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[Page 141]
by Yakov Zwillich
Translated by Moses Milstein
The congregants at the shul, where services were held just on Shabbes, were only the common people. Among them was my father, a”h, and his friends who had been davening there for years.
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| Zachariah Zwillich, z”l |
My father, and Moishe-Laizer Hasser, were the gabaim. The custom was to have the kiddush at the home of one of the group. Once, when the kiddush was at our house and a kugel was served made by my aunt, Shprintze, who was a specialist at it, my father addressed the group: “Well, everything is really good and fine. But I would propose that all of us here should create something for our children so they will remember us. I suggest we write a sefer Torah.”
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It was decided to call Rav Shmuel Sofer as soon as Saturday evening. My father, a”h, gave the first 10 sheets of parchment, i.e, calfhide. Motsi Shabbes, everybody came together again at our house, and discussed all the details with the sofer[1]. The people who participated were the following: Eitl, Israel Aharon; Bicher, Zalman; Garber, Shimon; Hammer, Moishe-Laizer; Treasurer–Meir, Yoineleh's; Zegmen, Berl; Zwillich, Zachariah; Kopel, Binyomin; Kopel, Laizer; Shtengel, Itzik. Helping out was Raphael, Shemesh without whom nothing was done. All those who davened in the shul also looked on this holy work, that their comrades were carrying out, with enthusiasm.
When the work of writing the sefer Torah was coming to an end, the group sent two members to Warsaw to buy a nice keser -Torah[2], and two silver plates upon which the names of the contributors were engraved. This, of course, cost a lot of money, but everyone lived with the faith that God would repay them everything. When the discussion turned to whose house we would lead the Torah from, it was decided to hold an auction, and whoever gave the most would have the honor. We started with 10 Zlotys. This was bid by Israel Aaron Eitl, until it was raised to 35 Zlotys. Then Itzik Stengl bid 50 Zlotys. Then my father, a”h, said, “ I bid 100 Zlotys, and I'll provide the meat for the whole feast.” The others had no response and all sat as if frozen. My father lived with profound faith, and it came to pass.
In the morning, my mother, Shprintze, invited all the neighbors, told them about what was happening, and asked for their help, that is, the accommodation for the guests who would come. Everyone received the request with joy. Uncle Yakov, and aunt Iteh fixed up their house holiday style. The same with uncle Melech, and aunt Ruchel, Moishe Yaniwer, and Oizer Bicher. We hosted guests from Hrubieszow, my grandmother, Sureh-Braneh, z”l, and uncle Yoshele Pachter, and others. The sefer procession was a real holiday in the shtetl. I believe that all the survivors will remember the celebration.
A little while later, my father, a”h, and Avremele (Beker) Loifer were again elected as gabaim. They made the wonderful door for the shul which I can still see before my eyes. They also made the beautiful menorah by the omed. This was all made by the efforts of ordinary people with limited resources.
Translator's footnotes:
by Sender Gelber (Israel)
Translated by Moses Milstein
This happened in the winter of 1928. It was winter when the decree to close the old cemetery came out. Another place was not yet available, so the Jewish community got together and decided to buy a new field. But what do you do before you can use the new field? And suddenly, R' Aharon Borik died at the age of 80. So the Chevra Kadisha got together with other Tishevits Jews to bury him in the old cemetery. These were Herzke Spiz, Kahat Friedlender, Moishe Chaim Kleiner, Moishe Hershl, and Moishe Gelber.
At night, in the freezing cold, the field covered with snow, they began the work by starlight. They worked energetically, and from time to time took a swig of whiskey, until the grave was completed. What to do next? They hatched a plan–they decided that everyone should remain at the graveside and Moishe Gelber (glazer) should get his horse and wagon and put a box of glass on it and the deceased on it and bring him to the field.
Moishe Gelber accepted the task even though it could mean jail because Aharon Borik was a Belzer chasid as was Moishe Gelber. Before his death, R' Aharon Borik had asked Moishe Gelber to bury him in the old cemetery. His request was carried out. Moishe Gelber took his horse and wagon, put the deceased on it and drove off. On his way out, he came upon the police standing there, but he was not afraid. He told the police he was driving to the village, and he drove to the old cemetery where the Chevra Kadisha were waiting. That is how R' Aharon Borik came to be buried in the old cemetery.
by Berl Singer (Buenos Aires–Argentina)
Translated by Moses Milstein
I must state at the very beginning that this story was told to me by our fellow townsman, my friend, Yehuda Zlototsiste.
This took place in the 1920s when in the shtetls of Poland Jewish communities were organized with elected “dozors.” Our Tishevits already had elected dozors and a Jewish community. Among all the big and little things the community had to institute and to carry out was the cemetery. Until then, the Chevra “Moloches”–Chevra Kedusha, ruled over the cemetery, and they distributed the burial places, and if someone from the family asked for a nicer place, it was possible only with a large bottle of whisky for the “Moloches.” In those days, the Chevra Kedusha was located at the family of Leizer Isiks along with the Garber family (well-known families in the shtetl and not always in a complimentary way…) And it was these people that the kehilla had to restrain and discipline, something not easy to do. The kehilla chose a gabai from the Chevra Kedusha, Shmuel Glatter. In the shtetl, he was called Shmuel Abraham-Itche Yaechnik's because they dealt with eggs. He was a respectable young man, a Chasid from the Kuzmir shtibl, who took his duties very seriously, and had quite the job to discipline the Moloches.
At the time, however, a big tragedy occurred to the Leizer Isiks. Benimileh's much loved son-in-law died suddenly. He was a nice young man, a student, a good baal tefillah and a very good baal koreh in shul. His name was Sholem, and the shtetl greatly regretted the big loss.
The Leizer Isiks organized things without the knowledge of the kehilla, and without the knowledge of the gabai, and went off to the cemetery to dig a grave that they
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alone had decided on. But when the gabai, Shmuel Glatter, found out, he, with the authority of the kehilla, stopped the digging of the grave, and gave them another place. And here begins the second part of the tragedy. A short time after this incident, the gabai, Shmuel Glatter, fell ill. One night he dreamt that Sholem Benimeleh's son-in-law was calling him to account before God and his ministering angels, because he shamed him when he stopped the digging of his grave. When he awoke, he remembered the dream well, but he paid no attention to it. But when he dreamed the same dream the following night, he told it the same day to a group of Kuzmir chasidim who had come to visit him. Among them were his friends Isaac Eng, and R' Yakov Dovid Shoichet. The chasidim and friends heard him out and said they would send a letter and a “kvittl” to the rabbi who was living in Zamosc at the time. They did indeed do that but no answer was returned. When the dream reoccurred for the third time, they went to see the shtetl rabbi, and the rabbi and the other dayanim directed the sick gabai to go to the cemetery and beg forgiveness from the deceased. Unfortunately, it did not help. Several days later, the gabai, Shmuel Glatter, died.
The shtetl had lots to talk about after this for a long time, and to mourn, because both deceased were young men. The chasidim from the Kuzmir stibl saw a magic portent in the rabbi's not answering. That he had foreseen the bad outcome, and for that reason, had not replied.
by Pinchas Landau
Translated by Sara Mages
Who can count the personalities who lived in Tyszowce even though this town was small (only 800 Jewish families), but there was a vibrant Jewish life in this town. There were those who studied the Torah for the sake of the mitzvah and not for personal gain. I've heard their names and also knew some of them personally. I also knew the common people who, even though they didn't study Torah, did a lot to ease the lives of the town poor. They founded Kupat Gemilut Hasadim[1], the society of Linat Tzedek[2] and Bikur Cholim[3], and were always ready to sacrifice themselves for the sanctification of God's name.
After the First World War, when the state of Poland was resurrected, the
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gentiles from the surrounding villages came every year to enlist in the army and started to beat the town's Jews. Who were the ones who risked their lives and drove out these rioters from the town? Who were “The People of Shklov[4]” of Tyszowce? They were the common people who lived from the labor of their hands, and in the days of fear of riots they didn't go to work, and guarded the town day and night.
I knew these and those, my memory is very poor to remember their names, and I cannot list what they did for the benefit of the Jews of this town without expectation of a reward. These words will be a monument to their memory in the Yizkor Book for the martyrs of Tyszowce.
In this book I will mention two of these personalities who were very close to me: the first, my honored father, R' Shlomo Landau, z”l, and the second, my uncle and father-in-law, R' Pinchas Ginzburg, z”l.
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| The family of Shlomo Landau |
Translator's footnotes:
by Pinchas Landau
Translated by Sara Mages
Since my father was humble and didn't like to stand out, there is no native of Tyszowce (of those who remained alive after the Holocaust) who can testify that he knew my father, z”l. Therefore, I will write the memory of R' Shlomo Landau in the Yizkor Book for the city of Tyszowce among the personalities from our city.
