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Friedel was born to her parents in Borsa in Print, who moved to live on the ground floor of the rabbi of Borsa's house. She grew up in an exalted atmosphere, in which holiness hovered among its walls. Her soul absorbed this holiness spirit and she was greatly influenced by the Rabbi's pleasant behavior, his handling of his many followers. She was also influenced by the charitable deeds of the rebbetzin, with whom she was in contact every day, and watched her activities and her work for the benefit of the poor of Borsa, who attended the Rabbi's house. Friedel's mother helped the rebbetzin in these activities. When the lineage (descendants) to the Kosivojnitz family came to live in the place the Rivash prophesied as “The garden of Chassidism” - Reb Yitzchak Weider also came to live near him and he served the rabbi - according to her testimony - for 22 years, until they left him during the First World War. Friedel was educated in this exalted environment, under the influence of Eretz Avot, the spirit of Chassidic faith and high morality. She was endowed with a delicate poetic spirit, and she dedicated this book to some important folkloristic and historical family lists. Let us hear her stories:

Frieda Weider Kesner

Around Borsa were high mountains and dense evergreen forests, fields, raspberries, small nuts and more.

During the summer, a fresh smell of hay, which has just been harvested, was in the air. Mount Petros rosed to a height of 2305 meters and could be seen above the high mountains with its sparkling snow that did not melt even in the month of Av. Because of the high altitude, the air in Borsa was cleaner and clearer than all the cities of Mara Mures.

Since the forests were dense, they looked like a green carpet from a distance, and at sunset, their color changed to gray green. In winter, their permanent color was white.

When the sun sent out its rays, and the snow began to melt, the trees sparkled in the distance as if millions of diamonds were floating on them. On the lower mountains many wild fruits grew. Because of the fresh and clear air, many vacationers would come every summer to the two sanitariums “Fantina” and “Chisella,” the first for the rich and the second for the poor. In these two places there were healing springs for stomach diseases and rheumatism and their waters were even used for fertility. This water was very good for drinking, and was called “Borkod,” its taste was similar to a strong siphon taste. Many tuberculosis patients also visited them every summer.

Spring was especially beautiful in Borsa. Already in Purim, when the days got longer and the snow started to melt, every day we saw more and more black spots of earth, and the roofs were partly showing their black color. And the remaining snow was then in a grayish color.

Where the snow melted, as if by magic, everything changed, the green grass grew, and the wildflowers peeked out in many colors after the white cover that had covered them for six months melted, and the roofs were decorated with icicles during the night, because there were hardly any gutters around the roofs of the houses, therefore the rain and the melting snow came down around the roofs on hot days. Everything bloomed in the spring: The cherries were ripe for eating for Shavuot, the yellow and orange plum season began in Tamuz, and the apple and pear were ripe in Elul. Every month and its fruits in the summer season.

Two weeks before Pesach, the smells of baking matzahs spread throughout Borsa. We didn't buy matzahs, because there was nowhere to buy them. Every houseowner would buy kosher flour for Pesach and bring it to bakeries which were kosher for Pesach. The preparation method was interesting: they rolled out the dough with the help of the rolling pin around long tables. They waited until they were baked and returned home with a straw basket containing the freshly baked matzahs.

Women, girls, and men, as well as the men who were released from the yeshiva beginning the first day of Nisan, worked all day under the supervision of the overseer, who was usually a melamed in the cheder. The baking work of the matzahs was not just to earn money, it also served as an attraction. The atmosphere is the bakeries was very happy. They sang, told jokes and horrific stories. The guys who weren't allowed to date the girls during the year, took advantage of the opportunity and courted the girls. The overseers shouted, but who listened to their words?

They didn't buy fat for Pesach in Borsa either. Every housewife raised geese in her yard. After the holidays they fattened them and slaughtered them on Hanukkah. So, it turned out that the Hanukkah holiday was not only the holiday of lights, but the holiday of slaughtering geese. They kept the fat from the geese in jugs (tizan) until Pesach, and from the jugs and the “gribs” they made feasts during the entire days of Hanukkah.

