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[Page 305]
by A.K.
Translated by Odelia Alroy
Dr. Yitzhok-Shmuel Fiertog was born in the year 1843 in Mitvi [Mitau?], Courlander Gubernia. His father, a poor teacher, naturally was unable to give his children a broad education and little Yitzhok went straight from cheder into a fancy-goods store, where he served as an ordinary salesclerk. But he did not remain in the business long. The atmosphere in the store was burdensome for him and at 17 he left his work and energetically began to prepare for examination for the gymnasium. At 18 he began in the fourth class and ignoring the laughter of his friends, he studied hard and after finishing the gymnasium he enrolled at Derplan [unclear; perhaps Dorpat, now Tartu] University.
Understandably, as in the gymnasium, so in the university, Yitzhok had to take care of himself and later—also to support his family. Regardless, he studied diligently and learned much and his doctoral dissertation which he presented when he finished the university showed great expertise.
In 1875 Yitzhok brilliantly finished at the university and in about a year he was appointed as a military doctor in the Bobruisk hospital.
Seeing, face to face, for the first time the Jewish need, the young doctor began to feel an unbounded love for his poor brothers and decided never to part from them, to be near them for his entire life. And importantly, when in 1882 they wanted to transfer him to Finland, to a higher position, he declined and left his military post altogether.
From then on he devoted himself to the Jewish poor.
When in 1877 war broke out between Russia and Turkey, Dr. Fiertog was one of the first military doctors and he showed much bravery and boundless love for mankind. He received many medals for his service in the war. There are many interesting memories from important military people about his dedication in that time.
When he returned from the war, Dr. Fiertog again devoted himself to his poor neighbors and his name became known and respected by the broadest segment of the people in Bobruisk and its surroundings.
In 1892, Dr. Fiertog was associated with the Jewish Hospital and he worked there until 1904.
The beloved doctor showed much devotion to the volunteer firemen. He worked with them from the founding until his death—26 years in all.
Dr. Fiertog put much effort and energy into other pursuits. He was president of the local medical society, treasurer of the Jewish handworkers’ shul, shul doctor for all the Jewish free schools.
Not here, in a newspaper article, is the place to praise the personality and dedication of the late man—that would require a separate work and a special person.
After the thirty days of mourning of Dr. Fiertog’s death, we wanted to note some of the highlights of this man’s life, hoping that we will return to this topic at another time.
Footnote
[Page 306]
by Dr. A. Paperno
Translated by Odelia Alroy
Dr. Fiertog and “death” are two issues which indeed rule out one another. Even today, already a month after his death, I still don’t believe that Dr. Fiertog died.
All his colleagues always knew him as a vital person: he was busy nonstop, always running and always hurrying: here to those who were sick, there because of private matters for people. Just how much he did, which his energy and love of life allowed, in one day before his death—I can’t even imagine.
The day before his death his nephew, a renowned psychiatrist, Dr. Shenfeld, came from Riga.[1]
The atmosphere in the house was very heavy, sad. Everyone sat quietly in corners, and we, a group of doctors, together with Dr. Shenfeld, sat next to Fiertog’s sickbed.
In the room where we sat, the atmosphere was terrible: At night, the patient is almost unconscious, his breathing is heavy and rapid, he tosses, cannot find a comfortable place, and with everyone sitting helplessly and watching how death steals quietly to opposite of death—to the vital Fiertog.
The light which burned on the table, and the shadows, which fell on the floor and walls, made the atmosphere terrible: it felt as though something was in the room….
Suddenly, Fiertog regained consciousness for a short while and saw Dr. Shenfeld.
With joy he received his guest, thanked him for coming, asked how he was and soon he lost consciousness again.
Everyone sat quietly, not saying a word. And what could one say, what was there to say. All hope was lost.
It was apparent that Fiertog is trying to remember something, that he wants to say something, but his thoughts are jumbled and he can’t tie them together.
But he pulled himself together and directed himself to Dr. Shenfeld with a question:
“What’s happening with your trip abroad?”
Dr. Shenfeld traveled abroad to noted professors of psychiatry, in order to listen and answer them about the question of ritual murder, which they allege to Russian Jews. He was impelled to this undertaking because of the answer that Professor Sikorsky had given to this issue. Sikorsky had almost agreed that Jews use Christian blood for religious purposes.
Dr. Fiertog knew that Shenfeld went out of the country on this mission because the question interested him.
Dr. Shenfeld was happy when Fiertog questioned him about this: He wanted to change the atmosphere by this conversation. He began to tell about the first events in this matter.
One needed to see how Fiertog’s eyes became alive, with what energy he listened and asked questions: How happy he was, when he knew that learned men laughed at Professor Sikorsky and they ridiculed the shameful blood nonsense!
And all this in the last hours before his death, when his understanding was already weakened, when breathing was difficult.
Not a moment for himself, for his personal interests, for his own house and family—only for others, for those near and oppressed—even lying on his death-bed!
This could only happen with an unusual soul, with an extraordinary person, with a great humanist!
Soon after, Fiertog lost consciousness and this time forever. Dr. Fiertog died.
An unusual person left us. He had a big Jewish heart, that was full of pity for all those who suffer and are oppressed.
A few days after Fiertog’s death, I was called to a sick person in a village, pretty far from Bobruisk. When I got there, they already knew about the sad end and they came for me to tell them about Fiertog’s last moments.
From among a large group of people, who came, and asked me:
“Is it true doctor, as we were told that when Fiertog was already sick, some poor patients came to him. Fiertog, ailing, came out and said: those of you who came with money should go to the right, and those who have no money go to the left. The sick people wondered, but obeyed. Then the doctor said: those of you standing on the right go to other doctors, because any doctor will take you on; And those of you who have no money, remain: and so he took on all the charity cases, when he was already sick. On the next day, he was himself bed-ridden in a terrible condition.
What could I answer, who had asked so earnestly? If it happened, I don’t know. I answered—generally it was true—because Dr. Fiertog felt everyone’s pain, even when he was sick. In that was his greatness, which will never be forgotten.
Footnote
[Page 308]
by Mendel Elkin
Translated by Odelia Alroy
I will tell about Dr. Fiertog and how he saved my mother.
We then lived in a village, not far from Bobruisk.
My mother had given birth to a daughter and she became ill. She had fever and was ill for more than three weeks.
My mother had been very healthy and could therefore wrangle along with such a terrible sickness.
The village medicine could help her very little and she became sicker and sicker.
It was a crisis.
The local village healer tried everything to save mother from death, but he was helpless. He couldn’t do anything.
And on the 22nd or 23rd, at about one at night, my mother had a temperature of 40 C [about 104? F.] and began to die.
It was a winter night. It was very cold, a wind howled in the street and it was snowing. The roar of the wind mixed with the sad moans and cries of my brothers and sisters at the bed of our dying mother.
Suddenly, I heard the ring of a bell. Someone came to the house.
I stole out of the house and facing me, wrapped in a big fur coat was Dr. Fiertog.
Is it a dream or what? How did Dr. Fiertog come here? Did God in heaven send him to us, to save our mother? I was overwhelmed…until he came into the house.
Not saying a word, he took off his coat and jacket and he went over to mother’s bed.
Mother was covered with cupping glasses. Dr. Fiertog impatiently tore them off and called out: “Get me ice and cold sour milk.”
We gave him everything and he began to work.
He didn’t leave the bed until 6 o’clock the next morning, until my dying mother began to breathe.
—“So, children, now you have a mother! Guard her properly!”—he said and without another word, he put on his coat and went to another sick person in a village, 20 verst [about 13 miles] from us.
We ran after him, wanting to pay him, to thank him, but he didn’t even want to look at us and told the driver to go faster….
In about two days, on his return, when my mother was already feeling better, Dr. Fiertog came to us again, with his lovely smile, he looked at my mother, us, all the children, and with a laugh said: “Nu—youngsters, when and with what will you pay me for your mother? I don’t need any money, and in winter there is no sour milk! So how will you pay me?” He kissed us all and like a meteor, disappeared….
That is how Dr. Fiertog saved our mother for another 22 years.
For this honorable manner, for his quiet courage and for his love of people, I say at his death: “Thank you, beloved Dr. Fiertog! I will long remember you! In my childhood you set me an example of brotherly love and I will remember it my whole life! Thank you dear Fiertog! May the heavy, cold earth be easy for you.”
[Page 309]
Translated by Odelia Alroy
The Memorial Service
To honor the memory of the late Dr. Fiertog, Friday, May 18, at the Bobruisk Firefighters depot there was an open gathering of the local Medical Society. In the evening a delegation from the Minsk doctors came: Dr. Poliack, Dr. Yachnin, Dr. Ulianov, Dr. Zuckerman and Dr. Fiertog’s daughter.
In the hall was assembled a great crowd. The President of the Medical Society, Dr. Reigrodsky, opened the service.
Dr. Poliack said in his remarks, that the Minsk doctors came, not only to crown the grave of the deceased—“We were sent to honor our colleague and to strengthen our bond, which was established between the Minsk and Bobruisk doctors thanks to the deceased…”
Dr. Yachnin characterized Dr. Fiertog in short and strong language: “The deceased was not a worldly or sophisticated man, and yet the Minsk Medical Society chose him as a member, he the provincial doctor, because his name, as an exceptional doctor and human being, was known far beyond the boundaries of Bobruisk. The Bobruisk inhabitants had the good fortune to live at the same time and benefit from his spirit and his love of mankind….”
