[Columns 393-394]

Rabbi Yosef Verthaym (may his memory be for a blessing)

The Warsaw Betar membership of 1929 consisted mostly of working youths.^[2] Very few were students, as most students were members of HaShomer HaTza'ir. At that time a pleasant young man, who had come to Warsaw to continue his studies, showed up in the relatively new Betar group and caused a sensation. He was learned, and we were glad to have him. He was also unusual, in that he had studied in Shmuel Poznanski's teachers' seminary, and was the son of a rabbi. This was the first rabbi's son that I had ever met. My friends and I could not understand how the son of a rabbi had ended up in Betar. It was not long before I became friends with the young man. He talked about his home, and mainly about his father, Rabbi Yosef Verthaym of Hrubieszow. We finally received an answer to the question that had bothered us. We discovered that Rabbi Yosef Verthaym¸ the rabbi of a Hasidic town, was a Zionist, and that all his children were active in Zionist movements of the entire gamut, from the Revisionist Betar to the Socialist HaShomer HaTza'ir, yet relationships in this home were very good. It wasn't long before I became very familiar with the home of Rabbi Yosef Verthaym.

When I came to Hrubieszow for the first time, for a Betar convention in August 1932 (the fifteenth anniversary of Betar's founding) my friend, the rabbi's son, invited me to stay in their home. I stayed for three days. I did not see the homeowner, but absorbed some of the special atmosphere of the house.

“The Rabbi” was a special term that I encountered only once in my life – in Hrubieszow. I knew about the admiration and affection of communities for their spiritual leaders; I also knew the nicknames and terms that Jewish communities everywhere attached to their rabbis. In most cases, these feelings were expressed by the affectionate suffix “-le” attached to their first names.^[3] Often, the rabbi was characterized by his place of origin (such as the Maggid of Mezeritsh) or by the possessive form of his mother's name (Rabbi Leyb Sores). And indeed, Rabbi Yosef Verthaym was nicknamed Rabbi Yosele.

Years later, when the rabbi emigrated to the Land of Israel, a new circle of admirers began to form in his home in the Rechavya neighborhood of Jerusalem.^[4] These were not natives of Hrubieszow – only few of those were lucky enough to come to Israel. The rabbi's new circle were the residents of Rechavya: high-ranking officials, professors, and community activists, who were no longer close to religion or tradition - yet the impressive figure of the rabbi diminished that distance. They admired him openly, as Hasids speak of their Rebbe. The people had changed, the landscape was different, but Rabbi Yosef Verthaym did not change. His figure always radiated gentleness and nobility, and his eyes shone with wisdom and kindness. That is what he was like in Hrubieszow, and he remained so in Rechavya, Jerusalem.

He came to Hrubieszow by accident, having been born into a dynasty of great rabbis in Bender, Bessarabia.

[Columns 395-396]

He was rabbi of Ostroh, and often visited Hrubieszow, as his father-in-law, Rabbi Eliezer Yungerlayb, had died in that town and was buried there.

In 1924, after the death of Rabbi Yisra'el Issar Ya'avetz (may his memory be for a blessing), Rabbi Yosef Verthaym was invited to serve as rabbi in Hrubieszow. He was agreeable to this offer, probably because he wanted his children to grow up in a traditional, Hasidic town such as Hrubieszow, rather than in Ostroh, where the young people had abandoned traditional garb. When the residents of Ostroh found out, they tried to change his mind. When that proved impossible, they called the rival community to a hearing in a rabbinical court. Apparently, the people of Hrubieszow prevailed, and Rabbi Yosef Verthaym was ushered into his new post in that town.

It was one of the most impressive ceremonies ever to take place in the town. The rabbi was greeted with pomp: as he approached the town, mounted escorts rode out. This was a rare scene for Polish Jews at that time.

In the 1930s, when I became personally familiar with the rabbi, I heard of other major opportunities that he had had in large Jewish communities, including Plock, Włocławek, and Łódź. However, he loved his own community – reciprocating their love for him – and rejected all the offers. Once, when mentioning these offers, the Rabbi looked at his wife. She was beautiful, radiating gentleness and delicacy, and noble in her own right and [also] thanks to her lineage. The rabbi said: “Take a good look at the ‘management.’ Doesn't she deserve to be the wife of the rabbi of New York? But, as you see, I am the rabbi of Hrubieszow, and so she is the wife of the rabbi of Hrubieszow.”

We were certain that the rabbi, who avoided fame, was following his wife's advice. She didn't mind whether she was the wife of the rabbi of New York or of Hrubieszow. They both had a mission, and they fulfilled it in the best possible way.

He was strict towards himself, and lenient towards others. He was extremely tolerant towards people, and seemed to have something of the founder of Chabad in his character, though he was certainly not aware of this.^[5]

In order to please his children, he invited me to his home. I was happy at the chance to visit the rabbi's home, and was greeted lovingly, as though he had known me for a long time. He knew my shortcomings as far as religion and tradition were concerned, and did not try to trip me up, or preach, as many observant people do. I did my best to observe all the commandments, minor or major, every time I visited his home, in Jerusalem as well as in Hrubieszow. I wasn't the only one to do this. I often spoke with the rabbi's visitors who were not observant; our feeling was that if the Jews had had spiritual leaders like Rabbi Yosef Verthaym, a religious revolution would have taken place among the freethinkers.

But the rabbi, who was gentle with people, could also be authoritative. He served in a town that was known to be Hasidic, but he never concealed his Zionist opinions. Rabbi Yosef Verthaym was a member of the Mizrachi movement, and its delegate to Zionist congresses. He defended his Zionist views and maintained them scrupulously, often causing conflict with the local Hasids. The townspeople were well aware of his ideological dispute with the Rabbi of Belz.^[6] Whereas the Rabbi of Belz forbade his adherents to move to the Land of Israel, Rabbi Verthaym said that the commandment to settle in the Land of Israel should be observed.^[7] It wasn't long before he himself fulfilled it.

He could be commanding, and fair-minded. Once, two Jews came before his court of law, accompanied by another, called “strong-arm Motke,” who had come to “soften up” one of the parties. The rabbi noticed him and asked, “What are you doing here?” Motke answered, “I've come to listen.” The Rabbi suddenly rose and shouted, “Get out of here immediately!” The powerful Motke, who terrorized the town, left at once. Furthermore, he came to the rabbi's house the next day to beg his forgiveness.

The Betar movement had special relations with Rabbi Yosef Verthaym. Not only did he allow his children to join the Zionist movement in general, and Betar in particular, and encourage them to do so -- he contributed his energy to the movement, and supported it from its very first days. The first convention of Betar in the Hrubieszow province was held in 1928. Avraham Lobas arrived in town as a delegate; he had served in the First Jewish Battalion in World War I.^[8] The Hrubieszow Betar group consisted of young people only (as it did everywhere). There was no adult interest in or support of the movement. The convention included a ceremonial prayer in the synagogue. The rabbi joined in, and gave a speech. He arrived at the synagogue in a carriage, accompanied by Avraham Lobas, who wore his uniform. This act was a strong act of support, and the movement's members never forgot this gesture of kindness.

Later, there were rabbis who expressed their support for Jabotinski's movement. But they kept their distance in 1933, during the 18th Zionist Congress, when Betar was persecuted. Rabbi Yosef Verthaym was one of the few who supported the Jabotinski movement during this difficult period as well.

He admired Rabbi Kook (may his righteous memory be for a blessing), and resembled him in this views and love of humanity.^[9] Like Rabbi Kook, he felt that the Jabotinski movement had been treated unfairly, and took its side.

