berl, Lejzer the village magistrate's son (Wengorz) Alter, Bine Brucha's son (Garde) and others. The last even wrote for the newspaper “Heint” (Today) which he would freely read and at the Aleksander shtibl door, several young men stood and in secret listened to him reading the newspaper and admired his “skill”.

Sokolower and Amszynower Hasidim in their entire manner were scarcely any different from the besmedreshniks, the Mitnagdim, whose clothing was different, but entirely individual.

The only comparison between them and the other Hasidim was only that they prayed in the Sephardic manner. To the third and last meal of Shabes they would get together and sing Shabes hymns exactly as their neighbors, the Khevre Mishnayes (group that studies Mishnah which is the collection of post-biblical laws and rabbinical discussion of the 2^nd century B.C.E.), the Gerer and Aleksander Hasidim.

Before the First World War, the besmedresh and the rabbi's house, all the shtiblach with the Khevre Mishanayes were on the same street. All week the echo of the gemore melodies

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carried far.

But Shabes the various melodies of those who sang while praying, from all the shtiblach, later the Shabes hymns being sung while eating and then at the last meal the Amszynower Hasidim gathered at the Rava Demata [the rabbi of the city – i.e. the official rabbi of the city] and there celebrated the last meal “ushering out the queen”, scarcely ceased.

Some well to do Mitnagdim also went to the rabbi's, good people, like Reb Josef Kanet and Mendel Kanet z'l (may his memory be blessed), Reb Avraham Yitzchak Belfer z'l, etc.

The bridge that linked the shtiblach, Gerer and Aleksander, was Reb Shmulke Fiszel's the grave stone engraver and tsitsis (undergarment with four tassels worn by Orthodox Jews) maker. He served both shtiblach, he had the tea concession, summer and winter, and …”brandy”.

He would furnish 96% proof for each occasion and there were a lot of occasions. A yahrzeit (anniversary of a death)– liquor, a graduation – liquor, an agreed upon marriage, a bris (circumsion of male baby). An inauguration, even for wearing a new piece of clothing.

If there was no simcha (joyous occasion), several “sons-in-law” with future “bridegrooms” got together and had a little brandy.

During the week, in the street, all the Czyzewo Jews seemed like one family. Only the yarmulke that the Gerer Hasidim wore told of the existence of two “camps”, Hasidim and Mitnagdim.

The Hasidim were in the shtiblach in Czyzewo and the Mitnagdim were in their besmedresh.

There were Jewish scholars and aristocrats in the Aleksander shtibl, but fewer. There were, among others, several respectable young men such as: Josef the soap boiler, (Rabinowicz) Alter Bine-Bracha's Garde, Berl Lejzer Solte's son (Wengorz) Jesheahu Motel Fejga Paja's and others. The Aleksander shtibl was much smaller than the Gerer.

The besmedresh was more for “ the common people”. Zerach the writer (Starkowski) had his group of Jews with whom he studied every day between

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afternoon and evening prayers – Ein Yaakov (title of a well-known collection of the Agadahs [stories] from the Talmud). It was from this group that the Shalemberger Hasidim originated later on. Nobody knows where the name came from.

Jakob Pesze Jute's studied with a second group shulkhn orekh (literally prepared table, title of a book containing all Jewish religious laws) and Chaie Odem (“The Life of Man” title of a well-known compendium of Jewish religious laws by Reb Avraham Dancyg [1748-1820]). Yitzchak Ahron studied with a group – gemore. Studying began between afternoon

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and evening prayers and went on until late at night.

There was also a Sokolower shtibl where the most respected were Shlomo the baker, Boruch Krejndl's (the melamed) (teacher in boys religious grade school) and others. The Amszynower Hasidim went there as well because there was too few of them to have their own shtibl.

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Czyzewo was a Hasidic city. There were Gerer Hasidim, Aleksanderer Hasidim, Amshinower Hasidim [Hasidim from Mszczonow, Poland] and others there. All, except the Amshinower, had their own Hasidic shtiblekh [small houses of prayer].

They did not put on airs, loved the simple Jews who prayed in the large synagogue and recited psalms in the early morning. These were honest craftsmen, for whom the Hasidim showed reverence and respect. Czyzewo was a Hasidic city. It should be understood that there was a considerable number of maskilim [followers of the Enlightenment] – later there were fights between them because of a library, party matters. Simultaneously, the beauty of the pious Jews was understood. They were befriended and boasted about.

