[Page 183]

Speaking of the beginnings, the history, of one family, from its known antiquity in Telshe these many generations – the Ravad (Raivid) family, a large and multi–branched family: About thirty years ago a woman from America came to see us in Israel, introducing herself as being from a family related to the Ravads. She brought with her an interesting story, in writing, which sounded mythical. It had been recorded in Yiddish by Rabbi Jacob–Joseph Simonoff, who was unknown to us. The story was about the family of the late Velvl Ravad of Telshe. Velvl Ravad had heard it from his mother and his grandfather, Abraham, who related it accurately and in minutest detail, identifying which names he could not remember. The story revolved around a strange and curious event which happened over two hundred years ago, but it is worthwhile affirming that those recounting it were very serious and trustworthy people, thus leaving no doubt as to the authenticity of the story. Now that the book about Telshe is about to be brought out, a proper invitation has been extended to publish the account in abridged form, and to add the color of a very interesting occurrence within the city of Telshe.

Yisrael–Yaakov Ravad of blessed memory

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how such an idea came to him and what basis he had for this belief did he reveal that when he returned from the funeral he went into an abandoned house to take care of his needs and there he heard a voice from Heaven announcing, “Today you went to your brother's funeral; tomorrow they will hold yours.”

And indeed so it came to pass. The next day at exactly the same time he departed this world. It is unnecessary to describe how great was the grief and how deep the pain of the family's tragedy and the impression it made on the whole city of Telshe.

But “time heals all wounds”, and is it not decreed that the dead be forgotten? The widow was young, beautiful, of very good family, wealthy, settled in her own fine house. Now it just happened that in the neighboring city of Skuodas the rabbi's wife had died. The rabbi, a young scholar now a widower without children, was a man of perfect virtue. The parties came to an agreement, since in all respects the match was a most suitable one, and when they were introduced to each other they liked each other. The marriage stipulations were drawn up and a date was set for the wedding.

The wedding day was approaching and the preparations were proceeding when suddenly the bride fell ill. Day by day the illness grew worse. Specialists were called in, but they could not cure her. She stopped eating and taking her medications, and she even stopped speaking. The physicians concluded that the end was near, so that it was almost time to light candles; they were only waiting for the passing of her soul. Then suddenly she half awoke and in a whisper which could hardly be heard she asked for some water. With great effort she asked that a messenger be immediately sent to Skuodas to ask the rabbi's forgiveness and his agreement to cancel the marriage stipulations, as the marriage was not possible. Naturally what she requested was granted immediately. Because of her great weakness he did not even dare to burden her with questions. From that moment on her condition began to improve. She felt better and in a short time she had recovered completely and regained her strength. She then revealed that her late husband had appeared before her, while she was awake and not in a dream, as if alive, and asked her clearly about her illness and her preparations for her wedding. She grasped the significance of the question and answered, “Is it a sin for me to get married when I am young and have no male heir to say kaddish for me when I am gone?” He then asked her, “Have you forgotten the solemn promise you made to me not to remarry?” She answered that she had not remembered it, since she had not taken it seriously, as she thought that he would surely recover and not die, and it was only out of a desire to calm him that she made the promise. With weeping and entreaties she asked him to forgive her, but he would not be moved. He could not forgive her and in any event she could not get married. Only when she made the decision not to marry would she get better, and her daughter Sheynele would bring her much pleasure and many descendants, a large, extensive family which would attain long life and health. Her grandsons would provide her with a legacy of great honor. Out of faithfulness to the promise she had sworn with her total will she agreed to cancel the wedding and not remarry. And so it was: Sheynele grew up, married, and raised five learned and erudite sons, respected, wealthy, and long–lived; for generations in every branch of the family no one died young.

The conclusion of the story is that his mother was Sheyne–Leye, named after the Sheynele mentioned in the story.

And so in later generations the Ravad family constituted an extensive multi–branched family. The grandfather of my late father and master, who was Dov Ber ben Yaakov, father–in–law of the rabbi of Kelm, had six sons, Velvl Ravad of Telshe; my sainted grandfather Zusman Klein in Skuodas; Abraham Rabinovitz; Moshe; Leib; and Chaim Ravad in Telshe. The others were scattered in various towns, and some changed their name because of conscription into the Russian army. Similarly the “Raivid” families were scattered to many countries, as was the fate of a large part of the Jews native to Lithuania at the time. We know that they migrated within Russia, to Africa, and to America. My father and master, the late Rabbi Yerahmiel ben Zusman, diligent all his life in the study of Torah, a detail of his life^[1], after his marriage taught for several years in a Kollel of the yeshivas of the time in the city of Slonim, and had the unique privilege of spending his Sabbaths at the table of the eminent sage of Israel, Izil Harif, known as Izil Slonimer, and thus to serve as Torah reader in his congregation. He died on the eve of Shavuoth 5692 [1932] and was laid to rest in the cemetery in Telshe.

Translator's footnote

1. Apparently a note from the author to himself to include some more detail from his life. The detail was not provided, but the editor never removed the note. Return

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The men met their deaths at the beginning of the Second World War.^[2] The women were told that they [the men] had been sent to Germany for work; but the “birds of the heavens” brought the terrible news to the survivors that they would never again see their loved ones. All that were left were families mourning [their men] – fathers, sons, and brothers. Shoah!^[3]

The ghetto of Telshe was in the worst part of the city. Most of the people lived in rickety, dilapidated houses, without windows, in sheep pens and in stables, amid the mustiness, cold, and filth.^[4]

The holiday of Rosh Hashanah^[5] arrived. The survivors [of those who had been murdered] – mostly women – gathered for holiday prayers at the old synagogue, which is located in that part of the city. There were almost no prayer books, and almost no one who could serve as cantor or prayer leader. Everyone waited… and then, suddenly, a tranquil voice was heard: “Barchu es Adonai hamevo'rach…” and the congregants responded: “Baruch Adonai hamevo'rach le'olam va'ed”…^[6] Before the ark stood a teenaged girl who recited the prayers from memory, passage after passage, liturgical poem after liturgical poem, in a trope that accorded with that holiday, just like a real chazzan^[7] and the crowd joined in and followed her lead. The young girl even blew the shofar;^[8] she gripped it according to the proper fashion for holding the shofar and blew the various types of shofar blast: “tekiyah”… “sh'varim”…”teru'ah”…as would a master shofar blower who sounds the shofar truly and accurately. She also read the parashat hashavu'a^[9] brilliantly.^[10]

Who was this girl?