In 1935, Rabbi Yosef Verthaym left Hrubieszow for Bender, where his ancestors had served as rabbis; the most recent of these was his father, Rabbi Shim'on Verthaym (may his memory be for a blessing). For the rabbi, Bender was only a way-station en route to the Land of Israel. He arrived in Jerusalem in 1940. His home, at 18 Aza St., and the adjoining synagogue, became a center of spiritual life. It was a different congregation, yet the atmosphere was the same as in faraway Hrubieszow.

I arrived in Jerusalem with my family in the spring of 1941, with few possessions. We had no home yet, and I stayed with friends. I knew that I had friends in the country, yet I wanted to become independent before I could renew my old connections. I would sometimes meet an acquaintance from the old days, who would conclude our conversation with the routine words, “Come and visit sometime.”

One day, when I returned to my hosts' home, I encountered an unusual surprise. The rabbi's son Khayim was waiting in my room, with an invitation from his father to come and visit him in Jerusalem. As I was busy seeking work and lodging, we postponed the visit until Passover. And so it was that our first, unforgettable Passover Seder in the Holy Land took place at the Rabbi's table. He hosted us graciously during the holiday. I soon returned to Tel Aviv and completed our arrangements. After the holiday, I moved the family to our new home. Since then, we would travel to Jerusalem, mainly on holidays, and would visit the Rabbi.

I never heard the rabbi preach long sermons. In the course of the service – not necessarily after the Torah reading – or during the kiddush, he would talk about current affairs, as was customary for rabbis.^[10] Unfortunately, these talks were not documented, but they contributed to the spiritual development of his acquaintances and followers. During that period, Rabbi Verthaym was no longer politically active, though he continued to be a Mizrachi member. He may have had his reasons. In his talks, he reacted to the events of those years, the 1940s. The members of Betar were then being fought against by the British occupiers as well as by their brothers.^[11] Rabbi Verthaym continued to support them, and his talks contained many obvious allusions to their justified struggle.

The rabbi died on March 26, 1946. His funeral expressed the deep mourning of those who revered him, from all walks of life. His wife continued to maintain the atmosphere of the small synagogue on Aza St., but she followed him only a few months later.

Translator's Footnotes:

1. The original text divides this article into parts, using the Hebrew letters that equate to numbers 1, 2, and 3 etc. Return
2. Betar is a Revisionist Zionist secular youth movement founded in 1923 in Latvia by Vladimir Jabotinski. Return
3. The Yiddish suffix ‘-le’ is a diminutive that denotes endearment. Return
4. The modern Jerusalem neighborhood of Rehavya was founded in 1920 by Jews from Germany, many of whom were scholars and intellectuals. Return
5. The Chabad Hasidic movement was founded by Rabbi Shne'ur Zalman of Liadi (1745-1812). Return
6. The Belz Hasidic movement was founded in Belz, Ukraine, in 1817. Return
7. This commandment originates in the Talmud. Return
8. This was an entirely Jewish unit of the British Army. Return
9. Rabbi Avraham Yitzkhak Kook (1865-1935) was an important Orthodox rabbi, and the first Ashkenazi Chief Rabbi of British Mandatory Palestine. He is considered to be one of the fathers of religious Zionism. Return
10. The kiddush is the blessing recited over grape juice or wine to sanctify Shabbat and Jewish holidays. It also refers to a small repast held on Shabbat or festival mornings after the prayer services and before the meal. Return
11. The mainstream Zionist groups were opposed to the Zionist Revisionist movement, which caused conflicts in the Jewish community. Return

[Columns 397-398]

Hrubieszow was the closest town to the Jewish Pale of Settlement, between the provinces of Volhynia and Lublin. The Bug River separated the two provinces; the first belonged to Russia and the second - to Poland.^[1] Each province had its own peoples and its own Jews. Different customs influenced the ordinary Jews: speech, pronunciation, body movements, and the impulsive customs differed. Naturally, the fact that these regions were adjoining mutually influenced the Jewish residents.

The first fact that a visitor from Volhynia noticed about the Jews of Hrubieszow was the cap with a tiny visor they wore, as did all the Jews of Poland. They called it “the little Jewish cap.” The long dark coat that almost of them wore all year round was typical, and gave them a Hasidic appearance. The young folks who had been exposed to modernizing influences wore shorter coats as well as hats. Those who admired the new movements, especially HaShomer HaTza'ir, wore short jackets of fur or leather, and workmen's caps. The clothing indicated their way of life.

The Jews of Hrubieszow paid attention to their clothing: the form and fit mattered, and even the direction and manner of fastening. A Jew, they said, fastens his clothing and buttons his coat from left to right, as the left side is connected with demons. These would seem to be insignificant matters, but they are not. The Talmud mentions certain Jewish customs that must be followed, even at the price of martyrdom.^[2] Inner character is manifested by outer appearance: a Jew clothed like a non-Jew resembles the latter. “If Jacob wears Esau's clothes, he becomes like Esau.” Therefore, a Jew must keep his distance from anything that resembles non-Jewish customs. Truly pious Jews who continue the habits of their ancestors, all the way back to the biblical Jacob, observe the slightest detail.

As we know, the students of the Maggid of Międzyrzec settled in Poland and created magnificent successions of Hasidic leaders. Hasidism took root among the Jews of Poland and spread to most of its towns, including outlying locations such as Hrubieszow. Almost all the Jews there followed Hasidism and all its customs. There may have been a small minority of non-Hasids.

In the 1920s, when Zionism in all its ramifications became widespread, its word came to Hrubieszow as well. Convincing everyone to believe in Zionism was considered a national mission. Some of the young people of Hrubieszow began following Zionism. However, even earlier there were some who were attracted to Zionism. The first ones who emigrated to the Land of Israel were Shlomo Gertl (may his memory be for a blessing), of the Turisk synagogue; and Baruch (Buni) Yanover of the Sadigora synagogue, [he is] now an important official of the Tel Aviv municipality.^[3] He published a small book a few years ago. They were followed by several others who emigrated before the larger waves began.

These isolated cases prepared the ground for organized Zionism. The local Zionist Organization was founded with a small membership, but as conditions worsened, the membership increased. Many adherents of Hasidism joined the organization, especially those of the Turisk and Sadigora. When a Zionist synagogue opened, it was soon filled with people who cultivated that path.

The Zionist youth movement HaShomer HaTza'ir soon took hold in the town, its members recognizable by the fact that they spoke Hebrew. It was followed by Betar, which excited the young people, encouraged a national feeling, and left its mark on the town in the 1930s. The strongest movement, however, was the right-wing Po'alei Tziyon. They established a library, invited speakers from their central committee, and supported HeHalutz. Its most distinguished members emigrated to the Land of Israel and retained their social awareness. The most outstanding of them was the member of Israel's Knesset, Yosef Almogi, who is known to natives of Hrubieszow intimately by his original name, Yoske Krelnboym.^[4]

The Zionist movement spread further, but the social landscape of the Jewish community consisted mostly of Hasidic people. To the end, Hrubieszow was a typical Hasidic town, for good and for bad. The residents, including the Zionists, followed the Hasidic leaders of Turisk and its subsidiaries (Lublin, Zurik, Warsaw, and Kovel), Kuzmir-Kielce, Czortków, Sadigora, Husyatin, Kock, Góra Kalwaria, and Belz.^[5] Each Hasidic group had its own small synagogue, and, naturally, its own ritual slaughterer and rabbinic judge. The Turisk Hasids were the most noticeable, as the former Rebbe, Rabbe Yankev Leybenyu, had died in Hrubieszow, and his tomb, in the local cemetery, was a site of pilgrimage. His sons, Rebbe Moyshele of Lublin, Rebbe Dovidl of Zurik, Rebbe Nokhemtshe of Warsaw (the father of the writer Yokhanan Tverski), and Rebbe Velvele of Kovel, all renowned righteous men who were murdered along with their communities during the frightful catastrophe in Poland. The arrival of the Rebbes in Hrubieszow, and the gathering of Turisk Hasids from afar, emphasized the power of the dominant Hasidic dynasty and its influence over the religious functionaries of the Jewish community.

