[Page 176]

Religious Life

“A Jaroslaw holiday!” – This is what the Jews in our city called it. And actually, there was always a distinct holiday atmosphere in the city.

I knew many cities in our area: from the smallest, such as: Pruchnik, Przeworsk, Lubaczów, Radimna (Radymno), and larger ones, such as: Przemysl to the east, and Rajsze (Rzeszów) to the west, but there was no city more beautiful and clean than our Jaroslaw. That is not to say that in our city there were no neglected houses, but the general panorama of the city was pleasant to the eye, both for the visitor and the resident of the city.

Those Jews who comprised about a third of the residents of the city (8,500 Jews out of 27,000 residents), lived primarily in the center of the city; on the streets around the “Ratusz” (city council), that stood in the middle of the large marketplace (duzy rynek), all the houses around the city council and on the following streets: Sabjeski, Tribunalska, Opolska, Spitka, Grodzko, and others, all belonged to the Jews. All the trade and Jewish business life was concentrated in this area. Here also, were synagogues, chassidic courts [belonging to specific rabbinic dynasties], Batei Midrashim rooms [study halls], and many minyanim [prayer groups], and also the centers for the Zionist youth organizations and Zionist parties.

With time, the Jews spread out onto other more aristocratic streets, such as: Grunwaldska, Kraszewski, Dicjus, and others. In general, it was the wealthier Jews who inhabited those streets, but you could also find some of “those” Jews among the residents of the other [former list of] streets.

As mentioned, the Jaroslaw streets were clean and filled with greenery. The city council made sure that the street cleaners did their jobs properly. Their jobs were mainly

[Page 187]

gruelling and tiring, done on Fridays, when the weekly fairs took place on the “large” and “small” marketplace, when hundreds of farmers with their horses and wagons would come from the surrounding villages to the fair to sell their land–grown products and handiwork. When they left the city at the end of the market day, they left behind a lot of grime and all kinds of trash on the “large” and “small” marketplace. At that time, the street cleaners went right to work, and in a short time the place became clean as before, as if nothing had taken place there. On Friday evenings, when the Jews went to shul [synagogues] to pray, all clean and dressed up in their Shabbat clothing, ready to greet the Shabbat, they blended well into the surrounding city panorama. Until this very day, this holiday atmosphere that reigned at sunset on Shabbat eve over the “large marketplace” and its area is etched in my memory. The holiness of Shabbat embraced the streets, the houses, and the people. You could never imagine that only a few hours earlier, the farmers' peddling rowdy noise was heard, as was that of the merchants, and buyers, mixed with the neighing of the horses and noise of the animals. The air was mixed with the smell of human and animal sweat. It left the impression that even the Christians who lived in that area also participated in our Shabbat joy, because they also threw off their weekday clothing and mixed into the holiday [Shabbat] atmosphere that ruled the city.

Among the large Houses of Prayer that were in the center of the city, were the large shul and the Beit Midrash [Study Hall]. Both were almost connected to each other. The large shul shone with its majestic glow from the outside, but it was even more beautiful on the inside. The entrance to the large shul was

[Page 188]

through two steel gates, made in a highly artistic style. On the Shabbat and Jewish holidays, both gates were widely open, welcoming the approaching congregants. According to the old custom, you had to go down two wide steps in order to enter a wide corridor, and then one more step at the entrance of the shul itself. The height inside the shul was three levels, and on the third level there were about 20 huge windows with colored panes, through which the sun's rays shone with many colors into the rich prayer room, which created an extraordinary atmosphere within the group of congregants.

Along the full length of the walls large calendars [with schedules] were attached, with information [texts] about the Shabbat prayers written in large, bold letters, so that each congregant would be able to read it from a distance.

The large Holy Ark and the large podium in the center of the prayer room were rich in artworks on a prominent artistic level. Everything here was royal and magical. An exemplary “yekishe” [Germanic Jewish; pristine and orderly] organization always reigned in the large shul. The prayers were according to the nusach Ashkenaz [text and melodies of prayer according to Ashkenaz, i.e., Central and Eastern Europe style] and were small in numbers, in the city. In honor of the Shabbat, the beadles came in tall, black, cylindrical hats. The children here were forbidden from performing any pranks as they were prone to doing in the other shuls. Everything here was majestic and tranquil.