Dr. Reigrodsky in his beautiful talk, noted the deceased as a gentle, unassuming spiritual nature: “Dr. Fiertog came to us 37 years ago. A poor, isolated Jewish town was the Bobruisk of that time. Dr. Fiertog gave his help to this Jewish spot and until the last minute of his life he didn’t part from his poor patients. He had a special quality of helping people and going unnoticed, so the one being helped would not be diminished. The poor people of Bobruisk have lost a close friend and benefactor.”
Speaking about the dedicated manner of the deceased, Dr. Reigrodsky remarked that Dr. Fiertog was not remarkable in initiative and organizational talents, although he was an important, diligent activist. When a group was founded, Dr. Fiertog participated and became the soul of the organization. Even his volunteer activities seemed professional.
The dedication of the deceased as a doctor was so strong and useful, that it could not go unnoticed. For us, young and old doctors, he was full of knowledge and not once, in various circumstances, we would ask ourselves: How would Dr. Fiertog handle this situation….
Certain character traits of the deceased were described by Dr. Paperno:
“…I remember his waiting room. I met poor and rich there. To the rich, he would say: “Wait, first I have to take the earls and the princes.” That was how the Jewish doctor would call, with good humor, the workers and the farmers. He broke through the walls which did not allow the poor to use medical help. He was the father of folk medicine in our town and environs. Regarding his ability, Dr. Fiertog would say: “I did what I could: Do better if you can.”
Dr. Katz nelson told a parable in his speech about doctors of the old and new generation:
“Doctors of the old generation were known for their humanism and idealism. When a young student would come to the medical faculty, he would already dream of helping people. But not so the doctors of the new generation. They are only professionals. They seek to fulfill themselves in their work and prove their skill. Dr. Fiertog was one of the first and therefore it is no wonder that he was so loved and to us, because a second Dr. Fiertog, among the current practitioners, we will not have.”
The military doctor, Dr. Aronshtam now speaks. He mentions certain historical documents, which concern Dr. Fiertog’s skill in the time of the Russian-Turkish War. He was exceptional in the battlefield as a doctor and a human being, his courage and manner with the wounded soldiers, evoked gratitude and recognition from the military.
At the end, Dr. Karolkov, the secretary of the Medical Society, spoke about the services of the deceased as President and member of the society. He mentioned the many accomplishments of Dr. Fiertog, about his exactness of his work and his dedication.
The President thanked the guests from Minsk and the daughter of the deceased and the meeting was ended.
Facts
One evening, Dr. Fiertog came to Sliozberg (a rich, stingy man in Bobruisk) and invited him to go for a ride with him. To Sliozberg’s question—“Where?”—the doctor answered, that he would soon see. Without a choice, Sliozberg sat down in the doctor’s carriage and they rode away. In about a half hour they were at a little, low half-broken down house, somewhere on the “new plans.”
“Here, Mr. Sliozberg, I’d like you to come in for a little while… It’s alright, it will suit you and it won’t harm you,” Dr. Fiertog said, pointing to the little house.
Bending over, they just about were able to enter. The floor and walls were wet, on the table glimmered a small lamp and in the midst, on a bed, that had a tendency to “sing,” was lying an older woman with a jaundiced face and sunken cheeks. She breathed hard. In the beds were a number of children. Half asleep, half awake and looking with fright at their mother. Sliozberg stood at a distance, not knowing what to do….
Fiertog noticed and went over to him.— “What do you think, Mr. Sliozberg, is it okay to stay here a while? This is a widow who has nine children, she deals in ‘poverty’—that’s her business. That’s how she earns a living—So, trouble yourself and give 15 rubles for the household.”
Sliozberg gave 15 rubles and Fiertog, noticing his impatience, offered to take him home, telling him meanwhile that “for this time, it’s enough,” but he would have him as a guest again….
Dr. Fiertog once healed a poor man. As usual, he took no money from him. The poverty of the sick one was so great, all he had was a goat.
Once, sitting near the patient, Fiertog yelled in anger:
—“What do you mean, I’ll always cure you for nothing? Am I also not owed something? Tomorrow, when I come, prepare some money for me, because if not, I won’t come.”
The next day, Fiertog received 40 kopitkes [kopeks] for recompense.
—“Where did he get the money?” the doctor asked.
“We sold the goat”—the patient answered.
“Do me a favor and pay me for the other visits too, you owe no more than 40 kopitkes.”
They gave the doctor the rest of the money. Without a word, he took the money and left.
In two days, they brought the patient a good cow and a wagon of hay and it was thought: this was sent by Dr. Fiertog.
Dr. Fiertog went to visit a man who had fallen on hard times. He wasn’t poor, he still had enough to pay the doctor, but Fiertog didn’t want to take any money from him. One time the doctor announced that he would not come anymore without payment. From that time on, the patient began to pay 50 kopitkes per visit. The illness was lengthy.
When the patient got better and began to leave his bed, Fiertog told him to take care of himself: drink milk, eat eggs, poultry, drink wine and then the doctor said quietly:
—“Since you have no money, you now are due all the money which you paid me. Since I knew that this would be the case, I saved all the money that you gave me. For my part, all the money that I saved, you should put to good providing for yourself….”
And Fiertog gave the Jew back all the money that he received for curing him.
Once, when the author of these tales was sitting in Dr. Fiertog’s waiting room, a small, poor girl entered:
“Reb Fiertog, my mother has asked for four rubles.”—“Let your mother come by herself” answered the doctor—“you will lose it”—“you only get 5 kopitkes for your effort”—and he gave her 5 kopitkes.
The little girl went away and soon returned:
—“I’m here with a little sister—give my sister 5 kopitkes too.”
The doctor gave it to her.
The little girl came back a second time and asked for a pair of shoes.
“If I were a shoemaker”—answered Fiertog—“then I would give you shoes.”
When the little girl left, Dr. Fiertog told me that several years ago he visited a sick widow. It was Pesach. The poverty in the house made such a terrible impression—except for matzo and potatoes there was nothing in the house. From that day on, he pays the widow 4 rubles a month and the little girl came for these 4 rubles.
Dr. Fiertog came early one Friday to a poor sick man. The entire household was in one room. On a broken sofa next to the wall lay the patient. At the other wall, on a stool were some salted calves feet.
The doctor examined the patient and left. When the housewife wanted to get the calves feet to wash them, she could not find them—someone had stolen them.
A sorrow, a turmoil, a disturbed Sabbath.
In a few hours, Fiertog’s coachman enters and says, that the doctor has sent for the housewife.
The housewife was anxious. Certainly there is something terrible about her husband, God knows what….
The doctor met her and told her to take the basket that was standing in the corner. The woman wanted to take the basket—but she couldn’t lift it, it was too heavy for her.
“Volodya”—called Fiertog to his coachman—“carry the basket!”
The coachman took the basket and left. The woman after him. At home, they slowly began to unpack the basket. On top were the calves feet, underneath meat, challah, tea, sugar and underclothes and a small note from Dr. Fiertog:
“With bare calves feet, one can’t live: one needs meat too.”
Dr. Fiertog once met a man who had become impoverished. He immediately understood with whom he was dealing. And with his own humor he went to his small house.
“You think that I am only a doctor? I could be a carpenter.” And seeing the patient, he suggested, that the bed could be repaired. And while near the bed, when no one noticed, he put 45 rubles under the pillow and went off.
On the next day, when the householders found the money, they immediately understood where it came from. They brought the money back and not finding the doctor, they gave it to his wife. In a few hours, the doctor came running to the sick man with a tale:
“Thieves, why are you making trouble for me with my wife. She will believe that I lose 45 rubles everywhere. It’s not my money. What do you want from me?” He put down the money and left.
Once Fiertog saw a woman fall in the middle of the street and unable to get up. The doctor got out of his carriage, picked her up and looking into her face with a smile said “Good morning, Auntie!”
The woman did not understand what the doctor meant and she blushed and was embarrassed.
“Why are you looking at me so,” asked Fiertog—“you just got up so I said ‘Good morning’.”
The woman laughed and thanked Fiertog for his help. The doctor laughed too and was on his way.
In Bobruisk there was a very rich man. As rich as he was, that’s how stingy he was. They told legends about his stinginess. Once the stingy rich man got sick with rheumatism in his hands and he traveled out of the country for a cure. When he returned home, Dr. Fiertog met him in the street and stopped him to say “Mazel-Tov.”
“What you don’t understand”—explained the doctor—“it was said that you died but since you are alive only with ‘closed hands’—you deserve a “Mazel-Tov.” Now when you don’t want to give a poor man a groschen [a coin of negligible value]—everyone knows it’s because your hand is closed.”
Fiertog once went to the outskirts of town to a sick person. His carriage was outside while he went into the courtyard to find the person’s dwelling.
The courtyard was packed with small houses, and the doctor could not find the patient. He stood in the middle of the courtyard and didn’t know which way to go. A little while later he began to call.
“Pots repaired; pots repaired.”
When they heard his calls, everyone ran out of their houses with troughs and vessels.
On seeing the doctor in the role of a cooper everyone laughed. Dr. Fiertog laughed as well and first then did he ask where the sick person lived.
[Page 313]
by Zisleh Maretski
Translated by Mira Eckhaus
A
In our stable in Bobruisk there was an old chariot. The passengers' seat was very artistically woven from yellow straw, all the other parts were made by the craftsman who built the chariot from fine black wood. This chariot was involved in the following event:
When Tsar Nicholas the first came to visit the Bobruisk fortress, his chariot broke down. Officials and military officers were looking for a chariot that could be used as a replacement until it was repaired. They searched and found a chariot at Mr. Itzhak Rabinovits, who, of course, very willingly gave his chariot to the Tsar's disposal. After some time, Mr. Rabinovits received back his chariot in good condition, and only one flaw was found in it. A noticeable hole was found in the wooden rail of the chariot, whose function was to protect the passenger's feet from dust and rain. It turned out that the Tsar pierced this hole with the spur of his boot, when he kicked the railing out of anger and impatience, while the messenger who accompanied him was unable to place the railing quickly enough in its place.
