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Translated by Moshe Kutten
In 1945, the veil was lifted on the most tragic event in the history of our people. This tragedy saw the destruction of Jewish communities throughout Nazi-occupied Europe. Our loved ones in the towns of Radekhov and Łopatyn, as well as in the surrounding communities were also swept away in this horrific bloody tide. In the aftermath of these events, our first thoughts were that the survivors of this horrible slaughter and hellish Nazi fire endured only to be able to memorialize the dearly departed–the individuals who, to our sorrow, did not live to witness the defeat of the monstrous Nazi regime nor to see the realization of their aspirations, prayers, and visions for a homeland here in the State of Israel.
A few years passed as the efforts to escape the fields of slaughter and immigrate to Israel continued. It was only during the early years of the 1950s that survivors finally set foot on the soil of the homeland. In 1952, we held our first meeting. The primary purpose of that gathering was to honor and remember our beloved martyrs, those who fell victim to the evil and accursed Nazi murderers. We were pained by our delay in fulfilling the commandment and mission of eternal memorialization of our martyrs. It is difficult to articulate the pain and distress that filled the gathering. In the hall, in the space above us, floated the pure souls of our beloved martyrs, urging us to avenge their humiliation. Our thoughts shifted to a place where an empty, haunting void had replaced a generations-old vibrant Jewish community. In discussions, the participants expressed their deep sorrow over the devastating loss that afflicted our families. Memories of the communities where our loved ones lived at various times–both joyous and sorrowful–came flooding back to our minds. We particularly reflected on the last chapter of the generations-long story of the Jews of Radekhov, Łopatyn, and the surrounding area. The haunting images of our beloved martyrs lingered in our minds, their faces shrouded in death's mist and filled with terror as they traveled along the path of suffering and death.
The gathering was opened by our friend Yechiel Menaker z”l, and it was at that meeting that the foundation for the Organization of the Former Residents of Radekhov, Łopatyn and Surrounding Areas was established. Additionally, an initiative to publish a memorial book for the martyrs and plant a grove in their memory was announced. With Yechiel Menaker's passing, the leadership role of organizing and preparing the first gathering gradually shifted to Yaakov Ra'anan, and M. Fisch joined in his efforts. The following annual meetings were held during the first ten days of the month of Tishrei [known as the Days of Awe between Rosh Hashana and Yom Kippur] in remembrance of the horrible days when the slaughtering of our beloved took place. We came together to honor the memory of those who were tortured, murdered, and slain. We repeatedly reflected on the nightmarish scenes
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of the brutal tortures endured by fathers, mothers, brothers, sisters, women, men, and children who burned at the stake, reciting the Shema as they faced their fate. At the annual gatherings, we focused on motivating the participants to prepare the material for publishing the Yizkor book and raising the funds necessary for publication. We recognized that mere commemoration–whether through discussion or reciting the Kaddish prayer with awe and reverence–would not suffice to fulfill our duty no matter how profound the pain and emotions behind these actions might be. We were responsible for collecting fragments of memories and capturing stories from Holocaust survivors along with any thoughts and reflections they wished to share. It was essential for us to present everything properly so that we, along with future generations, may remember what is vital and ensure that these memories are never forgotten.
It was our strong desire to vividly capture the lives of the residents and their communities in this memorial book. We wished to record the diverse lifestyles throughout their existence, right until the very end. This book will serve as a lasting memory–an eternal tribute and Ner Neshama [memorial candle]–to commemorate the lives and deaths of the Jews that resided in these towns and villages.
One tale from the biblical destruction story describes the prophet Jeremiah, the great lamenter, walking along the path of the Judean exiles and seeing the blood-filled trail, as the land was soaked with the blood of martyrs. When he saw the footprints of babies and children, he bent down and kissed them lovingly. On his way back, the picture repeated. Severed fingers and legs were thrown on the ground in the mountains. He collected, hugged, and kissed them–reciting his greatest lament about that hour.