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My father was a descendant of Yehezkel Landau Segel, z”l, the author of the book Noda BiYhudah [Known in Judah]. In his youth he studied in the Beit HaMidrash in his hometown, then at various yeshivot until he received his rabbinic ordination.
My grandfather, R' Yakov Ginzburg, z”l, author of the book Zichron Ya'akov and a rabbi in our city, traveled to yeshivot to choose a groom for his modest daughter Rachel, my mother, z”l. In her name he chose Landau, z”l as fitting to be his son-in-law and his daughter's husband.
He was twenty years old when he got married and at the age of twenty-one he had to report to the army. He was not released because he was a perfectly healthy young man without any physical defect. This matter was to my grandfather's dissatisfaction. My grandfather traveled with his son-in-law to the capital city of Warsaw to arrange for him a deformity in his body that would release him from the army. They went to a doctor who dealt with creating body defects. When my father was waiting for his turn to see the doctor, he saw how young healthy men went in to see this doctor and came out sick and weak. He refused to go to this doctor and didn't do any feler [defect] (as it was called). In 1891 he entered the service in the Russian army of that time, and because of this my grandfather forbade him to ever serve as a rabbi.
Father served in the army for four years and eight months in the city of Petrograd, and during all this time he didn't taste army food. In the first six months he existed only on bread and water. After that, when the officers saw that they would not be able to make a proper soldier out of him, he received, after lobbying and bribery, the position of a drummer in the army and was given a drum that he never drummed on. After that, he was able to leave the camp and started to eat at the home of the Rabbi of Petrograd in exchange for educating his children in Judaism, the Torah, Shas[1] and the Bible.
When my father returned from the army, my grandfather accepted him as a partner in his earthenware factory, and in this manner he became a merchant.
Years later, after my grandfather got old and his eyesight weakened, when they came to him to rule in matters of kashrut[2], or when the city rabbi sent his shammes [beadle] to call grandfather to consult with him on a certain judgment, my grandfather used to say - go to my Shlomo, he will advise you and rule according to Jewish law.
That's how they started flocking to my father, at first only from our family (which was quite large), and then from all over the city for two reasons: a) my father didn't get paid for the judgments. b) my father was known in the city to be not so strict in matters of kashrut. I testify under oath that my father, z”l, observed light commandments as if they were severe ones, but when they came to him with questions in the matters of kashrut, he took into consideration “great loss,” time of distress “and “preservation of human life,” that all the arbiters took into account, and he thought and researched thoroughly until he gave his verdict. There were cases in many questions that the city rabbi ruled treyf,[3] and then they came to my father, without telling him that they had already visited the city rabbi who ruled treyf, and that my father ruled kosher. Those told their neighbors, and the neighbors to the neighbors, etc., and everyone came with their questions to my father, z”l. There were also honest people who said, after father ruled kosher what the rabbi ruled treyf, R' Shlomo, “we were at the rabbi and he prohibited,” as is well known, “if one sage prohibited the second cannot permit without the consent of the first.” Then, father had to go to the rabbi
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to prove to him that it is possible to permit what he had previously prohibited, “because when a kosher item is declared treyf it is possible to give judgment in the future.”
There were dozens of such cases that I remember very well. Two of them have been etched in my memory more than the others: a) it was on the eve of the holiday of Rosh Hashanah when father went to the rabbi (by the way, I accompanied him). We returned after midnight, and only then did we eat the holiday night meal. b) that brought my father to the conclusion that he should no longer rule in matters of kashrut due to the honor of the city rabbi. The possessor of the question gave a lot of publicity to this judgment and shamed the city rabbi in public.
As mentioned, my father was a busy man, and yet he gave lessons in the Talmud (without payment) in the Detrisk shtiebel where he prayed. Many young men studied in these classes. Several years later, when my grandfather passed away and father managed the business alone, he stopped those lessons, but in his spare time he studied a lot of Talmud, Shas and Poskim[4]. He always wrote his own innovations on many issues from the Talmud, and recorded them for eternity inside the volumes of our Shas. Those who have seen our Shas must have read the aforementioned innovations, and, with God's help, there are those who are still alive and saw our Shas. When I grew up and left the cheder, father started to study with me at home. In order for me to have a study partner, he chose a young man of my age to study together, and so it was with my brothers, Yitzchak and Yaakov, z”l. All of these “friends,” who are still alive, remember my father well and surely saw his innovations on the Talmud.
More than once, father expressed his opinion that it would be better to collect all of these innovations in one volume, and maybe also to publish them, “There are many thoughts in a man's heart[5]” etc. In 1933 I immigrated to Israel, and I intended to return to Tyszowce a few years later to liquidate my possessions (I had a shop and a house that I built some time before immigrating to Israel), and I would bring all our books (that father promised to give me). I would gather all the innovations on the Talmud that father, z”l, invested a lot of thought in, and immortalize them by printing them in one book. I planned to travel to Tyszowce in 1940. As is well known, the war broke out in 1939, and of course I didn't travel and everything was destroyed by the Nazis, may their names be blotted out.
My father, z”l, passed away on the 8th of Av 5698 [5 August 1938]. About a year before the war I was informed of his passing. Even before I left Tyszowce my father became “Saggi Nehor[6]” and couldn't write to me, and my brothers who wrote to me didn't inform me of his passing. When the war broke out I didn't get any letters, not even from my brothers. Only when the first survivors from Tyszowce came via Russia did I learn about the day of the death of my father, z”l. I also learned that of our large family only two daughters and one son survived of my older sister Esther, z”l. This son immigrated to Israel in 1949, and he told me that a few days before the outbreak of the war that my brother Yitzchak had sent me a letter in which he informed me of my father's passing and his last words to me. I didn't receive this letter because of the war. I have nothing left from my father except for a letter he wrote in Hebrew in 5651 [1890/91] when he was serving in the army, and also a photo of the tombstone on my father's grave in Tyszowce that my sister's son gave me when he immigrated to Israel. Also this tombstone no longer exists because the Nazis, together with the Poles,
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destroyed the cemetery in Tyszowce. May these words that I have written here in the Yizkor book for the martyrs of Tyszowce be a tombstone in memory of my father R' Shlomo Landau Segel, z”l.
Tishrei 5729 (1968) Tel-Aviv, Israel
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| This is the monument of Shlomo Landau Segel, z”l Standing right: Itzchak Landau, z”l Left: Shimon Reichenberg–a grandson |
Translator's footnotes:
by Pinchas Landau
Translated by Sara Mages
I think that all the natives of Tyszowce, even the young ones who didn't personally know my uncle and father-in-law, R' Pinchas Ginzburg, z”l, must have heard his name, because he always appeared in public. He was an excellent magid [preacher] even though he spent all his days traveling outside Tyszowce. But,
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| The family of Pinchas Ginzburg |
when he came home to rest, he appeared in public and preached in the Beit HaMidrash, at Zionist meetings and conferences, and all the townspeople, young and old, came to hear the “sermon” of R' Pinchas Ginzburg, z”l. (Our townsman, the writer Ya'akov Zipper, mentions R' Pinchas Ginzburg, z”l, in his book Tsvishen Teykhen un Vassern [“Between Rivers and Waters”] under the name R' Baruch der Magid).
R' Pinchas Ginzburg, z”l, son of R' Yaakov Ginzburg, z”l, (my grandfather), was the author of the book, Zichron Ya'akov [Ya'akov Memory], an essay about Yoreh De'ah[1] and Pri Megadim[2]. My grandfather worked on this essay for twenty years until it was ready for printing, but he didn't have the means
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to print the aforementioned essay. Therefore, he tasked his son, R' Pinchas, z”l, to go out into the wide world to collect subscriptions for this essay in order to finance the printing. It was at the beginning of this century when visas were not needed to travel from country to country. R' Pinchas, z”l, traveled all over Europe and collected subscriptions and consent from rabbis and great Torah scholars for the aforementioned essay, and they committed themselves to buying this book and distributing it widely. In every place that my uncle, z”l, arrived, he advertised that the maggid, R' Pinchas, would preach in a certain Beit Midrash. Before he announced the purpose of his arrival he gave a short sermon on biblical laws that he was very good at, and that's how he became famous as a world renowned maggid.
My uncle managed to amass five thousand subscribers. The first part of the book Zichron Ya'akov (the essay had three parts: a) salting laws; b) meat and milk; c) mixtures. It was printed in ten thousand copies, and by 1913 almost all the books had been sold. Then, they started to prepare the second part, “meat and milk,” for printing, but in 1914 the First World War broke out which lasted until the 1920s. The last two parts were not printed, and in this way the work that my grandfather invested dozens of years in was lost.