In the large shul Rav Yitzchok Shteinberg the chief rabbi of Jaroslaw, prayed regularly. There was also a permanent cantor there, Reb Meshulem Lamm, a Jew of average size with wide shoulders and a black beard. A children's choir assisted him, and every person with a good cantorial voice wanted to sing in the choir. I remember the soprano solo of the choir – Mechele Fogel (lives in the Soviet Union) and the tenor Avrumik Dagan (lives in Israel). In the large shul, official ceremonies were celebrated: both Jewish and governmental. I remember after the death of the ruler of Poland, Marshal Pilsudski, they set up a mourning ceremony in the shul

[Page 189]

which many people attended. The famous cantor Moshe Koussevitzky, who that week was a guest in the large shul, recited the “eil malei rachamim” [prayer for the dead], and Rav Shteinberg delivered the eulogy for Pilsudski in a pure Polish language in honor of the esteemed guests from the magistrate and from the army, who were present at the event of the mourning ceremony.

In the corridor, to the left, at the entrance to the prayer room, there was a small “minyan” [designated quorum] that was called “the tailor shul.” On Shabbat morning, that was the first minyan for prayer at 6:30 am. I prayed in that minyan for a long time while I was a student of the “blue gymnasium,” that was named Youzef Pilsudski. I would come to that minyan with my backpack and then after prayers, I rushed off straight to the gymnasium in order to arrive there before the lectures began, that meant 8 am.

There was a cantor there with a small, sharp goatee, whose name I do not remember. I only remember that he had a convenience store on Spitka Street, and his son was a student in the so–called “red gymnasium.” He had a strange voice, whistled through his nose, and always enjoyed his own praying. At the end of the prayers, he would turn to the small group of congregants and he would say to them, in doubt with a question and in doubt with excitement: “So, what do you say about my praying today? It was wonderful, right?”

When the Germans occupied the city they turned the large shul into a warehouse of grain.

To the right of the large shul, on the same, broad sidewalk was a beautiful, steel gate, through which there was a path leading to the Beit Midrash. They said that this was the gate to the Jewish ghetto in the city in the Middle Ages. The Beit Midrash was large and

[Page 190]

spacious, but without the glow of the large shul. Also, the group of congregants was different. Here, everything simply was more “homey.” Here, the prayers were conducted according to “nushach Sephard” [according to the text and melodies of Sephardi prayer; i.e., originally Iberian Peninsula – Spain, Portugal, North Africa], and the congregants were chassidim from several rabbinic courts. In the large shul, there were hardly any congregants with beards, and in contrast, in the Beit Midrash, the majority of the people were bearded. It is worthwhile to mention that in the Beit Midrash, there was a Jew by the name of Yosele who prayed there. He was a strange, unusual person, who distinguished himself from the congregants with his odd expressions and behavior. All kinds of rumors about him circulated in Jaroslaw, and many people saw a hidden visage in him – a “hidden person” [mystical term referring to one of the “39 hidden righteous persons” in each generation].

At the entrance of the large prayer room in the Beit Midrash, the minyan of the “Hapoel Hamizrachi” [religious labor party for Israel] set themselves up. It seems that this was done with the initiative of the leader of the movement, Shiye Lang (known by everyone as “Comrade Lang”). I enjoyed praying with that minyan sometimes, because of the Zionist atmosphere there. During the reading of the Torah, they would go out into the corridor and have lively discussions about the problems specifically of the Zionist movement and about politics in general.

On the side, behind the Beit Midrash, stood the house of Reb Shiyele, the youngest son of the Belzer Rebbe [leader of the Belz chassidic dynasty]. He also had a regular minyan every Shabbat and Jewish holiday, and the Rebbe himself would stand before the congregants and recite the Shabbat prayers with his pleasant voice.

Fate had it that his son, who was also my classmate in the Talmud Torah, took a different route in life, may G–d have mercy on us, which, according to us in those days was called a “bad route,” may we be spared our own. The young boy actually tried to study secular subjects and did not want to follow the ways of chassidic life,

[Page 191]

like his father. The talk was that the “hand” of his mother, the beautiful Rebbetzen [Rabbi's wife] was involved here, that she encouraged her only son to go in the ways contrary to his father and the Belzer chassidim.

Not far from there, at the decline of Lubelska Street and in the corner of Spitka Street, there was the Talmud Torah building. This was the central, religious institutional building in our city, and I think there was not one single boy, or youth, who did not go through the Talmud Torah system, beginning with the entry level of the system, that means from learning to read, until the studies in the yeshiva. This was a proper building, with five study rooms and a prayer room. There were about 200 or 250 students who regularly studied in the Talmud Torah.