The disaster, destruction, and devastation that had befallen our families placed a heavy burden on our shoulders. We felt a moral obligation and a mental aspiration to follow the great lamenters–those who pity, collect, and embrace every piece of information and detail no matter where it comes from. We strove to repair and edit these fragments with great care, honoring and preserving them with sacred reverence and affection in memory of the Holocaust victims, acknowledging their heroism, suffering, and torture. We were well aware of the challenges involved in this mission. Furthermore, recognizing the importance of the memorialization effort, we were not deterred by any obstacles. We approached the work with a sense of responsibility and reverence. We sent frequent reminders to our friends in Israel and abroad, urging them to participate in this project both in spirit and by providing materials. We understood that we would have to put significant effort into collecting and sorting the materials, and we continuously tracked the progress of our work. Throughout this process, we remained concerned about fundraising, especially as the value of the money we had collected continually decreased in relation to the rising costs of materials and labor.
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We were aware of our limitations for moving forward. Radekhov and the surrounding communities had a small Jewish population compared to other areas. The number of Holocaust survivors was also relatively small. Additionally, the older generations, particularly those who had made Aliyah long before World War II, were few in number. Unlike other memorialization projects, we discovered no “rich uncles” abroad to support us. These conditions were not favorable, especially since natural processes took some of our most dedicated volunteers from us, moving them to a world where all is good. The fact that the workload fell on a tiny group of people significantly affected our progress and caused delays in implementation as well. The Holocaust memorial book for Radekhov, Łopatyn, and the surrounding area is now complete despite all the limitations and obstacles we faced. As we reflect on the book's various sections, we are compelled to revisit harrowing accounts of our community's history. The atrocities of the Holocaust and the devastation it brought are recorded by the few of us who survived the inferno, bearing only the scars of our experiences. Each contributor shares personal memories and reflections from those dreadful days. Life in a typical Jewish shtetl is depicted in this book, even by those who left the killing fields before Hitler's rise, may his name be blotted out, meaning the period of the “good times” when the Gentiles were still “just” anti-Semites, and had not yet come to the point of murder and killing. The book also deals with the lives of the Jews in the villages in the Radekhov district. As such, it is different from many other memorial books.
We want to express our appreciation to all organization members who financially supported this endeavor. A dedicated group of individuals contributed their spirit and energy to the success of this project. First, we must recognize Yechiel Menaker z”l, a central figure who played a crucial role in establishing the organization's foundation and guiding its early steps with his immense skill and enthusiasm. We also want to highlight Zelig Kranz, a longstanding Zionist activist. We had placed our hopes in these individuals for the growth and progress of the organization. Regrettably, they passed away early in the organization's journey.
We would like to express our heartfelt gratitude to our member, David Zitzer from Stremil'che, who, during a visit to Israel, was among the first to believe in and support the memorialization effort. His generous contribution provided a foundation for our limited financial resources. Additionally, we want to thank everyone who played a role in bringing this project to life. In particular, we are grateful to author G. Kressel, who, with immense patience, meticulously guided every detail of the book. He contributed valuable material, organized and edited the content, and prepared it for printing.
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We would like to extend special thanks to local native, Professor Dov Sadan, for his contributions to the Yiddish-based material and his beautiful essay that opens this memorial book.
Elazar Wilder from Łopatyn, now a member of Kibbutz Ramat David, played a significant role in the book's publication by collecting and writing much of the material. Despite living in the northern part of the country, he remained actively involved in bringing this project to completion. Our member Yaakov Ra'anan was instrumental in gathering pictures and important documentary materials that reflect the life of Radekhov and add a spirit of authenticity to the book. Finally, we must recognize Meir Fisch, who undertook the primary effort in this endeavor. He dedicated countless days and nights to ensure the book's completion. His unwavering dedication and strong convictions were particularly commendable during times of fatigue in our small camp. He remained steadfast, confident in his purpose, and as strong as a rock. The publication of this book is indeed a fitting reward for his tireless efforts.