The chariot was returned in this condition to the stable and remained as an exhibit in the stable and was never used again. when I got married in 1899, and left my parents' house, the chariot was still standing in its place, an awe-inspiring souvenir, about a hundred years old, to my grandfather Itzhak Rabinovits. I don't know what was its fate in the following years.
I only know about my grandfather's father that he had four children: my grandfather Itzhak, a second son, whose name and history I don't know, as well as two daughters who married and had sons and daughters and in their old age lived in our house and died in it. They walked around the house in their old-fashioned clothes with coifs with long ribbons on their heads.
Grandpa Itzhak leased the franchise to sell liquor to the entire Minsk region. He came into contact with the civil authorities and had a considerable influence on them. The minister of the Minsk region would visit him and stay at his home whenever he came to Bobruisk.
As was the custom of those days, my grandfather married at a very young age. His wife, Rachel, came from Rogachev, she was a woman of many talents and managed the household courageously. For many years they had no children and their relatives had already lost hope of seeing an heir to the family. However, in 1847, they had a son who was named Boyaz.
[Page 314]
Later, when he was dangerously ill, they added the name Chaim to his name. Chaim Boyaz remained the only son of his parents.
Itzhak educated his son with the help of home tutors, he studied Hebrew, and also received the general education that was accepted in those days and foreign languages: he mastered Russian, French and German equally. He also made trips to France and Germany, where he completed his knowledge of these languages. He learned the theory of trading in practice from his father. When he was independent, he was engaged in the timber trade for which excellent conditions were found in the Bobruisk area that is rich in forests.
Near his eighteenth birthday, Chaim Boyaz married Hana Minda, the daughter of a God-fearing man and scholar named Yehuda Landa, who was a descendant of Rabbi Yehezkel Landa, the famous rabbi of Prague at the end of the 18th century. My grandfather on my mother's side managed a trading house with the help of his wife in the city of Brody (Galicia), but his trading did not prevent him from learning the Torah.
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The wedding took place in 1866. Chaim Boyaz traveled with his goods to Brody, took the bride from her parents' home and traveled with her and all the in-laws to a border station between Austria and Russia and there the wedding celebration was held for three days and nights. Then the bride said goodbye to her parents and guests and the young couple went to Bobruisk, where a wedding ball was also held for relatives and guests from the city and its surroundings. The young bride entered into a daily routine which was not a heavy burden for her, because father and mother still took care of the joint household, and this arrangement continued for many more years.
Chaim Boyaz developed a large timber trade with the help of his father. He made trips abroad, and fathered three sons and two daughters. He also added a banking office to the timber trade, became rich and was among the prominent and respected in his city. He also received the title of “honorable citizen for his generations” and an award from the government and served as an honorary delegate of Persia, and upon his father's death in 1881 he headed the Rabinovits House. His mother Rivka lived after her husband's death and she was involved in the management of the household and the fate of her descendants.
The thirty-year-old head of the family was a kind-hearted man and God-fearing. Although he was one of the opponents, he did not intervene in the feud between the “Chassidim” and the “opponents”. He was a realistic man, who understood the needs of the times and he was generous towards people, especially towards the poor, to whom he tried to help generously and kindheartedness.
Every day he went with his sons to pray Shacharit, Mincha and Arvit in his special synagogue. On Shabbats and holidays the women also accompanied them. Rabbi Natan Rubin, the rabbi of the family, was not only engaged with religious matters, but was also Chaim Boyaz's advisor in matters of family and charity.
It is difficult to mention all of Chaim Boyaz's acts of charity. I will mention only a few of the most prominent ones:
Usually, well-known poor people in the city received every Friday food products, mostly meat, at our house. Three times a week bread was distributed to them and in winter also bundles of wood for heating. They were also given special food packages on holiday evenings. During the year, about 40-50 barrels of sauerkraut, pickled cucumbers and pickled beets were distributed among the poor, and besides that, potatoes too. During the holiday of Passover, they would send twice a day, in agreement with the military authorities, portions of kosher food for Passover in a special cart and distribute them among the soldiers detained in the penal regiment.
[Page 315]
Needless to say, that they would also extend help to individuals who applied to my father. Many times, his kindness was taken advantage of to the detriment.
Chaim Boyaz established a Talmud Torah in his home for 12 poor boys, who received not only their studies, but also food.
He also took care of old people. He maintained the old men's residence in the city at his own expense, where there were 12 places for men and 12 for women, and he paid the wages of their caregivers and the medical treatment expenses.
Even at parties of family joy, he didn't forget the poor. At his eldest daughter Toni's wedding, a feast was held for 600 poor people, and family members participated in serving the food. It was also customary for family members to systematically visit the elders living in the elders' residence and ask how they were doing and whether they need anything.
The story about “the blind Magid” also belongs to this matter. He was once a young, handsome and intelligent man. While discussing Torah matters with scholars, elders and rabbis, he behaved stubbornly and proudly and stood by his opinion even after those who argued against him brought evidence from the Holy Scriptures and the books of Chazal. In the end, the young man was attacked to such an extent that he got up depressed and declared that he did not act properly when he argued with elders and scholars than him and spoke against respected rabbis, he acknowledged his sin and injustice. As a punishment he will stop talking and will not continue to enjoy the sight of the world, and from now on he will be as a mute and a blind person. He tied a dark bandage over his eyes, did not utter a word and left the room. Since then, he would walk with his eyes bandaged, and he would not utter a word except for “Good Shabbat”. Thus, he lived for many years with his wife in our yard. When he wanted something, he would write a few words on a note. When I married, the Magid came to say goodbye to me. He was already old, still wearing the same bandage and did not utter a word.
It was an old custom in our family to go out of town for Shavuot and stay there until after Sukkot. We stayed at our estate at Babin, which is east of Bobruisk, on the main road from Moscow to Warsaw. All of us would go there, and with us were also the horses, the cows, and of course the necessary service people: the chambermaids, the cooks, the laundresses, the teachers, the nannies, the wagoner, the janitor, and lastly Bere, the old and faithful household manager, who served our family faithfully for 45 years. He later passed this devotion on to my children, who remember him to this day.
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In Babin was found not only the family estate, but also 12 holiday houses, which were rented out to families from Bobruisk. In Babin there was a large fruit garden, the fruits of which were excellent, and not only the guests and the campers enjoyed them, but they were also sent to Moscow and other markets.
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In addition, they grew plenty of vegetables for household needs. Life in Babin was pleasant and many trips were taken in the nearby forests, where there were a lot of berries and mushrooms. Men and women who had business in Bobruisk, would leave in the morning by chariot to the city and return in the afternoon or early evening to Babin. Many guests would come for visits, even from abroad, family acquaintances or relatives.
After the family returned with the beginning of autumn to Bobruisk, life would return to its course. Father was engrossed in his business, mother managed the household with her many helpers, and the children were under the supervision of the nannies and the home teachers and engaged in studies. Life was full of activity and multifaceted. The family included not only the members of Chaim Boyaz's household, but also relatives who lived permanently or temporarily in the house, guests, and a group of employees, which included cleaners, maids, home teachers, nannies, cooks and other helpers. On Shabbat and holidays a special regime prevailed in the house, and a special kitchen was reserved for Passover, which was closed on all other days of the year. In this kitchen were all the things needed for cooking, dishes, tablecloths, napkins, candles, in short, all that is necessary to make the Passover properly, and this arrangement saved a lot of work, for the housewife, the cooks and the maids.
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Teachers and educators were brought from Germany to educate the children. I remember that our teachers came from the Beit Midrash of the rabbis under the direction of Dr. Hildseimer in Berlin. The first of them was Dr. Weingarten, then Rabbi of Ems (Prussia). After him came Dr. Loewenstein, who was later rabbi of The Hague (Holland). It is worth noting that these personalities were excellent teachers and of noble character, and their influence on the children was great and constant. The third teacher was sent to us by our relatives in Magnatza. It was Dr. Bundy, who was appointed after a time as a professor in Frankfurt am Main. Our nannies were Mrs. Mansbach from Karlsruhe, followed by Mrs. Levy from Berlin and Mrs. Hirsch from Hamburg. We received our religious education for many years from Mr. Margolin of Bobruisk. We studied not only the weekday and Shabbat prayers, but also the Bible and the history of Israel. Our teacher of the Russian language and its literature was a teacher of the high school in Bobruisk, Mr. Zingold, who came to the lessons in his government uniform.
We received not only the textbooks necessary for our studies, we also had a valuable library at our disposal, to which new books were added from time to time, with the help of which we could obtain sufficient information in all subjects of study. We also had in our possession all the literature worthy of study and reference, which had value for educated people in those days.
The theater in Bobruisk also provided education and entertainment. It was a building made of wood, which was more like a barn than a theater. But it had separate cells, which wealthy families would rent. The actors, Jewish acting groups, or individual famous actors would come from Moscow or other cities for short visits. We would enjoy the performances, without paying attention to the “experts” criticism.
We had acquaintances and friendly families in the city, who would come to visit us on Saturdays, holidays or under special circumstances. We, the young people, also had friends in the city, with whom we used to meet. But usually, our lives were conducted at home or in Babin. When we grew up, we went with our parents on trips to relatives abroad, as well as to the bathhouses in western Europe, according to the doctors' advice.