Around the building there was a courtyard , enclosed by a nice wooden fence, and in the middle a tall chimney thrust out, built from red brick; [the chimney] was from the nearby Jewish baths and mikveh [ritual baths] which were close to one another. The yard, actually, was shared by the Talmud Torah and the baths, and served as a playground for the students during the school breaks.

The baths were an important service for the community, and they loyally served not only religious Jews, but also “heretics” and even Christians.

There were two divisions in the baths: the first and the second. The first shone with its cleanliness and was decorated with a modern orderliness. I also want to mention the nice “steam baths” which was well–known to the bathers. They set up contests to see who could withstand the hot steam on the tall wooden steps the longest, when the [person who] heated the ovens would, from time to time, pour cold buckets of water on the huge rocks which warmed themselves

[Page 192]

on the large pieces of wood during the night.

Until today, I hear the cries in my ears: “[Put] a bucket full into the stove!” That's what the Jews would cry out, those who sat on the wooden steps and hit their bodies with brooms [switches] made from small branches with leaves, to accelerate the blood flow through their veins. Understandably, the intention was to pour another bucket full of cold water onto the steaming rocks in order to intensify the steam that poured out of the stove and filled the space.

But let us go back to the Talmud Torah:

I studied there until I became a student at the gymnasium [high school]. My last teacher there was Reb Hershele Meller. I liked him very much and valued him greatly. He was a Jew with a beautiful visage, was tall, with a long beard, into which many gray hairs were interwoven, but the blond color was still strong. I was particularly impressed by his large eyes that looked at you with intelligence and astuteness, and with his beautiful and pleasing voice both as he studied and as he spoke.

In addition, Reb Hershele was an outstanding Baal Tefilah [leader of prayer]. Reb Hershele had a great influence on me, and when I left my studies in the Talmud Torah, I continued studying with him for a long time in his home on Mickowycz Street, opposite the Sokol cinema.

In the shul of the Talmud Torah, there were daily services in the mornings and evenings, and of course on the Shabbats and Jewish holidays. Reb Hershele was gladly taken on by that minyan of congregants and the esteemed businessmen of the city.

I would also like to mention a figure that was connected to the Talmud Torah, Reb Mekhele Gelernter. He was a tall, short–sighted Jew, who wore thick glasses, and every student was scared to death of him. He was the administrator of the Talmud Torah, and took care of all the issues of the school and of the minyan. His son Karol was

[Page 193]

my good friend in Akiva [youth group], and he immigrated to Israel in the mid–30s, and lives in Haifa today.

It is also worthwhile to mention another Baal Tefilah who prayed in the shul, Reb Moshe Hass. He was a well–to–do Jew, with a handsome, black beard and black sparkling eyes. He had a very pleasant voice, and his style for prayers was of the most enjoyable that I knew. When he had the position of leading the prayers for the congregation, many Jews streamed into the shul to hear his wonder child “Yankele,” who was the “young nightingale,” as he was rightly called in our city. He had a rich soprano. His father would let him sing solos for all the prayers, to the enjoyment of all the congregants.

It is interesting to note that Yankele had difficulty in speech. It was hard for him to speak easily, but when he began to sing the stuttering soon started to disappear and his young voice took on an angelic tone.

Reb Moshe Hass had nine children, among them three sons. All were famous cantors, who today live in America (Yankele), England and Israel.

Uphill on Lubelska Street, near Grunwaldska Street, there was the so–called “Czortkow Court” of the chassidim of the Czortkow Rebbe. This was a single level building, built from bricks and wood that belonged to the Tentzer family who owned a bakery where they baked bread and challah [braided bread for Shabbat].

Many of the congregants belonged to the “Mizrachi” [religious Zionist] movement. The Czortkow court comprised seven or eight minyanim. My cousin Yankel Liber–Fushteig also prayed there. He was well known as a fine singer and was praised by everyone.

[Page 194]

The Kehat Court

Of all the shuls in our city, without a doubt the most famous was the Kehat Court. This shul was located in the small marketplace, not far from the city council.