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| From right to left: Zelig Orenstein. Elazar Wilder, Meir Fisch, Yaakov Ra'anan and Yaakov Kremnitzer |
by Prof. Dov Sadan
Translated by Moshe Kutten
Edited by Barbara Beaton
The collection presented before us serves as a significant testament to the lives and memories of numerous Jewish communities on the northern edge of eastern Galicia. It provides a reliable account from the residents of these towns and villages–some of whom left their homes before the catastrophe struck, while others remained and survived the calamity by sheer miracle. In these communities where most Jews were cruelly murdered, these are the voices of the fortunate few survivors. From the authors' writings, we gain insight into the way of life and the character of these communities during the last two to three generations leading up to the Second World War, especially during the horrific destruction and the aftermath that followed. Most of the writings reflect the authors' memories, with many based on their own observations, some on what they heard, and very little drawn from what they read.
There are both disadvantages and advantages to writing from personal experience. On the downside, writing often reflects only the author's perspective. Even if a historical context is required, it spans just one or two past generations. On the upside, it offers the reliability of the author's memory and firsthand accounts. This personal narrative can compensate for the absence of a historian who typically sifts through old pages and distant memories. Instead, we have chroniclers sharing their experiences from a more recent past. The editors of this book made a genuine effort to inspire reflection in the minds of the participants to provide true testimonies about the life and death of these communities. They also preserved precious chapters in the history of these communities, preventing the residents from being victims of obliteration and oblivion. Furthermore, the editors and their assistants enhanced the compilations of the memorial articles in several ways. They added written portraits of notable people, and they added photographs of individuals, families, and organizations associated with these places. The multigenerational pictures of the elderly, children, and grandchildren from the book of Hermann Struck and Arnold Zweig, “Das ostjüdische Antlitz” [“The Face of Eastern European Jewry”] are particularly captivating. This practice is common in many other memorial books, reflecting the sentiment [of the Rambam's] famous saying, “Kol hamarbeh harei zeh meshubach” [“The more, the merrier”]. As I have mentioned elsewhere, long before literature began to celebrate the beauty of these faces, we appreciated the art of painting. This appreciation spans from the works of Moshe David [Maurycy] Gottlieb to those of Ephraim Moses Lilien and Wilhelm Wachtel.
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The question arises: Why are all these communities included in this book? The simple answer lies in their geographic proximity. However, it is worth noting that the communities on the outskirts could potentially have been grouped with other areas to the west or east. It is also possible that the administrative authority played a role in this classification. Turning our attention to Rabbi Reb Shimon Efrati's article, he mentions that the communities in the county [powiat][1] of Radekhov, include the following six towns: Cholyov [Cholojów, or Uzlovoye, today Vuzlove], Toporov [Toporów. today Toporiv], Stoyanov [Stojanów, today Stoyaniv], Vitkov [Witków Nowy, today Novyi Vytkiv], Shtervitz [Szczurowice, today Shchurovychi], and Stremiltsh [Strzemilcze, today Stremil'che]. Rabbi Efrati further notes that Radekhov [Radziechów, today Radekhiv] served as the administrative center for these towns and their surrounding communities; it was the place where the local rabbis convened. In their gatherings there, the community rabbis discussed matters related to decrees issued by the provincial governor and his associates. Rabbi Efrati, however, notes that they convened in Cholyov to address Jewish issues, as it was the hometown of the author's grandfather, the esteemed and righteous Rabbi Reb Reuven David Efrati. Like his son who became well-known, Rabbi Reuven David Efrati was recognized as a “worker of salvation” [or miracle maker]. People suffering from illness and pain flocked from near and far to seek his help.