They called her Tova-Golda Amlan, and she was born in the town of Kvėdarna.^[11] After most of the Jews of that small town were liquidated, the Lithuanians moved the young ones into ghettos within the [various] cities of the district, and that's how Tova-Golda found herself, after much wandering and great suffering, in the Geruliai Woods,^[12] not far from Telshe. One night the murderers took all of the women from the stable into which they had placed them all several days earlier, and stood them all in the middle of the courtyard and began to sort them out–the selection [process]: older women with children on one side; younger women on the other side. They grouped the young women in rows of four and marched them off. To where? No one knew whether it was to be to live or to die. …and among the younger ones was Tova-Golda. Eyewitness survivors of the Shoah tell that she marched with a Torah scroll in her hands. They marched the [young women] over the freshly dug graves of Jews who had been murdered the previous day. That's how they arrived at the Telshe Ghetto. The entire day they brought groups of Jews to the ghetto from the smaller townships, one Shoah survivor, Bat-Sheva Schwartz recounts.

One day, the ghetto's barn-like door was opened and they pushed in a group of Jews from the township of Kvėdarna – people who were starved, exhausted, and tortured. Tova-Golda appeared to encourage the miserable souls. In her face shone [the light of] a corona, and the words that came forth from the depths of [her] heart succeeded in calming them. She found an encouraging word to each one of them. She comforted and soothed. In no time a group formed among the miserable souls. She stood before them and began to recite passages from the psalms in her calm, tranquil voice and with wonderful melodies. All were drawn to her and together with her they recited Psalms. She did this several times a day. Tova-Golda occupied herself all day with helping her neighbor. She knew how to move people, to soothe them, with a folksy and simple language. Even in situations like this,

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where the prominent inhabitants of the ghetto didn't always succeed, she found the right words–words to encourage and to comfort. The miserable ones eagerly drank up the words that came out of her mouth.

In her little town of Kvėdarna Tova-Golda was known as [someone who was] good-hearted and cared for others. She took an active part in all of the voluntary organizations then in existence: “Linas-HaTzedek,”^[13] “Bikur-Cholim,”^[14] and such. When the wife of a Polish man passed away and the elderly man was left on his own, Tova-Golda helped him by taking care of his shopping and preparing his meals for Sabbath evenings and holidays. The old man wanted to recompense her for her kind-heartedness, but she would not agree. When she saw that the old man was sad that she had not agreed to receive a salary for her work, she decided to let him feel like he was helping her, too: This old man had been a chazzan in his youth and Tova-Golda asked him if he would teach her the cantillation notes for prayers for the holidays. The old man eagerly agreed and the two of them were happy [with the arrangement]. During the Sabbaths and the holidays it was possible to hear wonderful melodies [emanating] from that house–both the old chazzan and the young girl would sing. From then on, Tova-Golda's expertise [continued to grow] in prayers and cantorial pieces. She had a calm voice, a good voice. During times of sadness and fear she would sing some of her beautiful songs to the women of the ghetto. She knew how to imitate the sounds of every musical instrument–among them, the piano and the violin. She would touch her fingers to her teeth as if she were playing the keys of a piano, and when she would touch her nose she would bring forth the sound of a violin.

Bat-Sheva [Schwartz] recounted: “Tova-Golda was like an angel to everyone. Twenty-four hours a day she was busy helping others. Several women gave birth in terrible conditions in the ghetto. The infants didn't last but a few days. It was Tova-Golda who managed, quietly and gently, to take the tiny bodies away from the poor mothers and to prepare them for burial.”

In the month of Elul^[15] she would agree to arise with Bat-Sheva and her sister Shoshana and they would go together to wake up the women for “Slichot.”^[16] She organized in the old synagogue Chevrut Tehillim^[17] and minyans.^[18] Wherever one only needed to help, she would be the first one. She did everything with her whole heart and that's why they respected and loved her.

A diphtheria outbreak occurred in the ghetto. Between the lack of medical treatment and the sub-human [living] conditions many children died and the disease spread rapidly. The Lithuanian civic leaders were also gripped with fear that the disease would also spread beyond the ghetto into the [surrounding] city itself, and they thus decided to hospitalize the children in the municipal hospital. [During their hospital stay] there was no communication whatsoever between the children and the[ir] parents. No one knew if the children were dead or alive. Some weeks passed. One day, the gates of the ghetto were opened, and a truck drove inside, dropping off a number of miserable looking creatures and then promptly drove off. These were the five Jewish girls among sick children in the municipal hospital who remained alive once the plague had passed. The children were gaunt, pale, and their heads were shaved. They didn't even have the strength to stand on their own two feet. They lay on the sidewalk like stray cats, strewn over one another, crying and howling: “Mother, Mother….” Not a soul recognized them. Over the period in which they had been in the ghetto their mothers had been murdered by one or another of the “actions:”^[19] The death machine was constantly working, never ceasing for a minute. Before it was decided what to do with these girls Tova-Golda came to them and soothed them and promised them that, from that day forward, she would be their “mother.” She gathered them all up, and from that moment she devoted her life to [taking care of] them, collecting food from the better off families in the ghetto, mending their clothes, and bathing and feeding them. Every day she was occupied with them. The girls called her “mother” and went with her wherever she went. They always held on to her dress, because they were afraid that she might run away or leave them on their own. A few days passed and the orphans began to fatten up a little bit and again resemble human beings.

Even more miserable days arrived: The danger that the ghetto would be liquidated was ever-present [and fear] was in the air. Each person looked for an opportunity to escape, to hide in the forests, in the villages–maybe they would even manage to find some safe place until the fury passed. Her friends in the ghetto–Bat-Sheva Schwartz, her sister, Shoshana Frivelsky, and Merka Shlomovitz, z”l^[20] – they suggested to her that they should all escape together. She did not agree. Bat-Sheva can still see the last, frightful scene: Tova-Golda standing in the street, surrounded by the orphans. To their pleas that she escape together with them, she replied decisively and with strength of spirit: “I shall not flee! Who would care for the orphans? I will go together with them! HaShem^[21] shall avenge their blood!”

The liquidation of the ghetto. The last women were led like sheep to the slaughter. Among those women marching on their final journey was a young woman and a cluster of small girls gathered around her – a mother and [her] orphans…

Editorial Note for the English Translation:

According to the author, Chasiah Gring-Goldberg, Tova-Golda Amlan was a native of Kvėdarna. Malke Gilis, a survivor of the Telshe ghetto, testified (at Koniuchowsky, p. 32) that the girl with the beautiful voice who led the prayers was twenty years of age, which means that she would have been born in 1920 or 1921.