[There were] quiet, sincere Jews and life had so much fervor in this dear shtetl.

In this shtetl, my father, the Rabbi Reb Shmuel Dawid Zabludower, of blessed memory, was on the rabbinical throne for 36 years.

It is very difficult for me, a daughter, to impart the entire greatness of his holy stature, evaluate his great pride as a rabbi, a beloved local rabbi and as a good hearted father. He was equally ready

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to sacrifice with the deepest love for both, for his children and for the city.

The Amshinower Rebbe, who was one of the greatest admorim [acronym for “our leader, teacher and master,” title given to a Hasidic rabbi] in Poland, told me before his death six years ago:

“Your father was one in a thousand among the rabbis and one in a million among ordinary Jews…”

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When I begin to write about my father, I ask God to help me to relate only a portion of his greatness that needs to remain for the generations.

My mother would tell us:

My father arrived in Czyzewo in 5665 (1905) as a young man of 24, as a son-in-law oyf kest [support given by a father to his daughter's husband so that he could study Torah] with an Amshinower Hasid and great scholar, Reb Hersh of Ostrolenka [Ostroleka].

The match was actually arranged by the old Amshinower Rebbe, who had a close relationship with my other grandfather. A great scholar from an aristocratic family, he became an in-law of the Amshinower Rebbe.

The rebbe made the match because both of my grandfathers were Amshinower Hasidim.

My mother was then not even 16 years old. My father was two years older.

Everything that I was told by my mother and by other people about my father's young years confirms that he showed great genius even as a child and received rabbinical ordination from the great geniuses of his generation.

After the wedding, my father was supported by his in-laws in Ostrolenka. He sat day and night and studied,and became known as a genius. He had all the characteristics of an outstanding gaon [genius].

When the elderly rabbi of Czyzewo, Rabbi Yitzchak HaLevi Epstein, who was also known as a gaon of renown, died, the rabbinic seat of Czyzewo remained vacant for a time. There were many candidates, but the Czyzewo community decided to take on the young gaon Rabbi Shmuel David Zabludower as rabbi.

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This must have been a great experience in our house because my mother told me with great excitement how it was that day when the three most prominent members of the community of Czyzewo came to Ostrolenka and invited my father to take over the rabbinical seat in their community. Later they sent a written contract in which the city pledged to pay a salary of 25 rubles a week.

My mother gave birth to 10 children, of whom only four survived, three daughters and one son.

The first in the group on the left, Chaim, the rabbi's son

The oldest daughter was named Tzvia. In 1927 she married a young Hasid from a rich business and Hasidic family. He excelled in his courtesy and goodness and had a good reputation in the business world in Warsaw as one of the most honest merchants.

They had two sons. At the outbreak of the last World War, one was 10 and the other six.

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In 1940 Warsaw was severed and we heard no more from them. We do not even know how they perished.

My brother, Chaim, was an extraordinarily successful young man with great qualities. His goodness was without end. He studied at the Kletzker yeshiva. When he would come home for a yom-tov [a religious holiday], he would call me in and confide that he owed many debts. I asked him:

– How can that be? I sent you as much as you asked for each month! If you need to have more, why do you have so many debts?

He answered me:

– I cannot eat alone and watch how the other poor young men cannot buy anything and live only with the allotment they receive in the yeshiva. They suffer from need. I have to share with them, therefore, I spend so much money.

It should be understood that we immediately paid all of his debts. Yet, when he came the second time, he again repeated the same thing about the debts.

He was married six months before the war, took a girl from Maladecsze. She was the youngest daughter and her father gave them a large shop and he [my brother] lived in Maladecsze until the outbreak of the war.

When Czyzewo was burned, with great danger he came running and brought warm underwear for everyone and a large valise with various things.

Then when I was in Vilna, he came to see me on a “business trip.”

When his business was taken away he became a bookkeeper in a large cooperative. That is how things were organized under the Soviets, when they liquidated all of the private enterprises.

He made arrangements with the other bookkeepers and they substituted for him on Shabbos, so that he would not have to desecrate the Shabbos.

When our father learned that he had taken a post with the Russians, hot tears began falling from his eyes. When I asked him why he was so sad, he answered:

–Who knows if he will be able to continue to do so? They could force him to come to

work on Shabbos. He should not have taken a post with them.

The youngest sister, Gitl, was only a young girl when the war broke out and she perished.