In his effort to complete the deficiencies of Reb Simson HaLevi Bloch's book, “Shevilei Olam”[2] [“Paths of the World”], Reb Avraham Menachem Mendel Mohr reflected on the distinction between these two types of affairs: general and Jewish. The main focus of Mohr's work (published in 1855 or 1856)[3], dealt with [the geography of] Europe, specifically addressing sections that Bloch left incomplete (The latter only included a brief entry on Portugal). Mohr's work includes a comprehensive entry on Austria, a state of particular significance for him, as well as a strong emphasis on Galicia, a region close to his heart. In his summaries, Mohr concisely covers each province and its localities–including cities, towns, and often villages. For each area, he provides details about its population, notable resources, the local economy, and a brief history. In some cases, especially for more important localities, Mohr offers a more detailed description and includes general information drawn from other reference books. However, since he firmly obliged himself and his readers to present the Jewish perspective, he incorporated this information into his book. He particularly expanded on the revered city of Lvov [Lviv], as it served as the capital of Galicia and because it was his native city, the place where he grew up and built his reputation. (His biographic details are elaborated on extensively in the book perhaps more than necessary.) He also included Jewish influences in entries of other cities, mainly highlighting notable Jewish figures from the world of the Torah, various fields of science, and beyond. Staying true to his Enlightenment orientation, he mentions key Enlightenment figures [maskilim] and some of the less notable ones. However, he overlooks the greatest Chassidim, even though they were considered greats in Torah knowledge and respected as important rabbis. I commented on Mohr's overall strategy only to highlight his review of our communities, which were mentioned in the book as part of his report on the Zlotshev [Zloczów, Zolochiv] area. His review is as follows:
The text discusses several towns with notable features. One town (Cholyov) is noted for having a palace, though the construction date is not mentioned. Cholyov is also highlighted for its fruit orchard, likely a reference to a beautiful garden established by the town's owners, the counts of the Badeni family, one of whom [Kasimir Felix Badeni] later became Austria's prime minister. Another town (Toporov) is mentioned for its remnants of earthen fortifications, suggesting it may have been the site of a fort or battles. The entry for Stoyanov focuses on its economic foundation. The attractiveness of Lopatyn is noted, and although its founding date is not mentioned, we can only stipulate that its palace was built in the 13th century, probably during wars with Tatars. Population figures are provided for all the district's towns except Lopatyn. According to these figures, Cholyov was the largest town but never became its capital. The population figures above included non-Jews. Over time, the percentage of the Jewish population changed with Jews becoming the majority despite some leaving the city. This is evidenced by the fact that the names of cities were used as nicknames, which later evolved into surnames. Notable individuals named after these towns include:
Let us return to Reb Avraham Menachem Mendel Mohr and examine how he approached Jewish aspects of his work. Of note, he did not find any names of individuals from the communities mentioned above worthy of mentioning. In Mohr's view and according to his criteria, he found no one he considered a deserving candidate. Regarding the rabbi of the largest of the six communities in his day [Rabbi Reuven David Efrati of Cholyov], he was well-known in the surrounding areas and as previously mentioned, he was considered a “miracle maker.”
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However, the most prominent among the enlightened figures in his city, Yehuda Leib Meizish, who opposed the belief in miracles, referred to the rabbi from Cholyov as a quack. The county where they lived, located between Brody to the east and Żółkiew [Zhovkva] to the west, both considered centers for Haskalah [Jewish Enlightenment], was considered a stronghold of Chassidism. For the Jews who lived in Radekhov County, Belz, the center for Rabbi Shalom Rokeach and his dynasty, and Olesk, the center for Rabbi Shalom's father-in-law, Rabbi Chanoch Henich [HaKohen], the author of “Lev Sameach” [“Happy Heart”] and his dynasty were regarded as the most important neighbors. Notably, Radekhov maintained its Chassidic character for an extended period. Consequently, the Enlightenment movement was slow to take root, arriving only in small pockets. When it eventually did take root, it took on a different character due to the influence of the national movement, transforming the Enlightenment into a more romantic movement. It was not that there was no conflict between Chassidic fathers and Zionist youths here. Asher Barash shared a story from his youth about himself and his friend Hanoch Yalon. A young student, Nathan Michal Gelber, arrived from Brody and inspired them to strengthen their Zionist views. They took Stars of David, attached them to their clothing, and proudly walked past the Belz Chassidic Rabbi Chaim Leibish Hemerling. He called to them, pointed at their Stars of David, and told them: “You'd better leave your Jewish faith so we can rid ourselves of you.” Despite that, the boys understood how the rabbi felt. The rabbi was known for his wisdom and spoke to them without anger. He often addressed new movements in the Jewish community, beginning in the days of Yaakov Frank and his group, by calmly talking about them. Therefore, the boys did not respond to the Rabbi; they only smiled at him, and he returned a smile. Asher Barash discussed the Rabbi's wisdom in an article where he also explained the Talmudic verse: “Koach Dehitra Adif” [“More power is required for allowing, and that is preferred to the opposite. No power is required for prohibiting”].