Records in the Lithuanian archives show that a Tauba Golda Amelan (in Lithuanian, Amelanas) and her husband Borukh Josel lived in Telshe in the second half of the 19^th Century. They had married in 1872 in Telshe and one of their children, Moshe Hirsh Amelan, was born in Telshe in 1885.^[22]

Moshe Hirsh Amelan and his wife Chase Mere (née Levit) lived in Kvėdarna in the 1920s. Birth records show that they had two sons while they were living in Kvėdarna. The first, who was named Judel David, died in February 1925. Another son, Rafael Ruvin, was born in 1926.

There is no birth record for Tova-Golda Amelan. The absence of a birth record for a girl from Kvėdarna who would have been born around 1920 or 1921 may be explained by the fact that in the Spring of 1915 the Russian military summarily deported the Jews who were living in Central Lithuania to the interior of Russia. The exiled Jews suffered not only the hardships of being uprooted and but also pogroms instigated by the monarchist “White” forces in the Russian Civil War. The Jews who survived were not able to return to Lithuania until after the new Republic of Lithuania and Soviet Russia signed a peace agreement in July 1920. It is entirely possible that Tova-Golda was born while her parents were in exile.

It is significant to note that Moshe Hirsh Amelan's mother, Tauba Amelan, died in Telshe in 1914. Since it is customary for Ashkenazi Jews to name children for deceased relatives, it is reasonable to assume that Tova-Golda, the heroine of the Telshe ghetto, was named for her grandmother, Tauba Golda.^[23]

Assuming that Tova-Golda was about 20 in the summer of 1941, she would have been the older sister of the brothers Judel David and Rafael Ruvin Amelan. She therefore would have had experience taking care of younger siblings – and with coping with the death of a younger brother. Borukh Josel Amelan continued to live in Telshe until his death in 1935. Assuming that he was Tova-Golda's grandfather, it may be assumed that she visited him periodically and knew people in Telshe's Jewish community before war came to Lithuania in June 1941.

According to the histories of Kvėdarna (see, e.g., “Kvedarna,” Encyclopedia of Jewish Communities in Lithuania (Pinkas Hakehillot Lita) (1996); Koniuchowsky, pp. 217-222), on June 29, 1941, all of the town's Jewish males aged 15 and older were arrested and were taken to Heydekrug, East Prussia (today, Šilutė, Lithuania). The Jewish women of Kvėdarna were herded into a makeshift “ghetto” consisting of the study house and adjacent buildings. As was the practice of the Lithuanian captors throughout country in the summer of 1941, Jewish women were often rented out as slave laborers to Lithuanian farmers. It is possible that Tova-Golda was taken to a farm for this purpose and managed to escape, eventually making her way to her parents' town of Telshe. The surviving women of Kvėdarna were murdered soon after the Jewish holiday of Succos (Tabernacles), which ended on October 12, 1941.

Translator's Footnotes:

1. This is an allusion to Janusz Korczak, a.k.a. Henryk Goldszmyt (1878/9-1942), the Polish-Jewish educator who ran an orphanage in the Warsaw ghetto during the Nazi occupation. He refused offers of sanctuary, instead remaining with the orphans under his care, even when they were deported in 1942 to Treblinka, where they all perished. Return
2. Although the Second World War is generally understood as having begun in September 1939, when Nazi Germany and the Soviet Union invaded Poland, active warfare did not come to Lithuania until June 1941, when Germany invaded Lithuania, which the Soviet Union had annexed in 1940. The author here is referring to the June 1941 Nazi invasion of the Soviet-controlled territory. Return
3. The Hebrew word for the Holocaust, literally, catastrophe. Return
4. As witness Malke Gilis described, “The ghetto was surrounded on three sides by a high wooden fence. On the fence were several rows of barbed wire. The fourth side of the ghetto was bounded by Lake Mastis. A gate had been built into the wooden fence, through which women were let out to go work. The ghetto consisted of small, low, old wooden houses, with neither windows nor doors. There were no stoves. These were ruins; the roofs were old and full of holes. In the middle of the ghetto was an old study house. There was constantly knee-deep mud in the ghetto street.” “In the Telzh Ghetto. Testimony of Malke [nee Rabinovitz] Gilis,” translated into English by Prof. Jonathan Boyarin, The Lithuanian Slaughter of Its Jews: The Testimonies from 121 Jewish survivors of the Holocaust in Lithuania, recorded by Leyb Koniuchowsky, in Displaced Persons' camps (1946-48) (First Edition 2020, ISBN 9780994619518)(“Konuichowsky), p. 30. Return
5. The Jewish New Year, which, like all Jewish observances, is observed according to the Jewish modified lunar calendar. The holiday usually falls in September (and occasionally in October). Outside of Israel, it is observed for two days. In 1941, the holiday began on the evening of Sunday, September 21 and ended on the evening of Tuesday, September 23. Return
6. “Bless the Lord, blessed be He…” “Blessed be the Lord, blessed be He for all eternity” These words are the opening call and response of the evening and morning prayers. Return
7. A chazzan, also known as a cantor, leads worshippers in prayer. Return
8. A shofar is an ancient musical horn typically made of a ram's horn that is used for Jewish religious purposes. Return
9. The Torah portion for the week. The entirety of the Five Books of Moses is recited over the course of a year, with one portion read each week, subject to certain modifications. Return
10. Witness Malke Gilis also testified about this remarkable occurrence. On the first day of Rosh Hashanah, “[a]ll of the women in the ghetto gathered in the synagogue to pray and pour out their sorrows and pain before the Jewish God in heaven. A young woman, aged twenty, led the prayers. She prayed well and beautifully, just like a cantor.” Koniuchowsky, p. 32. Continuing, Malke Gilis stated that on the second day of Rosh Hashanah, “[o]nce again the young girl stood at the lectern and prayed instead of a cantor, instead of a man. Her sweet voice and prayer to God to save them from death called forth rivers of tears from all the women present.” Koniuchowsky, p. 32. Return
11. Kvėdarna, known in Yiddish as Khveidan, is about 70 kilometers south of Telshe, https://www.jewishgen.org/Communities/Community.php?usbgn=-2616010. Return
12. After the men of the towns were murdered, the Lithuanians moved the surviving women and children to places of confinement. About 4,000 women and children from numerous towns in western Lithuania were taken to six abandoned army barracks in the Geruliai woods. Disease was widespread and a large number of children died. A few hundred women were “loaned” to local farmers. Return
13. Linas HaTzedek groups provided shelter and food for poor, infirm, or disabled people. Return
14. Bikur-Cholim groups would visit and care for the sick. Return
15. The 12^th month of the Hebrew calendar, traditionally a time of spiritual searching in preparation for the Jewish New Year and High Holidays. It generally falls in August or September on the Gregorian calendar. Return
16. Literally, “[Requests for] Forgiveness”, these are special penitential prayers recited during the month of Elul (see the previous footnote). Return
17. A group for the study of the Psalms. Return
18. A minyan is a group of at least ten adult males who have gathered for prayer. Such a group is necessary for a “public” reading of the Torah and certain parts of the prayer service. Return
19. The term “action” referred to the planned round up and removal of Jews for murder. Return
20. An acronym transliterating the Hebrew expression zichrono livracha, meaning “may his/her memory be for a blessing” or, “of blessed memory.” Return
21. The [Ineffable] Name, i.e., God. Return
22. His name sometimes appears in the archives as “Hirsh Moshe” Amelan. Return
23. Although Taube Golda and her husband Borukh Josel lived in Telshe until their deaths, her death record states that she “belong[ed]” to the Seda Jewish community. The birth record of their son “Hirsh Moshe” also indicates that the family was originally from Seda. Return