Over time, new buildings were erected on the lot, which belonged to us for a long time. They were built of wood, according to the
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order of the authorities, however, they had tin roofs. Since Bobruisk was a fortress city, the authorities made sure that it would be possible to blow up or set fire to all the buildings if it was necessary from a military point of view. However, even without a military need, there were frequent fires in the city, especially when the railroad passed through the city and sparks of fire from the locomotives would splash and fall on the wooden houses. Our houses were saved from this fate, firstly because they had tin roofs, and secondly - because they were separated somewhat from the houses of the city and from the railroad. Even during the great fire in 1902, our house was not damaged.
It was an entire building district, which was surrounded by four streets. I remember that two of them were called “Rabinovits Street” and “HaDoar Street”. At the four corners of the quarter stood our house, the post office, the bank building and the residence of the officials who worked for us. Inside the quarter were first our synagogue and the apartments of the Rabbi and the Shamash, and then farm houses, like stables and barns, laundry and warehouses. It was a small world unto itself.
Our childhood days and growing up years passed as the luck of the family was in full glory. But after my father died – in 1903 - hard times have come for Russia as a whole as well on our family. After my father's death, my mother was tasked with managing the farm in Bobruisk and Babin, including the fields and forests. My brother Lazar left the olive press factory he had in Homel and returned to Bobruisk to help my mother in managing the farm. Lazar got married and had two children. His son Julius studied after a while in the Moscow university and was a professor of mathematics, his daughter Rivka married a doctor from Bobruisk and moved with him to Leningrad. Lazar remained in Bobruisk even when the Bolsheviks came
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From right to left: Toni Lehman (née Rabinovits), Oscar Lehman, Ch. B. Rabinowitz of Bobruisk, his wife Miranda, Dr. M. Lehman (seated), his son J. Y. Lehman and his wife, his son-in-law Maurice Prince and his daughter] |
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and confiscated the house and the property, leaving him two rooms for his residence. He stayed there even after his wife passed away. He was probably the last member of our family in Bobruisk.
My elder brother Alexander (born in 1864) lived in his old age in Moscow with his daughter, who married a doctor. His second daughter also married a doctor. One of his sons was an architect in Dnepropetrovsk, the other was an engineer at a factory in Leningrad. The third was a government official in Minsk.
My younger brother Yaakov, who worked as a clerk in a Soviet office, married Cecilia, the granddaughter of the Zionist leader Yehiel Chelinov's. They had a daughter and a son.
In 1934, I visited Russia as a tourist to see my brothers and their family members. I met in Moscow with Alexander and Yaakov, and on my return by train to Western Europe, I met in Minsk with my brother Lazar. It was the last time I met them. I never heard anything about them since.
My sister and I left Russia. My sister Toni (Toiva) died in Germany in 1926. Her husband was Oskar Lehman, the son of the Rabbi of Magnatza - Dr. Meir Lehman, editor of the “Israelite” and author of well-known historical stories. After his father's death, he managed the “Israelite”. They had six sons and daughters. Their eldest son Julian was a journalist in Germany, their second daughter married a Russian Jewish merchant named Sutin, and their third daughter Sofia married a Jewish timber merchant from Smolensk, Shlomo Zelkind Cherniak. In 1917, my mother, Sofia's grandmother, moved to live in her granddaughter's house, where she died five years later. After that, Sofia and her family managed to leave Russia to her relatives in Magnatza and from there she immigrated to Israel. The third daughter Marta and her husband Shalom Hildseimer died in Israel; the second son Max died with his family during the Holocaust in the Netherlands. The third son, Fritz Lehman, is a doctor in the United States.
I myself married in 1899 to Dov Mendel Maretzki, a man from Lita, whose father was a timber merchant in Memel. With the outbreak of the First World War, we lived in Vilna. My husband was a relative of the bibliographer and Zionist Ya'akov Ben-Ya'akov, who published his father's well-known book of bibliography “The Treasure of the Books”. My husband was engaged in the lumber business. We had four sons and daughters. Unfortunately, my daughter Rivka died in her youth and my son Markus was murdered in Lita during the Nazi occupation. My son Boyaz and my daughter Sonia immigrated to Israel, and with the Nazi occupation of Poland we were able to immigrate to Israel (in February 1940) based on the permit we had. We lived with our daughter, whose husband Rafael Lev was in prison at the time, being one of the forty-three prisoners of the “HaHaganah”.
My husband died in 1957, and I, who came into the world after seven months of birth, without nails, and was treated very carefully in the first days after my birth so that I would be strong and not die, I am the last witness who can tell my grandsons about the origin of their family in distant Bobruisk.
by Rabbi Meier Berlin
Translated by Mira Eckhaus
In the city of Bobruisk at that time there were real Jewish nobles in the full meaning of the term. There were whole families - such as Ettinger, Katznelson, Epstein, and the like - who were famous with their “greatness”, whether it was with their lineage, their studies of the Torah, their Chassidism, their cleverness, and above all with their wealth. The distinguished families also created external “manners” around them. They would wear nice clothes, travel in their chariots, harnessed to two horses and driven by a wagoner, they would speak politely and make a great impression on everyone. Boyaz Rabinovits was the most caution regarding the “laws of aristocracy” in Bobruisk. This man can be used as a theme for Jewish vigor. Boyaz Rabinowitz was not distinguished, nor did he excel in excessive spirituality, but he managed to acquire a large fortune, or who knows? To cause people believe in him and that he has wealthier than he really was. He knew how to exploit his
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good financial position to live a comfort and nice life. In his house there was extreme wealth. At that time, they would call it a “royal road|. When he would go on his journey in his chariot, they would see it as their duty, whether they wanted to or not, to stand and look after him. His important appearance also added to his dignity: a handsome stature, a gentle face, and fancy attire, and in addition to that he was wearing several medals, which were sparkling from afar.
Boyaz Rabinovits knew how to increase his glory also through his relations with the government, and not only of Russia, but also of other countries. He was a Persian consul; On his house, more correctly, on his palace, there was a Persian sign. And on holidays, both the Russian and the Persian flags hung on it. For what purpose was it necessary to Persia to appoint a consul precisely in the provincial town Bobruisk? The answer to that is not clear, however, Boyaz Rabinovits, for his honor, certainly needed it and achieved it. But it is worth noting that even in Jewish matters Boyaz Rabinovits knew how to excel. Not only were he and his wife ultra-Orthodox in matters of religion, but he was proud of his religious, and according to the conditions of that time it was a kind of Kiddush Hashem. There was a special “Minyan” of Jews, which Boyaz Rabinovits supported financially, so that he would have in his synagogue, which was part of his home, the possibility to pray at any time in public. He also supported financially a rabbi on his own account. And in Bobruisk everyone was aware about the “rabbi of the Chassidim” and the “rabbi of the opponents”, as well as about the “rabbi of Rabinovits”. When Mrs. Rabinovits set off the road, she took twelve candlesticks with her, to light Shabbat candles with them, as she was used to do in her home. And above all, Boyaz Rabinovits donated charity to every Jewish matter. This is how Boyaz Rabinovits earned him the name of a true Jewish nobleman. His sons, who received an education of the new generation, followed their father's ways for a while and each of them was a symbol of Jewish nobility.
Footnote
Translated by Mira Eckhaus
One of the most original personalities who lived in Bobruisk and left their mark on its spiritual life was the writer and the religious philosopher Shmuel Aleksandrov. Shmuel Ben Hillel Aleksandrov was born 8 Tevet, 5626 (1865) in the city of Borisov, which lies on the Berezina River – north of Bobruisk, to a family that had the lineage of the Maharal of Prague[1]. He was weak in body and had a disability (one of hands was damaged), but from his youth he excelled in the talent of his perception, in his sharpness and in the power of his memory. He studied Torah in his city and later at the Volozhin Yeshiva, he was even ordained as a rabbi. When he was 22 years old, he moved to Minsk and, in addition to studying the Torah, he also diligently studied the general studies, and especially the studies of nature, philosophy and history. He also read a lot of Russian and German literature.
In Borisov S. Aleksandrov befriended with Yosef Eisenstadt, who was his age, the son-in-law of the lord of the city Moshe Eisenstadt, educated and a passionate Hovev Zion. “They would spend the long winter evenings together studying and reading Israel's wisdom and general sciences and collaborate with each other in writing research articles”[2]. In 5646 (1886), Eisenstadt published Aleksandrov's first book “Masechet Nega'im” at his own expense, in which criticism was made of the book “Assif” by N. Sokolov.
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At the top of the booklet, it was stated that “in the author's agreement we dedicated the revenues from this booklet for the benefit of our brothers who work the Holy Land in Petah Tikva”[3].
Aleksandrov soon earned him a good name in his city. The Magid H. Z. Maccabi, who visited Borisov in the summer of 5648 (1888), told of him that “He was a very great man. With his knowledge in the Torah and of Hebrew literature, he can be counted among the great and excellent people of this generation[4].
In 1889, Aleksandrov married Gitel, the daughter of Mordechai (Meae) Katznelson (the brother of the well-known scholar Yaakov Katznelson) and since then he has been a permanent resident in Bobruisk and his soul was tied to this city.
During his studies, Aleksandrov created for himself a special worldview, in which religious mysticism was integrated with rationalistic ideas, and which he knew how to express orally in sermons and in conversations with individuals, and in writing - in articles and in letters, seasoning his words with many quotations from the Holy Scriptures, from the Talmud and Midrashim, and from Hebrew and general literature. He considered as his spiritual teachers the Rambam, Abarbanel, the Maharal of Prague, Ranak, Ahad Ha'am, the German philosopher Schelling and the religious philosopher Vladimir Solovyov. Solovyov was called in his writings The most honest philosopher”.
