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Seated: Hersh Vaysvasser, Yidl Shtuntsayger, Moshe Ayzenberg, member of the Beitar high command, Moyshe Lusthoyz, Noyekh Vaysvasser, Yoysef Mernshteyn.
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[Page 13]
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by Aryeh Shtuntsayger
Translated by Yael Chaver
As is well known, the Jewish towns of Poland had an intensive, lively political and social life. Almost all the political parties of Polish Jews would be represented in every town, regardless of size.
The parties carried on lively ideological arguments, which often became heated. In hindsight, the “heatedness” of the Krasnystaw political debates was pleasantly atypical. Though right-wing, left-wing and centrist parties were all represented, relations were polite. There were hardly any “incidents” stemming from political differences.
It is worth noting that the Bund organization was not represented in our town.[1] There was a lone Bundist, named Knobel. He was a poor, hard-working carpenter, who was rarely out on the street. Everyone knew him, though, because the moment he appeared he would become the center of a group of challengers, and heated discussions would begin. With true Jewish single-mindedness, he would defend the Bundist principle of a “national-cultural autonomy.” He was not bothered by the mild ridicule of his antagonists.
There were actually two main political groupings in the town, one Zionist and the other Communist. This followed the division between
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Groblie, where poorer people lived, and the town. The residents of Groblie were inclined towards Communism, whereas the people in the town were mostly Zionists. Of course, not all Groblie dwellers were Communists, just as not all town dwellers were Zionists. These ideological differences were mostly typical of young people. Older people, with a few exceptions, were not interested in such “nonsense.”
The Communist-aligned young people gathered around the “Professional Association of Needlework and Similar Crafts.” They did not actively campaign against the bourgeoisie, for the simple reason that there were no members of that class in town. The employers for whom the young tailors and carpenters worked were extremely poor themselves, and would have supported a “worldwide Socialist revolution,” as they termed it, as long as they could make a living. On the other hand, the Association had considerable funds for organizing the self-education of the youths whose education had been disrupted at the early age of 12 or 14, when they had started working. Thus, their education consisted of one year of secular school, or two years of Talmud Toyre or the cheder.[2] Sometimes they attended two or three years of government school. The Association ran self-education groups, in which people studied in Dr. Elyashev's Folk University. They also read books, newspapers, listened to lectures on political economics, Marxist theory, etc.
In this way, the Association was extremely important for ensuring the cultural standards of the working youth. Its members developed faith in books and in knowledge, which distanced them from the trashy, immoral pleasures characteristic of the young people of other nations. Yet the police authorities considered them dangerous, and often arrested their leaders, especially around May 1. Most of them were distinguished by their great devotion to their ideals, and readiness to serve long prison sentences for their beliefs.
The ruling ideology in “town,” as noted, was Zionism. Here, as in Groblie, young people constituted the majority of the organizations. Older youths were mostly observant Hassids, and indifferent to politics.
The unobservant youngsters were all “General Zionists,” in other words – Zionist sympathizers, who weren't allied with any particular stream of Zionism. They read the Haynt newspaper, contributed to the Keren Kayemet (Jewish National Fund), and voted for Yitskhok Grinboym in elections.[3]
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But the youngsters were organized in HeChaluts and Beitar. Thanks to HeChaluts and HeChaluts HaTsair, many of them received agricultural training, and emigrated to the Land of Israel.
In addition, the older members of HeChaluts initiated out various cultural activities. They ran the I. L. Perets Library, the only Yiddish library in town (the association had a different library in Groblie). They also organized a cultural association, known as the Club, where events. Lectures, discussions, and similar activities were held.
This work by the Zionist activists had a great effect on the young people of the town. First, it brought a breath of fresh air into the reactionary, clerical atmosphere in which most young people had grown up. It also forged a Jewish national awareness among those youths who had been educated in a worldly way and tended to become assimilated.