[7] The seemingly insignificant story Asher Barash shared with Israel Zamora, which was later published in “Ketuvim,” is quite typical [of the late development of the Enlightenment movement in the area]. When Asher Barash and his young friends learned about the Reb Moshe Mendelson affair, they decided to commemorate him on his Yahrzeit, the anniversary of his death. They gathered at the synagogue to perform a “Tikkun”[8] for his soul [Atonement for the soul of the deceased], which is similar to holding a Hilula–a public celebration in memory of a saintly rabbi. In doing so, they did not perceive any contradiction in their actions. It seems that the delayed arrival of the Enlightenment can explain this very possibility, a point I discussed with Asher Barash. He supported my viewpoint by sharing that a member of our family, (I was related to the Barash family though my wife's mother) Yehuda, also known as Yulius Barash, who lived in Brody, joined the Enlightenment movement. Asher and his brother, descendants of a third-generation Chassidic family, also embraced this movement. Furthermore, his brother, who also settled in Brody, promoted the traditional Enlightenment approach that significantly altered his lifestyle. I knew Asher's brother, Baruch, from childhood, as we always crossed paths on my daily walk to school. I, the child, walked from my village to the school in the city, while he, being older, used to walk from the city to my village to work as an accountant at Reb Nachman's (the father of Nathan Michal) sawmill. Later on, I would see him at the community center. He was a Maskil, well-versed in Hebrew and German literature,
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particularly the works of the Jewish Enlightenment. He, too, spoke about his brother, Asher Barash, who was living in Tel Aviv. By his account, based on the letters he exchanged with Asher, I remembered that Asher Barash planned to translate the book Robinson Crusoe. I asked Baruch if we could find the written manuscript of that translation, which had been brought over by the author Yitzchak Arter. As it turned out, the manuscript was kept at the Hebrew school in town and was ultimately destroyed. I also recall that Asher Barash wrote about his intention to travel to Italy but he never realized his aspiration, as he never left Israel. Baruch Barash had a gifted daughter who headed an association for Hebrew girls. Tragically, she perished during the Second World War while still young.
Let us now return to the issue of the Radekhov area and its Chassidism, which served as a continuous guiding principle. The question at hand is whether we can rely on Mordechai David Brandstädter's thesis that when a rail line was built in a certain town, the Chassidic Tzadik and his court left town. While that assumption may not hold true for later periods when Chassidic Tzadikim established themselves in large cities, it could still be valid for early generations when Chassidic dynasties settled in remote towns far from main transportation routes, roads and railroads alike. Indeed, our district did not have its own rail line. The nearest line led from Brody to Lvov (established in 1869) but did not pass through any Jewish towns along the way. This design was intentional so as not to enrich the economies in these towns, unlike the line from Lvov to Belz (established in 1877). This pattern was also true for main roads in the early periods before the railroad, as they bypassed the district. Consequently, the primary means of transportation connecting towns and villages was the horse-drawn wagon, which moved slowly and calmly as if reflecting the saying that “moderation breeds moderation.” In that district, the upper echelon, the estate owners, adhered to the same calmness principle, behaving like true nobility, coexisting without conflicts, demonstrating remarkable tolerance for one another. Fathers respected their sons, and their sons reciprocated that respect. Several families that were described to us exemplified this harmonious dynamic, including the Ecker family. Asher Barash described the father, Reb Leibish, and his son under the name Hecker. Reb Leibish was a follower of the Ruzhin Chassidim and traveled to see the dynasty founder's grandson, Rabbi Chaim David Manzon, affectionally known as Rabbi Dudileh. He improved his standing with the rabbi by helping him relocate his court from Sondova-Vishnia [Sudova Vyshnya] to Radekhov and, later, from Radekhov to Brody. He assisted the rabbi in purchasing a desirable plot on Hospital Street (later, the street was named after its founder, Reb Yehuda Nathanson) and several houses in the center of town. The patriarch of the Hecker family would travel to visit Rabbi Dudileh in our town, where his sons studied at our high school. One son became a pharmacist, initially residing in Lvov before moving to Tel Aviv. He took pride in his daughter, the Polish-Jewish poet Anda Ecker, and was deeply saddened by her tragic suicide. The other son, Yehoshua Ecker, studied agronomy. He and his wife, Lina (née Anderman), were members of the “Chalutzi Zion” [“ Pioneers of Zion”], established in our town by Yosef Aharonovitz, and made aliyah in the days of the Second Aliyah.