Aleksandrov has been close to the Hibat Zion movement since its inception. He saw the synthesis between religion and nationalism as a blessing for both. According to his view, nationalism is a higher stage in the religious development of the Jewish people. During the years of the exile, the religion of Israel was stagnated and “most of the members of the Hebrew nation are nothing but a valley full of dry bones. - - Religion has become so remote in the heart of the nation that there is almost no spirit of life in it, most of them do not know their identity and mission and the identity and mission of their people on the earth[5], and nationalism's role is to instill the spirit of life in these dry bones[6]. Until now, the people lived in the “period of religion” and worshiped their God with reverence. Now the period of nationalism has arrived, in which they will worship G-d with “love and joy”[7]. Hebrew nationalism -wrote Aleksandrov in his article “Fire, religion and national spirit” – its foundations are in the fire of religion. - - As it is impossible for the national spirit to exist without religion, religion itself does not have the power at this time to revive the dry bones and we cannot heal the spiritual and material state of Israel for a long time without the unity of religion and the nationalism”[8].
However, in his complete persistence on the basis of traditional religion, Aleksandrov argued in favor of free study and research. In response to the statement of the advocate of reclusive orthodoxy, Rabbi Moshe Sofer, who said that “a new thing is forbidden by the Torah at all costs”, Aleksandrov brought the words of the Mishna “when the Omer is close, a new thing is immediately permitted” (Minchot 10, 5), and required them in the sense that after a person has fulfilled his duty to his creator, “then he can follow the path of free inquiry, surely, because his base will not stumble, since his God-fearing precedes his wisdom, and therefore his wisdom endures”[9].
Accordingly, Aleksandrov determined his way of life: meticulous observance of the religious commandments and customs, and complete freedom in reading, studying and investigating, while trying to find a reference for all his new ideas in the Talmud and in the side rabbinical literature.
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This pamphlet of Aleksandrov aroused the wrath of the zealots. His picture when he is wearing a foreigner's clothing and on it the inscription “The picture of the famous species, the famous wanton of our generation, the deputy to the head of the infidels H. S. Slonimski” was spread in thousands of copies in many communities. Also aroused against him, according to the instruction of the Rebbe of Lubavitch, Rabbi Y. L. Ginzburg in the booklet “Emunat Chachamim” (the belief of the sages). Aleksandrov responded by publishing the pamphlet “Divrei Shmuel” (the words of Shmuel), in which he brought the words of well-known rabbis and scholars who expressed their agreement with his views in their letters, including Rabbi Pinchas Rozovsky, Rabbi of Sventzian, Shlomo Buber and others. In response to this was sent the announcement “Kol Koreh El Arei Israel” to boycott all the rabbis who assisted Aleksandrov, if they don't retract their support for him. And indeed, the rabbis had to deny their letters one after the other. Aleksandrov himself, who was about to receive a position of a rabbi in one of the congregations, was forced to abandon this idea, and the persecutions against him increased until in one of his letters he lamented: “they planned to take my soul”[11]. He was forced to leave Bobruisk for a while and lived in the town of Timkovichi, where he stayed and read books until the anger will calm down.
Aleksandrov retracted his idea only partially. In his article “The Legend of Fire from the Heavens”, which was published in the “Talpiot” collection (Berdichev in 1895), he added and proved, relying on the Rambam, that the mitzvah of sacrifices was given for a certain time and will never be renewed. And if someone asks about the essence of the prayers for the return of the sacrificial service, which is heard every Shabbat and holiday in the synagogues of the people of Israel, to this Aleksandrov replies that everything he writes is nothing more than “a clarification and explanation of these legends on the way of criticism, but regarding the acceptance itself and the ancient traditions that branch off from these legends, I say specifically: If it is acceptance - we will accept it”. More than that, Aleksandrov admitted that “it was neither right nor honest that the wise Rabbi H. S. Slonimski Shalita published this (the denial of the miracle of Pach HaShemen) in a daily letter, most of whose readers are simple people, who have a simple faith rooted in their hearts and believe in miracles as they are”, and in another place he declared: “I am completely sorry for the harsh expressions concerning the acceptance of the miracle of Pach HaShemen itself, that are found in my pamphlet “Nes Pach HaShemen”, and my opinion in this issue is similar to the faith of Israel in this”[12].
In his book “Resisei Tal” (Shards of dew) (Vilna 1900), Aleksandrov expressly reserved himself from “the enlightened young nationalists, who, despite all the strength of their love for their people were also gripped in the general apostasy, are looking at our written and handed down holy Torah as if it were an ancient monument worthy of respect only due to its old age, but there is no wisdom in it”[13]. And in a letter to one of the rabbis, he writes: “Our goal in all our various articles is only to build and plant, not to contradict and uproot, God forbid”[14].
Aleksandrov's particular views put him in a unique position. The ultra-Orthodox conservatives had reservations about him and saw him as a sort of heretic. The educated and members of the new generation considered him as a conservative who could not escape the world of the Beit Midrash. These and those treated his wide knowledge with respect, but stayed away from him. He maintained contact with individual personalities among the progressive rabbis and with some of the sages of Israel. He even issued two collections called “Research and Criticism Letters on the Questions of Time and the Wisdom of Ancient and New Israel” (the first in Vilna, 1907, and the second in Krakow, 1910). In these collections were some of his letters to Rabbi A. Y. Kook, Ahad Ha'am (to whom Aleksandrov wrote: “I feel a kind of spiritual closeness with you, and I almost agree with your position in all the views concerning the Bible and Israel, although regarding G-d our views differ from end to end”[15]), M. Y. Berdichevsky, Rabbi Y. L. Fishman (Maimon), Shlomo Buber, Shmuel Kraus, S. A. Horodetsky, Reb A. S. Timrat (“one of the sensitive rabbis”) and M. L. Lilienblum.
In these letters, Aleksandrov continued to expand and develop his views on Judaism. Relying on the Talmud article “Mitzvot Betelot La'atid Lavo” (In the days of the Messiah, the mitzvahs that every Jew must observe will be abolished) (tractate Nida, page 61), Aleksandrov built a large argument on it, claiming that the practical mitzvahs of the religion are only temporary and “just as the sacrifices were not created only for their time and as a means of keeping away idolatry, which was difficult to undo in the right way in ancient days - so also most of the mitzvahs do not join us in the right way, and only that this was necessary in ancient days until the days of the resurrection, that then we will be healthy in spirit and then all the means dedicated only to this time and not to the future will be canceled”[16].
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These opinions were held by S. Aleksandrov until the end of his life, and in his letter sent to Rabbi A. S. Blumenthal in New York at the end of the thirties (of the twentieth century), he wrote: “In the future period, when the human species in general and the people of Israel in particular will develop, we will no longer need practical mitzvahs, which are mainly only ornaments and jewelry for the spiritual idea, while it has not yet become the inner possession of the person and their subject. But for the future to come, when the divine idea will be engraved and imprinted in deep inside his heart, then these jewels are proper”[17].
However, Aleksandrov continued to have reservations about any revisions in religious practices. “Although I am one of those who miss the higher wisdom, which is far from practical Judaism - he wrote to Rabbi A. Y. Kook in the year 5668 (1908) - when practical Judaism is slowly being abolished by a higher divine wisdom, like the abolition of emotion by a higher intellect than it, but not in such an emergency, that Judaism is being abolished by apostasy in everything and historical materialism, which also uproots the root” …[18]
And in his aforementioned letter to Rabbi Blumenthal, about thirty years later, he writes: “I am far from thinking about any religious reform, I am only loyal to the corrections that are made by themselves later on in time. - - My opinion is similar to those who attend the old Beit Midrash and the pious in religion, I don't think that now is the time when all the mitzvahs are null and void, God forbid. We live now in times of the suffering before the advent of the Messiah and not during the time of the Messiah” …[19]
Over the years, Aleksandrov coined the term “Upper Judaism”[20], in which he called the system of religious and moral ideas of Judaism, which in his opinion are its essence, while the practical mitzvahs are only a necessary, but temporary cover.
It is needless to say that even the boldest rabbis, who maintained correspondence with Aleksandrov, disagreed with these opinions of his, and his friend Rabbi A. I. Kook wrote to him that if it is also true what is said in the Talmud that the “Mitzvot Betelot La'atid Lavo” (In the days of the Messiah, the mitzvahs that every Jew must observe will be abolished), then until that distant day, in which the mitzvahs and the sacrifices will be abolished, there is still a long way”[21], and Aleksandrov's words sometimes seem as if he is pushing the end of that far-off future, in which the mitzvahs are abolished, and placing it precisely in our time, which is full of turmoil and collapse, which needs a practical building and the adoption of practical practices”[22]. He even warned him that excessive recklessness in this matter may bring bitter results similar to those of the Shabtai Zvi faction, the member of which are sunk in the depth of evil”[23].
In Bobruisk, Aleksandrov was close to the religious youth and would preach Torah in public, to individuals and groups who came to hear a lesson from him. In one of his books, he writes about “the many matters and the various sermons that I preach at home every Shabbat”[24], and in 5661 (1901), we find in the “HaMelitz” that S. Aleksandrov recited “chapters in the Chronicles” at the Starosili Beit Midrash before “The Association for Expending the Knowledge of the Chronicles”[25]. Among his students and admirers was Rabbi Binyamin Menashe Levin, owner of “Otzar HaGeonim” (The Treasure of the Geniuses), whose memories of his rabbi are written below. In them, he tells, among other things, about Aleksandrov's harsh sermons in the great Beit Midrash, in which he would attack the city's wealthy for their miserliness and thereby arouse their anger. From time to time, Aleksandrov would hold a kind of a yeshiva, in which he would gather a few dozen young men, most of them from those who came to Bobruisk from the nearby cities and towns to study Torah there, he would arrange for them an apartment and food and gives them lessons in the Talmud according to his method.