All the Hasidic synagogues were in one neighborhood, with the great synagogue at its center. Although the Hasidic synagogues were close to each other, and the members often encountered each other – and maybe because of that – there was animosity between them, and loud quarreling was common.

For many years, there was no chief rabbi in the town to organize its needs and direct its activities. There were rabbinic judges, judges of rabbinic law, and scholars – but no head of the rabbinical court. In the fall of 1924, it was the good fortune of the town to employ Rabbi Yossele (Yosef) Verthaym as town chief rabbi, He was a great rabbi, renowned, and one of the important rabbis of Poland, who had made a name for himself, and came of great lineage. He was the son of Rabbi Shlomenyu Verthaym of Bender, who, together with Rabbi Maymon (long may he live), was one of the founders and nurturers of the Mizrachi movement in Bessarabia. Rabbi Yossele came of a distinguished line, which sprang from the disciples of the Ba'al Shem Tov.^[7] His entire family was replete with luminaries of Hasidism or the Rabbinate: one in the Ruzhin dynasty, another in the Chernobyl dynasty, and a third in the Turisk dynasty. There were other branches in the dynasties of Korets and Opatów, Savran and Brzeżany. All these traditions and customs left their mark on Rabbi Verthaym and his way of life.

His wife, Khanele, the daughter of Rebbe Eliezer of Ustylúh (Volhynia) came of great lineage, was gentle and religiously observant, and created a warm, religious household, as was fit for the home of a Rebbe; she rigorously followed Hasidic customs. Details of her lineage are written in the book Shalshelet HaZahav by Rabbi Shlomo Gur-Aryeh.

Rabbi Yossele Verthaym was arresting in appearance, fascinating when he spoke, and riveted all his listeners. I can see him now: He was tall, with a large, impressive beard rimming his face, emanating wisdom and knowledge, a fine orator, smart and wise, with a sense of humor, sure of his words, and each

[Columns 399-400]

word encouraged those who were despondent. He was called both Rabbi and the Rebbe, and fulfilled both functions admirably. He was a master storyteller, and employed colorful, expressive language in his tales of the ancestors. The stories he told had a melody of their own, which attracted the listeners and created anticipation. As the head of the rabbinic court, he knew how to smooth out every difficulty, and make peace between the parties.

Before Rabbi Verthaym came to Hrubieszow, the rabbinate was in poor shape. Although all the residents were religiously observant and observed all the commandments, the rabbinic judges and judges of rabbinic law were in distress. The different Hasidic groups did not appreciate them.

His most important achievement was the organization of ritual slaughter in the town. There were relatively many slaughterers. (The city wits would say, “Rabishoyv means rabey shov, in other words, many slaughterers and examiners.”) There were only two slaughterers of large animals. The rabbi invited one of the expert slaughterer-examiners of Volhynia, who was living in Kremnica: Rabbi Aharon Fayngloz, a great scholar who was an expert in the fields of examining animals and removing disqualifying spots from meat. He arrived in Hrubieszow in 1925, and was received with the assent of the community board. The common Volhynian-Russian origin of the rabbi and the slaughterer, as well as their religious-Zionist views strengthened their bond. Rabbi Verthaym improved the reputation of the rabbinate in the town and lent it dignity and importance. The Polish authorities in the town also admired the rabbi and treated him with honor. They recognized him as a great, impressive scholar-rabbi.

The rabbi knew Russian as well as Polish. He would often visit the town's governor and discuss town affairs. Thanks to the rabbi, the governor often improved the conditions of his Jewish “subjects.” When he walked slowly down the main street, dressed in his official garments and accompanied by his servant, the rabbi made a very dignified impression.

Rabbi Verthaym was one of the most important Mizrachi rabbis of Poland. He promoted the cause of Zionism, and participated in Zionist congresses as a delegate of the Mizrachi movement in Poland. He practiced what he preached: his two sons emigrated to the Land of Israel before he himself did.

Once he became the rabbi of Hrubieszow, his political activity slowed, due to his numerous responsibilities. First and foremost, he was very busy with the day-to-day work of managing the town rabbinate. All matters of Jewish law were decided by him. The rabbi's day was always very full, and often problematic. Second, the town was full of Hasids. Their attitude towards the physical Land of Israel was full of reservations. True, they considered the command to settle the Land of Israel very important, but they regarded those who were carrying it out now as offenders. They felt that it was not possible to restore the sanctity of the Holy Land now.

It should, however, be emphasized that in their innermost being they continued to feel a love for the Land of Israel that had never been extinguished, and was a constant source of hope for better times. But due to the influence of their leaders – who unfortunately misled them – they maligned our reviving land and its returning sons. This often pained the rabbi greatly. His world view and the reality of his position were opposed. However, he never avoided an attack on his antagonists, and was always brave; he could be belligerent, if need be. These conflicts between his opinions and his real-life situation sometimes isolated him, and offended his friends. But he was quickly able to extricate himself from the situation, and regain his normal composure. He would then tell Hasidic tales that calmed the emotions.

As a descendant of the founder of Hasidism – the Ba'al Shem Tov – his ancestor's love of the Land of Israel was a constant in the rabbi's daily life. His home was a meeting place for the lovers of Zion and similar-minded activists who were active on the topic. Emissaries from the Land of Israel knew that they were welcome in the Rabbi's house, which always extended warmth and hospitality to them, regardless of party affiliation. He would enjoy the person's presence, and his pleasure extended to the entire company. He was always concerned for the Holy Land. When the month of Nisan began, the season of our redemption, his heart turned toward the east, which revived his soul and inspired his followers, in spite of their being in exile.^[8]

He attained a peak of joyous enthusiasm on the last day of Passover. On that day, those who were politically close to him gathered at his synagogue. He usually hosted guests in his dimly lit study room, where there was only a single window among the bookcases. However, on the last day of Passover he held the festive meal in the front hall, its walls decorated with floral patterns. All were seated around the long, beautifully arranged table, and the Hebrew lettering that spelled out “Carmel Mizrachi Wines” on the bottles from the Land of Israel attracted everyone's gaze.^[9] The fine wine aroused our love for the Land of Israel. The rabbi reclined at the head of the table, his head covered with an ironed velvet kippa, wearing a fine silken robe. The rays of the sun illuminated the delicate flowers that decorated his robe.

He began to tell the well-known tale of the Ba'al Shem Tov's strong wish to move to the Land of Israel. The story is highly symbolic; each word and phrase is inspirational and guides the listener towards the Land of Israel. This was the story: the Besht wanted to bring redemption closer by emigrating to the Land of Israel, where he would meet Rabbi Khayim Ben Atar, author of Or HaKhayim.^[10] Though he received a mystical warning not to leave, he set out with his daughter Adel. He reached Istanbul in the winter and took a ship; however, a great storm occurred and the ship was in danger of sinking. Even more seriously, his faith became damaged, and a great forgetfulness came over him. When he realized the gravity of their situation, he reluctantly decided to return to Europe and work to render the people of Israel fit for a return to the Holy Land… He had to return, the rabbi emphasized several times, and his shining face grew darker. Sighing with longing, he paused. The guests looked up to heaven, as if praying for a miracle: will Israel's redeemer appear and restore the faith? The question went unanswered, but an ominous feeling gripped them all, with no explanation. The silence was stormy, and there was a silent prayer: may our exile not turn stormy.