The potatoes were planted after Pesach, and before Rosh Hashanah they picked the biggest ones and kept them for Passover.

When summer arrived, the girls went on vacation for

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about two months, while the boys continued studying without a break all summer and on Fridays, they finished their studies earlier than usual. They used free time for games, fishing, mischievousness, climbing trees, and especially carrying fruit from foreign gardens.

When autumn arrived, pleasant smells of ripe fruits like apples and sweet red pears filled the air.

When the rains and the cold started, so did the troubles, especially for the poor, who did not have warm clothes, but boots full of holes. The rains that fell penetrated every corner, and the unpaved roads turned into mud. Many died of pneumonia. Around Hanukkah, it started snowing. The land, the roofs and trees were covered with a white blanket of snow and in the evening, you could walk around outside without a flashlight. When the house was warm and there was frost outside, the windows were decorated with beautiful flowers made of ice, as if painted by an artist. On sunny days, we were able to be active again. We would go sledding on the hills, throw snowballs at each other, and build dolls made of snow. For this we used additional materials, like coals for the eyes and mouth, red radish for the nose, a hat, and a stick as a hand. The rest of the time we sat at home. We didn't see any birds for almost the whole winter, we were told that they fly every year in the winter days to Eretz Israel and return in the summer.

The cheder in which the children of Borsa spent most of their youth must be mentioned, either positively or negatively, because each melamed had his own method of teaching and punishments. We knew many melamedim, because every son-in-law of the rich, who lost his “dowry” finally became a melamed. Many left Borsa to earn a higher salary. In Borsa the salary was very low, but many stayed in Borsa. I knew well two melamedim who taught my brother. I got to know the first one when I was little, at the end of the First World War. His name was Rabbi Chaim Abrams. He was a rabbi of the Talmud Torah, and taught only Humash and Rashi. I don't know how much Torah his students learned, but they all loved him very much because he didn't beat them, but told them many stories about demons and ghosts that he saw after midnight in the churches when he passed next to them, or behind the butchers, and behind the “Kloise” and the Mikveh in the center of Borsa.

Rabbi Yoel, the second melamed, was one of the best melamedim in Borsa. He did not accept more than 10 students, and all of them were sons of the rich. He was a smart and somewhat modern and taught his students both spelling and arithmetic, and demanded a lot from his students, and was very careful about giving educational values, and it was known that he beat them with a belt named “Kanchik”. Toward the elders he was indeed a very kind person, especially he had a charming smile. His height was medium, with a black beard and black, smiling eyes. He was neatly and cleanly dressed. We took Reb Yoel into our house as a tenant so that we wouldn't have to pay tuition for my brother. After a few years he became our neighbor. I can count and remember all his students according to the order of their sitting at the table, almost all of them were of Bar Mitzvah age or older. Yossele and Iche Apel, Mordechai Moskovitz, Mandel Gantz, Yankale Gantz, Moshe Israel Mendelovitz, Shmuel of Kingsberg, Israel Wartzberger's brother-in-law. The youngest was Anshel Gantz, and my brother Hershmeilech. All day long, from 5 in the morning until 8 in the evening, I listened to Rabbi Yoel's lesson and then the students' memorization. And at the end of the week the Gemara exams and the students who didn't know the answers were beaten with the “Kanchik”. I mentioned the melamedim of Borsa because they had a large part in shaping and educating the younger generation.

Rabbi Yoel did not have any children.