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The town of Telshe slept the sleep of the just. The parents of Rachel Singer (who were part of the larger Rain family), and her brothers and sisters [all] slept well; only Rachel couldn't fall asleep. A frightful silence filled the house. She recalled an event that had left a deep imprint in her memory. An event of voices, shouting out of shock and fear, piercing the air and disturbing the dawn silence. She wanted to discover the cause of the din, and then she heard a cry: “Fire! Fire!” …The hospital was engulfed in flames. All of the patients, except for one, were evacuated; a young woman who had had both her legs amputated had been forgotten inside…. The priest and all those who had come to view the blaze fell to their knees and prayed for an answer. Rachel was suddenly filled with tremendous fear when she spied her father amidst the crowd, running into the building, from which big clouds of black smoke and flames were already billowing. After several minutes she saw him emerge carrying over his shoulder the patient whom he had saved from certain death.

The Jewish community in Telshe didn't particularly suffer from persecution and abuse during that period. Rachel continued to recall other memories from her childhood, which stirred mixed feelings within her that she shared with her parents and her brothers and sisters when her uncle-the brother Mordechai (Max) – traveled to America. The longings [for him] were appeased when they received a letter from him in which he expressed his sorrow over the fact that all of those dear to him didn't have the opportunity to come to the “Goldene Medina,”[“the Golden Country”], as the emigrants referred to America. Rachel continued to bring up memories of the events in her childhood, and when they were over, she quickly returned to the existing reality that was all around her.

Her husband, Lipa (Lewis) was already in America. In order to cheer up her mother, she gave her a letter that had arrived there from Lewis. That same morning the factor of time suddenly took on new meaning for her. Rachel smiled: Lewis wrote that he felt good and was looking forward to her coming. He was sure that it would be possible [for him] to earn enough to support both of them… Indeed, from then on time would bring her to a fuller and more interesting life. After she finished reading the letter for the third time, she was reminded of the first conversation she had with him. “Tell me about your life before you came to Telshe,” Rachel had asked.

They were alone in the hallway, and she sat with her hands folded on her lap and looked straight into the eyes of the man that she was on the verge of marrying, to link her destiny with his, in just one week. Lipa was thin, of medium height and delicately built. She was pleased with him, and he put his hand on her shoulder and said: “When I was sixteen years old, I went to work at a factory where they used boars' bristles for brushes. The pay was two rubles per week. After a year of the monotonous work, I moved to the city of Tzevihil^[2] and got work at a plate factory. I continued at that job until the age of 20, when I was conscripted into the army. The food that was given to my brigade consisted of rye bread, sauerkraut, and meat that was unfit for human consumption. The commander treated me well because he didn't know how to write (and neither did any other soldiers under his command) and he chose to use me as his secretary. I also knew how to play the accordion and my playing delighted him during the long evenings. After my discharge from the army I told my friend that

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I was thinking of traveling to my uncle in America. “Before you go,” the friend said to me, “you must arrange a visit to Telshe. I know a good family and they have a pretty daughter named Rachel.”… Rachel blushed and lowered her head. Lipa smiled: “Yes, she is pretty – and even prettier when she blushes. Now that I have told you everything about myself, I notice that we have feelings in common and I know that we are meant for one another.”

Rachel and Lipa married a week later. His father and grandfather came to the wedding; his mother couldn't travel because of her precarious health. Lipa was sad because he wasn't able to share his joy with his mother. This sorrow never left him over the course of his long life. Rachel was also very sad and decided to visit Kaidenov^[3] to meet her mother-in-law before traveling to America.

Matters of daily life [in Telshe] didn't interest her in particular, and she wanted to have more experiences and to accumulate some life experience.

“Mother, will you allow me to travel to Kaidenov? I would like to meet my husband's family.”

“Certainly,” her mother replied, and I am happy that you want to meet and get to know your mother-in-law.”

Rachel energetically prepared for her journey. She purchased a new dress with pleats (“retonda”), which was then in style. Her parents accompanied Rachel to the train station. She sat calmly in the carriage, like one who was accustomed to such travel. She overcame her fear, a fear that existed a century ago (and one that is fully understandable), of a young woman traveling alone in a European country. When she sat down and waited with nervous excitement for the start of the journey, a young man in his twenties approached her and asked her if she objected to him sitting next to her. “Please,” said Rachel, and he then continued to ask her “Are you a Jewess?” “Yes” she replied. “That makes it easier for me,” he said, and went on: “I must be in Kaidenov today and I don't have money to buy a ticket. What can I do?” Rachel answered him by saying that the conductor would be coming in soon and that after the conductor collected the passengers' tickets he wouldn't return again. “Quick! Lie down on the floor under the bench, and I will hide you with my long dress!” she said.

When Rachel arrived at Kaidenov Lipa's mother Risha was already waiting for her, [along with] his three brothers and two sisters. They all greeted her with smiles and great warmth. At the house they immediately gave her a cup of hot tea, which they would serve in glass cups, because that was also a way to warm one's hands. (It was a minor inconvenience of life at that time that there was a shortage of heating fuel). Lipa's father worked at a factory in a nearby town and would come home at the end of each week. When everyone sat down for lunch, Lipa's mother explained that they needed to live frugally because her husband's salary was very meager and it was difficult to get by on it. Dinner consisted of rye bread, salted fish, and cheese; lunch consisted of rye bread and salt fish; and breakfast – rye bread and tea, white bread, and a piece of meat. Rachel had planned to visit for a month, but she was shocked by the abject poverty of Lipa's parents, and of all the Jews in the town. She quickly began to feel the effects of insufficient nutrition. She informed her mother-in-law that she needed to return home as soon as possible in order to prepare for her journey to America. The love that Rachel felt for her mother-in-law was reciprocated. Risha had gained another daughter, a gentle soul capable of dealing with the hardships brought by life with an inner calm and loftiness of the spirit.