In the 1920s, R' Pinchas, z”l, began to raise support for Keren Hayesod[3]. He was sent on behalf of Keren Hayesod center in Warsaw, Poland, to such places in which the Zionist label was considered to be heretical, mostly in Eastern Galicia. There were towns where a clean-shaven lecturer (without a beard) risked his life if he dared to come there on behalf of Keren Hayesod. But R' Pinchas Ginzburg, z”l, was warmly welcomed because he was a man with a very long beard. He seasoned his sermons with words from the Torah and also managed to attract these fanatics to Keren Hayesod.
It is worth mentioning here one case that my uncle, z”l, once told me about, in order to understand the nature of these places he arrived in to turn them into Zionists.
Once, my uncle, z”l, came to a town in Galicia and that same week the Rebbe, whose Hassidim made up the entire Jewish community in this town, also arrived. In order to travel to meet the Rebbe on the road before his entry into this town, they took from the landowner, pritz,[4] (in Galicia there were also Jewish landowners) a handsome carriage with a pair of the best horses that this pritz raised and only used for trips. The Hassidim loaded this carriage with more people than it could hold, and also sped up and galloped the horses. One horse overheated, fell ill and died. This horse was of a special breed and the Hassidim had to pay the pritz a thousand zloty for the carcass. At that time one thousand zloty was a very large sum.
My uncle, z”l, who this time failed to do something for Keren Hayesod, when he got on stage in the Beit HaMidrash to preach his sermon, said: “In this town there is money only for horses, but there is no money for Keren Hayesod.”
On that occasion they wanted to beat him, and that evening he had to flee the town for another town that was a two-hour train ride away. The Hassidim, who knew where my uncle was traveling to, called there so that they would not allow this heretic, R' Pinchas, z”l, to enter a Jewish home.
When my uncle arrived in this town he turned to a hotel to sleep overnight. He was turned away because there was no place
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for him. He walked to another hotel, and also there encountered the same thing, “No vacancy,” and also in the third and the fourth. Then he understood what was going on and went to the Beit HaMidrash to sleep there on a bench. Immediately, children with payot [sidelocks] gathered around him and began to study the Talmud in a loud voice so that he would not be able to sleep, and from time to time they approached him to pester him with questions about issues in the Talmud. When he refused to answer, they started to beat him. He was forced to flee from the Beit HaMidrash, went to the police of this town and asked for help.
In 1926 my uncle was in Warsaw, and on that very day they celebrated the birthday of Marshal Józef Piłsudski. That evening, when my uncle spoke at the convention on behalf of Keren Hayesod, he mentioned the name of Marshal Józef Piłsudski and blessed him on his birthday. The next day this blessing was printed in a well-known Polish newspaper, and Marshal Piłsudski sent my uncle a letter of thanks for this blessing that was signed with his signature.
This letter helped my uncle many times when he had to arrange something with the authorities, for example, a permit to speak at a meeting, etc. This letter also helped him this time at the police station in this town. They arranged a place for him to spend the night and the next morning they brought him to the train and sent him on from there. He never returned to the vicinity of this town.
R' Pinchas Ginzburg composed many sermons. Some of them he collected and printed in a book called The Gefen [the grapevine] the [Hebrew] initials of, Ginzburg, Pinchas, Netta. He worked on behalf of Keren Hayesod until his immigration to Israel in 1934. Here, in Israel, he was a lecturer on behalf of Mizrahi for a while, but due to his poor health, he stopped all his activities for Keren Hayesod.
He passed away on Lag BaOmer 1939 and was buried in Nahalat Yitzhak Cemetery near Tel Aviv.
Tishrei 5729 (1968)
Translator's footnotes:
by Shalom Krishtalka, Montreal, Canada
Translated by Jerrold Landau
(Head of a literary family)
A number of family members are known within Yiddish literature as people who enriched Yiddish literature with their literary creations in one or two generations. From among the better known ones in our time there are the Zeitlin families: the father Hillel Zeitlin, may G-d avenge his blood, and his two sons Elchanan and Aharon Zeitlin; the Bergner family, the mother Hinde, may G-d avenge her blood, and her sons Melech Ravitsh and Hertz Bergner; Y. Y. [Yisrael Yehoshua] Singer, I. Bashevis, and their sister Esther Kreitman; the brothers: Vladek and Charni Neiger; the Reyzen family: Avraham Reyzen, Zalman Reyzen, and their sister Sara Reyzen; the Olitski and Imber brothers, and others.
The Stern family from Tyszowce, currently in Montreal, spans three generations of Yiddish writers and educators: The father, Rabbi Avraham Stern, may he live long Amen; the children: Yaakov Zipper, Yechiel Stern, Shalom Stern, Dr. Yisrael Stern, Shifra Krishtalka, Hene Marder; the grandchildren Aharon Krishtalka, Leibel Krishtalka, the sons of Shifra and Shalom Krishtalka, Eidel Stern, the daughter of Dr. Yisrael, and Amalia Stern.
I did not take it upon myself to write a monograph about the latter part of those three generations of writers and their contribution to Yiddish literature, pedagogy, and education (this would be a very interesting and important work). My modest task is only to note bibliographically the works of the head of the family, Rabbi Avraham Stern.
In its monthly journal, “Congress Bulletin” of July 1949, number 1, page 10, the Canadian Jewish Congress published a large, biographical-critical work titled: “A Jewish Literary Family.” The author, David Romm, examines the creative role of four members of the Stern family: The father Rabbi Avraham Stern, Yaakov Zipper, Yechiel Stern, and Shalom Stern. That article portrays the creative personality of each of them and their literary contributions to Yiddish literature in
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the realms of prose, poetry, and criticism, their contributions to educational endeavors, and the important position that each played in their participation in Jewish cultural life in Montreal in general, and in education in particular.
It is also worthwhile to stress that in the year 1951, the Canadian Jewish Congress, in collaboration with the Jewish Public Library in Montreal, organized a Canadian Yiddish book and poetry exhibition, which lasted for two weeks. At that exhibition, everything that had been written by Jews and about Jews, and had been published in Canada in Yiddish, Hebrew, English, and French was collected.
At that exhibition, a special table was set up with the works of the Stern family. The books of Rabbi Avraham Stern, may he live long, of blessed memory[1], Yaakov Zipper, Yechiel Stern, Shalom Stern, and excerpts from Aharon Krishtalka's poems of those ten years that were published in the press.
In that way, the Montreal Jewish society gave honor to the gifted family of writers – Stern-Zipper.
The Book of Testimonies in Israel
Rabbi Avraham Stern, the father of the Stern family, lived in Tyszowce for most of his years. He also lived for a time in Szczebrzeszyn [Shebreshin]. He came with his wife to Montreal in 1938 from Tyszowce, Poland, where he was a rabbinical judge, a rabbinical teacher, and shochet. He was known and held in esteem not only in Tyszowce, but also in the surrounding area where his name was quite well known. He was involved in Torah and Divine service all his life. While he was learning, he would point out certain notes, interpretations, and novel ideas, and sought to find an answer to questions that great scholars and rabbis also sought and tried to answer. He also studied with a number of students, mainly friends of his children with whom he himself studied.
When he arrived in Montreal, they convinced their father that his novel ideas and glosses should be published.
That treasury of novel ideas found its proper manifestation in the book entitled Edut BeYisrael [Testimony in Israel], novellae on the Babylonian Talmud and his commentaries in halacha and Aggadah [lore], as well as a bit on the Jerusalem Talmud, the Rambam and his commentaries, and the Shulchan Aruch [Code of Jewish Law], which the Good G-d has graced me , the lowly in the troops of Yissachar, Avraham the son of Reb Yissachar of blessed memory Stern.
He was previously a shochet and teacher of righteousness in the city of Tyszowce, Lublin Region, in the State of Poland. Now he is a shochet of fowl, and he studies with attentive friends in the Tzeirei Dat VaDaat [Youth of Religion and Knowledge], and Yavneh Beis Midrashes here in Montreal. Montreal, Canada, Marcheshvan 5704 – 1943. 328 pages (A quote from the title page).
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From the name of the book, one can already see the broad scope of the novellae with which the prominent author deals. The book Edut BeYisrael received great acclaim in the entire rabbinical and scholarly world immediately after its publication, both through the announcements in the press as well as through the personal letters of gratitude and appreciation from the prominent great ones of the generation from all the Jewish communities of the world.
Due to shortage of space, I will only cite a few excerpts from an article in the Kanader Adler from April 5, 1944, by Rabbi Pinchas Hirschsprung, the spiritual leader of Yeshivat Chachmei Lublin, rabbi of the Adas Yeshurun Synagogue, and currently rabbi, head of the rabbinical court of the rabbinical council in Montreal.