Frieda Weider Kesner

Itzik Bar was one of the best craftsmen in Borsa, he was especially excelled as an expert in building ovens for baking and cooking. He didn't lack work, and even so, he was a great beggar, and barely earned his living, and besides, he didn't miss trouble either, because the crazy Zelta was his daughter. They found her a poor man to marry, and the community had the ceremony in the cemetery, to stop an epidemic, but nothing helped. It was said that the plague stopped for a week, and Zelta's husband left her immediately after the wedding. She would run through all the streets of Borsa and a bunch of young men would run after her and throw stones at her and she at them. This would happen often in our court, and it was not for nothing that they said that “all the crazy people are drawn to the courts of the rabbis.” More than once the glass in our windows was broken when the children threw stones at Zelta. I remember, once on the eve of Pesach, she came running to our house, after the oven for baking the cholent was already kosher for Pesach, and before my mother was able to notice who was coming in, Zelta ran straight to the oven, and threw a lot of old bread inside. My mother shouted panickily, “Zelta, what are you doing?” “I want to burn all my chametz too,” she said. Of course, it was necessary to make the oven kosher again. (The responsibility of the narrator).

When the rabbi arrived in Borsa, the rebbetzin didn't have an oven upstairs, because all the rabbis' kitchens were downstairs with us, and she decided to build an oven for cooking and baking in one room upstairs, and that's how I met Yitzchak Bar. The rebbetzin invited him as the great expert to build her oven.

For us children, it was a great attraction, and from morning until evening, we stood by him to witness the construction work. And I realized that he liked telling stories more than working, and every day, he would tell us a story, a legend or an episode, and then I also understood why he barely earned his living, because apart from the stories he told us, he used to smoke a lot and roll the cigars himself. He had the papers and the tobacco bag with him, and the act of rolling was a real art. After he had finished placing a few bricks, he would stop the work and slowly begin to fill the cigarette and glue it, and when the cigarette was already in his mouth, and he had taken a few puffs, he would begin to close his work, first straight, then diagonally, shaking his head this way and that, and almost always he decided that there was some kind of error in his work, and he destroyed everything and started all over again. Until he was sure that everything was 100% accurate, he did not continue the construction work. So, he would work and smoke and tell us stories, almost all of which seemed to have really happened to him in his life. But we knew that he invented them himself

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but he would tell them in the first person, and I often thought what a shame such talents are being lost. If he had been born to a rich family in a big city, he might have become a writer, but since he was born in a poor house, and in a small town, there was no one to record his stories. I decided that I would tell at least one of his stories, so that they would not all be lost with him. Moreover, the story reflects the lives of many people from Borsa, who managed their achievements only with the power of their own intelligence.

And here's the story: it was even before the First World War, when the manager of the cable car next to the train station invited him to build him a stove for heating, in his living room. He built it very nicely, decorated with colored porcelain, and when he finished his work, the manager was in Budapest, and his wife could not stop admiring the beauty of the stove. She asked him, “tell me please, who was the great master you studied under, he must have been a great and well-known craftsmanWhat was his name?” Yitzchak Bar told her, “My master is very famous, his name is Nikazul.” “Nikazul? I've never heard his name.” (Only the husband knew Romanian, and she spoke Hungarian). When her husband returned, the wife showed him the new stove, and her husband also admired its beauty. His wife asked him: “Do you know from whom he learned the craft of building the ovens, from a very famous artist, his name is Nikazul, have you ever heard that name?” “Yes, of course I heard about him,” and he and Itzik Bar burst out laughing. “What are you laughing about?” the woman asked. “It's not funny at all,” the husband answered her, “because really this great master is the greatest and best teacher” Nikazul Sayinwatsa means poverty is the teacher. This joke that the talented writer of this article thought was the invention of the cheerful Yitzchak Bar, was a well-known joke in Borsa and maybe he composed it. After all, someone had to compose it.

Anchela was a schnorrer from birth, unfortunately. There were many like him in our town. But I remember him best of all. First, he was our postman. It is not meant that he actually served in this position, but rather that he forwarded letters from us to my sister who was in Wiszów , and even returned a reply since he was traveling from town to town. He did not do this in order to get a reward or a salary, but to make my mother happy with the good news from her daughter. Thursday was the day he collected alms in Borsa, and I remember the pride and joy he felt when he entered our house with the letter from my sister in his hand. It goes without saying that he received gifts from both sides.