When Rachel returned home he she was showered with many questions. The joy had been replaced by pity when she told of the miserable poverty and hardship of the Jewish population under the Czar's rule. Rachel could not forget the sad look in the eyes of Lipa's youngest sister when she asked, “Are you hungry?”

“I'm always hungry” the sister had replied. After that she explained to Rachel how she had found a way to increase her food portion by a small amount: “When mother would give each of us a slice of bread and cut the salted fish into eight pieces, I would ask for the part with the head attached. One day Lipa was intrigued and wanted to know why I always asked for it. I explained to him that in addition to the piece of fish, the head also provided me with something more [to eat]”… When I heard this I prayed that I would never know hunger like this and that I would be able to overcome and withstand such conditions of suffering.

“Do you have a reasonable explanation?” Rachel's father asked her.

“Yes”, she replied. “In my opinion, fate, from which there is no escape, and the hope of salvation, which is beyond question, have bestowed upon

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the Jews of Russia the strength to survive in this rotten world.”

Her father nodded his head in agreement and said, “It's better in Lithuania, and better still in America.”

“Father,” Rachel said with longing, “I've got the feeling that one day I will return to visit everyone. Is this a wish or a thought in my heart?”

“Of course you will come, my daughter, if it is the will of God,” her father answered, gently stroking her head and holding her closely. “You've had a wonderful day and you'll need to pack your luggage in the morning. Go to bed, my daughter, and have a good night's sleep.”

The next morning it was cold in the house. A strong wind had blown all night long. The ground was covered with a heavy snow. Her sisters greeted her with a “Good morning!” and helped her to pack her things while keeping up a light and pleasant conversation. Rachel's mother prepared her favorite meal for her. Each one feigned an appearance of indifference. Rachel's father and her brothers came home in time to take their leave of her. The wagon arrived some time after they did. Taking leave of her brothers, her sisters, and her parents was difficult and painful. Her father was a sensitive man who loved his wife and children with a love that was both profound and difficult to describe. The wagon driver needed to forcefully pull Rachel away from the embrace of her family members and place her in the wagon. Over the many long years Rachel remembered her mother standing in the corridor, crying, and her father wrapping his arms around a tree and sighing….

Rachel was aware of the fact that a part of her life was ending, and a new period was beginning, and that she was heading toward the unknown. Her memories of life in Telshe were deeply etched in her soul, and now she was standing before a yet-unclear future in America…

She accepted the challenge. Rachel arrived in America in 1899.

From the right: The mother of Rachel Singer (Taitz)

[Page 191]

My grandfather, Rabbi Mordechai Akerman, z”l,^[1] arrived in Telshe from Gorzd^[2] as a yeshiva student with the aim of studying at the Telshe Yeshiva. I don't remember my grandmother. She passed away at a young age when I was still a baby. According to the stories, she was a virtuous woman, an outstanding wife and housekeeper, and a person with good qualities.

My grandfather and grandmother inherited two wooden houses on Nevarënø [today, S. Daukanto] Street in which my aunts and their families [lived] together with my grandfather. In the house of my grandfather, z”l, I spent a great part of my childhood. I played there with my uncle's children. I loved to stay and sleep at my uncle's. [I loved to] hear the melodies that my grandfather, z”l, would intone in the morning when he would study the Gemara.^[3] He would rise very early in the morning, even before going to morning prayers, in order to study the page [a page of the Gemara].

I remember very well the days of Purim. My grandfather would read the Scroll [the Book of Esther] and all of the street's inhabitants would gather to hear the reading of the scroll from his lips. Silences would descend upon the house and only my grandfather's calm voice would be heard. When the name of Haman would be recited, the house would tremble with the noise of groggers.^[4] After the reading of the scroll Aunt Hannah treated everyone to bab^[5] and hamentaschen.^[6]

I can still see before my eyes my grandfather's house and my aunt[s] and their families, all of whom perished at the hands of the Lithuanian murderers in the time of the Nazi regime, may their names be blotted out [from the book of life].^[7]

My father, Rabbi Zelig Katz, z”l, first arrived in Telshe as a yeshiva student. He was originally from [Friedrichstadt,] Latvia, and so at the Telshe Yeshiva he was called the “Friedrichstadter.”^[8]

My paternal grandfather, z”l, Rabbi Yehoshua-David Katz, studied at the yeshiva with Rav [Abraham Isaac] Kook (may his righteous memory be blessed). When my uncle, Moshe Katz arrived in the Land [of Israel] he went to Rav Kook and presented himself as the grandson of Rabbi Yeshoshua-David. Rav Kook (may his righteous memory be blessed) received him warmly. My grandfather, Rabbi Yehoshua-David (of blessed memory), was a Torah scribe.

My father, z”l, arrived in Telshe from the Slobodka Yeshiva [located in Vilijampolë suburb of Kaunas]. They said that when Rabbi Chaim Rabinowitz, zt”l,^[9] was appointed as head of the Telshe Yeshiva he took with him three select students from the Slobodka Yeshiva, where my father's rabbi was. Among the yeshiva students were my father and Rabbi Yehezkel Sarna (may his righteous memory be blessed), who was [later] the head of the Slobodka Yeshiva in Jerusalem. I do not know the name of the third [student].

My father, z”l, combined Torah [study] with work. After [his] wedding [to my mother Ella] he was appointed as head of the yeshiva in a small town on the Polish-Lithuanian border.^[10] After a brief period, he decided to share with my mother the burden of supporting [the family] and went into the manufacturing business. My mother had already run the business from the time before her marriage. . The two of them worked hard at our shop on the market street [Turgaus aikštė]. After an exhausting day of work my father would sit until midnight studying Torah, while my mother cooked, wove, and sewed in order to be able to work in the shop during the day. My mother was an exemplary housewife. When Doctor Sinkevich or [Dr. Jonas] Mikulskis would come to examine the children, they were always amazed by the good atmosphere (air) in the little apartment that we had. My mother, z”l, had fine qualities – she never raised her voice to anyone and always taught us to concede and not to fight with anyone. From her sayings we learned the customary way of life by which we still live today.