“A new treasury has arrived in the treasury of commentaries and novellae in halacha and Aggadah. Talmudic literature has been enriched with another composition that bears the name Edut BeYisrael. The author of that valuable book is the great scholar, Rabbi Avraham Stern, may he live long, Amen, who has acquired a name for himself in all parts of Montreal, both for his learning, as well for his fine renditions of Hassidic stories.
“Even though we have economic worries during these times, and each of us has a 'sighing soul' due to the events in Europe, and we are far from comfortable, in spite of this, the important author told me that he decided to publish his book Edut BeYisrael, of which approximately ninety percent is commentaries on halacha, Talmudic didactics, Talmud, Rambam, the four sections of the Code of Jewish Law, etc.” After that, the important rabbi cites a few novellae from the book Edut BeYisrael, and he ends with his assertion, “The newly published book, which is without doubt an important contribution to our Talmudic literature, should be reckoned among the treasury of books. It is worthwhile that every appreciator of books enrich his bookshelf with the Code of Jewish Law and the like.”
The Kvutzat Kitvei Aggadah Book
It is like the second part of Edut BeYisrael, that the good G-d has already granted me the merit of publishing to the light of the world, and to distribute in Jacob and Israel, anthologized with the help of G-d, may he be blessed,
Avraham the son of Yissachar Stern of blessed memory,
Formerly, the shochet and teacher of righteousness in the State of Poland, region of Lublin, district of Tomaszów, city of Tyszowce; currently in the county of Canada, here in Montreal, where he studies with attentive comrades in the Tzeirei Dat VaDaat Beis Midrash and in the Yavneh and Chevra Shas synagogues of the aforementioned city. This book is divided into three sections, two in Hebrew and one, the first part, in Yiddish. Montreal, Canada Elul
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5707 – 1945. (Excerpted from the title page), 52 pages, 494 in Hebrew , 96 in Yiddish, and 12 pages of content with explanation. This is an anthology of letters that the author wrote to his children throughout the duration of 22 years.
In the letters, the father shares with his children [ideas regarding] current events, political and economic, from the timeframe when the letter was written. He also discusses the weekly Torah portion, a fine teaching about a Talmudic passage, or an answer to a question asked by a child. The children saved the letters.
And when the author arrived in Canada, the children collected the letters and brought them to the father. This resulted in the letter collection that the author anthologized and compiled into a large, important work. It can be called an anthology book, if one can say such, in which the readers and teachers can find questions and answers on halacha, Aggadah, Zohar, and Kabbalah. The author demonstrates his wonderful expertise and analytical skills. It is also full of folklore material of great value. As with the first book, the book Anthology of Aggadaic Writings has received great acclaim in the scholarly world.
I will only cite a few excerpts from the remarks of Rabbi Yehoshua HaLevi Hirshorn of blessed memory, the head of the rabbinical court of the city at that time.
Following that, Rabbi Hirschorn gives the definition of the uniqueness of diligence and expertise that demonstrates the level or style of each scholar (Kanader Adler, February 20, 1948). He writes:
“… The author was a rabbinical judge, rabbinical teacher, and shochet in a shtetl in Poland. When he came to Montreal, he came to the realization that, not taking into account his great learning and expertise in all aspects of Torah, it would not be appropriate for him to seek a rabbinical position in the city when he will be. Who knows about the president and assessors, from whom he would probably suffer the spiritual suffering that our rabbis and Torah scholars suffer from… The author earns his livelihood from the income of his holy work, which he receives with great honor. However, the scholar and Torah great within him did not slumber. Rather, he sits with excitement and produces his novelle in halacha and Aggadah…” And… Anyone who looks into his book will not be satisfied by merely perusing what he said, as one does with all books of exegesis. One cannot grasp anything by reading quickly. One must delve deeply and also look into the cited sources in order to grasp the intended idea. The book was written in the style of halacha, with a wonderful level of expertise that is rich and well considered. It is obvious that the author wished to transmit everything with great influence. Since he possesses a great level of breadth of knowledge,
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the book is full and overflowing. It is often a pleasure to see that the author had fine sources at his hand for his thesis in Aggadah…”And the important rabbi concludes… “The author also has a great mastery and knowledge of books of Kabbalah. He deals with terminology from Kabbalah and gematria together with halacha and Aggadah in a fine fashion. He also brings down very many statements of famous Admorim, and at the same time interjects a thought that has a connection with halacha…”
… “The portion of the book written in Yiddish also contains very fine ideas. However, I believe that every reader will realize this without me pointing it out.”
… “The book makes a very fine impression with its breadth, in Gemara, in the literature of the revealed Torah, and also in the literature of the hidden Torah [i.e., Kabbalah]. It is excellent, and can and must be well supported in all Torah and rabbinical sources.”
Sefer Chutim Hameshulashim [The Book of the Threefold Threads]
Containing three opened books
a. Hassidic stories. b. Sarei BeYissachar. c. Orein Tlitai.
Authored by (the author of the books Edut BeYisrael and Kevutzat Kitvei Aggadah)
Avraham the son of Reb Yissachar of blessed memory Stern
He was formerly the shochet and teacher of righteousness in Tyszowce, district of Tomaszów region of Lublin, State of Poland. Currently in Montreal, Canada.
Montreal, Canada, Kislev 5614 – 1953 (cited according to the title page).
This book consists of three parts. The first part contains 32 stories in Yiddish about the Baal Shem Tov and his students – 100 pages.
The second and third parts – collected novellae about the Talmud and responsa – 103 pages.
The author was an artistic storyteller of Hassidic stories. His audience would be raised up spiritually when they heard Rabbi Stern tell a story about the Baal Shem Tov.
Each story in the book is full of Torah [thoughts], notarikon[2], and lessons about how one should conduct oneself. In general, they are replete with love of one's fellow Jew. Telling over a story was like the oral Torah for the important author. For the most part, the stories in the book include the sources from which Rabbi Stern had heard the story.
This demonstrates how careful and reliable the author was to the verse: if one says
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something in the name of the person who stated it, etc.[3]. He told almost all the stories at the Sabbath table when the children came for kiddush or other occasions, and also to his students during the third Sabbath meal in Tzeirei Dat Va Da'at. The book Chutim Hameshulashim has received great recognition, just like his previous two books.
In Tag from April 21, 1955, Menashe Unger writes, among other things: “The most important thing is when one turns the oral Torah into the written Torah from the stories that elderly Hassidim told at their table celebrations, at the third sabbath meal, at Melave Malka [the post Sabbath meal], or at a yahrzeit of a Rebbe that are then recorded. Rabbi Stern, who was a Husiatyner Hassid, recorded Hassidic stories that he himself had heard. Thus, one can state about this endeavor that he was a unique person in his generation, the one and only in our generation.”
Sh. Ernst – Tel Aviv, under the chapter “Hassidic Stories from Primary Sources,” Kanader Adler August 13, 1956, Montreal, writes amongst other things: “It is the fine trait of the stories of Rabbi Stern, who had the opportunity to live amongst Hassidim, and did not restrict himself to merely literary pursuits, for he portrayed the legendary lives of good Jews, thanks to his personal experiences and sharp observations. From the 32 stories that he published in the book Chutim Hameshulashim, it is difficult to find a story that was previously known in the large, rich body of Hassidic folk literature. If one can find such a story, it would be in a different fashion.
“Being a Hassid himself, Rabbi Stern wrote his stories with great sincerity. For him, every story is full of love, infused with faith and warmheartedness. This is the true style of Hassidim. The light of faith and belief – is the illuminated Stern, who emulated the good Jews in the way of their lives.
“One can cite from almost every story and demonstrate that those stories have poetic and literary value. This is a rare phenomenon in old-style rabbinical literature.”
In Israel, some publisher has republished the Yiddish section of Chutim Hameshulashim – i.e., the 32 stories – in a separate book called Hassidic Stories from Avraham the son of Yissachar Stern, Tel Aviv, 1960, without the knowledge of the Stern family. The publisher did not include the name of a publishing house. When he found out that the family was still inquiring about this, it was suddenly removed from the market. The Orthodox booksellers were silent when they were asked form where they had obtained it.
When the Montreal students and appreciators of Rabbi Avraham Stern found out that their rabbi was publishing a book, they were overtaken
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with great joy. They subscribed to it, and helped raise the necessary funds to cover the expenses.
They did the same with the second and third books. Several hundred copies of the book were sent for free to all the Yeshivot in Israel, and to places where they were able to obtain an address of a Jewish community.
Rabbi Avraham Stern died on 8 Adar I 5715 – 1955 in Montreal after a brief illness.
Jewish Montreal accompanied their rabbi [at his funeral] with great honor and respect. Almost all the rabbis of Montreal eulogized the rabbi.