The rabbi continued: “Exile obscures our faith, but

[Columns 401-402]

glimmers creep through the cracks. We must cling to the light, and strive to reach the light of Zion…” He whispers, “True light, the light of Zion, the light of life in the Land of Israel.”

The rabbi concluded with a phrase from the Passover Haggada: “ ‘So that all the days of your life you shall remember the day that you left Egypt.’ The sages say, ‘All the days of your life -- to bring Messiah near.’” He emphasizes, “The days of your life – it is you who must bring Messiah near. Each person must make an effort to bring redemption,” he says, and sinks deep into contemplation… The listeners continue this train of thought: ‘You must bring redemption – you yourself, with your soul, with all your might.’

An echo comes from deep inside: you are young, and you live in a period of doubting along with longings for national, religious, and social renaissance. What awaits you here? Arise and leave the Diaspora before you are trapped in the fire of persecution and forced conversion. Your emigration to the Land of Israel, your pioneering spirit, your work, and your defense of the land will bring redemption closer. This is how the young Jewish men heard the rabbi's teaching during the Passover festival of freedom, and understood its meaning. Rabbi Aharon said, “Bring the arrival of the Messiah” – in the Turisk tradition. Everyone understood the hint, and burst out singing, “And God's blessing keeps our generations alive…and God saves us.”^[11]

The rabbi handed out the thirty-one matza balls named for the Ba'al Shem Tov.^[12] The Hasids drank the wine from the Land of Israel, and each sip carried the perfume of the Land of Israel.

The joyous song of longing resounded throughout the house: “Next year in Jerusalem.”^[13] Aharon the Slaughterer, who was always enthusiastic about his love of the Land of Israel, added, “Next year in Jerusalem–but really and truly in Jerusalem.”

The rabbi left Jerusalem in 1935 and moved to Bender (Romania) on the Black Sea, where his father lived. This was a step on the way to Jerusalem. When World War II broke out, the rabbi and his wife moved to the Land of Israel and settled in Jerusalem. His dream was coming true. His House of Study reopened, under the name Ohel Yosef on Aza St.

He was once asked by a very observant person, who was strict about religious commands, for his opinion of the problems that afflicted the Jewish people. He answered, “Afflictions? Among the Jews? Listen well: God says, ‘If you do well, will you not be accepted? And if you do not do well, sin lies at the door.’^[14] The simple meaning of this is, if you look at every Jewish phenomenon favorably, you will be able to accept each flaw and each sin. If you do not look at them favorably, you will see only ‘sin…at the door.’ May it be God's will that we be among those of whom it is said, ‘Generous people will be blessed’” (Proverbs 22:9). That was the blessing of Rabbi Yossele Verthaym.

In 1945, when the terrible war ended with the defeat of the great enemy and its marauding, the curtain was lifted, and horrible news of the great disaster that befell our people in Europe began to arrive. The rabbi was informed of the massacre and slaughter in Shumsk of Volhynia. His dear daughter Matele and her husband Shmuel Akerman, who were important members of that community, were among the fatalities.

The rabbi became gravely ill. He attempted to collect his strength and overcome his disease, as he expected redemption to come at any minute, and hoped with all his might for the establishment of a Jewish state. He believed that now, after the horrible calamity that befell us during the catastrophic years 1939-1945, with the cream of the nation totally consumed as a sacrifice, our sins were expiated and we had been punished seven-fold. He expected the descendants of the Maccabees to arise and scatter the dark clouds.^[15] The struggle is just beginning, the heroes seek the light of freedom; and the rabbi longed to see Jerusalem liberated. He yearned for it, but was unable to overcome his disease. He returned his soul to God on March 26, 1946, and did not live to see the renaissance of the state that he dreamed of.

The great rabbi Yossele Verthaym spread the light of redemption from his home in the Diaspora, and made his home in our capital, Jerusalem, the city of God. May his House of Study always spread the light of the Torah, until Messiah comes and sheds new light on Zion.

Translator's Footnotes:

1. The Jewish Pale of Settlement was a territory within the borders of czarist Russia, designated in the late 18^th and early 19^th centuries, in which the Jews were legally authorized to reside. Return
2. Talmud Sanhedrin 74, b. Return
3. Sadigora Hasidism began in 1850, in the city of Sadhora, Bukovina. Return
4. Many Zionists changed their names to Hebrew names after they emigrated. The Yiddish ‘kreln’ means ‘corals̻ as does the Hebrew ‘almog.’ Return
5. ‘Zurik’ in the Hebrew transliteration may refer to Żarki. Return
6. The following sections are written in extremely ornate, hyperbolic language, as was customary when eulogizing people whom the community admired. Most of the metaphors and phrases are derived from Talmudic and rabbinic literature, and are untranslatable; I have condensed them somewhat and rendered them meaningful. Return
7. Rabbi Israel ben Eliezer (1698-1760), known as the Baal Shem Tov or the Besht, was a Jewish mystic and healer from Poland who is regarded as the founder of Hasidic Judaism. Return
8. Passover occurs on the 15^th day of Nisan. Return
9. Carmel Winery was founded in then-Palestine in 1882, and markets wines today under the label Carmel Mizrachi. Return
10. The 18^th Century Rabbi Khayim Ben Atar was a Talmudist and Kabbalist. He is considered to be one of the most prominent Rabbis of Morocco. Or HaKhayim [The Light of Life], his commentary on the Torah, is highly regarded in Hasidism. Return
11. Quoted from the Passover Haggada. Return
12. Editor's note: This reference is unclear. There may be a numerical relationship between this number and the numerical value the Hebrew letters associated with the Ba'al Shem Tov. Return
13. This phrase concludes the Passover Haggada. Return
14. From Genesis 4:7. Return
15. This is an allusion to a famous poem by H. N. Bialik. Return

[Columns 401-402]

He arrived in Hrubieszow in 1925, together with the family of his father, Rabbi Yosef Verthaym (may his righteous memory be for a blessing). The family was of great lineage, and traced its roots back to the Ruzhin Hasidic dynasty. Khayim was young, tall and with a serious face, elegantly dressed in a short black coat and a black hat, as was suitable for a rabbi's son. He went his own way, seeing much but saying little. He never shared his inner concerns, but was always restrained and kept a natural distance from others. Little Khayim was of fine ancestry, and was well aware of it. However, this was not always an advantage. His way of life was determined by his lineage; he did not carve his own destiny. His ancestors had paved the road for him. All he needed to do was to walk it. If the road was blocked, his life's course was affected.

This is typical of children and grandchildren. They are not their own persons but are part of a dynasty. They cannot mingle freely with society; the burden of their past is too heavy. If they try to assimilate in a new environment, they are subconsciously prevented from doing so. Their noble ancestry prevents them from carrying out their plans. “Ordinary people” recognize their “exalted position,” and do not mix with them. “When one mixes all other liquids one doesn't know what is on top and what is below, but even if you mix oil with all the liquids in the world it rises above the others” (Shemot Rabbah 36). Despite all his modesty, little Khayim was one of those.

He loved the Land of Israel from his earliest childhood. His upbringing was nourished by love for the land and the nation, encouraged by his father, the rabbi. As was customary, little Khayim received his first Torah education from inspiring cheder teachers, but the essence of his learning took place in his home, in his father's House of Study. When he grew older, he studied in the Tachkemoni rabbinical seminary in Warsaw.