This was our family.

An episode from the First World War, told by my mother, may she rest in peace

August 1915

This was on the third day when the fighting between the Germans and Russians neared Czyzewo and the Jewish population scattered. Many left for Ciechanowiec and escaped from there to Russia. Others hid in the Jewish cemetery. A large group was hidden with our family in Zawel Edelsztajn's cellar.

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It was Thursday night when the German military intelligence office entered our cellar. They saw the civilian population and said:

– Remember, escape from here, because there will be such a battle here in the city tomorrow morning at six o'clock that no stone will remain whole.

Hearing the words, everyone prepared to escape. My mother took the children, prepared something to eat and told my father that we must leave the city quickly in order to save ourselves. Everyone else was ready to go.

When they began to leave it was seen that among those who had hidden themselves were two paralyzed people who could not go along. They said to my father: “What will become of us here? You will leave us here to perish?”

Taking them along was impossible.

My father said:

– Jews, we will not go anywhere! We will not leave the two sick people. We will all remain and leave it to God, blessed by He, and he will in our merit save us.

Although everyone had packed a little food to bring on the way, hearing the fervid talk of my father, they all said that they too would not go and they would stay with the rabbi.

No one went.

My father said Psalms should be recited.

Thus everyone sat and recited Psalms the entire night.

When the battle was to start at daybreak, the Russians began to escape without resistance and the German army entered the city without a battle.

Seeing that the danger of a battle has passed, my mother sent messengers to those who had escaped to the nearby towns that now they could come back. The danger had passed; the battles took place far from Czyzewo.

When my father, may the memory of a righteous person be blessed, came to Czyzewo as rabbi, the Czyzewer kehile [organized religious community] had three ritual slaughterers: Reb Chaim-Shmuel, of blessed memory, Reb Moshe-Hersh, of blessed memory, and Reb Josef-Shlomo, of blessed memory. Later, when Haim-Shmuel died there were only two, and when Reb Josef-Shlomo died, his son, Szolem-Feiwl, of blessed memory, inherited his position.

My father, may he rest in peace, sat for many hours with the slaughterers and worked, making an effort to think of how [the cow] could be made kosher. Their entire existence was bound with the issue of the question. When a cow became unkosher, the butcher became poor. He had to give away the meat half free.

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When there was a question about the butchers, all of their wives would run in with worried faces and breathlessly, barely utter:

– What's up? How do things stand?

This was repeated without end until the ruling came out. When the ruling was “kosher” the joy was without end. If, God forbid, a cow was treyf [not kosher] there was despair. My father, may he rest in peace, would go around saddened for days without end.

There were more butchers in Czyzewo than were needed. When a butcher's son grew up there was nothing for him to do and he also became a butcher.

In this way the butcher families grew and there was a surplus of butchers. Great competition arose and they would compete with the prices. The rich butchers sold the meat more cheaply and the poor butchers were forced to lose the last few groshn [pennies]. Then they would come running to the rabbi!

– Rebbe, save us, we are sinking!

My father would call all of the butchers together and negotiate with them day and night until there was a settlement; a partnership was made in order that there would not be a conflict over prices. This had to be guaranteed with a “partnership contract” that each would receive a certain percent according to the size of the family and according to the volume of business. There also had to be a safeguard that the city would not suffer, that the prices would not be too high. My father, of blessed memory, was untiring in his work assuring that everyone leave satisfied. He, therefore, applied his great wisdom and diplomacy. Every one had great respect for him.

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The contract was agreed to by everyone at the same time in order to see how it worked and, when the term ended, it was extended or they again went their separate ways until the same problem repeated itself and a second contract for a certain time had to be agreed to again.

Whoever remembers the Czyzewo butchers, who were very smart and sophisticated, understands the great character of my father, may he rest in peace, in reconciling such differences between the 30 families of butchers of which some were very well-off and others were in great poverty. It was necessary to have a deep understanding of their needs in order to carry things out so that no one would feel wronged and that peace would reign among them.

This was the greatest strength of my father, may he rest in peace, who planted only peace, that there not be quarrels anywhere, not in the beis hamidrash, not in the city, not among the proprietors.

His goodness was without an end. However, when it was necessary to be strong, when it came to a law, or to yidishkeit [a Jewish way of living], he was strong and did not agree to any compromises. However, that he had to act strongly cost him a great deal of his health because this was against his nature.