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In Israel, they were regarded as some of the best agriculturalists in the country. The long-lasting influence of Chassidism significantly delayed the spread of the Haskalah [Jewish Enlightenment]. Additionally, the gentle nature of the nobility–specifically the estate owners and their leasees, nurtured tenderness in relationships between fathers and sons. Both trends helped facilitate a gradual and delicate transition from traditional to modern ways of life. A generation that encountered the Haskalah early, which led to Jewish people assimilating to the outside world, is not the same as a generation where the Haskalah was delayed. This latter group was more inclined to focus inward on developing national aspirations instead. To illustrate this difference, I will provide two examples from our district.
The first example discusses the estate owner, Reb Shevach Wacks, who is mentioned several times in the book. He employed only pious and God-fearing individuals, particularly Belz Chassidim like himself. The estate owner before him, Reb Yitzchak (Itzik) Sapir (the emphasis on the second syllable), also resided in Shtervitz and owned quite a few estates. He was the father of my stepmother's mother and an enthusiastic Belz Chassid. Reb Yitzchak had seven daughters, whom he married off to prominent scholars and esteemed individuals. One daughter married a descendant of the author [Aryeh Leib ben Moses Zuenz] of “Ya'alat Chen” and “Tur Even,” while another was married to Rabbi Yoel Ashkenazi, the Rabbi of Zlotshev [Zolochiv], among others. Reb Yitzchak himself, throughout his entire life, honorably supported all of his sons-in-law, who were all dedicated learners, well-versed in both secular and religious knowledge; and he did so without sending them to state schools. He took the responsibility upon himself of releasing the sons of the God-fearing, the Chassidim in particular, from the obligation of attending state schools. He received help from several counts who were in charge of the local authorities. This arrangement was a “fraus legis”[9] custom, common in our district until the fall of the Austrian Empire and even thereafter. Reb Yitzchak Sapir was required to offer something in exchange to Counts Badeni and Rusotski. The favor they requested was a picture of him. He traveled to see his rabbi, Rabbi Yehoshua Rokeach, who agreed to allow that request. Consequently, he provided the counts with his picture. That picture was preserved and later passed down as an inheritance to his great-grandson, my brother, who bears his name.
Another example is the Wittlin family, whose members were scattered throughout the district. Some were wealthy, others owned medium-sized houses, and the most prominent among them were estate owners. In this book, we will learn about Bernard Wittlin, the owner of the Ovin Nuvina Estate, and his brother Yosef (Yosi) Wittlin, the owner of the Vigoda Estate. We will also read about their father, Reb Shmuel Wittlin, who was pious and a traditionalist. However, some of his descendants married non-Jews. The Enlightenment penetrated the Wittlin family early on. Józef Wittlin was a follower of the Enlightenment movement and part of a pioneering group of Yiddish writers which included Yosef Perl and SHI”R [Rabbi Shlomo Yehuda Rappoport]. He was the author of the story “Alter Leb” [“Old Life”] and the translator of Robinson Crusoe. The five Wittlin brothers,
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natives of our district, all attended the German high school in Brody, according to Józef Wittlin who was born in Dmytrov in our district. The latter was a well-known Polish novelist, famous for the poems “Anthems” and his book “Salt of the Earth” (both of which were translated into Hebrew by Benjamin Tene). He also translated works by Homer [Iliad and Odyssey?]. Ultimately, he chose to call himself František Jozef (after the emperor) and converted to Christianity, a faith that intrigued him since he was in the early stages of his literary career.
