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[Page 39]
Translated by Yael Chaver
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by Aryeh Shtuntsayger
Authentic Jewish jokes and aphorisms were developed by ordinary Jewish folks. The cleverness of Jewish humor has been recognized even by non-Jewish scholars and students of the field.
Each Jewish town had its wits and aphorists, who came from unsophisticated settings. Unfortunately, large portions of original folklore and jokes have been lost. The YIVO institute, in Vilnius, laid special emphasis on collecting Jewish folk sayings, jokes, proverbs, and the like. But the ever-productive ocean of Yiddish folk wisdom had not been exhausted before the destruction of the YIVO archives and its collections, which erased a large part of these riches.[1]
Krasnystaw, too, had its share of Jewish wits and intellectuals who produced aphorisms. The most popular of them was Leyzer Foyglfus (known as Leyzer, Avrom's son), Refoyl Rosentsvayg a young man known as Fintshele Aron Tsuker, and Arn Oksenberg (Arn, Bere's son).
Leyzer, Avrom's son, was the town's gravedigger, and a person who had lost his previous livelihood. He was quiet and dejected, extremely poor, yet someone who never passed up a chance to tell a joke or say a proverb, and was always at ease. He took the material for his jokes from his profession and his poverty. Prime occasions for his jokes came up during the mornings of the High Holidays, as well as when he downed a brandy on Simchat Torah and Purim, or during a Kiddush[2]. Some of his aphorisms and jokes are worth presenting here.
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Leyzer would earn a few pennies every time a Jewish woman visited the cemetery to mark the anniversary of a death. He would lead her to the grave of her father or mother. Every year, a rich woman would come from Warsaw, to visit the grave of her father, who was buried in Krasnystaw. She had not erected a headstone, and Leyzer showed her the spot every year. However, he never went to the trouble of finding the precise location. Wherever he happened to stand would be designated as the grave she was seeking: He's buried here! The next year, he would stop at a different location and point it out: He's buried right here! But the woman remembered something from the previous year's experience, and asked him, Didn't you show me a different spot last year? Leyzer didn't lose his calm, and said, Have you always lived in the same place? Well, your father also moved, and he's living here now…
In front of his dilapidated, dumpy little house, stood a mound of chopped timber, compressed into bales. One day, he was sitting on the mound and resting, when an acquaintance passed by.
Moyshe, come here. I'm inviting you to the ‘ball’, motioning to the mound he was on.
On Purim, Leyzer performed his own version of the Passover Four Questions. The first question was, Why is my roof crouching over my house, yet I have no eggs? The second one was, Why has my wife let her mouth run free, yet I have no goose fat? The third was, When there's a hole in your shoe, why does the water leak in, but when there's a hole in a pot, why does the water leak out? And finally, What should I do if I find a crumb in the pot, which could be a grain that's forbidden on Passover?
On Simchat Torah, Leyzer would present sermons that he invented, such as the following.[3] In the Talmud, the sage Rav says, With regard to one who betroths a woman with a loan, i.e., he previously lent this woman money and he now says that she is betrothed to him by means of that loan, she is not betrothed.[4] According to this decision, Rav was a mean person who stood in the way of betrothals. But as it happens, we know that Rav was kind, because the verse states, O Lord, pardon my guilt, for it is great. This answer can be countered by an allegory. Once there were two friends, Yoyneh and Shloyme. Yoyneh borrowed money from Shloyme, which caused Shloyme to go to prison. The townspeople said that Yoyneh had landed Shloyme in hot water. When people heard this, they came to Shloyme's house for Kiddush on Shabbat. Shloyme, however, had no brandy, as he didn't think guests would be coming, and was very sad. As it happened, Rav was also there,
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and proclaimed, He who betroths a woman by means of a loan has not carried out a betrothal, and therefore does not need to offer a Kiddush. Thus, we can see that Rav was really kind he took pity on Shloyme…
One more witticism at the expense of his own poverty:
Leyzer, Avrom's son, who, incidentally, was quite short, was out on the street, met an acquaintance, and complained that his situation was difficult, and that he had no money. His friend advised him to borrow a few złotys. Leyzer retorted, Who'd loan me money? After all, I'm a very small earner. (This is a pun on his own name: he wouldn't be able to make enough money to return the loan.)[5]
Arn Oksenberg, known as Bere's son, was just as poor as Leyzer. He lived his entire life in the cellar of a house owned by a rich non-Jew. The first floor, above him, was occupied by a non-Jewish lawyer, Fiechowitz. In spite of his poverty, Arn was always in good spirits and made fun of his poverty. This is one of his jokes.