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Seated: Hersh Vaysvasser, Yidl Shtuntsayger, Moshe Ayzenberg, member of the Beitar high command, Moyshe Lusthoyz, Noyekh Vaysvasser, Yoysef Mernshteyn. |
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The “Leftist Po'aley-Tsiyon” organization should also be mentioned. Though it barely existed in the last few pre-war years, for quite a few years it had had a positive influence on the youngsters' development of social awareness, but on no other aspect of society in the town.
Generally speaking, the youth were organized by social class. Most young workers belonged to the “Association.” Middle-class children and those from moderately well to do homes were aligned with HeChaluts, which was associated with Po'aley-Tsiyon. The children of richer families were usually not organized; it was beneath them to be associated with the “rabble,” yet they were incapable of setting up their own organization.
The Revisionist organization was an exception. It consisted of an odd mixture of young people from all social classes, who completely lacked political consciousness.
The older people were also organized, but in associations that were purely professional and non-political. Thus, for example, the artisans had their Artisans' Association, which helped to raise their consciousness as professionals. This association was mainly concerned with organizing help for poor and needy artisans, and with electing delegates to the councils of the community and the town.
There was also a small-business association, which organized a charity fund and a people's bank.
All these organizations were busy and active; but the principle of mutual aid was predominant.
Except for two or three persons who were mainly out for their own ambitions and interests, the leaders, for the most part, worked without expectation of reward. This is especially noteworthy, considering that they were all cut down by the hands of Hitler's murderers.
May their memory be for a blessing.
Translator's footnotes:
by Aryeh Shtuntsayger
Translated by Yael Chaver
“The Club” was the term used by the Jews of Krasnystaw for the building that housed the Y. L. Perets library.[1] In its last years, the library comprised 1,500 books in Yiddish and Hebrew, including classic works by Yiddish writers and translations of the best works of European writers, went through several transformations until it took its final form as the Club.
It was a legacy from the town's first modernizing Haskalah residents.[2] However, as most of those Jews gradually emigrated overseas, while others married and were busy with day-to-day practical issues at the expense of cultural activity, the library's contents were relegated to boxes under the beds of some young people. Eventually, a new group of cultural activists developed, and the library was revived at “Royze's.”
The location was known by the name of the elderly Jewish woman who lived there and rented them part of her room; she herself was accommodated in a corner with her bed, curtained off by a white sheet.
Among those who helped to reconstruct the library we should mention the chairman, Mendl Raychman (may his memory be for a blessing). He was extremely energetic, even though he was hunchbacked. Also noteworthy was the secretary, Moyshe Prechter, the son of the town cantor.
The library was very active during that period, mainly among the young men of the Study House.[3] The works of Smolenskin, Mapu, Perets, Mendele the Bookseller, and Sholem-Aleichem guided them along the paths of modern Jewish life.[4]
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Thanks to the library, the Jewish girls of the town received a cultural Jewish education that prevented their assimilation. The library was also the main educator of Zionist youngsters.
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and Po'aley-Tsiyon parties in Krasnystaw Standing: Shloyme Kerpel, Aryeh Shtuntsayger, Meir Zayfer, Meir Dresher, and Gershon Shtern |
The library later moved to a different location, which served as the gathering spot for General Zionist youth. Let me also mention the librarian, Hadassa Finkelshteyn (peace be upon her), who was a major contributor to Zionist and cultural activity among girls. This was a continuation of the work begun by Esther Maymon, who had emigrated to Canada.
Others who were active in the library, besides the above-mentioned Mendl Raychman and Moyshe Prechter, were Hadassa Fayershteyn, Moyshe Drayblat, Shloyme-Shiye Vayser, Yisro'el and Leybl Ayzenberg, Yisro'el Pechter, Leybl Shteyn, and others.
As the group members grew older, they began searching for a new generation to continue their Zionist and cultural work. This was the start of the HeChaluts HaKlali organization. The leader of the latter organization, Gershon Shtern, headed activities among the young people up to the devastation of World War II. Another member was
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Aryeh Shtuntsayger, who became the secretary before the community's devastation. In addition, the following members were also active: Chayim Perlmuter, Yechezkel Shtern, Moyshe Blat, Sheyndl Prechter, Arn Shok, Shloyme Kerpel, Mendl Ayzenberg, Binyomin Shmaragd, Moyshe Raychman, Meir Zayfer, Meir Dresher, Dvoyre Lerer, Borech-Leyb Fayershteyn, and others.