The popularity of the Kehat court was because of the rabbi, Reb Dovid, who was the main Baal Tefilah in that court, until his death. The court presented a large prayer room, where long, heavy tables were set out, and on both sides of each table were long, wide benches. The Holy Ark was not a great artistic piece of work, and did not glow with its beauty and richness as in other shuls. Instead of a podium, there was a tall table upon which they read from the Torah. Everything in this court was simple, intimate, but without question, the main treasure of this court was the beautiful and enjoyable voice, that was filled with depth [devotion], of the leader of the prayers, the rebbe, Reb Dovid. He had a set style for the prayers, as if he prayed from actual notes.

The congregants already knew all his melodies by heart, every “wrinkle,” and his personal sigh. It was a tremendous spiritual pleasure to hear him, and generally, the congregants would join in with his singing and Shabbat songs. Often, when the congregants would “support” him, he would suddenly stop his prayer, and that was a hint to the congregants to allow him to do his own presentation of the prayer, and understandably, the congregants soon stopped their singing.

For me, the Kehat court was an integral part of my childhood, and until the outbreak of World War II, I would often go to the court for prayers on the Shabbat and Jewish holidays. That is where, in the court, I celebrated my bar mitzva, was called up to the Torah for Torah reading, and then celebrated with a beautiful kiddush [festive celebration] for the crowd of congregants, as was done in those times in our city.

My brother Bunye, who remained a religious Jew,

[Page 195]

– one who guards all the mitzvoth [Torah commandments], and who is known as a fine Baal Tefilah and singer, remembers until today, the specific style of Reb Dovid's prayers. Every time I hear him leading the prayers, I am moved yet again, because in front of my eyes the patriarchal image of Reb Dovid appears, along with the tens of congregants, whom I knew well. I feel the holy atmosphere anew, as it reigned in the Kehat court, where I prayed during my youth.

During the Days of Awe, Jews from all over the city would come here to hear the Rebbe, Reb Dovid, and every year, during these days, the court was filled with congregants, so much so, that not all were able to fit inside, and many Jews stood outside with their prayer shawls and prayed there.

The greatest experience was undoubtedly the hakaffot [the dancing with the Torah on the holiday of Simchat Torah], which the Rebbe, Reb Dovid would celebrate on Simchat Torah and Shemini Atzeret [last two days of the Sukkot holiday]. With his singing, he would carry along the large crowd of congregants. More than once, I would ask myself, from where does the Rebbe get such rich thoughts and so much energy to be able to stand for hours in the heat, in a tight crowd among hundreds of congregants, who were standing on tables and benches, drunk with the Rebbe's melodies, and who with great love swallowed every word that he sang out. He really gave great pleasure to the crowd with this song and dance.

It was one of his standing traditions to recite the tefilat neilah [closing prayer] of Yom Kippur in the large shul, and then many congregants would leave the Kehat court and go with the Rebbe to the large shul.

He had two sons and one daughter: The older son's name was Menachem, and the younger was Simcha. They were not blessed with the talent for prayer that their father had, but Menachem was a Torah scholar and Simcha was handsome [captivating].

The Rebbe, Reb Dovid died, I think, in the year 1937. His death unsettled the Jews of the city and evoked

[Page 196]

a great sadness from all the congregants whom he would gratify with his beautiful prayers, and who treasured him greatly.

Of the patrons in the Kehat court, I remember the regular Torah reader Shimon Hafner, the blind person Shloimele Libman, Avrohom Glatt, Zishe Schleider, Leybel Heiberg, Leib Rubenfeld, Shimon Horn, Dovid Fridberg, Dovid Hebenstreit, Gotfried, Shtulbach, Zelig Hafner, Axelrad, and others.

Of the other minyanim that took place in various places in the city, I remember the Hachnasat Orchim [Welcoming the Guest], and the Belz shtiebel [small, informal shul] at the end of Sabjoska Street; the minyanim in the yards of Halberthal's house, Shteinbuk's house, at Maritz's minyan with the Mora Hora'ah [rabbinic leader of the city] Reb Pinkhas Hemerling on Wonska Street, number 2, where my family lived.