When they established the Hebrew gymnasia,^[11] my father, z”l, taught me to read Hebrew with the book Sfat-Ami (The Language of My People). When my Hebrew proficiency was tested I already knew how to read and so I was put in a class with girls who were

[Page 192]

older than me. I remember the first Hebrew atlas that my father brought me from Kovno. My excitement was immense; at first I searched in it for a map of the Land of Israel.

My father would tell me a great deal about the Land of Israel. He was a Zionist and was very sorry that he did not have the means to purchase some parcel of land or orchard in the Land of Israel. I remember, after the Balfour Declaration^[12] – I was still a child – that they came to collect silver and gold for the building up of the Land [of Israel]. My father climbed up on a ladder and took down a sack of silver things. Part of this he donated for the Land of Israel.

My sister Blume-Rachel z”l, was able to immigrate to the Land [of Israel]. Unfortunately, she passed away here while still young, and left behind a daughter.

My brother Manes^[13] and my younger sister, Yocheved-Dvorah, fell victim to the murderers.

Like them, all of the members of my uncle's dear and beautiful family—Hena, Laibele, and Blume-Rachel, and the children of Hannah and Eliah, z”l, the children of my uncle and aunt Feige-Shaita and my uncle Ephraim, z”l, perished of want in the Kovno ghetto. The only one to survive and to manage to raise a family was my aunt's daughter Beileh.

Yes, my uncle's children and the children of my aunt Sarah-Gitta and Baruch Akerman, z”l were murdered, some of them in Telshe, and the others in Gorzd [Gargždai].

May HaShem Avenge Their Blood!

Zelig Katz, his wife Ella, and their daughter Yocheved-Dvora

[Page 193]

Fortunately for us, a book about the Jews of Telshe is about to be published, the very Jews who were not so fortunate. I am in Israel, as an ember saved from a fire, writing about members of my family whom I did not get to meet. The glory that has been lost has come to my attention only little by little.

My grandfather, Reb Mordechai Levin, was the manager of the Jewish Peoples' Bank (Folksbank) in Telshe. He lived with his wife Zelda, formerly Zaks, who was known for her beauty, in their apartment above the town's movie theater. Reb Mordechai and Zelda had four children: Nachum, Yakov, Eliezer, and Rachel.

Rachel passed away as a young girl from meningitis. She was buried in Memel.^[1]

Yakov left the yeshiva and began his university studies, [which continued] until he got sick with a glandular disease which caused his body to grow excessively. My father, Rabbi Eliezer Levin, went with him to see a professor specialist in Estonia, and just then the Germans invaded and occupied the Baltic States.

Neither my father nor my uncle returned from their journey.

My father had married my mother, Hadassah, the daughter of Rabbi Yosef Leib Gershovitz from Kovna [Kaunas]. She graduated from the Hebrew Teachers' Seminary, the so called “Pedagogion” [pedagogical institute], and then moved with my father to Kovna. There, she studied at the university, and also wrote in Hebrew under the name “Daughter of My People.”

My father, who was murdered when I was two years old, I do not remember. Also, the pictures of my mother are few and painful. While I was still a small child, she left me with a Christian family, and returned to her suffering in the forests and the ghettos of Kovna and Shavl [Šiauliai]. It appears that only her strong belief in the Creator of the Universe, and the hope to get me back, helped her survive the terrors of the Holocaust.

I vaguely remember – I was about 5 years old then – when the Christians, whose son I was considered to be, told me about long-tailed Jews who used to pour boiling oil on children's heads. This was in preparation of the possibility that my mom would come to claim me at the end of the war. No wonder then that I [initially] refused to go with her. If not for the two Jewish soldiers from the Red Army whom she brought with her, I would have never returned to Judaism.

But after all the horrors of the Holocaust that my mom went through, her strength failed her, and she died of heart trouble in Munich in 1946. Most of her writings and poems have been lost. All I have left is a poem, “The Necklace,” which was published in Munich in the Hebrew paper The Spark: Documents of Literature, and her book Daughter of My People, which she wrote about the Holocaust and which was brought to the Land [of Israel] by dear friends.

The first pages of the book, presented here, describe the Germans' arrival in Telshe, a mother-city for the Jewish people,^[2] which became like a grieving widow.

Editor's footnotes

1. Memel is the German name of the Baltic port town known in Lithuanian as KlaipÄ—da. For centuries prior to 1923, it had been in East Prussia, which in the 19th Century was incorporated into the German Empire. In 1919, following the First World War, the Allied Powers detached the port and its adjacent territory (Memelland) from Germany and installed a French administration to govern the area. In January 1923, Lithuanian paramilitary units seized control of the area and the Allied Powers acquiesced, under the condition that Memelland would be an autonomous region of Lithuania. In March 1939, Hitler demanded that Memelland be returned to Germany, and Lithuania immediately complied. Memelland remained part of Nazi Germany during the Second World War. At the end of that war, when the Soviet Union reconstructed its Lithuanian Soviet puppet state, Memelland was transferred back to nominal Lithuanian control. Return
2. The author here uses the term in 2 Samuel 20:19 which means “a city and mother in Israel.” Return

[Page 194]

There was a blacksmith in Telshe, and his name was Itche Rostovski.

He was called Itche the Blacksmith, and the students of the Yeshiva called him “Reb Itzchak the Smith.”^[1] When, as a child, I heard about the “Lamed Vavniks,” the thirty-six righteous ones hidden in the world,^[2] there appeared before my eyes the serene image of Itche the blacksmith. I thought that this Itche was definitely one of these thirty-six. His forge was not far from our house.

I loved to stand and look from afar how Itche would attach horseshoes to the horses. I loved to look at the red fire, at the white-hot iron, and at Itche pounding with the sledge hammer. Sparks flew to all sides, even hitting Itche, but could not get the better of him.

Every evening after his work he used to sit for long hours in the synagogue and listen to Jews who were studying the Torah, Pirkei Avot [Ethics of the Fathers],^[3] and the like. He was a simple man, not educated in the Torah, but he had a heart of gold. If a Yeshiva student needed a place to sleep, he went to Itche's house and Itche welcomed him warmly and gave him a place to sleep. Sometimes he gave up his own bed, and he himself slept on the floor. He treated passersby of all kinds, and even various beggars, in the same manner. Not even once did a poor man leave his house hungry.

Such was Reb Itzchak the Smith, of blessed memory. He was murdered by the Nazis. May he rest in [the Garden of] Eden.