Many members of this group emigrated to the Land of Israel, others to other countries, and some were tragically murdered together with the Jewish community of the town. They constituted the liveliest factor in the Zionist and cultural activities of the young people in the town.
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The group deserves mention as the motivating force behind the authentic Zionist atmosphere that permeated the younger generation, from 1932 to the beginning of World War II. The war marked the end of the Jewish community in Poland, the Jews of Krasnystaw among them.
Translator's footnotes:
by Hershl Zitser
Translated by Yael Chaver
As one of the few surviving Jews of Krasnystaw, I would like to add my contribution to this book memorializing Jewish life in our town. I wish to mention a group of progressive young people, who were organized in the Ahavas Achim association during the last decade before World War II.
The association was founded at the initiative of the murdered members Yisro'el Varman and Avrom Zayfer, and the present writer.
Dark clouds had already begun to threaten the Jews of Poland. Anti-Semitism was spreading in the country, and had taken deeper root in Krasnystaw than in many other places. This was because there weren't many Jews in the town; they constituted only about 10-12 percent of the population. For the same reason, the Jews were poorly represented in the communal institutions, and the anti-Semites had free rein to do as they pleased. Extreme reactionary ideology, with its extreme Jew-hatred, was well known in the area. It's worth noting that whereas there remained a small Jewish population in the neighboring towns until the second half of 1943, Krasnystaw was Judenrein as early as the first half of 1942.[2]
In the prewar years, the head of the town's tax department, Drozdowski, was famous in the area as a sadistic Jew-hater. Due to the tax collectors,
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many of the Jewish small-business owners were ruined. Young people were especially hard-hit, as they had just begun their professional lives as shopkeepers or artisans. This was one of the
reasons that impelled young people to organize mutual aid societies to help themselves.
Any political organizing was impossible, as the group included members of political parties; the majority were Zionists. Besides, worries about livelihood dampened the political ardor of many. Some of the members became politically indifferent. As Ahavas Achim was non-political, members of all political stripes could join, on the basis of friendliness and mutual aid. Discussions were quite sophisticated, yet never caused amicable relations to unravel, and they continued to exist to the end.
Ahavas Achim often held parties and meetings on Shabbat and holidays, so that members could enjoy themselves in familiar surroundings. The association numbered about one hundred members.
The following members were murdered, with all the Jews of Krasnystaw:
Yisro'el Varman and wife Sholem Singer Avrom Zayfer and wife Yosl Shneider and wife Yisro'el Fechter and wife Dovid Pelts and wife Bentshe Rozenblat and wife Shmuel Fleshler and wife Leybl Shteyn and wife Mendl Binder and wife Shloyme Yehoshua Vayser and wife Dovid Zilbertson and wife Betsalel Hofman and wife Shloyme Zilberlicht and wife Avrom Fecher and wife Motl Fishler and wife Borech Yoyneh Perlmuter and wife Moyshe Dreksler and wife Shmuel Perlmuter and wife Mendl Raychman and wife Yehoshua Zitser and wife Yehoshua Tsuker and wife Dovid Boymfeld and wife Moyshe Kerpel and wife Itshe Blat and wife Moyshe Lusthoyz and wife Moyshe Drayblat and wife Mechl Lerman and wife Zaynvl Mitlman and wife Yitskhok Tsuker and wife Yissocher Rozenblat and wife Simche Boym and wife Borech Hersh Luft and wife Motl Fayershteyn and wife Yoysef Mernshteyn and wife Yisro'el Ayzenberg and wife
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The following association members were lucky enough to survive, without their families:
Hershl Zitser Arn Lerner Leyzer Kornfeld Berl Buchbinder Yitskhok Bergerman Borech Hartshteyn
The following members happened to survive with their families:
Moyshe Raychman Asher Shok Mendl Rozentsvayg Yisro'el Perlmuter
The Ahavas Achim association created a mutual aid fund, which offered members in financial difficulties an interest-free loan. There was also an “advice committee,” whose mission was to provide advice or legal aid to members. The association also had an internal tribunal which mediated disputes between members, and often dealt with business disputes as well.