Aleksandrov adhered to Zionism from its beginning and was one of the first among the “Mizrachi” faction in the Zionist Organization. From time to time, he participated as a delegate in Zionist conferences and “Mizrachi” conferences in the Minsk area, but mostly he remained alone. In the commentary to Chazal article in Tractate Avot, “The one who wakes up at night and walks on a singular path, it is a commitment to one's soul”, Aleksandrov writes words that indicate his status among the people of his generation: “The one who wakes up at night”, means: A man who comes with new views and uproots the old, and even if his views are justified and correct, as long as only few wise people agree with him, this man will be called “The one who wakes up at night” … The crowd is still lying down and sleeping comfortable - - therefore, his words will bear no fruit, and he also commits himself with his soul… “and walks on a singular path” means: the man who chooses to walk on a new path, which many have not yet set foot on, and he is walking on a singular path… and is this he also commits with his soul… as it is known that many martyrs have been felled by envy of those who walk in a singular way and the enlightened one who walks among those who sleep”[26]…
In his private and family life, Aleksandrov was not satisfied. His wife and her rich parents, who actually supported financially Aleksandrov, saw him as a spiritual idler. His two daughters and his only son Hillel stayed away from him. His son Hillel was sent by the family, completely against his father's wishes, to study in a Russian high school. He joined the revolutionary circles, and after the revolution he was one of the cultural activists of the “Yevsektsiya” and a scientific worker in the Jewish department of the Belarusian Academy[27]. Aleksandrov lived in his own special world, the world of books and ideas, exchanging letters with a narrow circle of clerics and researchers, who respected him but were far from him in their views.
During the years of Soviet rule, Shmuel Aleksandrov continued to follow his special path. Communism with all that it entails regarding religious Judaism did not come as a surprise to him. Back in the years of the first Russian revolution, Aleksandrov encountered the influence of Marxist socialism on the masses in his city of Bobruisk. “The crowd, which in ancient times had a stronghold of religion and divine emotion - he writes in his letter to Rabbi A. I. Kook in the year 5668 (1908) - is now kicking his God and rebels against it in the obscenest manner, especially from the days of the spread of socialism among the lower strata. Since then, it has distanced itself so much from our nation's possessions and all its sanctuaries, that it is highly doubtful whether we succeed in returning it to the correct path”[28].
In his complete negation of the Marxist materialist ideology, Aleksandrov saw its takeover in Russia as an act of God. “The new heretical materialism - he writes to his friend Rabbi Gutman of Pavlograd in the year 5687 (1927) - comes deliberately from God in advance, in order to ease the complete and developed human race to accept the yoke of the kingdom of heaven, because if every nation and nation were still strong in their old faith, then, according to nature, every nation and nation would have come into conflict and the war of forces, and it would have been difficult for it to accept the yoke of God's kingdom within a general kingdom for all enlightened people; however, to move from monism to monotheism is not so difficult, because one deep look in nature and materialism is enough to find in them the general God who is also in this person”[29]. And in another letter to Rabbi A. I. Krasilshchikov of Kryukov, he writes: “God is wrapped in materialism like a garment and his light and his morality shone from one edge of the world to the other, but nowadays, many see only the upper materialistic cover. But days are coming when the earth will be filled with God's wisdom, and the eyes of the human race will be opened to see the divine spiritual and moral essence that lies in this process, and this essence is Judaism, which is the Bible and the Torah and a sole God”[30]. For him, communism was a necessary step, a sort of “descent for the purpose of ascension” towards the day when “the Shekinah will come out of this terrible exile and appear in proud and splendor and in full force over the whole land.”[31].
Aleksandrov does not despair of the fate of the Jews in Russia. “It is true that there are very few people among the people of Israel who are truly God-fearing and guide their children in the way of Judaism, but they do exist”[32]. Even in the “obstinacy of the body to speak the Jewish language and its fight for its existence” Aleksandrov sees a “sign of life” in the dying body of Judaism, and he is mostly comforted by the fact that “our people are in many countries and there are more of them than in our country (may they will multiply) and evil has not yet come upon them, thank God”[33].
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Aleksandrov rejected the method of the ultra-orthodox circles in Soviet Russia who closed in on themselves and reduced their entire Judaism in the struggle for their right to observe the practical mitzvahs. He called upon the “honest rabbis who are at the head of their congregation to speak over and over about the Torah and God-fearing in general, without going deeply into the details of the practical mitzvahs, and if only they succeed in instilling this in many members of their congregation, and even only in a few, then love of the Torah leads to Talmud Torah and the Talmud also leads to deeds”[34]. The rabbis “must not only live up to these principles but also act upon them, and in such a way that it is not the midrash that is the main thing, but the practice and teaching of the Torah in the simplest sense, that is, every rabbi must teach a lesson every day in the Talmud or the Mishnayot and even the Chumash”[35], and in general “according to the circumstances, we should not now pry into practical mitzvahs, but to save now at the very least and according to the ability, the Bible and the Torah and the sole God… and regarding practical mitzvahs, everything is according to the strength of the person and the circumstances… In short, the Torah and the Godhead are above the circumstances, but the practical mitzvahs are not, most of them are suitable in all the circumstances, and in any case also according to the ancient person and matters”[36]. He wrote to Rabbi Krasilshchikov “In our times, the one who apostates in materialism as a foundation for all worlds and is faithful to the method of the spirit is similar to a confessor in the entire Torah and is called a Jewish man; however, all this is on the condition that this Jewish man is willing to give his life for the sanctity of the idea”.
Aleksandrov devoted his work to spreading these ideas. He sent back the rabbinical letter sent to him by the members of the Bobruisk community after the death of Rabbi Shmaryahu Noach Schneerson in 5683 (1923)[37], but he continued to teach the Torah in public to anyone who wanted to hear that “he will not abandon the Yehuda Kol Torah group”[38]. He founded the association “Oavei Torah” (Torah Lovers), that established circles in Bobruisk and the towns around it, “to set times for Torah study and hire a rabbi and a teacher for them to teach them a regular lesson in the Talmud or the Mishnaiyat or the Agada every day”[39] and to hire melamedim for their children. Aleksandrov also corresponded with a number of rabbis whom he hoped to bring closer to his views, and he even dreamed of gathering these rabbis with the permission of the government.
In the late 1920s, Aleksandrov's brothers in the United States collected a fund of one thousand dollars to take him out of Russia to the Land of Israel, but Aleksandrov chose to devote these funds to the publication of his letters, and in 5692 (1932), 18 of them were printed in Jerusalem under the name of “Research and Criticism Letters”, book III. In his introduction to this book, Aleksandrov expressed his hope that he would be able to publish his other writings, and that his words would make the hoped impression and “for the sake of Israel, the Bible and the Torah, the Holy God would make good to glorify his great name”.
Aleksandrov continued to correspond with rabbis and friends abroad until the end of the 1930s. According to a private letter that was received from Bobruisk recently, Aleksandrov was executed along with the other members of the Bobruisk community on the general massacre in Cheshvan 5702 (1941).
Shmuel Aleksandrov was the middle man. He left Orthodoxy, which was frozen in his keeping, and did not come to the camp of the educated. In a certain chapter of their development, other Hebrew writers and scholars also went through a similar phase, such as J. Berday Chavsky, S. A. Horodetsky and others. But for them it was a short and fleeting phase, Aleksandrov remained half in the medieval world of traditional Russian Jewry and half
Shmuel Aleksandrov was the middle man. He left Orthodoxy, which was stagnated, and did not join the camp of the educated. In a certain chapter of their development, other Hebrew writers and scholars also went through a similar phase, such as I. Berdichevsky, S. A. Horodetsky and others. But for them it was a short and passing phase. Aleksandrov remained half in the medieval world of traditional Russian Jewry and half in the new world of modern inquiry. Also, from a literary point of view, in terms of the external form, his writing is a mixture of sermons according to the old version with modern moral and religious ideas. Aleksandrov walked through this path – the path of an individual - until the end of his days, foreign and strange to both sides, to the ultra-Orthodox and the educated alike, and was forgotten by both. In the book of Bobruisk, the city he lived in for more more than fifty years and in it he taught Torah to a generation that did not want it, we set a commemoration to this tragic character.
Footnotes
[Page 325]
by Benyamin Menasheh Levin
Translated by Mira Eckhaus
In the center of Torah education in Bobruisk in general and in the Great Beit Midrash in particular was in those days the prodigy Torah scholar and harsh critic, the Talmudic author Shmuel Aleksandrov, who had already made his mark in the world of literature. Through his “Masechet Nega'im”, in which he severely criticized the literary articles on the Talmud compiled together in the book “Assif” for the years 5645 and 5646, he was a problem for the writers and the educated, and by his pamphlet “Nes Pach HaShemen”, in which he supported Haim Zelig Slonimski, he distanced himself from the rabbis, and some came out in their literature against him. He was ready and happy for any struggle. With a brave force and a witty writing, that was beautifully set with the legends of Chazal, he would fight in the “Mitzpeh” weekly newspaper against the opinions and beliefs of the educated free writers who were popular in those days, and in particular he would shoot his arrows at Micah Yosef Berdichevsky, who said to change the situation of Judaism completely and was a powerful influencing force on that young generation. Aleksandrov had a special quality: before he approached to write his article, he would walk from side to side in his long hall for about twenty minutes and would order in his mind all the parts of his article word by word, literally, and then he would sit at his small desk and write it seemingly, without any change, as if someone was dictating him. And many times, I was present during the act of writing as well as stood in front of him as he read his article to me.