I myself remember several cases of intense exchanges.

Once there was a question of a Czyzewo matter in which he had a different opinion than the respected proprietors. He came out against everyone and said his final and strongest words. Later, they all came to my father, may he rest in peace, and said

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that they agreed and begged his pardon for their earlier opposition. They openly declared that everyone consented to what the rabbi had said.

A second case that I remember was when they came to my father, may he rest in peace, and said that there had been an error made by a certain butcher, one of the richest. My father immediately sent for the butcher. The butcher had a bookkeeper; he sent him to answer. However, my father, may he rest in peace, was not satisfied and said that the butcher himself had to come at once. The butcher was unhappy that his answer by means of his man was not accepted. He did not want to come and said: “I can also live without the butcher's trade.” The next morning, my father, may he rest in peace, at once announced that the butcher was banned and no one was permitted to buy any meat until he himself came to explain how the obstacle had occurred.

He was banned for four weeks until he sent the same person asking that the butcher be permitted to come and beg my father's pardon. Many times my father, may he rest in peace, was strict when there was a question of protecting kashrus [the laws regarding kosher foods], or other Jewish matters.

My father would sit in the rabbinical court room and look into a religious book. He would never study out loud and when someone came in he greeted him with a great deal of goodness and spoke with him with such eagerness as if he had been waiting for him for a long time. He never showed that his studying had been disturbed. He always had a smile and he never

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said: “Do not disturb me while I study,” although he was very zealous.

A large part of the day was taken with ruling on questions from housewives, who were very observant of kashrus, who would come to ask questions about cooking when a dairy item dripped into meat or the opposite.

Mostly there would be questions about poultry. Almost everyone slaughtered poultry for Shabbos and there would be a question about almost every second one because the peasants did not pay attention to them and they swallowed nails, pins, etc. when eating.

We children would be busy relaying the questions because the women were not bold enough to come into the rabbinical court room themselves.

Once, erev Pesakh [the night before Passover], a certain poor woman came to ask a question. Could she use tea for the four cups of Passover wine? My father, may he rest in peace, asked if the doctor had asked that no wine be consumed. She answered no, only that she did not have any money to buy wine. My father, may he rest in peace, called me in and said that she should be given money for wine.

A great effort was required to provide for the Talmud-Torah [school for poor young boys]. It was necessary to pay the teachers of the poor children whose parents could not pay any tuition. This task my father fulfilled with great devotion because it required much effort to be able to cover the expenses of the Talmud-Torah and not allow the poor boys to be sent home from school.

Respected guest preachers, couriers, who would come

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to collect money for yeshivus, all came to my father, may he rest in peace, asking that he arrange for men to collect money for their purposes.

First of all, my father invited everyone to eat. There was no question, whether in the morning or in the afternoon, at whatever time a guest came, they were invited to eat. There would be days when one left and another came in and we were busy preparing the table in the rabbinical court room the entire day.

Ahron Shamas sat in the rabbinical court room the entire day. He was a Jew, a righteous man, a dear and gentle person. Once he came to my mother and asked:

“Rebbitzen [wife of the rabbi], do you know the rabbi?...”

My mother smiled and said:

“What do you mean by this?”

“You do not know anything about who the rabbi is; I sit in the rabbinical court room and wonder at his greatness, his wisdom, his goodness. I feel elevated sitting near him. When the rabbi enters the beis hamidrash it becomes so quiet that a fly can be heard flying by and the stillness lasts until the rabbi leaves the beis hamidrash; then there is a tumult again. Such respect is seen nowhere else.

My father prayed in the beis hamidrash where the simple Jews, craftsmen, came to pray. He gave sermons twice a year: Shabbos-tshuva [the Saturday before Yom Kippur] and Shabbos-hagodl [the Saturday before Passover]. The entire city gathered in the beis hamidrash then to hear sermons which lasted for three or four hours.

The sermon was not only for the learned Jews, but a large part was also for the simple Jews, craftsmen. When my father became weak he had to interrupt

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the sermon because he spoke with much passion and it affected his health.

The day when he gave a eulogy after the Kobryn pogrom remains in my memory. He burst into tears and the entire shul cried with him. His every word breathed with love of the Jewish people and he felt each calamity deeply.