The association elected Avrom Zayfer and Dovid Boymfeld to the community council, and Sholem Zinger – to the town council. These delegates were supported by a wide circle of people outside the association as well.
It is also worth mentioning the frequent meetings between various members. The atmosphere was warm and friendly. People used to meet mostly at the homes of Yisro'el Varman or Avrom Zayfer, to have pleasant conversations on cultural matters.
My heart shatters when I remember the beloved, dedicated members, bright souls, and devoted friends, and their connections with each other.
I particularly want to mention the Judenstaat devotee Bentshe Rozenblat, and his ongoing discussions with the left-wing Yehoshua Vayser, conversations that were quite sophisticated.[3] I would also like to mention my close friends Borech Yoyne Perlmuter and Yisro'el Fechter, who were pure, perfect souls.
Bentshe Rozenblat in particular suffered at the beginning of the German occupation, as he worked with other representatives of the Jewish community. At that time, people still believed that the Jews could pay off their destroyers and ease the plight of the town's Jews.
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I'd like to mention one incident of German sadism and the emotional suffering that Bentshe underwent. It was in December, 1939. One night, around midnight, when my wife, children, and I were asleep, there was a hurried knocking at the door. We woke up in fear, knowing that Germans stood outside. Terrified, I opened the door. Two SS officers and two German soldiers came in, leading Bentshe. Our friend, as pale as death, wanted to say something, but was unable to utter a word as he saw the fear in the eyes of my wife and children. My wife gave him a glass of water, to refresh him.
The SS officer began yelling at him, “Jew! Speak! If not, you'll be shot immediately!”
With great effort, Bentshe turned to me and said, “Mr. Zitser, you must come to the barracks first thing tomorrow morning, and bring all the money. Otherwise, you'll be shot.”
Apparently, Bentshe had to go from one Jewish house to another, to convey the order. When the Germans left, we breathed more easily, having survived, but extremely fearful. However, we were devastated by the fact that Bentshe, of all people, had to be the one who was forced to bring the German extortion order to the town's Jews.
The Ahavas Achim association did everything it could to bind its members as a group. They founded their own synagogue, where our members Borech-Yoyne Perlmuter, Betsalel Hofman, and others starred as fine cantors. We enjoyed the wonderful religious melodies and folk songs that Yisro'el Fechter sang. Even Hassids often came to hear the beautiful services led by our “cantors.”
And the Hitlerite beasts, may they be cursed for eternity, aided by Poles and Ukrainians, cut down our intimate, happy circle of friends.
We mourn for those who have been lost and are no longer with us.
Translator's footnotes:
by Aryeh Shtuntsayger
Translated by Yael Chaver
Jews are often accused of being a nation of merchants and middlemen, who hate to work. But Krasnystaw provided clear evidence that Jews like to work and can be exceptional workers and artisans.
Forty percent of the Jewish population of Krasnystaw was occupied with manual labor and artisanship. The overwhelming majority of Krasnystaw's Jews were occupied with tailoring, shoemaking, smithing, harness making, upholstery, carpentry, painting, and other crafts. Jews also did other, less complex jobs, such as water-carrying, cart-driving, mill work, and manufacturing (at Fecher's furniture factory). In addition, there were shop clerks, accountants, and the like.
Thus, the majority of Krasnystaw's Jews lived honest, hardworking lives. Naturally, most were very poor and barely made a living.
Regardless of their difficult situations, these Jews made sure to provide for their spiritual needs. The poor neighborhood – the Groblie – had its own study house.[1] The older artisans were organized in an artisans' association, whereas the working youth had their professional association. The older generation was less advanced and incapable of improving their economic conditions by applying modern methods. But in their own way, they fought for their rights and democratic opportunities.