Even in his fiery sermons from time to time on the platform in the Great Beit Midrash, where he would also teach a Talmud lesson, he would fight with the rich, stingy rulers of the “Eastern Wall”, and after each sermon the Beit Midrash would be in turmoil. And he would walk at that time between the crowd from east to west over and over, occupied by his thoughts with a cigarette in his mouth as if nothing had happened. And when I asked him once at this boiling point, if he sees the “fuss” he caused in this sermon, he replied: indeed, it is a good sign that things worked out, and I am happy about that.
And he also had a war at his father-in-law's house, with his wife, except that there he was always failed. His wife was the daughter of an affluent and well-educated man, who was among the first readers of the “Magid”. She graduated the high school in the town and knew a little Hebrew as well, but she was lame and not very beautiful, and because of that she was destined to be married to a prodigy Talmudic scholar who was supported financially all his life by his father-in-law and mother-in-law. She gave birth to one son and two daughters; she didn't have much pleasure and personal fulfillment in her life. The son, Hillel, like his father, was exceptionally gifted, and even when he was nine years old, he knew the Bible by heart. His father predicted him a great future in the biblical world. But his mother, and his grandmother in particular, wanted that he would go to learn in the high school so that he would not be “unsuccessful” as his father. In general, that ultra-Orthodox mother-in-law was pleased to see her sons studying in the high school, and she wanted to see her grandson do the same. And this thing greatly upset Aleksandrov and he sought tricks to save the boy from this evil plot. I was a regular visitor at their house on Shabbats and aware of the contradictions between Aleksandrov and his mother-in-law in this particular matter. Therefore, he once asked me to stay with his mother-in-law alone at the table after the meal while she prepares herself to read the weekly Parasha in her book “Tsena Ur'ena”, which, by the way, was all stained by her tears on it time and time again, and tell her his words during my conversation with her about her prodigy grandson. And indeed, the words that came out of my painful heart probably entered her heart and influenced her for some time, and she refrained that year from sending her grandson to the high school. And after I left the town, I heard that later on he was sent to the high school and excelled in his studies. Afterwards, he fell into bad ways and became the head of the “Yevsektsiya” in Minsk to his father's regret, whose hair has already turned white in the first years of his marriage.
Footnote
[Page 326]
by Rachel Katznelson-Shazar
Translated by Mira Eckhaus
Every time I remember you, Aunt Sarah, I will feel guilty. Will I be able to atone for the forgetfulness I have shown towards you by these words?
My father's younger sister was Sarah, the tenth daughter of grandfather Shaul Katznelson. The six brothers and the three sisters who preceded her, all followed a paved path, even if one had less luck, all of them started families, and grandfather Shaul was proud that among his thirty-nine grandchildren, there is no one exceptional. And Sarah, whose mother, grandmother Ester-Michela, would jokingly say about her: “Sarah is a trouble”. Sarah was one of the first girls who asked for a new way for the women, she was one of those who paved this path for others, but she did not pave this path for herself. It could be that the thing that bothered her was that she came from a wealthy family, she was the last child whose parents had to take care of her, and she was given many possibilities of searches. The very fact that her room in Grandpa's house was on a different level and was as if separate from the whole family's apartment - also testified to a new generation of girls, who yearn for freedom and independence. Sarah did not study in an orderly way in her youth (ten years later, half generation, the city was filled with female high school students and teachers); she acquired a profession of a dentist but did not persist in it, she studied in different courses, traveled to beautiful places alone, and in her public work she asked for a way to serve the people in useful acts. And it was so strange to see how other relatives, even the not beautiful and not successful ones, married one after another, and she - the smart one, full of energy, who has a respectable dowry, who has many friendships, remains lonely, and does not receive the human, natural happiness of motherhood. It seems that in this first generation of women bursting into self-determination, to a non-traditional way, many remained single, or fell victim to unsuccessful relationships. But why did Aunt Sarah, the brilliant, multi-talented, had such a fate, which ended - during the days of the revolution, when all the family members spread out - in deficiency and paralysis?
As an active factor, Aunt Sarah appeared in my life when I was 8-10 years old. At that time, she took my hand and led me to a library of Russian books. The librarian was from the Luzinski family, the most privileged of the city's families. I remember the tall, pale, gentle-faced librarian, who found such a “strange” livelihood for himself. Aunt Sarah received from him a thick volume of a Russian monthly newsletter for children, enrolled me in her library, paid a reading fee (who could do this if not her?) and from then on, the alliance began between me and the book. I also remember that at that time, my aunt Sarah brought me a special gift: the poems of the national poet Shimon Frog in the Russian language. And for me this was the first source of my people's poetry that I understood because quite a few years passed before I was able to read books in Yiddish and Hebrew.
Our family would turn to Aunt Sarah in cases where they needed help that went beyond the daily framework and a person who could communicate with members of another nation was needed. I remember two incidents: my parents suffered from the fact that Shmuel, my brother, started stuttering after he once received a blow in the head. Father's aesthetic feeling and mother's fear of any deformity could not reconcile with this. Although our financial situation was not so good at the time, Aunt Sarah went with Shmuelik to Königsberg in Germany, and stayed with him there for a long time. She visited doctors who treated him according to new methods, until he returned with almost no deformity. And another incident: in the last year of my high school studies, I don't remember why, the management forbade the female students living in other cities to go home for Passover. My homesickness was intense, so I went to Bobruisk without permission. This became known to the high school administrators, who wanted to throw me out of school before the graduation. So, my desperate parents sent with me Aunt Sarah and Leib Mazha, who are educated and speak Russian and have good manners, to try to get the authorities to have mercy on me and panish me with a different punishment.
When I was admitted to university courses for women in Petersburg, Aunt Sarah also arrived there, to study some course, and in the meantime, as a free student, she also attended the Baron Ginzburg's Jewish studies courses.
[Page 327]
She was then already about 35 years old, and her two nieces, one of whom could surely have been her daughter, also arrived at the same time for the courses in the capital city. It seemed very strange at that time!
And deep in my heart, the heart of a young girl, was engraved one case that left traces of wonder and pain. After several refusals for several pairings offered to Sarah by matchmakers and friends, she finally agreed. The designated groom came, sat with the family members, we became friends with him and the children received gifts from him. And suddenly, Aunt Sarah regretted it. She returned the “conditions” and we, the children, returned the gifts that were given to us. We, the children, didn't understand what did this refusal meant to Sarah, what was the personal price she paid. And now I remember another fate, the fate of the sister who was among the first in Israel, Sarah Lishanski, whom I got to know from the booklet dedicated to her memory: her escape under the canopy, her immigration to Israel and her service here.
Many changes have taken place in the circumstances that lead an Israeli girl to family life and motherhood. And long is the road leading from the generation of girls born with the beginning of “emancipation” in the moshav to the path of the girls and boys who were born and raised in Israel, in the city and in the village. Certainly complications, confusion and suffering have not stopped and will not stop in this area, and even so, how vast the difference is, how much the opportunities have increased here in Israel for a serious youth, balanced and healthy in body and mind to reach a family life that built the woman and the man.
Aunt Sarah took care of us, but did we take care of her? Given each to his own world, we did not remember her loneliness, even when father, who was already in Israel, old and dependent on his children, would occasionally try to collect a sum of money and send it to the Soviet Union, to Aunt Sarah.
And I also remember, Aunt Sarah, when you took me, a high school student, to the first Zionist assemblies and lectures in the city, and my heart did not follow the assemblies and their critics. But you never stopped looking for a field of action and a public cause that will capture your heart, and you lived in it. And while I no longer understood Barel's conversation at all - you were already arguing with him, even though he was a young boy, unique among the adults. And I remember you in a library with a national spirit, distributing books in Yiddish and Hebrew, and devoting yourself to librarianship, and who can count all your actions, meetings you attended and your most prominent position in the life of our city.
I have often thought that there is one person among my townspeople in Israel, who can tell a lot about Aunt Sarah, and she is Roda, my brother Shmuelik's wife. Once I will sit with her and she will tell me. And I was late. And I will be content with these broken lines.
by Rachel Katznelson-Shazar
Translated by Mira Eckhaus
At a very young age, Shmuel, my eldest brother, began to pave his own special path, and began to see himself as responsible for both his parents and siblings, and his wars were the constructive wars of an educator. Certainly, despite his great influence, life in our home was conducted according to the format accepted in that generation and according to the status of our family. And he himself was busy with his searches, changing the forms of his life, his goals and his place of residence, and stayed at home for a short time only, until he built his own house, and his young family lived in our father's and mother's yard. Nevertheless, he managed to stamp his mark on our house, which was unlike any other house among the many families of the uncles and aunts. Grandfather Shaul Katznelson, father's father, had 10 sons and daughters, of whom 9 are married, and 39 grandchildren, and grandfather Mordechai Leib Rosovsky, mother's father, had 5 married sons and daughters and 30 grandchildren; and among these 70 cousins, the children of my father and mother were differed, and this to a large extent thanks to Shmuel.
But before I mention the facts that Shmuel created in our upbringing and the atmosphere of the house, I will mention some facts from Shmuel's life.