A. Perlman, who writes under the name “The smallest of his mourning students” in Tag of April 21, 1955, writes in a letter to Menashe Unger: “When one found oneself in his environment, one felt elevated. He was one of the few Hassidic scholars who was also clear in worldly matters, like a Mishnaic scholar before his time. We treated him with great honor, like a true Tzadik. The entire local community is in sorrow. May his memory be blessed.”
| N. B. A brief bibliography excerpted from the work of the second and third of the Stern family is included in this book under the section: “Supplementary Material on the history of Tyszowce – Authors and Writers.” |
| Editor |
Translator's footnotes:
by M. Fisher (Montreal, Canada)
Translated by Moses Milstein
In memory of Gitl Stern, a”h, from someone from the back streets.
She was called “Gitl die shoichetke” in town, but for us kids from the backstreets, she was “die Miemeh Giteleh.”[2] We had mixed feelings for the Miemeh Giteleh. We liked her and of course had immense respect for her, but nevertheless we trembled, and anxiety befell us when we sprained an arm or a leg at play, and our mothers took us by the hand and said, “Let's go to Miemeh Giteleh.”
The Miemeh Giteleh was not at all to blame for our sprained hands or legs. But try to reason with a little heart that flutters from fear. We all knew what she would do. First she would rub alcohol or vinegar on the injured limb. She would do it very, very gently so that you could barely feel it. Then she would put back in place the hand or foot. But no matter how easily or slowly she did it, it would still hurt. Even though she would keep blowing on the painful spot and tell us, “Now, now, soon, soon, it's back to normal already.”
Through tears of pain we looked at her with a heavy, constricted heart, full of resentment, almost hate. It was even worse when R ' Abraham Shoichet was home and helped out. Our cries could be heard ten streets away. ”What are you doing to the child?!” “Don't squeeze so hard!” “Are you dealing with an adult?|!” The kid is in agony!” “Good, take over again.” “Can't you see you need to use more force?” “You've been poking around for almost an hour already, and nothing's happening.” They argued as if not with each other, but with us, resenting the fact that they are causing us pain. But as soon as the Miemeh Gitleh bandaged our hands or feet, and told us under no circumstances to move the hand or the foot, and often ordered us to keep the arm suspended with a kerchief, so all at once,
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our tearful eyes gleamed with love and respect for our Miemeh Giteleh.
We ate with delight, a sweet cookie, a vikeleh, a piece of komish broit dipped in syrup she gave us to derkvikken sich dem hartz.
|
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| Gitl Stern a”h |
She would also come to our homes if we were ill. We looked forward to her coming. She always brought something for us that we liked, a candy, a good cookie, an apple, and a spoonful of raspberry juice to drink with a glass of tea. That was the best
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prescription. But, when she saw that tea with raspberry juice and staying in bed would not be enough, she would advise calling in the doctor.
She was also called to see adults. She brought them raspberry juice as well, and gave the same advice: to lie in bed and drink a lot of hot tea and raspberry juice.
Often she also brought blackberry juice. But this was only helpful for diarrhea. She also applied “bankes[3]” for shoulder or back pain. And if none of this helped, she advised calling the doctor. And if they couldn't afford a doctor, she made sure they got one. She first gave from her own purse, and then went around the shops. Soon there was enough for a doctor, and also for a chicken to make a little broth for the patient.
Our Miemeh Giteleh knew about all the suffering souls. Not because she was, God forbid, a gossip. No, every one in town knew that her advice was priceless. All those with heavy hearts came to her for advice, to get things off their chest, in complete confidence. “Speaking to Gitl the shoichetke is like a stone in the water.” She spoke softly, slowly, more with a wink than with words.
And this was also the way she walked, hugging the walls, slinking off to the side in order not to be noticed. Thin and small, dressed plainly but clean. And her big dark eyes expressed sadness, rarely, rarely did they display a smile. Everyone knew that she had suffered a great loss.
Her oldest son, Issachar, perished in the first World War. He was killed in his own home by a Russian bomb that was aimed at the German arsenal in town. She was not even there at the time. She was in a nearby shtetl with the other children. Upon arriving home she was greeted by her husband, grown grey from the great tragedy, standing by their ruined house, and Issachar in his grave in the cemetery.
From that time on, she removed her wig, and put on a kerchief. She hung up all her holiday dresses never to be seen again. She avoided looking at Issachar's friends, the light gone out of her eyes, in order not to pass on, God forbid, the evil eye. And they, missing him, sought rather her closeness, to sooth the longing in their hearts.
First, R' Abraham reasoned with his Gitl, “Don't sin. God gave, and God took. It is his. We were granted him only for a while. Have pity on yourself, on me, on the children.”
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So she shut everything within herself, and in this way, continued on with her household, raised her children, took care of her husband, and devoted herself to the forlorn and poor of the shtetl.
She ignored her own poverty to lessen the poverty and hunger of the surrounding backstreets. She literally shared her food with them. The few scraps R' Abraham Shoichet brought in twice a week she distributed to others. Other shoichetkes sold their scraps and got a few Zlotys which were always helpful in a shoichet's meager earnings. But not Gitl the shoichetke. No matter how many scraps R' Abraham brought home after sharing with the other shoichets, it was not enough to distribute to everyone.
Among the poor, she had several types. There were those who insisted “they don't want it for nothing.” So she took whatever they could afford. “As long as it goes well.”
To the needy that came for a piece of intestine, or a piece of fat, a piece of liver, spleen, and were too ashamed of the watching eyes nearby, she would say with a smile, “You can pay me later.” And the woman went away with her bit of scraps, with joy, and a blessing for Gitl the shoichetke, R' Abraham, and their children. She would hurry home to kosher the food and cook supper. And before her eyes danced the avid little flames in the eyes of her hungry children at supper that night.
Gitl also had secretive, hidden paupers. Those who died from starvation quietly in their houses, not wanting anyone to know about their poverty. For them, she brought the scraps herself to their houses. And when her children were grown, she sent them to help the paupers. She knew she could trust her children.
Her children observed and learned from their father and mother. In later years, when she would travel in the summer to the dacha of a relative of hers to help her poor health a little, she would give the task to her grown daughter.
In giving away the scraps, she had little left for herself, for her own household and a little something for her relatives.
Poverty in the shtetl was widespread. There were only a few wealthy or well-off families. The majority of the population slaved to get enough to eat. And good people with God in their hearts,
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shared what little they had. Otherwise they would have died from hunger and cold.
Thus on frigid mornings you could see Gitl the shoichetke with an armful of wood on her way to a poor neighbor, or a closeted pauper. At daybreak, so no one would know, she would carry the pieces of wood to the frozen houses, and only after that, would she heat her own house. She and R' Abraham brought to bear all their knowledge about heating so that it would be warm at home, and still have enough to share the wood, because winters were harsh, and the accumulated wood must be enough “both for us, and for the needy.”
There was always sickness in the shtetl, some died from their bitter ailments.
Gitl the shoichetke, for whom “time had healed” the great longing for her son, Issachar, weak, and exhausted, did not dwell on her feeble strength, but went wherever she was called. And when she saw that the sick person was at death's door, and needed immediate succor, and getting a few Zlotys here and there would not be enough, that greater help was needed, she went home, put on better clothes, and went off to the shops to her better-off, close friends, to get bigger donations. When she showed up at their door, they received her with great respect, and gave generously, and expressed the wish that “they would be protected by her worthiness, and that the patient should have a speedy and complete recovery.”
She only went to particular people for donations. To those who gave wholeheartedly, to those who also went themselves seeking donations, and helping the needy. When she was seen among the shops, the shopkeepers knew that Gilt was coming after a very significant donation again, and everyone waited and hoped that their shop would not be missed.
She taught her children early on to follow in the footsteps of their parents, to help as much as they were able, to share whatever they had, to treat their friends equally. Not with words but with deeds. From early on, she made her children helpers in the great mitzvah of charity, especially with regard to the embarrassed. From their earliest days, she sent them around to the poor with whatever help she could provide, and whatever help she could get from others.
Friday evening, as son as the blessings for the candles was done, she sent out her two little daughters, to gather challah from the homes for the poor. And in the morning, Saturday, she helped them make portions from the pieces of challah, and take them where needed.
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When they were older she sent them to the “ladess” to help out making matzes for Pesach, so that the others could take a break for a few hours, or have a nap. The “lad” was working constantly, day and night. To be kosher, so the matzes should not become treyf, everything had to be done quickly.
