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Portraits and Way of Life

Once, when Sura's son, Reb Leib, was in deep Russia, he suddenly felt that in Volyn, in the city of Lutsk, there was a soul waiting to be raised to its higher level…

After Havdalah [ceremony ending the Sabbath], Reb Leib told the coachman to harness the horses for a distant trip. The servant understood that when the rebbe said the word “trip” and then “distant,” it would certainly be kfitses hadereth [the supernatural ability to be instantly transported to a faraway place].

And that is what Sura's son, Reb Leib, would say when he would sit himself in a wagon; his driver drove the horses until just outside the city and when they arrived outside the city, Reb Leib took the reins in his hands and ordered the driver to sit with his back to the horses.

The driver would often be attacked by a terrifying sleep or would become deaf… He saw everything with his eyes, but heard nothing with his ears.

Sura's son Reb Leib, closed his eyes, drew the reins and said [the words for] kfitses-haderekh– and the horses flew like an arrow shot from a bow. However, the ground actually flew along with the wheels…

They were seen floating through the fields, forests, cities and villages, rivers and oceans, steppes and deserts… That is how it was, until the horses came to the desired spot and stopped on their own.

All of this took place outside the city. Sura's son, Reb Leib, woke his driver, placed the reins in his hands, ordered him to turn his face to the horses and drive further as if nothing had happened.

They came to the city of Lutsk, which is Volyn, in the morning. Right after praying, Reb Leib went for a stroll until he was outside the city. There he saw an eight-year-old boy dressed in rags, half naked – and he was feeding geese.

So this was the high soul that Reb Leib had felt from so far away.

This poor boy told him that his mother was a widow and he told Reb Leib her name.

Reb Leib immediately went to the widow and asked her to give him her son as a servant and he, the merchant, would make a “good person” of him. Reb Leib also gave the widow a sum of money and she agreed.

With the help of kfitses-haderekh, Sura's son, Reb Leib, took the boy to the tzadek [righteous man] Reb Shmelke in Nikolsburg [Mikulov, now in the Czech Republic]…

– So this I have brought to you, Reb Leib, smiling, said to Reb Shmelke from Nikolsburg, a tall soul, a holy one from the temple of poetry of heavenly song – from the distant area of Volyn. And I give the soul into your hands, may it remain between us, for you to raise it to your level… Sura's son, Reb Leib, took his leave and went away.

When [he was] with the tzadek, Reb Shmelke, in Nikolsburg, the poor Lutsker shepherd grew. In time, he became widely known as a great musician, the famous Ayzyk from Lutsk, who saved the dearest melodies from the “evil spirit” and from the Sitre Akhre [the Devil and the evil spirits] and returned them to their holy origin, where they had been created at the beginning of creation…

So the holy tzadek, who all of the giants of his generation

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called “the holy one from Lutsk,” would involve himself all his life in going every day to the woods, where he would listen to the delicious singing of the shepherds who would play on their whistles, and he would return them [the tunes] to the lineage of the holy songs of praise and singing.

– All melodies – Reb Ayzyk Lutsker said – originate from the “temple of poetry.” Immorality is the source of sadness and unhappiness. Adam fell into the net of sin… This means the “evil spirit” and the Sitre Akhre.

However, the holy melodies are very different. They are the “holy spark.” And they are also the spark of song.

The task of the Tzadek of Lutsk was to return to sacredness, to their origin, the melodies of joy and bliss, from which they had brought only eternal joy… To return the holy sparks that wander in the world of chaos, which are in exile and ask for their redress.

And Reb Ayzyk Lutsker not only returned the voice of the song to its sacred source, but also its language…

Once the tzadek, the holy musician, Reb Ayzyk, listened as a shepherd in the field played a melody on his long whistle and later sang the following words:

Forest, forest, how long you are!
Rose, rose, how distant you are!
If the forest were smaller,
The rose would be nearer…
If we had been taken out of the forest
We would have both come together…

Reb Ayzyk of Lutsk sang, sitting on a stone under a tree; he sat down and with bitter tears sang the same melody with the following words:

Exile, exile, how long you are!
Shkhine, shkhine,^[1] how distant you are!
If the exile were shorter,
The Shkhine would be nearer,
If we had been taken out of exile
We would have both come together…

When the tzadek and gaon [genius] from Ropczyce heard the sweet song with the delicious singing for the first time, he dreamily closed his eyes and said:

– In the hour that the Lutsker sings the melody with the words, a commotion starts in the heavens and the gates of mercy open and entire multitudes of angels go to welcome the tzadek, Sura's son, Reb Leib, to the heavenly temple and with song they praise:

– May you be blessed, Sura's son, Leib, that you gave us such a dear, singing soul…

Lutsk, 1938

A Disappeared Generation Sitting from the right: Meir Kronsztajn, Chaya Rekl Kronsztajn, Yosef Kronsztajn, Lipe Diner, Yoal Barzach, Meir Kupersztajn Standing from the right: Avraham Lender, Leib Kronsztajn, Shmai Wajntraub, Mordekhai Katsenel[en]bogen, Sholem Goldberg, L. Liberman

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Our childhood flowed sadly. Instead of the beautiful, rocking carriages, we were raised in dirty, wicker hand-rocked cradles; instead of strolling in the sun and in the air, summer and winter, we were kept in closed rooms, snuggled in rags and quilts, not permitted to come in contact with the outside for weeks because of fear that we would catch a cold. The teaching took place in crowded, mostly dirty rooms, without a crumb of sun or trace of freedom. There was always the strict gaze of the angry teacher watching us, the absolute ruler over our soul and body…

Not everyone knows that Monczne Street once bore the name Mizraim [Egypt] Street.

Perhaps they called it that because every spring, both rivers – the Gluszec and the Styr – would flow together and drown the alleys like the Nile in Egypt at that time of the year, or simply because of the sixth Egyptian plague, darkness, that always reigned there? This is not known.

On this Mizraim Street, in the only brick house, which still stands today, ruled Reb Moshe, may he rest in peace, the teacher of the younger children, an older Jew, stooped, with a downhearted, pale face, a terribly meticulous person, one who shouted and hit [the students]. He would inspire a melancholy in we tiny ones with merely his glance.

Very early, when we would still be in our beds spinning our golden dreams of carefree childish mornings, the assistant to the teacher, the teacher's aide, would barge in and unceremoniously begin to wake us from sleep, take us off the bed, immediately tell us to opgisn negl-vaser, recite Modeh ani^[2], grab our breakfast that he would most of the time keep for himself (we had to be quiet), and [carrying us] on his shoulders, off we went to kheder.

Outside, a spring sun enchanted, a cool, pleasant breeze pet and caressed, tickled the childish, soaring fantasy and called out a warm invitation to remain out in the street for a while, to play undisturbed in the summery outdoors. However, the boorish assistant dragged us there, to the kheder.

It was crowded in the kheder. There were three dozen children there, whose parents in the city had given [their children] to the teacher to teach them to read Hebrew letters and to learn. We sat pressed together like geese in a cage. The teacher walked around us, in his hands, yellowed by tobacco, the whip that was ready to fall on our back for every trifle… However, Moshe the teacher did not believe in the back; he thought of another “place.” He would, in order to save time in moments of an outbreak of anger, which would happen very often, strike the children as soon as they came, lowering their underpants so they would be ready to present themselves [to be whipped]…

And it really happened. He would never be wrong. There was a great deal of “work.” Here, a child did not repeat the komets alef [alef – the letter “a” with an “o” sound] quickly enough; here, a child had suddenly looked at an annoying fly, which would not stop creeping over the reinforced siddur [prayer book]; here someone just had a desire to let out a loud word or just laugh. One did not have to be sinning. The whip worked over the “good spot.”

In addition to the whip, Reb Moshe Melamed, may he rest in peace, had still other means of punishment, which had a very good effect on the children: “So, he is going to untie the turkey with the copper mouth that is located in the attic…” When we heard “turkey with the copper mouth,” every limb in our body died and we would remain silent and helpless for a time.

Thus would term after term extend monotonously and grey.

During one intercession, I was a little grown up then and could read Hebrew letters, my parents decided to place the “young man” with the Gemore melamed [teacher of Torah], Reb Motl Wiczewer.

The glory was unlimited. A trifle: finished with the whip with the “turkey” – but several days passed, when I tasted the new kheder [religious primary school] – and there came a disappointment; it was shown that the previous teacher, Reb Moshe was “raised” with regulations (this meant: whip the children), actually as a teacher of young children rather someone who knew Gemore [commentaries on the Torah]. Reb Motl Wiczewer, please forgive me, was an angry Jew and an irascible person by nature, who

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simply felt a need to teach his children a lesson. His specialty was: pinches… These were such minute pinches that we remembered for weeks and we could not move from the spot. In addition, he had a special belt, with which he would “let loose” so that sparks flew from our eyes.