It was natural for him to join the Mizrachi Pioneer movement. However, national issues as well as his own temperament impelled him towards Betar, which he considered an audacious movement that was fighting whole-heartedly to liberate the Land of Israel from foreign rule. The worse the situation of the Jews of Poland became, the more enthusiastic he was about Betar. He devoted all his efforts and energy to increase its membership and to imbue it with the spirit of his father's home.

After he finished his studies in 1935, he

[Columns 403-404]

emigrated to the Land of Israel and began teaching in the Mizrachi school system there. He placed himself at the disposal of the nation as needed, taking on any mission to liberate the land and to redeem the nation. During World War II, as the horrible news from Poland began filtering in, he joined the Jewish Brigade Group of the British army.^[1] He was deployed to Italy, and was happy to serve in battle so as to take revenge on those who murdered Jews.

Once the war was over, the full extent of the catastrophe that had befallen the Jews became clear. Still in uniform, he traveled to all the countries that had been home to Jews, seeking those of his brethren who had survived the national disaster. He returned to the Land of Israel in 1946, and once again began to teach.

“When you enter the land and plant any kind of tree” – “Man is like the tree of the field”^[2]: we must beautify the landscape of our country with ornamental trees as well as fruit trees, and increase the numbers of our nation by fine people after the disaster. This was his dream.

When Israel's War of Liberation began, Khayim manned defensive positions in the defense of Jerusalem. He continued his spiritual work while serving as a fighter. His dream came true in 1948: part of the country was completely liberated, and the longings of generations were being realized. Khayim begins a life of peace.

He worked in the Ministry of Education for the remainder of his life. In spite of his achievements, his life was sad, and joyless. His bright smile disguised a sorrow that he never shared and which remained a mystery. Khayim lived modestly in his veterans housing apartment, and never boasted of his lineage. Before he reached age 50, or was able to enjoy the fruits of his labors, he died suddenly in his office. He was gone, but he lives on in the memories of his family and friends.

Translator's Footnotes:

1. This British Army unit, formed in 1944, unit consisted of Jews from Palestine. Return
2. The first quote is from Leviticus 19:23; the second quote is from Deuteronomy 20:19 Return

[Columns 403-404]

Rabbi Aharon Fayngloz

He was born in Horohov, Volhynia, to his father Rabbi Yisro'el the Ritual Slaughterer (may his righteous memory be for a blessing), who attained much in everyday life and was also a Kabbala scholar. He considered his life a constant striving for perfection; that he was achieving by stages. His radiant personality was famous among the Jews of Horohov for righteousness, modesty, simplicity, and profound scholarship. He was a descendant of Rabbi Yo'el Sirkish.

Rabbi Aharon's mother died when he was an infant, and he was raised by his grandfather, Rabbi Itsile, the “old rabbi” of Lanovtsy (Russia), who was esteemed as a great scholar, and a “good Jew,” who loved all Jews.^[1] This noble grandfather passed this feature on to his grandson. Rabbi Aharon was his disciple in Torah, behavior, and all positive traits. He was ordained as a rabbi at age eighteen, by Rabbi Sholem-Shakhna Tsherniak, author of Mishmeret Shalom. Rabbi Shalom Shakhna considered the young “Aharele Horohover” a great scholar of Volhynia who would spread learning among Jews.

Rabbi Aharon spent much time studying, and became renowned for his devotion. He married the daughter of the ritual slaughterer Rabbi Dov Mayler of Brežice, who was close to the Rebbe Yossele of Radowil. Soon after the wedding, his father-in-law died, and he inherited the position and became the local slaughterer. After some time he gained renown for removing lung adhesions from slaughtered animals. In his free time, he studied, did research, and refined his scholarly writings. He organized three regular study groups for the congregants of the small synagogue, in Bible and the Talmud. These study groups provided the raw material for his own writing.

At that time, he made the acquaintance of Dr. Aryeh Landsberg of Kremenets, a religiously observant, enlightened man who was affected by the teachings of Yitzchak Ber Levinson; a fervent Zionist, who had visited the Land of Israel. Thanks to Dr. Landsberg, Rabbi Aharon contacted Dr. Ruppin (then living in Jaffa) about emigrating to the Holy Land.^[2] In the summer of 1921, Rabbi Aharon received Dr. Ruppin's answer instructing him to contact Rabbi Kook, the rabbi of Jaffa, on the matter. However, World War I broke out in the meantime, and the bold plan was set aside for the time being.

When the Austrian-German front line drew near, Rabbi Aharon and his family left the town and moved to Kremenets. As a scholar and a Zionist, he was able to find a suitable position as a ritual slaughterer in this suburb of Dubno. Every evening, he would teach the congregation of the “new” synagogue Torah, Midrash, and legends. Sometimes, he would teach the community. He also volunteered as a teacher of Jewish tradition to those young people who were studying in non-Jewish schools. He educated his children to love sanctity, the Jewish people, and the Land of Israel; he spoke Hebrew with them, according to the Sages instruction that when a baby starts to speak, his father speaks the holy language to him.

In the summer of 1924, Rabbi Yosef Verthaym assumed the post of rabbi and head of the rabbinical court in Hrubieszow. He soon realized that the domain of ritual slaughter was highly disordered: there were five slaughterers, who “represented” different groups of Hasids and other congregations. These slaughterers were:

Aryeh Sokel, of the large House of Study, an elderly man who was reticent, kept his distance from the turmoil among the religious functionaries, and was devoted to his work, to Torah study, and to prayer.

Yidele Shtokhamer, with a long yellow beard, attracted attention. He was an adherent of the Czortkow Hasidic dynasty, spoke little and thought much, and told tales of the Rebbe of Ruzhin and his dynasty. His tales were short and cryptic. The Hasids spread gossip that he was secretly working on mathematics and fractions.^[3] He was the most scholarly of them all.

Yisro'el'tsi, a slow-moving Belz Hasid, had a reputation for being idle and slovenly. He was God-fearing, and honest – as though he had never been part of a Hasidic community.

Dovid'tsi of the Kuzmir synagogue was quick, industrious, and intelligent, who always reacted strongly to local issues. He was demanding and obstinate in arguments about injustice.

[Columns 405-406]

His yellowish beard was constantly in motion.

Moshe-Aharon, who prayed in the small synagogue adjoining the House of Study, was tall, nimble at his work, and did not seek fame or honor. He was always smiling and contented; if despair overtook him, he would dispel it by a folk tale. He was a simple man, comfortable with simple folks and their conversation. He suffered just as they did.

These five ritual slaughterers were the agitators of the argument about slaughtering in Hrubieszow. We never learned whether they arrived and happened to join their congregations or whether they had been invited by the congregations in order to gain a firm foothold in the community, for greater influence in the community council. Three months was the maximum period of calm. When the skirmish with the Czortkow-Husyatin Hasids receded, the Belz Hasids raised their demands. They wanted to be reckoned with, even if Yisro'el'tsi was unassertive; that was no reason for them to be silent. And the strife was repeated.

Rabbi Yosef Verthaym coined a wonderful phrase: “Hrubieszow should be read as riv shov, in other words, a town in which there are constant arguments [riv] over matters of slaughtering and examining [shov].” When he found that four of the five were chicken-slaughterers, and only one, Aryeh, was a slaughterer of large animals, he wanted Yidele to join him. However, the butchers were strongly opposed to Yidele, as he was always strict about the dietary laws and usually issued a ban on use. The Rabbi then decided, along with the community, to invite someone who was an expert in Jewish law as well as in Hasidism. Rabbi Aharon was selected; he was a member of Turisk Hasidism, which was not represented in the community council and felt disadvantaged.