The dough kneading, the rolling, the hole-making, and the baking, all had to be done quickly. The supervision by the rabbi and the dayan was strict. And the “lad”-makers also wanted to bake as many matzes as they could. They waited all year with anticipation for the earnings of those two weeks of work. Gitl's daughters helped out mostly with the rolling of the dough. The older one was also allowed to do the hole-making. Her children grew up with poverty, their own and others' around them, and became one with her. Gitl the shoichetke was busy from early to late at night.
In spite of the fact her children eased the load for her, spared her weakness, it was difficult for her to carry out her daily activities, to provide meals with little money, especially since she always had to be ready to feed dinner to an unexpected guest. She also had to worry about her relatives coming from shtetls near and far to “eat their full,” and to even leave with a few zlotys in their pockets.
Like her secretive paupers, she also did not want anyone in town to know about her own poverty, about the way she had to piece together, calculate, finagle, the few Zlotys her Abraham brought home and gave over to her management, for some food, clothes for a child, and for the needy. The other three shoichets in town were considered to be poor. But not R' Abraham. “By R' Abraham Shoichet you live comfortably.” An open door for beggars to eat, spend the night. Their own children slept doubled up in the narrow bunk beds. And the guests slept on straw mattresses on bench boards.
That Gitl gives up her own food, and her own children leave the table hungry, no one in town could imagine. The secret of his “wealth” that the shtetl believed in, R' Abraham warmly proposed, was his Gitl, the eyshet chayal, the berye niflo'e , and every Friday evening, coming home with his boys from davening, he would stride cheerfully across the big room, and loudly sing Shalom Aleichem, and invite the “malachei hasharet, malachei elion to their Sabbath home. With fervor he sang “Eyshet chayal mi nimtzah” to his Gitl, his eyshet chayal, and with love his eyes went from Gitl to
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the children, from the children to Gitl. And Gitl, bent over the candles, occupied with Maariv, glowed and blushed. The Sabbath gave her strength for the whole week. The zmires from her Abraham and the children at the Sabbath table melt her, caress her not-healed wound, the gnawing longing for her boy struck down in his youth.
This Sabbath day, Gitl gives up completely the Sabbath. Saturday mornings she goes to daven in the shul or the Husiatyn shtibl where Abraham davens. Like her Abraham, she believes deeply in the old Husiatyn rebbe, long may he live. Once a year she travels with Abraham to the rebbe to celebrate. During the davening, she gathers the women around her, shows them what part of the davening they're at. They know that if you're next to Gitl you daven and don't talk. After eating, and during the Shabbes naptime, she reads the Tseneh Reneh.[4] Winter, peyrek, and summer, barchi nafshi. In the hot, long Shabbes afternoons, she liked to read with her older daughter on the sidewalk, at the front of the house. The women neighbors from the streets around occupied the whole sidewalk and listened in eagerly and with great enjoyment.
Shabbes, she also visited her good friends, or invited them to her place. With the end of prayers, with a sad melody “God of Abraham,” Gitl lit a candle for the new week of toil and worry with the great plea, “To God, blessed is He, our father, he should shield and protect all his children, and her lonely child, her Yankl, away from home, among them.”
An empty spot remained in the house. And a fresh wound in her wounded heart since her Yankl had to leave for foreign places. She remembers his studying, his sweet music, her heart constricting, unable to find comfort. She gets ready to go and travel to Volhyn where he is living.
She brings all manner of good things. Preserves, dried fruit, stuffed, baked tripe. All his favorite foods. “May he feel a little bit like home.”
And no matter how long she spent with her beloved son, and no matter how much joy they experienced in each other's company, “she left him away from home, wandering like Yosef Hatsadik from his home.” So it continued until Yankl travelled to Canada.
Gitl the shoichetke aged a lot before her time. Not by her years. Really terrible times arose for everyone, especially for Jews. The youth were restless. The shtetl was too small for them. They left for the wider world, for the big cities looking for work.
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To change the world, to push through a crack to Eretz Israel, to study in high schools, and teacher seminaries. Gitl sees one child after the other leaving for foreign places. Even overseas to Canada, or for the time being, to Vilna.
And each time when she and Abraham return home they look at each other with dumb sorrow in their eyes, and a new longing takes root in their hearts. Now they live only through the letters and photographs of their children. She becomes a grandmother through the letters. Through the letters she becomes a mother-in-law.
And she, the hard tested mother, provides consolation to other mothers with broken hearts. Her home is often happily restored for weeks and months at a time when the children come for Pesach, or during summer holidays, from Vilna. And Abraham goes into debt up to his eyeballs so the kids can come. He can't look on as Gitl declines. She eats less and less each day. And he too can't find a place for himself. He misses his children at the studying, the davening, at the table, during meals. To have a chat about world events, abut the bitter Jewish events. R' Abraham is proud of his children. He derives strength from their letters, and studies with them through the letters he writes to them.
The noose tightens more and more. The Polish earth burned beneath every Jew's foot. Everyone was looking for a way to save themselves. Not particular, as long as they escaped this hell. Gitl the shoichetke, and Abraham, saw that God had performed a great kindness for them, truly a miracle. So they wrote to their two sons in Canada that they should not rest, and bring the other children to Canada. And if God were willing, and with the rebbe's blessing, to bring them over as well. Their sons truly did not rest. So Gitl the shoichetke began again to see her children off, to part with “who knows if we shall see each other again.” And with each child her “soul separated from her body.” First the oldest daughter and her husband, three days after the wedding. After them, the youngest daughter, and after her, the son and the daughter-in-law and grandchild, and then the youngest son.
Gitl was left with Abraham like a petrified stone. The only thing that kept her going was her daily work for the sick and hungry in the shtetl. Her preoccupation with the needy eased somewhat her great longing for her children.
And when God helped her, and the time came for her to be reunited with her children in Canada, she distributed all her
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goods to the needy, and some things to her relations and friends. She left very little for herself, mainly just as a remembrance.
When the time came to leave the shtetl, she felt as if she was leaving a part of herself. The shtetl remained in chaos, danger. She must save as much as she could. She told herself, and them, that she would not rest until she saved them from the great danger which was approaching them and all Jews.
The whole shtetl accompanied them far along the sandy road. All “Miemeh Giteleh's children” who were still in the shtetl came. Even the Christian neighbors came.
R'Abraham had to wrest her away from her near and dear ones, her shtetl.
He had to force her into the carriage that took them to the nearby train station. The cries and shrieks carried to the skies. A lamentation followed the disappearing carriage, “Gitl, how can you leave us?!”
“The rebbetsin,” as the students of R' Abraham Stern, z”l, called her here, died Erev Rosh Hashanah, 5716.
Translator's footnotes:
by Zvi Zwilich – Israel
Translated by Sara Mages
In the early 1920s, our great writers, who often depicted Jewish life in the “town” of Russia and Poland, did a favor to our people.
In their wildest imagination they never imagined that these works would also be the “swan song of the town.” After the Holocaust of the Second World War of 1939-1945, their authentic work was also the tombstone for the glorious Jewish town - in Poland and most of the European Diaspora.
The writers of our history, through all the years of our exile in the Diaspora, knew how to commemorate heroes, and acts of heroism, that were displayed among the people in time of calamities. From the Babylonian exile through the Maccabean wars to the present. To this day, thirty years from the beginning of the Second World War, a national poet has not yet arisen who can encompass the magnitude of the Holocaust, and the horror of the greatest destruction in the brutality of war that the world has known so far.
The burden will be too heavy for the historian who will want to discover from the ruins of the towns and ghettos their unknown heroes, because there are many. Many are the characters who experienced hellish torments before dying in the Nazi furnaces, and left no remnant behind for their family. Only a few were left from each town, as the poet said: two from a city and one from a family. And a sacred duty rests on those left to perpetuate their names lest their memory be forgotten forever. Because it is only by chance that this was their bitter fate, and we were privileged to be among the founders and builders of our longed-for homeland.
In referring to the map of Great Poland - Tyszowce was maybe a small dot of no importance from a strategic and economic point of view. In terms of the history of Poland, the town is mentioned during the time of General Stefan Czarniecki, and the agreement that was signed after the war of that time under the name “Confederation-Tyszowce.” For me, in the early 1920s, Tyszowce was the whole wide world. This muddy town, in an area of streams, was located in an environment of forests and pastures, fields and gardens. In most months of the year, the mud reached up to your knees. There were still no roads in the town, transportation with the immediate surroundings was conducted by horse and wagon services, and the train passed about seven kilometers from the town.
Here, inside small, and incredibly clean wooden houses with no electricity, water, and minimal sanitary arrangements - a traditional Jewish life was conducted for many generations. Our great poet, Y. L. Peretz, came here at the beginning of the 20th century to commemorate his heroes, the common Jews who woke up before sunrise to worship God. By the light
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of a kerosene lantern, they walked slowly to the first minyan in Beit HaMidrash and from there to their daily work, someone to the store, someone to the small industry, or somebody to the neighboring village with his merchandise.