We would tremble in deadly fear of him, protect ourselves, not making a sound, but how does one restrain rascals? Moreover, did we have to do much to sin? Actually, someone sneezed in a way that did not please the teacher, the judgment came immediately.

To this day, I cannot forget the following scene:

One of the students fell asleep when studying. Was he tired from the free day on Shabbos [Sabbath] or just not feeling well? The teacher stood up from the table and began nearing the student, quietly, little by little on his toes so he would not, God forbid, wake the victim. As he could not reach him with his hand, he stretched out and gave him such a blow on his face that [the student] began screaming, as if from sleep, calling for help. At first, the teacher apparently got scared, which was visibly apparent from him becoming pale, thinking, perhaps, that he had, God forbid, done something bad, but when he oriented himself, thinking that nothing bad had occurred, he began really to hit him mercilessly, shouting:

– Why are you howling like a slaughtered ox?!…

At this point, the rebbetzin came from the kitchen. She began speaking with a sharp tongue out of pity for her “toiling” husband, who stood gasping because of his asthma and could not escape from the effect of his “sacrifice.”

– [She said:] How does a student not have any pity for such a weak Jew as the teacher? Do you not see, [you] monster, that the teacher is barely breathing? How can you have such a heart as a Tartar? He is barely able to stand on his feet!

And she began to reason with the teacher:

– Motl, have some pity on your health, alas. Well, Nekhamke [the rebbetzin] has absolutely no value to you, but do you not know that even if you kill him [the student], you will not change him?

The teacher turned around and answered hastily in anger:

– No, you will not succeed in this with me! I will not permit him to grow to be an imbecile… Later, his father will say that Motl does not supervise his students. No, Nekhamke. I must make him into a person…

And with fresh strength, he again began to beat him.

That is how he was, Motl Wiczewer.

However, it was destined that we children would live to see a little revenge. It happened when we were learning Rashi, when it came to the sentence, “There can be but one leader for a generation and not two leaders for a generation.” One student had a sudden whim, he was named Dovid, to translate the phrase as “scoundrel of the generation”… Dovidl was not even wrong with such a translation, because does there not exist more than one scoundrel in a generation?…^[3] But Dovidl did not have such knowledge, and the “higher” interpretation, again apparently, did not please the teacher. A sign [of this] was that he went to Dovidl, asked him ironically how he had gotten hold of such a remarkable meaning and then it began… However, something unexpected, remarkable happened here; the small Dovid turned to the table with the Khumishim, grabbed the burning candle and cried out:

– Teacher, your death on the spot, if you come closer to me…

The teacher became pale and left the kheder, took off…

Oh well, I cannot describe our mood then. Such revenge! And thanks to the small Dovidl… Respect for him grew greatly. In our eyes he was the other Dovid who defeated Goliath. The teacher, too, had gotten a particular respect for him and he [the teacher] did not bother we remaining children for several days.

We began to convince ourselves that the teacher had changed, that we could raise our heads a little. However, the event, that soon happened, led us out of this misconception.

In the midst of learning, a student told the teacher that he had to go outside for a natural need. However, on the street, he came across an unexpected find: a lost colt that had apparently been separated from its mother and stood lonely on the spot. Delighted with the wild find, he, the imp, forgot the actual purpose of his going outside, ran to the colt and led it up to the building. There he tied it to the wall and with the news, entered the kheder to tell his friends. Suddenly, several students announced to the teacher that they had to go outside… The teacher looked at his students with suspicion. He could not remember such an epidemic of so much going outside during the course of his teaching… But he shook his head yes, but when another group announced to him that they wanted to go out, the teacher realized that this was something extraordinary. No, the story began not to please him. Was this not a new ploy of King Dovid?… He shook his head yes to the students and decided to be alert [to what they were doing]…

A half hour later and none of the students returned. Is that so? – thought the teacher, saying aloud what he thought – They want to lead Motl [the teacher] by the nose? And he

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went outside to look for those who disappeared, crawling, caught the students. Outside, cries and shrieks reached him from the room and if he was correct, he heard the whinny of a colt. He stood for a while and listened; yes, this was them, but where had they gotten a colt? Through the open door, he, the teacher, noticed his students standing gathered around the colt and they were feeding him from their sleeves…