Rabbi Aharon Fayngloz was appointed Hrubieszow's chief slaughterer and examiner in 1924. He was soon well-liked. The Turisk Hasids were proud, and the other groups were forced to agree. Yidele soon began to go to the slaughterhouse as well, to reduce the rancor. The mood gradually grew calmer, and the quarrel soon abated. Rabbi Verthaym found Aharon to be excellent at his profession, a scholar and an authority, as well as a friend with similar views. Aharon spent eleven years in Hrubieszow, during which he composed innovative scholarship on Torah, Jewish law, and legends. He was precise and eloquent in his work, never exaggerating or self-deluding. In 1935, he began to organize his scholarly works into books.

Rabbi Aharon was a firm believer in the ideology of the Mizrachi movement, but was unable to take any action to that effect in Hrubieszow. Many of the Hasids did not approve of the ritual slaughterer's being a Zionist activist. He clung to his earlier desires, took steps in order to emigrate to the Land of Israel, and carried his plans out in 1937,

Rabbi Aharon felt that he had attained his peak desire: to live in the Land of Israel, where the very air was sacred and God's care ensured protection. He was appointed ritual slaughterer and examiner in the agricultural town of Nachalat-Yehuda, where he lived for six years, and continued his scholarly work. He also performed circumcisions. The physicians who observed him marveled at his precise and quick moves and his high-quality hygienic practices, and praised him highly.

In his hometown of Horohov, he was famous for his artistic work. The synagogue was decorated with his work, such as the Shiviti on the lectern, with complex paintings of Noah's dove or the Lion of Judah.^[4] The entire work incorporates suitable verses and phrases in ornamental, colorful script. The central verse, with its straight, highlighted lines, was distinct from the rest of the design, and expressed the belief that the words of God are straight and true. He was also a fine cantor who composed melodies for various liturgical passages. His melodies were derived from tradition. Every cantor in Volhynia was happy to follow his style, which was heartfelt and passionate.

He had been a member of the Mizrachi party before he settled in the Land of Israel; once there, he joined Ha-Po'el Ha-Mizrachi.^[5] Their ideology suited his nature: he could not understand how an observant Jew could be anything but a Zionist. Could the Land of Israel be cherished during prayer, but distant in actuality? He would say, “Who knows whether the fact that only few observant Jews emigrate and take part in rebuilding the land is not the work of the devil, meant to prevent redemption.” During a conversation with the Turisk Hasids he said, “The entire people of Israel are a sacred nation. Even sinners, who do not follow the commandments, who join the rebuilders of Jerusalem, are protected by the sanctity of the nation and saved from ruin. ‘The banished one shall not remain an outcast’^[6].”

Rabbi Aharon loved the Land of Israel profoundly. While he was the ritual slaughterer in Nachalat Yehuda, he enjoyed strolling in the orange orchards and fields, and breathing the fragrance of the soil and the land. In spite of his advanced age, he always preferred to walk from Nachalat Yehuda to nearby Rishon LeTziyon, in the land of the ancestors, where the prophets and early sages walked – this was his greatest pleasure.

During the Arab-Jewish riots of 1936 -1939, when his son had to serve as night watchman, Aharon would set up his gear and knapsack, as though participating in the defense of the homeland himself, and would bestow his fatherly blessing with mixed emotions–joy at seeing his son defending the homeland, and fear for the life of this son. When Israel's War of Independence broke out, he considered the daring exploits of the Palmach, the army, and the martyrs of the State to be harbingers of the Messiah.^[7] He regarded the establishment of the state of Israel as the fulfillment of the biblical promise to return to Zion, and considered every victory of the Israel Defense Forces as a physical manifestation of God's miraculous power. His love for the nation and its sanctity were the cornerstones of his thought, and he drew vital energy from the words of Rabbi Avraham Yitzchak Kook (may his memory be for a blessing).

After he moved to the Land of Israel, Rabbi Aharon published his book Bnei Aharon, on Torah and Talmud. His books were approved by great rabbis and Hasidic leaders from abroad, and by the chief rabbis of Tel Aviv. Bnei Aharon was praised by Rabbi Moshe Avigdor Amiel (may his righteous memory be for a blessing) and by the Sephardi Chief Rabbi Ben-Tziyon Uziel (may his righteous memory be for a blessing). In his later years, he refined his manuscripts, and polished his books about Hasidism as well as the book Uvda D'Aharon, on slaughtering regulations.. That book includes detailed illustrations of methods of slaughter and of examination; especially useful are the illustrations of examining the lung, its lobes, and all the other parts of the animal that require examination

Rabbi Aharon was expert in many fields: Bible, Mishna, Talmud, Toseftas, Midrash, and the decisions of religious authorities. His scholarship encompassed all fields of Jewish learning. He educated his children in the same spirit, and taught them to love learning and the nation, as well as the land. He was happy to see his descendants continue along his path.

He died on April 1, 1953, after suddenly feeling very weak. He whispered a few words; when his oldest son asked what he was saying, he answered, “God is truth, the Torah is truth, the prophets are truth…”^[8] He repeated the phrases several times to his grandchildren. He died, age 72, while reciting this prayer. Thus did a righteous man leave this life. He left behind a son who was active in HaPo'el HaMizrachi, and two married daughters. He will always be remembered.

Translator's Footnotes:

1. In Hasidism, a “Good Jew” is a popular Rebbe who is viewed as enjoying God's favor Return
2. The sociologist Dr. Arthur Ruppin was a Zionist thinker and leader, who was one of the founders of Tel Aviv. Return
3. These subjects were prohibited among many strictly observant Jews. Return
4. The Shiviti is a meditative representation of a verse from Psalms, decorated with traditional motifs. Return
5. Ha-Po'el Ha-Mizrachi was a religious pioneering and labor movement. Return
6. The quote is from II Samuel 14:14. Return
7. The Palmach was the elite fighting force of Haganah, the underground army of the Jewish community under the British Mandate. Return
8. These phrases are from a prayer that is said in synagogues when the Torah scroll is brought out of the ark. Return

[Columns 407-408]

The first committee for the party, Agudas Yisroel Sitting: Yitzchak Reizer, Dovid Zimerman, Leibel Silbermintz, Berl Lerer

The honorable Rabbi Yochanan Twersky became the new rabbi after the passing of Rabbi Yosef Verthaym, who left Romania in 1935. Practically speaking, Rabbi Yochanan Twersky did not settle into life in our town until 1936, and that was a result of opposition from the Radziner Hasidim, who were attempting to appoint the brother–in–law of their Rebbe, Rabbi England, the son of the Sosnovitzer Rebbe.

The conflict lingered on for nearly a year. In town there were rumors circulating about Rabbi Yochanan's miracles.

During the conflict, the Radziner Hasidim invited their candidate, Rabbi England, to town for Shabbat, so that he could give a lecture in the synagogue, and thus influence the town.

The rabbi came on Thursday and stayed in Mr. Boyer's Hotel. Having been in the hotel for just a couple of hours, one of the walls in the room where he was staying, suddenly toppled over. Shortly thereafter that same Thursday night, the rabbi went home and removed himself as candidate for the Hrubieszow rabbinate.

Rabbi Yochanan, or as we called him, Rebbe Yochanchi, was from Trisk, and a son of Rebbe Mosheli, the rabbi of Lublin, and a grandson of the Maggid of Trisk.