There were no wealthy men in the town, but there was no lack of scholars, learned men, and rabbis. Beit HaMidrash was not only a place of prayer and the study of a page of Gemara, but also a meeting place for every public activity in the town. Here was the parliament and the shaping of public opinion for every public and local event. Here the public activists fought for their influence with all the tools at their disposal. A famous rabbi came here to inspire his Hassidim and to sit with them. And on another day of the week a famous cantor arrived. The town's synagogue was known for its beauty throughout the area and served as a public center for the Jewish way of life in the town. This is how Jewish life went on in peace and harmony for many years.
The shocks that befell the Jewish world after Meora'ot Tarpat[1] and the rise of anti-Semitism in Poland didn't skip Tyszowce. The feeling of financial insecurity and the many question marks - what next? remained unanswered. The mature youth began to seek their own way. A number of youth left for the big city to learn a trade. A small number began to study trades in Tyszowce that were in demand in the town, and a large number, who finished school or part of it, didn't find a job at all. The echoes of the Hebron and Safed riots in Israel directed the attention of the boys and girls to a new direction - Eretz Yisrael.
As on the waves of a fierce storm, the magic word, Eretz Yisrael, appeared in every remote Jewish town. A great wave of Jewish youth movements, in every town and city rebelled against conventions, and it seemed that the time was ripe for a revolution. In place of Beit HaMidrash appeared the club that gave an outlet to the energy that had accumulated within the youth. The [older] Jews didn't easily accept this phenomenon of boys and girls walking together without a head covering, the walks on Saturdays in the great outdoors, the departure for summer camps and more. However, many, deep in their hearts, gave a blessing to their children who might, one day, pave a road for themselves.
The club of Poalei Zion Right “Freiheit” attracted, as if by a magic wand, masses of boys and girls into the walls of a shack to frame the movement “Freiheit- Skoiten” [“The Free Scouts”]. Here, within the walls of the shack, they spent most of their free time learning the basics of the movement, Hebrew, and information about Israel. Here the boys and girls absorbed the atmosphere of Eretz Yisrael, and here they held public trials on various subjects. Here dramatic talents were discovered, which manifested themselves in independent performances within the walls of the movement and in our celebrations, and the choir was well known in the town. The library also grew. On Saturday nights the branch was noisy like a beehive. The echoes of the singing and the dancing of the hora echoed from one end of the town to the other. Here in the shack, the youth discovered themselves, and the movement gave them a purpose in life.
Tyszowce was blessed by the number of movement activists, who devoted their time and energy to this sacred work, among them many who are no longer alive, such as: M. M. Schaler, Yitzhak Landau, Aharon Ang, Eliezer Klenberg, Tuvia Wachsbaum and others. And may they live long, Pinchas Landau, Hersh Kizel, Shlomo Roth and others, and among the young generation: Pesach Kreiner, Yechiel Haser and others.
With maturity many groups moved to the HeHalutz[2] framework in order to leave for Hakhshara[3] and fulfillment. In the Hakhshara kibbutzim, the Tishevitsers were a united group. Small Tyszowce of that time, which was poor in famous personalities, who
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didn't appear in newspapers headlines, was blessed with good youth who found their place in each social and public circle. It was a melting pot for us, a rooted movement for human values in society. This Tyszowce no longer exists. Gentile Tyszowce harassed its sons, its Jewish builders, for hundreds of years and in active partnership with the Nazi oppressor, it vomited them.
We will not weep for its destruction, only for the desecration of human dignity. We will condemn the young lives that were deprived through no fault of their own, and the loved ones who were sacrificed in the Holocaust and died for the sanctification of God's name.
We will repeat and remember to the last generation - Remember! what Amalek did to you!
And this is a crime that will be remembered forever.
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| The committee of Poalei Zion United and the Zionist-Socialist Party in Tyszowce |
Translator's footnotes:
by Menya Goldman (Borg) (Israel)
Translated by Moses Milstein
The membership card of the Y. L. Peretz library that was found, with the signatures of the chairman and secretary, Mendl Singer, and Yosl Shtengl, z”l, and the date of January 1938,was hidden until now by Shmelke Kizl as a souvenir. It reminds me of certain moments that I can see as clearly as if they were living occurrences, but unfortunately, are a deadly reality of our destroyed shtetl, and cultural institutions such as the Y. L. Peretz library.
Externally, the house where the library was located was no different from the other houses in the city other than having big arc lamps whose light spilled out into the street. But as soon as you went through the door,
[Page 174]
you could see at once that this was a library, and on coming in, you felt that you were in a cultural institution. The atmosphere here was more serious than in other party locales. In the first room, a bookcase full of Yiddish, Hebrew, and Polish books. All the works of the classics of Yiddish literature like Mendele, Sholem Aleichem, Peretz, and others. Books of a literary nature, and books about science. It had everything.
In the second big room–a reading hall. On the tables all the daily newspapers, weeklies, and journals. There were also two big catalogues. And most importantly it was always packed full of readers, regular readers and occasional. One of the regular readers was Hershl Hantz, z”l. He would always be found sitting at the same spot bent over a book or a newspaper.
The library also had a radio which was a rare thing in the shtetl. The radio was purchased with the fees that the members levied on themselves in 1936. In the heat of the Spanish civil war you could find the membership director, Wolf Getz, z”l, next to the radio. He was responsible for taking care of the radio, and turning it on at exactly the time for the daily news. (Djenik).
Some times the radio did not do its job because of some problem. But the devoted listeners would still sit around it even thought it was silent…The accounts of the library were always in a deficit, because the membership fees of 30 groshen a month were not enough to cover all the expenses, especially in winter when the library had to be heated and everything was so expensive.
So the board had to wrestle with the deficit and find ways to carry on, and cover the deficit. The only method was to organize events like, for example, a Purim ball, and invite a lot of guests with the calculation that it would bring in a certain amount of money.
In January 1938, it was decided to organize a Purim ball. They voted in a special committee with Mendl Singer Brush as chairman. Among the youngest on the committee were the writer of these lines, and my friend, Zisl Worzl, z”l. Our job was to write invitations from a prepared list. We were very happy with our task, and fulfilled it with complete accuracy. The frequent assemblies, meetings, discussions, votes, interested us greatly until the ball was accepted.
The invitations were sent via a courier, because we wanted to avoid paying postage, and also for the security of knowing that everyone received their invitation.
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All the invited members and sympathizers were also asked to bring a present to the ball, aside from the admission price. Certain designated people were selected for this. One of them, I remember, was Feige Pelz, z”l.
Everything was going along very smoothly. We, the young, experienced the feeling of satisfaction that we could accomplish something, and that we would be part of such a thing as a Purim ball. One evening, the hall already decorated, and the last preparations underway for the ball, a policeman showed up and told us that the administration had to go see the commandant at the police station. Everyone present froze in that moment. Some of the members said that it was nothing, probably only to clear up some matters to do with the ball. There were others, however, who held that the matter was not so simple, and there was a danger that the ball would not take place, and even worse…knowing that the commandant, Radiszewski, was capable of anything. The scoundrel was well known to the Jewish population in the city, always living at the expense of the Jews. He used to buy things, eat and drink, and demand that it be pout on his account, which he never paid.
And when he was approached for help for a Jew who had been assaulted by a hooligan in the middle of the street, this same commandant would ask with a smile, “Beaten, or killed?” If merely beaten, it must have been by a certain drunk. This according to him was a natural event. From such a personage, we could expect the worst.
The police commandant informed the board that two weeks from then, the library must no longer exist, for the reason that communist activities were taking place there.
In an oppressive mood, full of sorrow and pain all the gathered presents were returned, and the long-awaited ball did not take place.
The books and the inventory were given to the Poalei Zion party, and one evening the police came and sealed the doors of the library, which was actually non-partisan.
The arc lights were extinguished together with the cultural center, the Y. L. Peretz library in Tishevits.
The reading hall was in darkness, like an omen of a portending darkness, and the coming devastation and destruction of the entire shtetl set on fire by the Poles, and burned to the last Jewish house after the entry of the Germans.
Only the sad memories remain, and a silent witness–the surviving membership card.
In memory of my grandfather
R' Shraga Feivel and his dear family members
by Michael Drori (Finger)
Translated by Sara Mages
I often debated how, and in what manner, to give adequate expression to the feelings in my heart, to the feelings in my emotions, for the charming town that once was and is no more…
This town was typical of many towns in Poland before the Second World War. Nevertheless, it seems to me that there was something special in Tyszowce, so typical of the special virtues of its inhabitants…
Although I am not a native of this place, I visited it many times during my beautiful and pleasant childhood years. I visited it and spent days and hours there that, in no small part, had a decisive influence on the course of my life. This is not just a matter of nostalgia, because I am often attacked by deep longings for the grandeur, supremacy and grace, which remained etched in my memory (although quite a few years have passed since then)…
Sometimes, for many reasons, we tended to describe the town (any town) as a place of poverty, degeneration and compassion. We also often told our children about the lives of sorrow and deprivation, the fate of the residents at that time - irregular livelihoods, idle life, lack of content and future - in one word: nothing!