I would often attend the minyan of the More Hora'ah [rabbinic leader of the city] for the Friday night prayers and for the Shalosh Seudot [late Saturday evening with light food, before Shabbat ends]. The More Hora'ah customarily delivered words of Torah during Shalosh Seudot and would often toss in words unrelated to anything: “… such as these things.” Among the jokers, we would kid with each other joking about his speech, and toss about his words: “… such as these things.” But he was a respectable Jew and a fine Torah scholar. He was elected into the municipal government as the one responsible in the registrar's office providing birth certificates for the Jewish population in the city. His office was in his house, and he conducted it with the help of his daughter, even though he too knew the Polish language well. And one more interesting detail: The entrance to the minyan was through his kitchen. And until this day, the aromas of Shabbat follow me, those that were in the kitchen, and that teased us during the Shabbat prayer. These were aromas of cooked foods that were in pots on the wide

[Page 197]

cooking plate in the kitchen, and mainly, the soup and the fish, whose aroma filled the space of the kitchen and teased the nostrils of the congregants during the prayer times.

At the beginning of the 30s, the construction of the large and beautiful shul Chesed Ve'emet was completed on Wengerska Street, not far from the large shul. This was a large, modern building and the prayer room could hold several hundred congregants.

[Page 198]

My grandfather's synagogue was situated on 15 Dietziusa Street and in its way quite unique. It was located in a distinctly Christian area, on a main street, facing the post-office and next door to the police station, regional government offices and close to the Third Battalion Barracks.

On the days of the Jewish Sabbath and other festivals, tens of Jewish residents, from the most pious, with their ear-locks and beards, Mitnagdim and Hassidim, wearing their fur hats, caftans and waist girdles, would rush to the area. There were among them the older Yiddish-speaking Jews and also the younger ones speaking Polish – Jews from all sections of the population – wealthy and with standing in the community and traders, representatives of the free-professions and artisans and students.

The synagogue occupied the second floor in the apartment of Grandfather Eliezer Diller. Those close to him called him “Luser”. He was a tall man, upright with a typical Jewish face. Everything about him spoke of self respect and elegance. Everyone spoke to him with great respect. He was a man who followed the Commandments with great dedication as a follower of the Ḥassid, Rabbi Elimelech Weisblum of Lizhensk (Leżajsk). On the 11^th day of Adar, the memorial day of the great Rabbi (Z”L), he visited the local cemetery and communed with his memory. Grandfather's regular place in the synagogue was the most prestigious spot – alongside the eastern wall next to the Holy Ark. Next to him stood a small gaunt man who prayed before the Holy Ark on Sabbaths and festivals.

I am reminded of the first Yok Kippur eve in my Grandfather's synagogue. I lived with my parents in Vienna but every year we visited Grandfather in Jaroslaw. Before my eyes, I see the small narrow hall of the synagogue. Its walls were faded and the decorative curtain of the Ark was of a red rose on a white background. I was only a small boy and that night, I couldn't tear my eyes away from the bearded Jewish men there, dressed in white. All of a sudden, I heard the voice of the gaunt, pale Rabbi, who spread his thin arms towards heaven. His voice was vibrant and high like the voice of a young man. His gaze wandered towards the flickering memorial candles. In answer to my questions as to why the candles were lighted, I did not yet know that everyone was condemned to die. Agitated and afraid I hid myself wrapped under the prayer-shawl of my grandfather in order not to see their flickering.

On the night of the prayer of Sliḥot (forgiveness), in the middle of the night, the synagogue Sexton would pass from house to house, knocking on the doors and waking the members of the congregation in a loud voice to come to the important prayer. They woke me as well. Half asleep and chilled to the bone I made my way to the synagogue

[Page 199]

where all the lights were on, like a burning, illuminated island in the darkness. I immediately sensed the holiness of the atmosphere enwrapping the place. Grandfather Luser proudly held my hand and together with him, I stood in his regular place in the Eastern corner. It was as if a Jewish light was ignited in the darkened Christian world surrounding us.

The women's section was a small separate room close to the synagogue. On Sabbaths and festivals it was filled with women and girls, dressed in their festive clothes. Sometimes my gaze wondered into this room, to the women wearing shawls when suddenly came the sound of crying and lamenting as if of a woman resembling “Rachel weeping over her sons.”^[1]

On festivals, the small synagogue was full from wall to wall and many remained standing outside in the corridor. The synagogue had a very special friendly style; its members enjoying a warm friendly relationship with each other. I remember that on Sabbath there were always a number of poor people in the synagogue. The members of the congregation would regularly invite one of them home. The synagogue was known to show much generosity and charity and the local poor and those who came from afar, knew that they would find someone among the congregation who would invite them for a Sabbath or festival meal.