Arn met a progressive young man, and challenged him: Your modern ideology is not worth a penny, and is definitely wrong.
Why???
Your Copernicus explained that the earth turns on its axis. That's impossible, and couldn't possibly happen.
Why?
If the earth turned on its axis, sometimes I would be on the top, and Fiechowitz would be on the bottom. But for years now, I've always been on the bottom (in the cellar) and Fiechowitz has been on top (on the first floor).
Refoyl Rozentsvayg was the Shammes [Sexton] of the Turisk synagogue, and also made some money with his little cart and its tottering little horse, which he would hire out to anyone in town who needed to haul something. As far as jokes are concerned, he always competed with Leyzer. Every time they met, they would test each other's wit. Once, Refoyl met Leyzer with mock anger: You're burying the whole town! referring to his grave-digging job.
Leyzer immediately gave as good as he got: Are you any better? You're turning the whole town topsy-turvy! referring to his cart driving and haulage.
Fintshele was considered an idler. His wife supplied their livelihood. He almost always sat in the study house, but rarely
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sat and studied. He was smart, and liked to debate whomever he could. He also never missed a chance to outsmart his opponent with a clever joke.
One Krasnystaw Jew, who was newly rich, was called Moyshe Ringworm[6]. He wanted to convince everyone that he was a Talmudic scholar by posing trick questions in the study house. As Moyshe sat there house one day with a volume of Mishna, he challenged Fintshele with one of these questions.
Look, Fintshele. The Mishna says that the evening recitation of Shema Yisrael can be done once the stars are visible.[7] Actually, it doesn't make sense. Why does the Mishna need to tell us when to say the evening Shema? Don't I already know that we say the Shema in the evening?
Fintshele looks serious and says, You understand, of course, that you wouldn't know if the Mishna hadn't said that. Moyshe, I'm really surprised that you should ask such a question. On the other hand, though, you've got something else on your brain, meaning ringworm on the scalp.
Hershl Tsuker was a different kind of joker. He was wealthy, and was considered very smart. He liked to emphasize life's paradoxes, and to state truisms in an amusing way. Here is one of his gems.
What is the meaning of the biblical phrase ‘And they received from one another, and said Holy’?
If one receives (money) from another, the giver can say kaddish for it.[8]
These were the jokes of simple folks. I'd like to say a few serious words about them, not only because this article is part of a Yizkor book that is a blood-saturated document about atrocities unprecedented in the history of mankind, but because the present writer is profoundly convinced that this was the case. These people lived a hard, but decent, life. Their figures shine in my memory, as well as the figures of dozens more of Krasnystaw residents. They were all hard workers, whose pleasures were very few. Regardless of their poverty, however, their moral stature was great. They could not imagine living otherwise than as Jews. And it was as Jews that they were murdered.
Their memory will be sacred to our future generations.
Translator's footnotes:
by Ben Tsukerman, Los Angeles
Shabbat and holidays in Krasnystaw were truly elevated by a pleasant, sacred atmosphere, and a devoutness that reigned in all the Jewish homes and synagogues as well as in the study house. The Hassidim shone in their long satin coats, fur hats, and clothing made of silk and velvet. The poverty-stricken faces had shed their cares, and now radiated joy.
Is there anyone who doesn't remember the dignity of the Jews, who were transformed into royalty during Shabbat and holidays?
Is there anyone among the natives of Krasnystaw who doesn't remember the classes in Torah and Rashi's commentary that Pinkhes, Yeshaya's son, taught to the tailors and shoemakers, those who gulped down every word and every thought?[1] Who doesn't recall the festive meal that Fayvl, the synagogue janitor, would offer in the old study house to mark the end of Shabbat? It did not offer delicacies, but the ‘Bnei Heicholo' song and the tidbits of learning that were offered in the late afternoon lifted the participants to a higher plane of being.[2]
I remember the Shabbat evening celebration at the home of Mekhl, the rabbi's son, who was very poor. He had never dealt with money, but spent all his time studying Talmud. He was ordained as a rabbi, but could not make a living at it. His energetic wife, Chane, had the yeast concession. Aided by her grown daughters, who were of marriageable age, she barely made enough money to survive. But that did not prevent them from holding the festive Shabbat meal with great enthusiasm in the attic that was their home.