The two examples of households of estate owners illustrate contrasting realities: one where the older generation is attempting to reject the new and another where the younger generation is eager to dismiss the old. However, the typical situation was more nuanced, with a pragmatic atmosphere in these homes. Readers of this book will find this balance reflected in descriptions of the homes of individuals such as Ecker, Rappaport, Gasthalter, and others, whose descendants now live in Israel. If this observation holds true for the households of the estate owners that represent a small percentage of the population, it certainly applies to middle-class families, which constitute a significant portion of society.
Furthermore, when we examine family photographs in our Yizkor book–similar to those found in most other Yizkor books–we notice a lack of uniformity in head coverings. Typically, elderly individuals are depicted wearing head coverings while younger people are not. Support for this observation can also be found in the famous picture from the Katowice Conference[10]. The conference included Jews from both sides–the traditional and the modern –a new interpretation of unity and “Ahavat Israel” [“Love of Israel”– one of the 313 commandments]. The First Zionist Congress, which took place 13 years later, built upon the achievement of this gathering.
When discussing the commandment of “Love of Israel,” it is important to remember certain aspects that nostalgia might cause us to forget or diminish; one significant point is the spirit of rivalry and conflict that stirred up many Jewish communities. We are not referring to the past dispute between Chassidim and Mitnagdim [those who opposed Chassidism] but rather to more recent tensions between different Chassidic groups. Our district was greatly affected by these conflicts. Our book contains many hints and commentaries about these disputes. The quarrels between Sadigura and Belz Chassidim are well known. This quarrel escalated into a significant conflict that resulted in ostracism, boycotts, and even death. Still, it did not affect our district, as these Chassidim did not reside there. Instead, we focus on a later conflict between the Chassidim of the Belz dynasty and its branches and those of the Rozhin dynasty and its branches. The dispute in our district revolved around two rabbis in Lopatyn. One was Rabbi Chaim Leibish Hemerling, the rabbi of the Belz Chassidim, and the other was Rabbi Mendel Laszczower, the rabbi of the Rozhin Chassidim. Asher Barash informed me that, for a brief period, there were actually four rabbis in this small community. The rabbis argued and took actions against each other, such as barring their rival's slaughtering and other similar actions. The quarreling Chassidim had yet to realize that their conflicts and fights inadvertently emphasized the new spirit of unification and brotherhood brought about by Zionism, particularly Practical Zionism, which is described in detail in our book.