The “battle” was often a bit comical. Thus, for example, they
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quibbled over recitation of the Book of Jonah, the haftoreh for Yom Kippur, or recitation of a blessing before a particularly prestigious Torah reading, or a finer hakofeh during Simchat Torah, to make sure these pious practices fall to an unlearned or poor Jew.[2] The poor artisans even had their own rabbi, the so-called Turbiner Hasidic Rabbi.[3] I remember once asking a coachman, who happened to be not very observant, why he needed a rabbi. He answered me in plain language, “Those fools [also] need a rabbi – don't we? We, too, need a rabbi.” The logic may sound a bit comical, but it is based in the attempt to be equal – spiritually, at least – to the “respectable Jews” who “have a rabbi of their own.”
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The artisans' association began its activities with the goal of improving the economic conditions of the artisans, through mutual aid. It fought, in an organized manner, for its own representation in the councils of the community and the town. An artisan did not want the aid of the “respectable Jews,”
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but wanted to have someone familiar with whom he could speak freely and who would help him in various matters.
I would like to mention two artisans of outstanding simplicity, honesty, and unusual solidarity with the organized artisans' association: Shloyme-Yehoshua Vayser and Yoyneh Mandltort.
Shloyme-Yehoshua Vayser was a painter by trade, a poor man who was always hard at work, very capable, innately intelligent, and a fine scribe. He was the secretary of the workers' association, who had never sought a position in the community council, but always had time to help a friend in need. He did so whole-heartedly, without pettiness. He helped people who needed to submit an official request, at no charge, and aided association members with no thought of compensation, always unassuming, in a good mood, never giving himself airs.[4]
Yoyneh Mandltort was a community medical practitioner, who considered himself better off than other artisans. He was the president of the artisans' association. Yoyneh healed poor, sick children and adults, never thinking about charging them a fee. He would often go of his own volition to visit a sick person who was poor.
The poor trusted him more than they would a physician. Although he considered himself an intellectual, he was not proud, and was on familiar terms with every single working person. He was quiet and decent, and no one had a bad word to say about him.
These two people, whose souls were pure, had much sympathy for another's suffering. Let these few lines be their monument. They were brutally murdered by the German killers, together with the entire Jewish population of Krasnystaw.
May God avenge their blood.
Most of the artisans' children worked alongside their parents, or learned a different profession from another artisan. Only the few artisans who were financially better off allowed their children to study.
These young people organized themselves in a professional association of Needle Workers and Allied Professions, which actually included all the young workers.
The middle classes and shopkeepers looked down on artisans, so that working young people were almost completely disconnected from other “middle-class” young people. The working youth had
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profound self-respect. They were politically aware, left leaning, and anxious to learn. With very limited means, often at the expense of food, they created their own library, organized self-education groups, and did much to raise the cultural level of the working youths. The young people lived under difficult conditions, and did not have many friends. They dreamed about a better future, and believed in it. The horrendous murderers cut down most of their young lives. Only a few survived, by fleeing to the U.S.S.R.[5]
We honor their holy memory!
Translator's footnotes:
by Aryeh Shtuntsayger
Translated by Yael Chaver
Like all other towns in Poland, Krasnystaw had many cheders with various melameds.[1] The youngest boys were taught by a particular kind of melamed, who taught Hebrew to beginning students until they were capable of reading the Torah. The next oldest group taught Torah with Rashi's commentary; these children also began to study Talmud, starting with rules about basic damages.[2] Finally, Talmud teachers worked with the older students, teaching them Talmud and commentaries. Students who were interested in studying to become rabbis also learned some Yoreh De'ah.[3]
The local professional melameds mostly taught the youngest boys, and some taught Torah with Rashi. The Talmud teachers were largely recruited from among poor scholars whose business had collapsed, or an amateur teacher who needed extra income.
The two major melameds of young children were Reb Moyshe Melamed in the Groblie neighborhood, and Reb Leyzer Melamed in the town.[4] The latter also taught in the Talmud Torah, where the poorest boys studied.[5] They studied free of charge. That cheder was managed by the two administrators, Ben-Tziyon Halpern and Yehoshu'a Vizenberg.