He was born in the year 1900. He was educated largely at home by his father. Then he became the son–in–law of the Belz Rabbi Yesochar Dov, a brother–in–law of the last Belz rabbi, Rebbe Aherli, who recently passed away here in Israel.

As a son–in–law of the Belz rabbi, he perfected his knowledge of Torah, both the plain text and the hidden meanings, and by the time he was 36 he had already taken over the rabbinate in our town.

Translated by Yael Chaver

The community and the small synagogues prepared a celebratory reception for the Rabbi and his brother-in-law, the Rebbe of Belz, who accompanied him. The town was privileged to host the Rebbe of Belz. The town took on a festive appearance: all the shops were closed, and the artisans shut down their workshops. Men and women, young and old went to greet him. The synagogue and all the houses of study were decorated. An arch was set up in front of the entrance to the great synagogue, with the inscription, “Welcome! This is the gate of God – the righteous shall pass through it.” The baker, Yankev Dral, had the special privilege of hosting the Rebbe.

Once Rabbi Yokhanan had appointed the local rabbi, all dissension disappeared. His standing, honesty, and love for all Jews extended not only to Hasids and religious scholars, but also to so-called “simple folk”; he spoke their language, and they could understand.

When a question of religion or kosher adequacy arose, he became assertive, and used his authority to demand the full severity of the law. But if anyone needed a favor from him, he greeted the applicant with his sweet smile. Everyone felt that the rabbi was his true friend, and not only his rabbi. His interests were broad. He made efforts to improve the town; unfortunately, he did not have enough time, because the war broke out.

When the Germans (may their names be blotted out) took our town, the Rabbi and his family fled to a village and stayed with a Jewish family there. It was not long before the Germans entered that family's house. It was Saturday night, during the ceremony that concludes Shabbat. They killed all those inside, including Rabbi Yokhanan and his entire family. It was November 25, 1939.

May God avenge their blood!

The last generations of Hrubieszow's rabbis: Rabbi Yosef Mordechai Katzenellenbogen – 1818–1830 Rabbi Yosef Eliezer Gelernter – 1830–1864 Rabbi Yisorel Isser Yavetz – 1896–1924 Rabbi Yosef Verthaym – 1924–1935 Rabbi Yochanan Twersky – 1936–1939

Translator's Footnote:

1. In honor of my sisters, Rekhl, Beyle, Pearl, and my brothers, Yisroel, Aryeh, and Shlomo. Return

[Columns 409-410]

Rabbi Moyshe Aaron Vanderboym

His first steps were difficult, as he was a Misnaged.^[1] The town was mostly Hasidic, and a non-Hasidic slaughterer was not looked upon kindly. Could a Misnaged hold this important religious position in a town that was mostly Hasidic? He struggled, but did not retreat. The Belz and Turisk Hasids demanded a slaughterer that met with their approval. He often thought of returning to his home town, Międzyrzec. But his unusual personality and ability to be well liked worked in his favor. A general assembly of all the Ashkenaz-style congregants in the great synagogue, headed by Rabbi Ya'avets (may his memory be for a blessing), the congregation of the large House of Study (headed by Yosef Menis – may his memory be for a blessing), and the adherents of Kock Hasidism Sha'ul Ayzen and Shmu'el Brand, resolved the dispute.^[2]

He was a simple person, pleased with his lot, and always ready to help others. He dealt with community matters for years, and was the Torah reader in the large House of Study to his last day, all without remuneration. He was interested in everything about the town, and people loved him – even the young people, who appreciated his discerning sense of humor. His son received a traditional religious education, but he did not ignore modern trends. He liked reading non-religious books, and had opinions about modern Hebrew writers.

He suffered a stroke when the first three hundred Jews were executed by the Nazis, and died surrounded by his family. He was buried in the local Jewish cemetery. May his memory be blessed!

The Rabbis of Hrubieszow in the 17th and 18th Centuries Meshullam Fayvish Ginzburg Ashkenazi, the rabbi of Hrubieszow, participated in the convention of the Council of the Four Lands, in 1676.[3] The rabbi of Hrubieszow in 1712 was Shmu'el, the son of Rabbi Mordechai Margalit.

Translator's Footnotes:

1. Misnagdim resisted the rise of Hasidism in the 18^th and 19^th centuries. Return
2. Hasidic Jews pray in the Sephardic style; those who pray in the Ashkenazi style were opponents of Hasidism. Return
3. The Council of the Four Lands was the central body of Jewish authority in Poland from the second half of the 16^th century to 1764. Return

Rabbi Ben-Tziyon Aksamit

He was not over-proud, although he taught the public for years, on Shabbat and holidays, as well as on weekdays. Simple people came to hear him – artisans and tradesmen, who did not always understand all the terms he used. He would then explain, teach, and guide them along the path to understanding. Torah scholars also came to hear his lessons, which he first gave in the anteroom of Rabbi Yona and later in the small House of Study. During the week he regularly devoted some evenings to groups that studied Mishna and Ein Ya'akov.^[1] His style of speech was comforting and revitalizing. He lived a modest life, and never complained.

Over the years, he opened his own cheder; I was one of his pupils. We studied at various sites, such as the women's section in the synagogue. I remember one location in particular, near Vanis Street, at the edge of the hill, with the vista of green fields, rivers, and all the marvelous natural sights. His voice was low and soft, and his Talmud chant was lovely. Later, when we left the intimate limits of the cheder and went on to further education, the sounds of his chant accompanied us.

I can say that Bentshi taught us to love religious scholarship and the Torah. He taught some students Guide to the Perplexed, Kuzari, and other works of religious scholarship.^[2] At the time, it was quite a revolutionary step. He also introduced us to the world of Jewish legend. Sometimes we would meet at his house, leaf through his books, and hear his tales about the great religious scholars of previous generations: the Shach, Yosef Karo, the Ari, Khayim Vital, and others.^[3] He roused the imagination of his students, and kindled their love for the Land of Israel. For years, he collected the sermons that he had preached; I was one of those who helped him gather the manuscripts, but I believe they were never published.

He quietly joined the social life of our town. His family members were simple folk. According to him, he studied with Rabbi Leshchitz (may his memory be for a blessing), who considered him one of his best students.

I believe he had a family connection with the renowned mathematician, Avraham Ya'akov Shtern, and, on his mother's side, with Nachum Sokolov (may his memory be for a blessing).

He considered the writing of his sermons a sacred mission. Some of them were a true experience, which the listeners carried in their memory. One of these was his eulogy for Rabbi Soloveitshik of Brisk; as was his sermon about the pogroms in Lviv.

He prayed in the Husyatin small synagogue (he was a Czortkow adherent).^[4] I do not remember him as being a very enthusiastic Hasid, nor did he seek out notice. He prayed quietly, and was careful when expressing opinions about Hasidism.

His cheder was in the apartment of Meirl the Melamed, who was then considered a heretic. Meirl often argued with Bentshi about material that we were studying, especially about the tales of Rabbi [Rabbah] Bar Bar-Khana, and tried to prove that many of the latter were unrealistic.^[5] Bentshi argued with him in the presence of his students, in order to keep us on track.

He did not quarrel seriously with the younger generation, and sometimes helped those who gravitated towards Zionism. Sometimes they would ask him for materials to use at parties of the Tze'irey Mizrachi faction. I remember one Tu B'Shevat occasion, which was organized by my friend Mantshi Sokol (may his memory be for a blessing), one of the Zionist organizers in our town, who later moved to Warsaw, where he became a lecturer. Mantshi seasoned his talk with many proverbs of the Sages, and was helped by Bentshi.

I was told that in his later years he was a judge of Jewish law in our town. He had two sons, one of whom lived in Uscilog. I know nothing about the fate of his other family members.