I remember the Purim holidays in Grandfather's synagogue. A group of young people would pass through the city streets wearing costumes. Musical instruments played and the atmosphere was uplifting. The peak festivity that is engraved in my memory is the Festival of Simchat Torah in the synagogue and the dances that the men performed with such vigor and dedication with the Scrolls of the Torah. The caftans of the men waving in the wind and swirling from their energetic movements and their voices hoarse from singing, young and old joined together in dancing circles. This Jewish “island” in the Christian street seemed that same moment more than ever, to declare that – “Am Yisrael Ḥai” – the People of Israel live!”

There were also days and events that cast a dark shadow on the life of the town. Anti-Semitic hooligans and thugs would attack the congregation as they left the synagogue, shouting abuse and curses, pulling at their beards and even using their fists.

These ugly and gloomy incidents dimmed in the unquenchable memory of the glorious radiance of that small room on the second floor in the house at 15 Dietziusa Street when it was illuminated and filled from wall to wall with the Jewish men wrapped in their flying prayer-shawls, voices raised in joy and praise. I can still hear the cantor's deep voice and in front of my eyes spread the red curtain, which emphasized even more the paleness of Grandpa's synagogue....

Tranlator's footnote

1. See Jeremiah 31:15 Return

[Page 200]

The religious elements of the Jewish settlement in Jaroslaw were primarily organized into two organizations: “Agudat Israel” (the older balebatim [male heads of households]), and the “Tzeirei Agudat Israel” (the religious youth). As part of the Tzeirei Agudat Israel, there was also a youth group that was called “Pirchei Agudas Yisrael” that was comprised mainly of cheder aged children [younger elementary school ages].

The Agudats Israel in Jaroslaw was mainly taken up with education and cultural activities. For example, they created a girls' school called “Beit Yaakov” where there were more than 120 students. This was run with two teachers: Szianke Prinz (today Zonenblik), and Mina Sperling (today Kalcheim), both of whom live in Tel Aviv today.

“Beit Yaakov” school with the two teachers, Prinz and Sperling

The primary education institution of the Talmud Torah was mainly run by the business people of the Agudah, and in the Talmud Torah, there were hundreds of young boys and young men studying.

The “Agudat Israel” and the “Tzeirei Agudat Israel” conducted extensive cultural activities that came in the form of lectures, meetings, and also in creating their own library.

In general, the “Agudat Israel” was organized according to the kloyzen [meeting-house for scholars; elitist learning institutions] of the town, and the central stronghold of the organization was the “Talmud Torah” kloyz, where they studied mainly classes of the Daf Hayomi [designated daily portion of the Talmud] under the direction of Moshe'le Danner, and “Tehilim” [Psalms] under the direction of the secretary [record keeper] of the “Tzeirei Agudat Israel,” Dovid Freifeld. Other than that, the “Agudat Israel” organized its own minyan [quorum for prayers] where, every Shabbat, there were five or six

A group of “Tzeirei Agudat Israel” with their leaders Dovid Intatur, Boruch Kalcheim, and Hirsh Brandt

minyanim [quorums for prayers] of boys, and where shalosh seudot [third meal for Shabbat] and melave malka [meal after Shabbat ends] were conducted regularly.

Other than those above-mentioned activities, the “Tzeirei Agudats Israel” established a Hachshara center [pioneer movement to prepare for settlement in Israel] in a specially rented location that was in the house of Reb Efraim Izman. In this Hachshara location, there were 16 young people from the province. Two friends from this Hachshara group made aliyah to Israel, and are there now.

The “Agudat Israel” had a strong and representational presence in the community. In the latest term of office in the community, there already were five representatives: two in the administration and three in the community council. In the administration, the following held positions: Reb Moshe Haas, representative of the “Agudah” (died in London), and Reb Eliezer-Berish Goldman (a son-in-law of Reb Yankel Klepner, one of the prominent balebatim [male head of household] in Jaroslaw (killed by the Nazis). In the community council: Reb Avrohom Glatt (died in Tel Aviv), Reb Mordechai Arenbach (died in Givatayim), and Reb Mendel Shleferig (died in New York, and his casket was taken to Israel).

We must state that the “Agudat Israel” along with the“Tzeirei Agudat Israel” played a vital role in the religious, cultural, and social life of the Jewish community in Jaroslaw.

  Jarosław, Poland     Yizkor Book Project     JewishGen Home Page

Copyright © 1999-2024 by JewishGen, Inc.
Updated 13 Oct 2021 by LA