The present writer studied with almost all the melameds in town: Reb Moyshe, and even Reb Motele, a teacher who enjoyed pinching the young children, and usually harassed the poorest of them. I also studied with Reb Hersh “Messiah,” as well as with the town's expert in Jewish law, and with a number of amateur melameds. My brightest memory, however, is of Reb Moyshe, with whom I took my first steps toward literacy at the age of four or five.
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He was a quiet man, not elderly, with a pale, gaunt face, a black beard, and a pair of kind, slightly faded eyes, which expressed a strange suffering and irritation. I remember that years later, while I was attending the Polish school, I thought that the picture of Christ wearing the crown of thorns, which hung on the wall above the head of the teacher, had a very strong resemblance to Reb Moyshe. My heart always beat more strongly every time I made this “heretical” comparison. However, I could not ignore it. It even made Christ less frightening and revolting, contrary to the usual reaction of every Jewish child who entered a Polish school.
Reb Moyshe was not the stereotypical irritable melamed. He was kind-hearted, and rarely hit a student. He lived in the tumbledown house that belonged to Leyzer, the cemetery attendant, in Groblie. In summer, children used to play in the courtyard or next to the wall of the cheder, near the dusty, muddy Groblie road, where the puddles rarely dried up.[6] Reb Moyshe summoned the children inside in pairs. After the children would call out the syllable G-gu! D-du! R-ru! and so on through the alphabet for ten or fifteen minutes, Reb Moyshe would release him back into the courtyard, and summon another pair. In the winter, the children sat along the long bench at the wall, playing with matchsticks or jacks. The melamed's wife, a quiet woman, whose voice was never heard, busied herself at the rough kitchen with “coffee” and cooking potatoes for her husband. She asked the children to help only when she needed to strain the hot potatoes. She would hold the boiling-hot pot in both hands, and the children would run to open the door so that she could run into the corridor with the steaming pot.
The children especially enjoyed “nighttime” school. After Hanukah, the children who were more advanced and were studying Torah with Yiddish translation would start attending cheder at night. In the evening, they would learn more advanced Torah portions. For these occasions, they would make their own lanterns, as follows. First, they broke off the bottom of a bottle and used it as a holder for half a shoe-polish tin, in which they placed a candle. They then attached a string, and used it to light their way to cheder and back. The cheder was cozy during those evenings. They sat around a table with a kerosene lamp that cast yellowish light, and the teacher chanted as he taught the wonderful winter portions from the Book of Exodus.
The cheder of Reb Leyzer Melamed in town was not much different.
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Like Reb Moyshe, he lived in a broken-down shack, on the street of the butchers.[7] The single room was also full of children and tumultuous. But Reb Leyzer was older, gray-bearded, and gruff, who never set down the disciplinary whip. His status was because almost all the wealthier people in town (some of them now quite old) had studied with him as children. He had begun teaching as a young man, and taught continuously for decades, into his old age. He died at over seventy years old, while teaching at his table: he put down his tired, grayish-white head on the prayer book, and fell asleep like a small child, dying peacefully. When his students saw that he was asleep, they went out to play in the courtyard. It was evening before the neighbors noticed that Reb Leyzer had fallen asleep forever.
Reb Hersh the Talmud teacher was quite different. No one knew why he was called Hersh “Messiah.” He was middle-aged, thin, with a shortish black beard. Reb Hersh was one of the “modern” melameds, and well versed in the Bible. He taught his students sections from the Bible, in addition to Talmud.[8] Because of his Bible teaching, he was considered a heretic by the Hasidic Jews of the town. However, his emphasis on the Bible led all his students to become fervent Lovers of Zion and devoted settlers in the Land of Israel.[9] Reb Hersh died young, from lung disease. His two sons, Moyshe and Leyzer, live in a kibbutz in Israel.