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In 1920, when I visited Poland and my home town of Krasnystaw, there was little left of the pleasant old-time idyllic life. The first German salvo obliterated many of the material and spiritual properties and sent them up in smoke. I encountered skepticism and pessimism everywhere. However, when I went to the ruin that had once been the Turisk synagogue, I found Gershon, the glazier's son (may he rest in peace), who was continuing to study Talmud. He was one of the last Mohicans in Krasnystaw.[3]
One Shabbat day, as I was riding the train, I met a Jew and his daughter. The long-bearded Jew admitted that until recently he had been a firm believer in Judaism. As I looked at him, I remembered the Jews that I had known in my childhood. They were all devout believers, who were ready to sacrifice themselves for the sake of Jews and Judaism. How far removed this Jew, who was desecrating Shabbat, was from characters like the Gur Hassid Ts. B. Gershon Mayman, or the Turisk Hassid Yisro'el Lerman, who would shake the walls of the study house with his fervent Shema Yisro'el. Even unlearned, but profoundly honest types such as Chayim Yehuda the peddler, and Motele the water-carrier, who was constantly reciting Psalms, or my father, Yehoshua Tsukerman (may he rest in peace), would never relinquish a speck of their faith, let alone desecrate Shabbat in public.
These were Jews with high moral characters, and souls that were as transparent as crystal.
It is a pity about those who are gone and are no longer among us.[4]
Translator's footnotes:
by Yankev Shok
Who did not know a man by the name of Ayzik? Everyone knew him. He was a character worth describing.
When people wanted to disparage someone, they would call that person Ayzik. For example, anyone eating voraciously would be described as gobbling it up like Ayzik. A way to embarrass someone would be to call him as smart as Ayzik.
Ayzik was physically powerful, strongly built, but his great fault was laziness. He never wanted to hear of work and earning money. As if that weren't enough, he had an insatiable appetite and was never satisfied. If someone asked him, Ayzik, why don't you work and make some money? he would answer, smiling like a simpleton, God almighty didn't create work for Jews. The prayer says ‘You have chosen us from all peoples,’ and we are, after all, the chosen people. Why should I work? Besides, how can a Jew work? Saturday is Shabbat; on Mondays we read the Torah portion. Tuesday, as everyone knows, is market day in Krasnystaw, and you have to spend the whole day there. Wednesday is for recovering from the market. Thursday comes along, and we need to read another Torah portion. Friday isn't worth discussing it's the eve of Shabbat. I ask you does a Jew have time to work? Secondly, why should I work? For example, when it rains, I take refuge in the ‘bottle-woman's’ house where I can shelter, just like people who have houses.[1] And as far as food is concerned, don't we have middle-class people
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who make big pots of cholent[2] for Shabbat? And how am I different from all the other Jews? I go to Chayim Lorber's house, like many others.
And that's what happened. When Ayzik came over on Shabbat and sat on the steps, Volf's wife was the first to see him, and let the others known that Ayzik had arrived. And do you know who else was staying there? Shloyme Hersh the leather merchant, Shloyme Mushkat, Moyshe Shiye, Beynish the grain merchant, Moyshe Chayim the bookbinder, Mendl Shmuel Shmaragd, Shaul Liberman the tailor, Rachmil the glazier, his son Shmuel, and others.
Just imagine: every homeowner prepared cholent, knowing that Ayzik had to eat his fill on Shabbat. After the meal, they would ask Ayzik whether he was full, and he would answer, What do you mean, full? I will only be really full when the Messiah comes. When that happens, pasta and beans will rain down from the sky. The whole Turisk synagogue will be the pot, and the lectern will serve as a ladle. That's when I'll be full.
Believe me, Ayzik was not the fool he was made out to be. He would sometimes utter an aphorism. For example, he once came to Chayim Lorber's house, who was known to be wealthy. He owned houses and barracks, and married into the family of the Hasidic leader of Turisk. Zaynvele Klepfish was also related to him by marriage. Not everyone could enter Chayim Lorber's house. But Ayzik could come in freely, and the host enjoyed Ayzik's witticisms.
One Friday, Ayzik walked into Chayim's house and went through all the rooms until he came to the dining room, when Chayim was lying on the couch. Chayim did not notice Ayzik immediately. Ayzik, on the other hand, looked around the room and noticed the table, which was ready for Shabbat with twelve loaves of challah, a carafe of wine, and a platter of fish. When Chayim noticed Ayzik standing by the door and looking in, he asked, What would you like to say, Ayzik? Ayzik responded, What can I say, Chayim? Everyone says that Ayzik is a fool. I ask you, Chayim, if everything on the table challahs, fish, and wine would be in Ayzik's house, wouldn't Ayzik be the one lying on the couch? So, is Ayzik really the fool and Chayim the clever one?
Yet Ayzik the idler never caused anyone harm.
Why did Hitler's beasts murder him?
Translator's footnotes:
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