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We focused on Practical Zionism, which is rooted in the revival of two ancient principles: our homeland's restoration and our language's revival. This ideology emerged as an alternative to Chassidism, which aimed at self-fulfillment. However, we should not dismiss the value of other movements. This is an opportunity to address one oversight–the memory of Yaakov Pfeffer, a native of Radekhov who immigrated to the United States. In the U.S., he became an author, editor, and activist. He is mentioned in both the old Yiddish literature Lexicon (1927) and the new Lexicon (1968). It is fitting to preserve the old entry written by Zalman Reizin rather than the new shortened version by Yaakov Cohen, as the latter is derived from the former. These entries highlight the milestones in his life: He was born in 1874 and grew up in a wealthy family. He engaged in both secular and religious studies and enthusiastically embraced Chassidism, even visiting the Rabbi in Belz. At the age of 16, he made his way to the Yeshiva at Máramaros Sziget, [Sighet Marmației]. [Eventually, he became enlightened and settled in Lvov before emigrating to the United States in 1895.] Once in the U.S., he struggled to make a living and joined the socialists. He began writing in 1901 and played a pivotal role in establishing the “Forverts” [“The Forward”] newspaper. He contributed to various other Yiddish newspapers and served as an editor for “der Amerikaner” and later, in 1904, for the daily newspaper “der Yiddisher Amerikaner.” He also established his own weekly publication, the “Pfeffer's Vochenblatt,” and owned a marketing office until he passed away in 1922. An important detail that was omitted in the latest entry is that this weekly magazine, which bears his name, served as a means of expression for the association he founded: “Farband fun di Galitzianer und Bukaviner Yiden” [“Association of the Galician and Bukovinian Jews”]. That was the first organized landsmanshaft in America, which later became a model for a larger and more inclusive organization, the Jewish Congress in the U.S. It is also worth noting that Yaakov Pfeffer visited Galicia (see the article by Tzvi Bikels-Shpitzer, Falksfreind, Sanok, the 22nd of Elul, 5,671 [September 15, 1911]).
Finally, I would like to comment on an interesting experiment featured in this book, which is a reflection of the district in literature. This experiment focused on a single story by Asher Barash, titled “A Jew Is Delivered from Trouble,” which has been reprinted in this book with an introduction by Ben-Tzion Friedman. The story is based on events that took place in 1898, allowing for an exploration of the differences between the real incidents and their literary portrayal. It seems that our book could have benefited from additional works, especially since the district was home to three prominent storytellers whose narratives drew from the local landscapes and people. The youngest of these storytellers, born in 1896, was Józef Wittlin. We have already examined his body of work. Wittlin's wrote in Polish, and he was known for his story, “The Salt of the Earth,” which revolves around a character dear to his heart–a Gentile from a group of people in the mountain regions of Galicia whose people suffered from infertility due to syphilis. Despite this focus, he also includes descriptions of Jewish individuals from the district, whose images were indelibly etched in his memory from childhood. These depictions often attain
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the level of symbols and mythos. Another storyteller, Joseph Roth, who wrote in German, was a couple of years older than Wittlin (born in 1894) and later became his dear friend. He had a peculiar habit of altering details in his biography, often replacing them with ever-changing fiction. He frequently denied that he was born in Brody, instead claiming he was born in other locations, some beyond the [Galician] border [with Russia] (e.g., Radzivilov [Radyvyliv], and others within Galicia such as the villages of Shvaby (Shvabendorf) or Berlyn, which are closer to our district along the plains of the Bug River and its tributaries. Although he did not receive a traditional Jewish education, he excelled in describing landscapes and their Jewish populations. Despite not converting to Christianity, he expressed admiration for the coupling between the Habsburg monarchy and Catholicism. The third author, Asher Barash, who was born in 1889, surpassed both of his contemporaries. Unlike the others, he received a traditional education, which enabled him to write about the area with greater authority, using the language he used at home and school. He wrote primarily in Hebrew, incorporating some Yiddish. Barash contributed significantly to the recorded history and memorialization of Jewish life in the district through his stories, particularly in “Pictures from a Brewery” and “In the Villages.” The stories feature vivid descriptions of his birthplace, the town of Lopatyn, and its surroundings.
Barash had envisioned writing a comprehensive novel that would encompass three key centers: Brody, known as the center of the Enlightenment, with Reb Nachman Krochmal as its central figure, Lvov, recognized as the center of learning, with Reb Yaakov Orenstein as its prominent figure, and Belz, known as the center of Chassidism, led by Rabbi Shalom Rokeach. Rather than focusing solely on these notable figures, Barash aimed to highlight the daily lives and experiences of ordinary Jewish residents in the district where he was born and raised. Unfortunately, he did not live to bring this idea to fruition.
Nevertheless, the description of the district and its landscapes, as depicted in the stories of these storytellers, is a subject that warrants exploration and research.
Jerusalem, 5 Adar, 5,738 [14 March 1978]
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