These melameds were joined by a few “semi-official” melameds who taught children. Noteworthy among them was Reb Yekele Shtern, a very honest, smart man, a merchant who had become impoverished and was now supported by the earnings of his sons, Gershon and Yechezkel, and his daughter Broche. However, so as not to be considered a freeloader, he taught a few of the “better” students. Reb Avromtshe Meir Varshniter had a soda-water stall. As business was very bad, he also taught three or four good students – not for the money, supposedly, but because it was a mitzvah. Another was Reb Mendl, expert on Jewish Law, an elderly, observant person without a livelihood, who also taught a few rich young men.
The present writer studied with all the above-mentioned melameds.
Now, when all that was Jewish in Krasnystaw has been eradicated by the Hitlerite beast, as happened in many Polish cities and towns, the sacred figures of these quiet, sincere Jews surface in my memory. They
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lived modest, impoverished lives, and believed in the mission of planting seeds of Jewish morality in the hearts of their students. They lived almost like ascetics, denying themselves worldly pleasures, eating dry bread crusts on weekdays, and offal on Shabbat so as to eat some meat.
These are the people whom Hitler blamed for provoking the war. The benches of the cheders were the breeding-grounds for “warmongers” such as Artur Zygielbojm, who freely gave his life in protest against the war and the murders. Their blood cries out from the earth and boils, like the blood shed by the prophet Zechariah, which calls out for revenge.[10]
Let these few lines be a monument to their sacred souls, and to their bodies, that were not buried according to Jewish law.
May their souls be bound up in the bundle of the living.
Translator's footnotes:
by Aryeh Shtuntsayger
Translated by Yael Chaver
The Jewish community of Krasnystaw was not large; it numbered about four hundred families. However, there were quite a few houses of prayer in the town, besides two study houses. The “large” study house, as it was known, was in the town, whereas the other – as its name indicated – was in the Groblie district. There were also several small Hasidic synagogues and places where minyans would gather to pray.[1]
The large study house was a beautiful brick building that had been built long before World War I. It, along with most of the town's structures, was destroyed in that war, and restored during the 1920s.
The study house in a small town was not only a place to hold prayers but also a community center, where observant, old-fashioned Jews maintained their social life. Saturday afternoons were the time for an itinerant preacher's sermon, and the location of daily discussions before evening prayers which focused on politics as well as on ordinary social and town matters. It was the site of meetings to discuss repairs to the ritual bath [mikvah], the burial society [Chevra Kadisha], or the synagogue manager and, in later years, to hold Zionist meetings about the Keren Kayemet and Keren HaYesod Palestine settlement funds. Naturally, that was where the social yearnings of ordinary Jews played out, yearnings for higher social standing, a prayer spot at the eastern wall, leading a prestigious prayer on Shabbat, and other social honors. Each and every Jew was interested in the study house.
During the first postwar years, when the large study house had been reduced to a ruin, many Jews had to pray in the Groblie study house; it was owned by the poorer groups of artisans, most of whom lived in Groblie. Others prayed in the Turisk study house, and it was this group
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that began to restore the large study house. As money was scarce, they held a meeting and decided to sell permanent seats, for men and women (the latter prayed in the women's section).
The same “class warfare” as in the original study house played out in this meeting as well. At that time, more well-off artisans lived in the town center than in Groblie. They resolved not to give up the entire eastern wall to the wealthier Jews.[2]
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into a grain barn by the Gentile agricultural cooperative |
The issue led to blows, and the artisan “revolutionaries” won. The synagogue manager, Moyshe Levkovich, was chosen from among the ordinary Jews. The wealthy Jews wanted to build themselves a new synagogue, so that they wouldn't have to pray in Groblie together with tailors and cobblers, but the “poor souls” were vanquished by the ordinary folks.
The Turisk Hassids, who considered themselves “aristocrats,”
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gathered in their small synagogue. This was a partially destroyed building in a side street, near “Leyzer's Stream,” so called because it was near the cheder of Leyzer Melamed. This synagogue was also where young unmarried scholars spent their evenings studying Talmud and playing pranks on each other between immersing themselves in Talmudic discussions. They would wave towels around, while secretly inserting a piece of paper under someone's collar and setting it on fire. They were so noisy that eventually Refoyl, the shammes (who lived in the damp, neglected cellar of a partly ruined house), would come in and put an end to the “rascals'” rampaging.[3] The boys were deathly afraid of him. Luckily for them, Refoyl the shammes was extremely nearsighted, and missing one lens of his exceptionally thick eyeglasses. Thanks to that, the “rascals” managed to slip out of his grasp and run away. The bolder among them would play a trick on him by crawling under a bench next to him, knowing that he would not notice.