If they were to ask the people of Bobruisk from Shmuel's generation or several years older than him (among them those who immigrated to Israel and passed away, such as: Shmuel Benny Katznelson, Leib Mazha, Dr. A. Prozhinin and David Shimonovitz-Shimoni) - who among the members of the intelligentsia in our city, the special, the original, the completely independent, does not accept theories and ways that were common in his generation, they would say: Shmuelik. They were all socialists or Zionists, or both, and he was neither. For most of them, the book was the main source of knowledge, and Shmuel drew
[Page 328]
his opinions from what he saw with his own eyes, and from conversations with people, and especially with simple people. His fellows certainly would not have found interest in a conversation with a woman from the market, or with an uneducated craftsman. For him, this was the most interesting and closest human contact. Because he saw no need to devote himself a lot to reading, he forgot a lot of the Torah he learned in the cheder and was not counted among the Hebrew educated people.
There was a wonderful intelligent in our city whose devotion to books was great. They once said in Shmuel's presence: So and so reads a thousand pages a day. Shmuel replied: “And when does he think?” Admittedly, I, who was always immersed in books, never felt on his part an attitude of rejection of this trait of mine, but he himself followed his own path and drew from the sources that caught his heart, which others did not know how to use at all. He was gifted with a discerning sense of the value of books, and he would recommend science books to me for the vacation months, and these were always books that hadn't left my desk for a long period. It is almost possible to say the books he recommended (and if he recommended, it was a rule for me to read them) were the foundation of my general education. I will remember to this day how he presented me among the others with Timiryazev - “The Life of the Plant”, Bar – “Physiology”, Helmholtz – “Physics”, and Carlyle – “The Heroes and Heroism in History”, and also Belinsky, the great Russian literary critic. And his recommendations testify about his taste and the extent of his interest.
And so, his way of studying was special. Of course, Father, who was educated, wanted his talented eldest son to devote himself to studies, but after several attempts to prepare for high school exams (and there was a severe restriction on accepting Jewish students, and the exams were brutal) - Shmuel decided that it was forbidden to live and study at his father's expense, and entered the “business” as a salaried employee. Since then, he would spend a lot of time in our sailing ships on the river with the common people, with the gentiles, with the merchants, and got to know different worlds. Only when he accumulated some money working for Father, he went to Germany, to Leipzig, took his young wife there and completed his education at the Academy for trading.
He was perhaps the only one among his friends who did not aspire to a free profession, who did not turn his back on trading, but rather continued the family tradition of several generations of merchants' forests and shippers to the south.
At a very young age Shmuel took Father's place as the educator of his brothers and sisters. We almost did not feel Father's influence: more than half of the year he would be in the south due to his trade, and then, during the periods he was at home, he would be immersed in the concerns of the “business” and musing with himself. During these hours, Father also pondered in his public world as an active man in the greater community, and his reactions were according to the situation of Russian Jews and the events in the country.
Sending me to a Russian high school in a foreign city at the age of twelve was Father's decision, he was panicked by the rumors that even in girls' high school there would be a limited norm for Jewish girls. Shmuelik was not at home when it was hastily decided. With regard to the other children, Shmuel already introduced reservations, which we accepted willingly. My sister Frida did not attend a Russian high school at all, but she was tested every year and studied Hebrew at the same time. Both Avraham and Reuven my brothers - according to his line - entered a Russian high school only in the upper grades, after they were already “immune” against assimilation due to the atmosphere at home, the atmosphere of the Zionist movement and by studying Hebrew studies in the “cheder” and with private teachers.
Among all the homes of relatives and other Jews of our class in our city, ours was perhaps the only one whose sons and daughters only spoke Yiddish among themselves. With our friends we spoke as was customary among the educated youth - Russian, but we never addressed each other in anything other than Yiddish. It was neither a principle nor a decision. We were natural, as it is natural not to lie.
Shmuel neither supported Hebrew nor Yiddish during the forceful war the two fanatical camps fought each other.
When his son turned three years old, Shmuel, who was distanced from the synagogue, suddenly got up and took his son to pray on Shabbat. The intelligentsia in the city saw this as a kind of hypocrisy, but he said: My son will be connected to the people of Israel with another connection.
I did not describe that part of Shmuel's influence which we absorbed in the constant contact of our common life. Sometimes it was a statement, sometimes an assessment, sometimes a look, but the direction was always the same: to the truth in feeling, to responsibility, to understanding a person, even if he is foreign and distant; to evaluating actions and situations in the life of the individual and the general public, which is surprising in its originality, and is almost always not the same as the evaluations accepted on the environment. Not everything that was good in the eyes of others was also good in his eyes, and vice versa.
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He did not engage in moral preaching, but rather with a side note he would have set the errant on his mistake. I remember an event that happened in 1903. I was then in the last class of the Russian high school in a foreign city, and for some reason my devotion to Russian reached its peak, and even my friends were Russian students, a close Russian friend, a young Russian teacher of course, and this is in addition to the general atmosphere of a Russian school and a love for Russian literature and the sounds of the Russian language. That spring, the senior year class made a big trip to Kyiv, under the guidance of the young teacher, which was a son a priest. And here it was as if I completely forgot that I was Jewish: I visited the magnificent churches, I fell in love with the wonderful Dnieper River, that is sacred in Russian history and literature, as if I identified with Everything.
After this “drunkenness”, I came home for the summer vacation. I told Shmuel something about the trip. He was delayed precisely on the detail of eating “non-kosher” in the monasteries along with all the friends. He was probably careful even then, contrary to what was customary in the Jewish intelligentsia, about kosher foods. I don't remember his exact words, but it must have been one sentence of amazement to my dullness. And I was ashamed. In those weeks, the pogrom in Chisinau already took place and added its own impact to my disillusionment.
Since Shmuel built his family, his anxiety for the future of his sisters grew. When I immigrated to Israel, and a year later my sister also immigrated, Shmuel suggested to his parents that he accompany her, see what this country is like, and most importantly, maybe he will see
Since Shmuel built his family, his anxiety for the future of his sisters grew. When I immigrated to Israel, and a year later my sister also immigrated, Shmuel suggested to our parents that he accompany her, see what this country is like, and most importantly maybe see how am I doing - even if he already had his own family, children and household concerns. It was in 1913, a year before the First World War and before the complete severing of ties between the Land of Israel and Russia. He passed away in 1918, this was our last meeting.
He got to know the Land of Israel in the similar manner he learned about everything - from conversations and meetings with ordinary people. On his return from the Galilee, he told about his great impression of H. Y., originally from Bulgaria, a teacher and a farmer's wife in the Kinneret settlement. “She is the most interesting person I've met here”.
Shmuel saw the Land of Israel, its hardship, its poverty, its dangers, and it was not easy for him to leave his two sisters here alone. Shmuel believed in the future of five million Jews in Russia and saw the material and spiritual flourishing of our people there. But he was silent and did not grumble in his conversations with us about our choice. Only as a side comment would he vent his worries. By the way, out of all seventy of our cousins, only my father's and mother's sons arrived in Israel. One or two of my cousins glanced and left. Others didn't even glance.
And another detail from Shmuel's impression from the Land of Israel: To me then, the workers of the Land of Israel seemed like the chosen people, but he once said in a conversation about them: “It is good that they consider themselves chosen. Without this recognition of their greatness, they would not have been able to bear the hardships of their lives”. That is, he did not see them as chosen people, but accepted their self-esteem, because he saw it as a blessing.
Deep were his roots in the kibbutz of Russian Jewry which counted 5-6 million people! This kibbutz was his homeland.
Among Shmuel's enterprises in his city, which were known to all the residents of his city, was the “small library”, as they affectionately called it, in contrast to the “big library”, which was entirely based on pure Russian. This was a public library, a spiritual center of the city for all parties and all ages. It covered Hebrew, Yiddish and Russian and accompanied the people of the city from their childhood. A factory in which every intelligent person that was loyal to his people and to the ordinary people in our city, felt the need to invest his energy in it. An educational and guiding enterprise, far from normal, that Berel Katznelson worked in, and a long line of other and good workers who devoted their time and love to it. It fought for its material existence, for the possibility of purchasing books, binding books, on humane housing conditions. But it was a “little temple”, which preserved the Jewish tradition, prevented alienation from Judaism, taught to love our literature, to love the Hebrew and Yiddish languages and their writers. In the library's narrow apartment, Jewish children of all ages and backgrounds met: children who studied in the “cheder”, girls from the Russian school, youth and laborers.
In my heart I keep a memory of another enterprise, seemingly modest and small, in which Shmuel invested a lot of his love; And this enterprise also preserved the Jewish tradition so that it would not be extinguished by the spirits of assimilation: this was the Jewish choir. It is difficult to explain how important and decisive this meeting with a Jewish folk song was. We were happy when this choir appeared for the first time in public, and instead of other peoples' tunes, it played our sounds with all their sadness and humor, with all the love and mother's joy.
And one more enterprise I will mention: the idea championed by those who founded the “Company for Distributing Work” (initials in Russian - Ort) was close to him,
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and he was one of the creators of the Carpenters' Cooperative in our city, which was supported by Ort Company.
In 1912, I immigrated to Israel. In 1913, we met with Shmuel, as mentioned, for the last time. Years of disconnection, of the First World War, came. In the 12 years of his marriage (until his death in 1918), Shmuel and his wife Roda raised a family of five children (this was also contrary to what was customary in educated families, and quite a bit the “smart” intelligent people mocked a couple who behaved this way). The years of separation – the years of the First World War and the October Revolution - were for Shmuel years of growing up and broadening his horizons. That's what I heard from those close to him. Until the cursed disease of the days of war and shortages, typhus fever, came, and he did not treat himself because he believed complete faith in his powers and his future, and he passed away when he was only thirty-eight years old.
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