A street in Telshe photographed in the year 1910

Translator's footnotes

1. The term “reb” is simply a term of respect, like “Mister.” It does not mean the individual was a rabbi. Return
2. The numerical value of the Hebrew letter lamid is 30 and the numerical value of the Hebrew letter vav is 6. Thus, the term “Lamid Vavniks” refers to 36 people. According to old Jewish mystical tradition, at all times there are 36 righteous men who wander the Earth, unknown to others, one another, or even to themselves. It is for their sake that the Almighty does not destroy the world, just as He would have spared Sodom and Gemorrah if 10 righteous men had been found living there. Genesis 18:32. The 36 individuals are not angels, but ordinary, good people. Return
3. Pirkei Avot (Ethics of the Fathers) is a compilation of the ethical teachings and maxims from Rabbinic Jewish tradition. Its primary focus is ethical and moral principles. Return

[Page 195]

It is very difficult to begin writing memoirs forty years on, after being driven out and wandering the world. But since I do remember my childhood years very well, I want to tell about my roots:

My grandfather–my mother's father, Reb Yisroel Landau, of blessed memory, was from Vekshne [Viekšniai, in northwestern Lithuania]. He was a scholar who knew Torah thoroughly. He went to Africa^[2] four times and to America three times. My grandmother Sore, who was also from Vekshne, was a live wire. She was always the breadwinner. It wasn't easy to fool her. She traveled to all the fairs, riding in the back of a wagon. I remember her very well. She died at a ripe old age in the 1930s. She lived near the butchers' booths at the marketplace. Her neighbor to the left was Tsere Grushlovsky, and on the right lived the Dombes family. My mother Tsile recalled that my grandmother had 13 children, but they had not all survived. After the seventh child, she went to a rabbi for a blessing, and from that time on the children survived…

Nearly all of the children emigrated to America and Africa. They left for America just before the First World War. Moshe, Shmuel, and Sheve went to America, and Isaac and his entire family left for Africa. Chaya married into the Schiff family, who were cousins of the Schiffs from Telshe. Bayle and my mother Tsile stayed with their parents in Telshe.

I am the only son of Yosef Bal-Shem^[3] and Tsile Landau (who was born in Vekshne). I had two sisters who were younger than me, Shaynele (born in 1925) and Peytsele (born in 1928). I am the only survivor of my family, and I raised a family here in Israel. In 1952 I married Tobe Likfurman of Yedlinsk [Jedlińsk] (in Poland) and we have three children. My eldest daughter Tsile lives on a kibbutz, and she has two daughters. My son Yosef finished a technical secondary yeshiva, and he works as an electrical technician. My youngest daughter Batya is about to graduate from the Tseitlin Gymnasium and then will enter the military.

In Lithuania my family had a business for 20 years where we sold iron goods, weapons, and dishes. The shop was on the corner of Keshtutse Street [Kęstučio gatvė], near the drug store of Rabinovitz. My father Yosl, of blessed memory, was a very capable person. He had close acquaintances among both the right-wing and left-wing Lithuanians. It wasn't easy for a Jew in Lithuania to get a license to sell weapons. Only two Jews in all of Lithuania received the right to sell weapons. One

[Page 196]

Jew, named Shutas, was in Kovno, and the second was my father. This concession [permission] was granted [to my father] thanks to his acquaintance with Prime Minister Rusteikas.^[4]

I still remember from my childhood when my father returned from a visit to the bishop at the priesthood seminary, whose directors were our customers. My father couldn't get over the impression that was made on him when the bishop played the melody of Kol Nidrei^[5] on their piano. The parish bought all of their construction material from us, and once a year the bishop would come to pay their debts.

My father was a committed Zionist and a member of the Socialist Zionist party. Every year the Zionists in the Telshe area worked to prepare themselves as agricultural laborers. One of them whom I met later in Beersheva was Yanina. Every Friday evening in the wintertime my parents went to a “box evening” at the home of the Khvases, which was not far from the yeshiva. At these evening meetings one could ask political questions and the older Zionists, especially the lawyer Shmuel Broyde, would answer them.^[6]

I received a religious education that was typical for Telshe. After finishing elementary school, I began studying in the preparatory arm of the advanced yeshiva. My teacher, Reb Avner, assigned a yeshiva student to help me prepare my bar mitzvah speech. All of the leading citizens in town came to the bar mitzvah. We lived on the second floor of Yasin's house, next to the elementary school. The reception room wasn't large enough to allow us to invite a great number of guests to my bar mitzvah.

Here I have to relate a certain episode: My father had a good friend named Dovid Vayn (Petske), a competent bricklayer. He happened to run into my father before my bar mitzvah and said to him: “Yosl, I heard that you're getting ready to make a party for your Tevke. You didn't invite me to the bar mitzvah, and just to spite you, I'm going to come with a soccer ball.” That's the kind of Jews we had in Telshe. It's logical that those who are invited will show up; what really matters is when good friends who weren't invited come.

My friends were Yehoshua Klein, Avrom Pozritz, Yisroel Ardman, Yakov Vayn, Moshe Bad, Moshe Erdman (who emigrated to America before the war), Moshe-Yitzkhok Blekhman, Yehoshua Katz, Eliezer Lapidos, Yakov Dombe, and my cousin, Pesekh Itzikzon. All, all of them, were slaughtered by the Lithuanian Hitlerite beasts.

I must mention my aunt Beyle, her husband Shaul Shnayder, and their only daughter Khaye (who died at the end of the war in the [forced] march toward Germany); and my uncle Avrom Itzikman, his wife Toybe, and their children: Shimen, Tevye, Pesekh, Aharon, and Pesye. They all died in the Shavl [Šiauliai] ghetto. My uncle Ba'al-Shem and his family died in Radvilishki [Radviliškis].

When the Russians reached us in Lithuania in 1940 I was away studying at the Lithuanian technical school in Kovno [Kaunas].^[7] I was fortunate in that on June 20^[8] I came home to Telshe for my summer vacation. The next day I volunteered for the fighting committee, because the air was already full of powder.

Who knew, who could imagine, that the next day on June 22 [1941], the bloody war would break out, the war which would cut down our best and dearest families? Who could imagine that I would be the only one of that large family to survive the war?

All of the years since the war I have not been able to rest,

[Page 197]

unable to make my peace with the thought that no monument has been erected for our Telshe martyrs. It is the responsibility of the survivors to commemorate the many Jews of Telshe who left no survivors, and not only their own families, to pour out the new Book of Lamentations here in the Telshe memorial book. May their last cries before going to their deaths continue to echo in the ears of those who read this book, down through the generations.