He was not hated, because Refoyl the shammes was a good-natured man who liked to joke – he often sat and chatted with the study house group – and because of his male goat.
Refoyl owned a male goat, which could not be slaughtered.[4] It ran around freely and became friendly with the cheder children and the boys in the study house and synagogue. It was known as “Refoyl's Billy goat.” As it was familiar with the cheder students, it grew bolder and often walked into the small synagogue through its open door, to the amusement of the students.
Studying in the small synagogue was lively and happy. The students could play freely in the adjoining square, without fearing Gentile boys. In the summer they could also spend hours bathing in “Leyzer's Stream.”
Yet once the large study house was rebuilt, the boys moved there; it was far larger, cleaner, and enjoyed fresh air. During the last years before World War II, the numbers of study-house boys decreased. There was no future in religious studies. Many became “spoiled,” and learned a trade, or left for Warsaw to settle down. In the long winter evenings, the study house was populated by only a few elderly men who warmed themselves on the oven-bench or near the Torah-reading stand.[5] The most common conversation topic was about the old days, when the “Jap” fought against “Ivan.”[6]
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The Groblie study house was usually empty. The sons of artisans' families had to start working at an early age and learn a trade, or help their fathers. In the evenings, it was the refuge of the town's homeless people: Ayzikl, a clumsy, half-insane man who could eat endlessly without becoming full, and “crazy Henekh,” a cast-off youth, who was in the habit of constantly washing his hands in the nearby “Zhikl” brook near the study house.
But all the houses of prayer were full and lively on Shabbat and holidays. There were often arguments about performing the more prestigious readings, such as the Jonah haftoreh for Yom Kippur, or the blessing before the annual beginning of Torah reading, on Simchat Torah. Even among the artisans who prayed in the Groblie synagogue there were more important and less important members.
A regular minyan of followers of the Ger Hassidic group also assembled at the slaughterer's house.[7] One of their characteristics was the fact that they would break for an hour or two on Shabbat and holidays between the morning service and the additional Musaf service and devote the time to studying.
The Zionist minyan was founded by about twenty progressive young men, Zionists, who had never been very observant. They were uninterested in praying, but as sons-in-law of observant parents, or simply wishing to appear well to do, and having nowhere to be on Saturdays, “when all the Jews go to pray,” established their own minyan. One of them, a young man named Betzalel, a brilliant student from a nearby town, had married a local girl. He considered himself a fine musician, and really wanted to lead the prayers. He would be set at the reading stand to serve as a cantor, while the others would read the Haynt newspaper or carry on discussions about Zionism.[8]
The terrible Nazi executioners destroyed the pleasant lives of small-town Jews. Almost none of the young people survived; they were horribly murdered. The location of the Groblie study house is now a vegetable garden cultivated by Gentiles. The Turisk small synagogue is occupied by a Gentile, and the sweet voices of small Jewish boys are no longer heard from the cheder of Leyzer Melamed. These innocent Jewish children were taken to Belzec, where they were hideously murdered. The town's large study hall is once again broken down and abandoned, and its windows are blocked by wooden boards; it serves as a grain barn for the Gentile agricultural cooperative.
In the last days of the war, the present writer took a risk and visited all these sites. The scene of the abandoned sites was nightmarish. These abandoned sites were where Jewish life quivered and breathed, and from which so many were horribly uprooted,
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among them many near and dear Jewish fathers, mothers, and small children.
Is it possible to set down on paper the piercing pain one feels at a moment like this? The pain will never subside, and will forever demand revenge for the innocent blood that was spilled.
These desolate spaces are left with another curse: may the blood of these martyrs sear the earth and serve as a reminder that the murderous, beastly perpetrators are cursed forever.
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