The group, engrossed with their “dear guest” who smelled better to them than the kheder and the teacher together, noticed nothing, who was standing behind them. The teacher, seeing and not being seen, listened to all of the plans and proposals, how the students intended to make arrangements for the colt… He stood and did not believe his own eyes. He felt something like Moses must have felt when he saw the Jews dancing around the golden calf…

The teacher could not wait any longer and thundered:

– Welcome! There is now a colt also here! So, come in, Taonim [rabbis whose teaching are included in the Talmud], in kheder, we will celebrate in honor of the colt…

The explosion of a bomb would not have evoked such fear and panic in those around as the thundering voice of the rebbe [teacher]. Cold sweat covered the small ones. As if severely condemned, with submissiveness, the group entered the kheder [religious primary school], preparing themselves for everything…

Entering the kheder, the rebbe did not go right to the execution. Slowly, gradually, he made it seem as if it was a special pleasure for him. The group sat down around the table; he, too, sat and an order fell:

– Khumish with Rashi [the Torah with Rashi's commentaries].

We children felt that it was before a storm and waited for it to break out. We opened the Khumish. We began to study. The teacher came to the student who was the first to be caught with the colt and asked him a question:

– What is the significance of “A window shall you make for the Ark”?

And not waiting for an answer, he answered for the student:

– Rashi says – a colt… And he gave the student such a slap that [the student] saw Krakow and Lemberg.

The teacher warmed up with the first blow, running over to all of the students, cutting right and left, shouting, Rashi says – a colt… Blood, not tears, ran from the eyes of the beaten students…

The “era of the colt” lasted for two weeks. We have to be thankful to He who lives eternally that we did not remain crippled then.

However, we will remember the colt through our children's children…

There was another, third melamed; Reb Shlomo Teper or Karaliner, as he was called, although his family name was really Fridbaum.

His kheder was at a higher level, a kind of “university.” Entering Shlomo Teper's kheder meant that one was a young man with a matura [certificate of graduation from a secondary school]. The “cream” of the city studied with him. However, perhaps you think that the kheder was different for the “cream.” A mistake! The kheder was located in the women's division of the Stoliner synagogue. There, at a long table with benches around it, he taught the adult students who did not have any desire to study. I remember that in my time one student excelled in finding means and ways to be rid of studying. He [placed] mice on the reading stands, lay on a tree that was next door, even ignited paper in the privy, anything not to study. And when this student once entered the filth in the privy with his entire foot, so that we could barely pull him out, all of the students and the teacher moved away from him for a week because we could not sit near him. However, he was in seventh heaven that he was rid of studying…

However, Reb Shlomo Teper could also sometimes hit [the students], no worse than the earlier teachers, although he was a sickly man.

We must, however, praise him, that in hitting, he was not as guilty of doing this as the Jewish educational system, that reigned at that time. This is shown by the fact that before his death, Reb Shlomo Teper sent for a student who he had particularly severely disciplined and asked that he [the student] forgive him:

– Forgive me, my child, for treating you severely. God is my witness that I am not guilty. Your father demanded that I educate you particularly rigorously…

Translator's footnotes:

1. melamdim (plural of melamed) are teachers in religious schools; a kheder is a religious primary school Return
2. opgisn negl-vaser – pouring water over the nails; when waking up in the morning, an observant Jew washes his hands; Modeh ani – “I thank you, God” – the prayer said upon waking Return
3. This is a play on the Hebrew words for “leader for a generation” and “scoundrel of a generation.” Return

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Over oceans lies my shtetl [town] Lutsk, oh, dear home! My cradle was there. I know every stone there. I see the Great Synagogue with spires Three hundred years old; I see the young people strolling To the Lubart's castle. Refrain: I will remember my shtetl [Lutsk] In my dreams and in reality; I will never, never forget Your days and years. And the grebla [dam] past the synagogue location, Every road and path Calls out to me in [my] imagination All of my days: In summer floating on the Styr [River] With a song; Everyone who hears the melody Will long remember. Refrain: I will remember Lutsk, my shtetl [town]… Now, no Jews are seen there – The shtetl is empty and bare: There are no more sisters, brothers – A shudder embraces me. Behind Gnidev, in Polonka – Now a sacred place: Eighteen thousand Lutsker martyrs There in the grave. Refrain: I will remember Lutsk, my shtetl [town]…

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