However, for the sake of the historical truth that we are commanded to instill in our children and future generations, we do an injustice to ourselves, and to Jewish towns in the Diaspora, if we describe the town and its natural and human landscape in this way.
It seems to me that I am unable to describe a sincere and true description of that good, pure human spirit, in which the residents of this town lived, grew up and were educated in. The social life of this town was based on several charitable institutions: Gemilut Hasadim, Linat Tzedek, Bikur Cholim, Hachnasat Kalla, etc.
Love of mankind, honest love, real and thorough - these, and many more, are the exalted and beautiful qualities that were found in this town. How much magic could be felt in its narrow streets, and its low houses, with the setting of the sun when the Shabbat atmosphere was felt in every corner… Its inhabitants, who most days were concerned with their livelihood, were filled with sorrow and grief from their gentile neighbors who placed a real heavy burden on their lives, and yet, at the beginning of Shabbat, or on the eve of the holidays, you could really feel the holiness…
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Serenity was felt in the air. Jews, among them quite a few, struggled hard to earn a little money to provide food for their family members. Jews on whose foreheads were seen deep wrinkles, young Jews whose hair had turned prematurely white - all of them knew how to raise and live a human Jewish life, full of content, full of inner happiness, and belief in the redemption of man and the Jews.
These are just reflections from that beautiful town, charming and beautiful, where my grandfather and grandmother, may they rest in peace, had lived.
I remember the Hasidic melodies that emerged from the shtiblach on weekdays, like on Holy Days, or the special melodies that accompanied the study of the Gemara in Oi,amar Rava [Thus, Rava said] Oi,amar Hanina [Thus, Hanina said]… How pleasant it was to stand behind the wall of the Beit HaMidrash and listen to the special melody that penetrated the depths of the heart, and reached the roots of the roots, and the depth of the soul…
Shaul Tschernihovski, the greatest Jewish poet, emphasizes in a wonderful way the years of childhood that absorb into them the events whose influence is sometimes decisive in man's path.
Man is but…“Man is but the soil of a small country,
Man is but the imprint of his native landscape,
Only what his ear picked up is still fresh,
Only what his eye has absorbed is not yet sated to see,
Everything that a child encountered on a dewey path,
Hesitating, tripping over every lump and heap of earth,
While secretly in his soul and without his knowledge, an altar
Is set, on it he will burn incense each and every day
To the Queen of Heaven, to the star and zodiac;
But with the passage of time, and in a war of self-existence,
And the scroll of his life is interpreted-
And they came one by one, and he will discover the meaning
Each letter and letter and symbol and symbol all that follows,
Which were engraved on her at the beginning of her covenant -
Man is but the imprint of his native landscape.”
And again: I cannot free myself from that home saturated with warmth, the joy of life, manners, and a family bond that united such a beautiful framework, like the home of my grandfather, Rabbi Feivel, may he rest in peace.
Shabbat eve at my grandfather's house, the special Shabbat atmosphere, the Kiddush, the varied and special food and the songs, oh, the Shabbat songs, the very same wonderful melodies that are still playing in my heart…
And today, now that I have grown up and look back, again and again, I feel that in my approach to modern Israeli life, in search of my path after an educational orientation in intergenerational education, I take inspiration, among others, from those good days that are gone…
The chain has not yet been severed- it goes on and on, from then until today.
by Moshe
Translated by Moses Milstein
If you could describe someone as energetic, high-spirited, and a go-getter, it would be Yosl.
His activities in the Poalei-Zion organization as member of the youth committee, and his taking part in the drama circle was a natural thing for him.
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| Part of the funeral for Yosl Sachar, z”l, in 1937 |
He was at first interested in the Yiddish program of the organisation. Something was not entirely clear to him. He was not satisfied because the youth of the left wing Poalei Zion and the communist youth were practically saying the same things. That's why there were times when he met with the communist youth in their illegal meetings, massovkes[1]. His open discussions with folks in the street reached the police, and they suspected him of belonging to the illegal communist organization. There were times when the police would come to the family home and conduct searches, especially on May 1st, looking for illegal literature.
Ultimately, Yosl came to the conclusion that the theories of Ber Borochow were the most correct and one had to fight for the realization of proletarian Zionism.
He felt too constrained in the shtetl. Looking for broader horizons, he went off to Rawa-Ruska. He worked as a tailor there. Later he fell ill. Being certain of his strong constitution, he, unfortunately, did not follow his doctor's orders. He returned to Tishevits terribly sick. In a very short time, he, a young man, passed away.
The whole shtetl attended his funeral. Everyone mourned, young and old, religious and secular. Everyone rued his untimely death at 21 years of age.
Footnote:
by Moshe
Translated by Moses Milstein
The Tishevits klezmers were not merely a randomly created group, but really a family.
Maybe that's why their music was so full of charm. Their playing at Jewish weddings, at wedding processions to the shul–where it was established–was a happy event in the shtetl.
Their delightful melodies were also heard at Sefer Torah processions, and Purim evenings where they used to go around playing at people's houses.
The social institutions also used to get the klezmer to play at the special events they would organize. Even the Christians treated them with respect and used to laud them: “The Buruches are the best klezmers,” and used to hire the klezmer for their special national celebrations.
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The joy of their music is gone…
Everything has been silenced, The Tishevits klezmers are no more.
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| The Tishevits klezmers |
by Dov Spiz
Translated by Sara Mages
Yakov Szpiz z”l was born in 1922 in Tyszowce to his parents, Arye and Rachel. He studied in cheders, in a Polish school, and also in a yeshiva in Ludmir. When he was fourteen he joined the “Dror” movement, and at the age of fifteen joined the Hakhshara[1] in Grochów near Warsaw.
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| Yakov Szpiz z”l |
After two of his fingers were amputated in a work accident, he left the kibbutz for Warsaw where he worked as a furrier and continued his activities in the movement.
At the beginning of the Second World War, he escaped to the Russian occupation zone, and from there he was sent to work in the Northern Steppes. He was released after the Stalin Sikorski agreement and moved to Turkestan. He suffered greatly from the alienation of the Polish representatives to the surviving Jews, the citizens of their country, and from all the hardships of the war. He tried twice to cross the border from Russia to Persia in order to emigrate from there to Israel, but was returned to Russia.
After the war he joined the ranks of the Jewish refugees in Tashkent, and arrived in Poland with them. He immediately rejoined the “Dror” movement. For two years he worked in the Bericha Movement[2] and showed his abilities in difficult situations with the knowledge and unique qualities he acquired in Russia.
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In July 1946 he immigrated to Israel on the Ha'apala[3] ship “Biriah.”
In Israel, he was among the first to volunteer for the Israel Defence Forces despite the defect in his hand. His notes on life in the army are vibrant with healthy humor. He participated in the conquest of Neve Ya'ar, Bethlehem, Zvulun, and the German Colonies in Lower Galilee. He attended the first artillery course in the Israel Defence Forces, graduated and was sent to the defense of the Jordan Valley.
He defended Kibbutz Degania Alef and Kibbutz Degania Bet. On May 18, 1948, 11 Iyar, he was wounded in the leg and abdomen defending the police station near Zemach. He ran to the Jordan River and continued by swimming. He was picked up by a military boat, was brought to a hospital in Tiberias, and died on May 22, 1948.
He was buried in Tiberias and in 1950 was transferred to eternal rest in the Nahalat Yitzhak Cemetery.
May his memory be blessed.
Translator's footnotes:
by Pesheh Sachar
Translated by Moses Milstein
Who did not now Rucheleh Vakerman (Fleese). She was quiet by nature, yet everyone knew and valued her, and she was loved by everyone.
Those who knew her well emphasized her active participation in the social work of Poalei-Zion.
In Israel she was always involved with Tishevits people. When Tishevitsers arrived on Aliyah, she would seek them out. Unfortunately, death took her from us in her youth. Honor to her memory!
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The soldier Zvi |
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| Was a member of our organization's audit committee. He passed away on Saturday 22.11.1969 at the age of 46. | Arik was born in Kiryat Haim on 13.4.1942. Served in the army in the Navy on the ship “Haifa,” sent for reserve service on the ship “Eilat” on which he lost his life in an Egyptian missile attack on 17 Tishrei 5728, 21 October 1967. | |||
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