Reb Israel Landau, of blessed memory, and his wife Sara with all of their granddaughters: Sheynele and Petsele Baal-Shem, Chayele Shnayder, and Miriam Boorshtayn

[Page 198]

Reb Yisroel Karayim,^[1] the “Rovner,” was one of the most remarkable personalities in Telshe. He was called Rovner because that's where he came from Rovno.^[2] He came to Telshe at the end of the First World War. He came with his nephew, a young fellow named Hirshl.

They established themselves at our house. Everything having to do with our lodgers was secretive, and people spoke about them quietly. People who weren't used to visiting us started coming to our house. The Rovner and his nephew would stay in the house almost all day. They had come illegally. The strangers who came to see them evidently helped the Rovner's nephew leave the country, and arranged a passport for the Rovner, so that he could legally remain in Telshe.

The Rovner studied in the yeshiva. A few years later he found another place to live, but he never forgot us. He would come to see how we were doing, and helped my mother in any way he could.

The Rovner was exceptional because while he studied in the yeshiva, he also participated in all of the voluntary [charitable] societies in town, such as those for visiting the sick, providing dowries for brides, lodging the homeless, OZE,^[3] and others. Wherever help was needed he was the first to go. He never walked, but ran, trying to accomplish as much as possible. One always saw him with a big smile, even when his heart was sad.

During the time of the German occupation [1915-1918] a Jewish public school was opened in Telshe, with German as the language of instruction. When the First World War ended and the Germans left Lithuania, the school switched to Yiddish. Nearly all of the teachers were Bundists,^[4] who tried to implant left-wing and anti-religious ideas in their students. Naturally, the Rovner opposed these teachers.

In 1921 the “Yavne” gymnasium and elementary school were established in Telshe.^[5] The Rovner was one of the founders. He tried to get as many children as possible out of the Yiddish school and into Yavne. The students whose parents were strictly religious immediately left the school. My sister Dina and I, however, were deeply devoted to the school. We were enthusiastic about the ideas of equality we heard so much about there. Everyone should be

[Page 199]

equal, no more rich and poor. Also, it cost money to go to the gymnasium and at our school everything was free of charge. The Rovner used to come see us to try to convince us to leave the school where, he said, they were trying to tear us away from Judaism and turn us into apostates. Our mother Rokhel-Leye, of blessed memory, very much wanted us to leave the school, but we didn't agree, even when the Rovner promised us that we wouldn't have to pay at Yavne.

One time, however, there was a crack in our obstinacy, and here is how it happened:

Nearly all of the Jews of Telshe observed Jewish traditions: They kept kosher and didn't desecrate the Sabbath (especially in public). All of the holidays were observed. People fasted on Yom Kippur, and women would go to the synagogue on Rosh Hashanah to hear the blowing of the shofar. Folks built themselves sukkahs, and on Passover all the rules were followed. Not all of the Jews did so out of religious conviction; some were moved by habit and by solidarity with the community.

On Passover 1922 a special evening event was organized in [the Yiddish] school. After the program everyone was served refreshments –and guess what [they were]? Bagels and milk! A shudder flowed through us: They eat khomets^[6] on Pesach (Passover) here? Something broke in us. We understood that the Rovner was right. He didn't have to convince us anymore… We immediately told our mother that she should go and talk to the Rovner. He came right away, took us by the hand, and brought us to Yavne. He was delighted.

The Rovner married a girl named Esther from the prominent Gertzovitz family. Esther helped her husband in their community activities. Both of them loved children, but they didn't have any of their own. They took in a poor girl named Leye and raised her like their own child.

The Rovner was a fine speaker. A Jew who loved doing mitzvahs, such as attending a bris,^[7] or the wedding of a poor couple, and addressing the at the gatherings. He used to offer homilies, and warm up the guests with his song and dance. He had a good word for everyone. He was often sent overseas to raise money for the Talmud Torah^[8] and the yeshiva. His brilliant oratory moved the listeners, and his fiery speeches were well-received.

As I mentioned above, the Rovner always hurried. This contributed to his early and tragic death. He was on an overseas mission to raise money for the Telshe yeshiva, and he crossed a major street against the “red” light. A tram [street car] killed him on the spot.

The sad news quickly made its way through town. Everyone mourned… Everyone knew and respected him. It was hard to believe the energetic, devoted, and good Rovner had departed the world so quickly and tragically.

Footnotes
[Ed.] - Translator editor's footnote

1. This surname suggests that he was descended from Kara'ites, an ethnic group that practiced a form of Judaism that follows the tenets of the Torah (the Five Books of Moses) but does not follow rabbinic interpretations. [Ed.] Return
2. Rovno, in Volhynia, was a major center of Jewish life in Eastern Europe. At the beginning of the 20^th Century, Jews constituted the majority of the city's population. During the First World War and the ensuing Russian Civil War, the city was successively under German, Ukrainian, Bolshevik, and Polish rule. From 1920 until 1939, it was in Poland. The city and region were then annexed to Soviet Ukraine. In 1991, the newly independent Ukraine renamed the city Rivne, https://www.jewishgen.org/Communities/community.php?usbgn=-1052247. [Ed.] Return
3. “OZE” is an acronym for Общетсво Здравоохранения Еврейиев, a Jewish health-care organization. [Ed.] Return
4. The term “bund” is related to the German word for a federation or union. The Bund was a secular Jewish socialist party that had initially formed in the Russian Empire in the late czarist era. It saw Jewish culture and the Yiddish language as the key to Jewish unity and strongly opposed both the Jewish religion and the aspiration to create a Jewish homeland. [Ed.] Return
5. The schools were established by the Telshe Yeshiva as part of a program to provide students a Jewish education that would prepare them for attending the yeshiva. The name “Yavne” is of great historical and emotional significance. In 70 C.E. the Romans suppressed the Jewish Revolt and destroyed the Temple in Jerusalem. Rabbi Yochanan Ben-Zakkai, a leading sage of the time, established a school in Yavne, a small town about four kilometers from the Mediterranean Sea. The school became an academy which was the center of Jewish education and rabbinic authority for centuries, and continued the development of traditional Judaism. [Ed.] Return
6. Khametz [Heb] or khometz [Yid] refers to any food that has leavened and, specifically, wheat, barley, rye, spelt, or oats (which can expand when in contact with water). Leavened food products are forsworn on the Passover holiday for 7 days in Israel and 8 days in the Jewish diaspora. [Ed.] Return
7. A circumcision ceremony. [Ed.] Return
8. This term, composed of the Hebrew words talmud (study) and Torah, means a communal school where children learn Judaic subjects and liturgical and biblical Hebrew. [Ed.] Return

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