Ahron the shamas would call everyone to shul on Friday night. Who does not remember his call “in shul areyn” [come into the synagogue] with a special melody that no one else could reproduce. When he died at the beginning of 1939 no one was able to continue the tradition of calling everyone to shul as he had done. Jakob Plotsker, who was called Jakob der dreyer [Jakob the turner] (by trade a turner of primitive Christian “wheels” for spinning wool and flax) became the beis-din shamas in his place and the second shamas was Mendel Kuszer. However, neither could reproduce the melody for calling people to shul.

When his call was heard all of the women knew that they must bless the Shabbos candles. Even the women who came to the market in the city on Friday knew that they must quickly run to buy something because the shops would soon be closed.

He would read the Megilah [scroll of the Book of Esther] at our home on Purim. He had his own melody for the Megilah. His sweet, extraordinary melody that I never heard from anyone else rings in my ears even today. His reading of the Megilah had such a sincere zest.

After Mendel tzitzis-makher [Mendel the maker of tzitzis – the fringes on garments such a talis or prayer shawl] no longer prayed psukei-dzimra [Verses of Song] on Rosh Hashanah and Yom-Kippur, Ahron took over the praying, and when Fiszel's son, Shmulke, who

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was the permanent Torah reader, died, Ahron Shamas took over as the Torah reader, too.

In 1938 Ahron Shamas became very ill. He was already an old man in his 80's. He died a mere year before the outbreak of the Second World War. My husband eulogized him and the entire city mourned him deeply. He was truly a tzadek [a righteous man]. May his memory be of aid to us! Blessed be his memory.

All of the city problems were dealt with in the rabbinical court room. I remember when Dr. Gelbojm began to take part in the meetings he was surprised to see how simple Jews carried on the communal work with so much responsibility and devotion.

The theme of every meeting was how to alleviate the poverty in the city.

When the kehile [organized Jewish community] was more structured there would be eight synagogue wardens with a chairman. Reb Berish Frydman was chairman for a time. Later, Alter Wolmer, who held the office until the outbreak of the Second World War, for as long as communal work was carried on, was elected. He was an active communal worker. He devoted himself to kehile matters with warmth.

Itsze Zylberman and Yossel Boruch Lepak also took part in kehile matters. Later, Blajwajs, Zyglbojm, Szczupakiewicz and other younger men started to work with them.

All of the problems about city matters were discussed in our house.

When Passover approached and it

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was necessary to raise money for maos khitim [money to provide for the Passover needs of the poor], my father went out with several businessmen to collect the money. When he received large donations, my father was also sad. Perhaps these people could not give so much money but were doing it because of the rabbi.

Later, when money began to arrive from America before each Passover, my father stopped going to collect money for maos khitim. However, the businessmen would continue to collect themselves. When the money would arrive from America, the businessmen came together and made lists of the poor. This poverty grew from year to year and the number of recipients grew larger each year. It grew so much that 120 out of 500 families needed to receive support.

Because there were so many more poor people, the donations became smaller and smaller from year to year. During the last year, my father said that more money had to be collected in the city because the money coming from American would soon not be a solution.

The money would be sent to everyone so that no one would feel bad about coming to obtain a few dollars.

At the meeting, every co-worker would bring a few more names, which were given in secret, that this one and that one had come and asked to be put on the list, only on condition that no one would, God forbid, know. There was surprise on everyone's faces and they nodded their heads with sorrow and added the names.

Everyday life in Czyzewo became more tragic before the Second World War.

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The Exchange of Letters with the Ragoczower Gaon [genius]

A short time before the First World War, my father began a correspondence with the Ragoczower Rabbi, who was considered to be the greatest genius of his time.

During the First World War when half of the city was burned including the rabbi's house and the old beis hamidrash, my father with the help of several businessmen and Ahron the shamas packed his entire library of books in crates and sent them to Yeshayahu Kalinowicz's cellar. Then when the front crept closer and it was necessary to escape, my mother blamed my father that out of all of their possessions he had only grabbed manuscripts of the Ragoczower. He said that they were more valuable to him than everything else. In contrast, my mother grabbed the jewelry and silver and thus saved them.

My mother said that we would have been able to save something more, but the manuscripts were the main thing for my father and wherever we ran he took them with him.

At the time of that war, the correspondence with the Ragoczower Gaon was interrupted for several years. It was again renewed until the death of the gaon. I think this was in 1936.

This was a correspondence of approximately 25 years. He wrote twice a week and answers came twice a week. This was a world of brilliant material and my father considered it a jewel. He dreamed of publishing it in a book. He said that the brilliance of the Ragoczower

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was much greater than of our time and it was simply a wonder that our generation had produced such a giant.