Before I emigrated to the Land of Israel, I paid a farewell visit to him. It was after the festival of Sukkot, and the Torah portion was Lekh Lekha.^[6] He spoke to me, quoting, “Go from your country, your people and your father's household to the land I will show you, and I will make you a great nation” He went on, smilingly, “Clearly, you are more than a small goy.” He concluded with wishes for health and success.

May his memory be with us forever.

Translator's Footnotes:

1. Ein Ya'akov is a popular 16^th-century compilation of all the Aggadic material in the Talmud together with commentaries. Return
2. Maimonides' Guide to the Perplexed, written in the 12^th century, is a major work of theology. Kuzari, written in the 12^th century by the poet Judah Ha-Levi, is an imaginary dialogue between a rabbi and the king of the Khazars, who has invited the former to instruct him in the tenets of Judaism in comparison with those of Christianity and Islam. Return
3. Shach is the acronym for Shabtai HaKohen, a famous 17^th century Jewish scholar. Yosef Karo was the 16^th-century author of the last great codification of Jewish law, the Beit Yosef, and its popular analogue, the Shulchan Aruch. Ari is the acronym for the 16^th-century Isaac ben Solomon Luria Ashkenazi, a leading rabbi and Jewish mystic in Safed. Khayim Vital was a rabbi in Safed and the foremost disciple of Isaac Luria. Return
4. The two Hasidic groups are connected. Return
5. Rabbi Rabbah Bar Bar Khana was a Talmudic sage, whose fantastic accounts of his travels became famous. Return
6. Genesis 12-17, in which Abraham is instructed to leave his homeland and go to the country that God will show him, promising to make him a great nation (Heb. goy). The speaker puns on the biblical word goy, which has come to mean “non-Jew” and, in some Jewish traditions, “ignoramus.” Return

[Columns 411-412]

Avraham Ber Viner (may his memory be for a blessing)

Tuviya would come home once or twice a year, bringing joy not only to the Viner house but also to the entire neighborhood. People would gather in the house, and at the doors and windows, to hear his stories breathlessly; later, they would sing and dance in the street until late at night. His wife worked hard to sustain the family of six children by selling milk; but she never complained to her husband or to anyone else. She believed deeply that her husband's merit would assist her in the world to come.

Avraham Ber was his parents' youngest child. He studied in cheder, as did all the other children of the town, and proved a gifted student as well as a prankster. When he completed his cheder studies, he began studying in the small synagogue, along with other boys. However, he secretly studied the Bible, Russian, and mathematics. As Hasidic culture prohibited the study of these subjects, he studied secretly in the attic, where he kept the forbidden books. Over time, he attained broad, deep knowledge of Hebrew, Russian, and general subjects. He passed his matriculation exams, and was accepted as a teacher of religious studies in the Gymnaziya.

He loved to learn and to teach. He worked with the young people of the small synagogue, with whom he would exchange opinions and hold debates and secret meetings and read a Hebrew newspaper or the Bible. The unorthodox opinions voiced by enlightened youth in arguments with Hasidic youth led to persecutions by religious fanatics. This increased resistance, and the enlightened young people united behind the leadership of the two brothers, Shalom and Avraham Viner. At their secret meetings, they read the Hebrew newspapers HaTsfira and HaZman, and would dream of reviving Hebrew as an everyday language, and of the Land of Israel.^[2]

Over time, the idea of establishing a Hebrew school developed. Naturally, this idea was quite daring; and the school was initially called “Improved Cheder.” It was set up in 1907 by the Viner brothers, who were the first teachers. Aided by the young people who opposed the persecutions by the ultra-religious groups – who termed the “improved cheder” the “dangerous cheder” – that threatened parents that they would be sending their children to be converted, the “improved cheder” began to flourish, in a rented attic in the old marketplace.^[3] Most of the students were from poor families, from well-off non-Hasidic families, and from enlightened families. Some were children who were not suited to the traditional cheder but fit in perfectly well with the “improved” cheder. Modern pedagogy supplied the foundation of the teaching methods: division into classes, singing, games, and general subjects.

As they could not suppress the “improved cheder,” the fanatics decided to expel the two brothers from the Husyatin synagogue. One Shabbat they announced that they would no longer pray with the heretics Shalom and Avraham Ber. Naturally, this caused a great uproar. Seeing that they could not expel the brothers, the fanatics left the synagogue. The Viner brothers and the other young people completed their prayers, walked out of the synagogue, and never returned to it.

Meanwhile, the “improved cheder” became so popular that the brothers had to move to a larger space. They rented an entire building on a quiet street, surrounded by a garden. Two men and one woman were added as teachers.

When the Viner brothers purchased abridged Torah books for the lower grades, fanatically observant Jews destroyed them. This, however, did not prevent the growth of the school and the rise in the number of its supporters. Former students continued their ties with their teachers and the school community. A library was created, and the school became so renowned that the community activist Dr. Gelibter from Zamość asked them to establish and run a Hebrew school in that town, under the name Kadima. The brothers decided that Shalom, the older, should move to Zamość to administer the school there. Avraham Ber continued to administer the school in Hrubieszow. The ties between the enlightened circles and the Viner brothers remained strong even when Shalom lived in Zamość.

Avraham Ber died young during World War I, due to the explosion of a hand grenade, leaving behind his wife and four children. He was so beloved by his friends that one of his closest companions, Me'ir Zeltzer (may his memory be for a blessing) became sick with grief and died a few days later.

After World War I, the Hatikvah school was established by those who followed in Avraham Ber's footsteps, and with the aid of the activist David Tenenboym (may his memory be for a blessing).

Translator's Footnotes:

1. Congress Poland was a political unit that existed in 1815-1915. Return
2. HaTsfira was a Hebrew-language newspaper published in Poland in 1862 and 1874–1931. HaZeman was a Hebrew newspaper published in Russia in 1903-1915. Return
3. The writer puns on different pronunciations in Yiddish of the consonant ‘t,’ which appears in the Hebrew words “improved” and “dangerous.” Return

His wife Khaya took care of all his needs. She ran a notions stall near one of the shops. When he came home from studying, at midnight, an earthenware pot of cooked grains or baked food was ready in the oven for him. It was accompanied by a pot of hot water containing a handful of straw or hay to clean the pot.

One night he arrived as usual, and took a pot out of the oven. However, he switched the two pots. While he ate, he called out to Khaya, who was fast asleep. “Khaya, Khaya, do you hear me? If I didn't know that there were noodles in the soup, I would think I was eating straw.” Whether Khaya heard him or not, she probably thought she was dreaming. In the morning, when she came to clean the pots, she saw that the straw was gone and the noodles remained, and remembered her dream of the previous night. But Avraham had long since gone to his place near the oven in the House of Study.

During World War I, the Cossacks went from one street to the next and from house to house, robbing as they pleased. When they arrived at the street where the houses of study were located, they saw a light from the House of Study. This was rare at the time, as the entire town was in darkness due to the authority's prohibition on light. When they entered the building, they found Avraham She-day-li erect and praying as usual, ignoring their presence. The Cossacks were frightened, and – thinking he was an angel or a saint -- crossed themselves and hurried out of the street without harming him. Thanks to him, those who lived on that street were saved from the Cossacks.

Translator's Footnotes:

1. The writer uses wordplay here: the Hebrew she-day-li means “I have enough.” Return
2. Auto-Emancipation is a pamphlet written in German by Russian-Polish Jewish doctor and activist Leo Pinsker in 1882. It is considered a founding document of modern Jewish nationalism, especially Zionism. Return

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