In 1938 my husband visited Lithuania. This was after the death of the Ragoczower Gaon. My husband visited the rebbitzen and when she heard that he was the son-in-law of the Czyzewer Rabbi, she related how her husband rejoiced, when after the war, letters began to arrive again from the Czyzewer Rabbi. Holding the first letter after the long interruption, he went through the house and said, “Thank God, there is again a letter from the Czyzewer Rabbi.” Another time, he suddenly said to the rebbitzen:

“Does the world know that there is a rabbi in the small shtetl of Czyzewo who does not have an equal of more than five rabbis in Poland?!”

My father, pointing to his large library, would always say to me:

– See, these are my belongings whose worth is incalculable because I possess antique books that can no longer be purchased for any amount of money. They are worth more than the greatest possessions.

All of the walls of the rabbinical court room were covered with books. This was all burned as soon as the Hitlerist airplanes bombed the city on the 8^th of September 1939 and the entire city went up in flames. The manuscripts of the Ragoczower Gaon also disappeared with the smoke.

This was a Wednesday, two days before the outbreak of the war; I was sitting with my father in the rabbinical court room. [Translator's note: The Second World War began on Friday, September 1, 1939 with the Nazi invasion of Poland.] We saw that the air

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was filled with gunpowder. However, my father with his great faith still had hope. Perhaps the Most High would have pity and the slaughter would be avoided. He called to me:

– Freidel, what will happen to my books? Perhaps we should start packing and put them in the cellar?

I looked at the large library and answered:

– How would it be possible to start packing so many books? We will not get any help because everyone is busy with himself.

My father said nothing more about saving his books which were his entire life.

From 1933, when Hitler came to power in Germany, it became worse in Poland from day to day. The Endekes [anti-Semitic National Socialists] organized a boycott against the Jewish merchants. In Czyzewo, gentile boys with sticks would stand on both sides of shops and peasants, who went in to buy from a Jew, were beaten and “the pig buys from Jews” was written on his back. The need and desperation among the Czyzewer merchants grew. They turned to the Joint [Joint Distribution Committee] for help and the Joint director, Mr. Guterman, came to us. The merchants were called together and he promised to support them and said they should not lose their bearings and would weather the difficult times. The merchants and the synagogue wardens came together every evening at our house and discussed the situation. My father

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consoled everyone. They should persevere and the Most High would help; they should not fall into despair.

New troubles crept in.

Litigation began against the Jews saying that they were insulting the Polish people. There was such a case with us of the merchant Bialystocki. His wife went out and amicably began to plead with the hooligans; why do they not let us live, earn a piece of bread. A witness immediately claimed that she had insulted the Polish people and litigation was started against her that threatened her with years in prison.

The Joint provided a lawyer and she only just escaped the false accusation. All of the troubles played out in my father's rabbinical court room.

This all had an affect on his health. My father became ill with a paralysis at the end of 1935 and, on orders of the Warsaw doctor, had to go to Otwock where he found himself under the supervision of specialists.

My father was not in the city [Czyzewo] for two years and his son-in-law, Rabbi Levinson, took his place.

In 1937, he returned almost healthy, but his right hand and his right foot were a little weak and he walked with a cane. His mind was again as sharp as before. He once told me that his mind worked better than perhaps it had worked before his illness.

He took back the running of the rabbinate with all of the difficult problems that had now arisen. As we lived far

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from the beis-hamidrash, a minyon was created in our house.

My father's prayers were not intense, noisy; they were satisfying without forced religious ecstasy. A suffocating fire smoldered in them, but the quiet, piercing voice, on which the prayers were carried, affected the limbs, elevated the heart and awoke faith.

The Lord is still gracious and merciful!

On Shabbos the table was always full, with pious Hasidim surrounding it and seated around it, with a congregation that consumed the Rabbi's teaching.

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My father really wanted the Jews to forget all of their troubles and worries on Shabbos and yom-tov. When he succeeded in this, his eyes shone as for a lucky one who was saved from a great danger.

I would look at the people and it appeared to me that with every word that my father said, a lament was silenced, with every sparkle of his radiant eyes, a moan was extinguished.

Face after face of all of the Czyzewer Jews, who loved him so much, shone and was brightened.

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Updated 13 Oct 2020 by LA