Second, Anchela was known as a jokester. I remember that when I was little, I thought he was stupid, because people always laughed at him, but when I grew up, I realized that he was a smart person. The people laughed because of his incessant stammering, and you had to wait a whole hour before he could say a complete sentence. In addition, he was fat and short, and his wife was very thin, and twice as tall as.he was. The Borsa community took care of their wedding, and every year another child was born to them (he was replaced by his sister-in-law Zelta).

On the eve of Pesach, when Anchela would be asked, “Have you prepared the Pesach necessities?” He would answer, “And what do I lack? I have oil since it's dripping from me anyway; potatoes - we are already buried deep in the ground; matzahs are my only concern.”

The main part of my story revolves around an incident that happened when I was little, during the First World War. In Borsa at that time there was a police inspector who was a great villain, named Nodz, a real Hungarian who used to run through the streets and between the houses looking for Jews for forced labor, or for young Jews who evaded conscription and hid.

One day, the inspector found no one on the street, everyone was hiding, only Anchela walked the streets without fear, being sure that he would not be drafted. Suddenly the inspector stopped him, patted Anchela on the shoulder in a friendly way, and offered him a cigarette, saying: “Anchela, do you know where the Jews are?” (In Yiddish: wow ligen yiden “bahaltan” – there are two meanings of bahaltan: hidden, buried). “Of course, I know,” answered Anchela and without hesitation promised the inspector that he would bring him to the hiding place. The inspector rubbed his hands and winked as if saying, this fool will lead me straight to the hiding place; today is a successful hunting day. Anchela walked and the policemen followed him straight towards the cemetery. Breathing heavily, they reached the gate of the cemetery, and Anchela, with his permanent smile, pointed to the scattered tombstones and said: “Here in the ground are buried all the Jews.” The inspector turned pale with anger and started shouting: “How dare you deceive a police inspector?” Answered Anchela, “you asked me where Jews are hiding” (bahaltan yiden - two meanings: hidden, buried), I wanted to help you so I brought you to the place where the Jews are buried. The inspector, after giving him ringing slaps - dismissed him without further punishment. Thus, by pretending to be a fool, Anchela escaped a severe punishment that would undoubtedly have been given to a “wiser” man.

Frieda Weider Kesner

“You will leave with him”

Reb Yitzchak also lived in our court for several years. Even in his businesses, which were shared with his brothers, they took advantage of the Jewish workers. As was the custom in Mara Mures, the workers worked from morning until evening for very little pay, because they were not “organized.”

Reb Yitzchak was a kind-hearted person, and loved to help others. He was a good and humble Jew in his manners. He did not forget to say hello to everyone he met on his way. There was a story about him that passed by word of mouth. Reb Yitzchak did not tell the story to anyone, which I learned from his family members. And here is the story as I heard it:

There was a family, like many families in Borsa, which, despite its hardships, did not speak about it nor asked for help in their trouble from anyone. The man was an honest and religious craftsman, but since he lived in an alley far from the center and was not the best craftsman either, he was always unemployed, thus his income was not enough to support his family. In addition to that, his wife was sickly (she probably had tuberculosis) and all the medicine that Borsa could offer her was good air and drinking lots of milk. And so, this family collected money and bought a cow. All summer the man would collect all kinds of vegetables and herbs and carry them home in bundles. And I still see him in my mind always running with some kind bundle of greens on his back for the cow

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or something for his sick wife. He was a slim and skinny man with an expression of suffering and sorrow. When winter came, that's when the trouble really started. And even though he sold half the amount of milk, the money was not enough to buy food, because the amount of milk was small and the cow “was stubborn and refused to give milk in the winter only because of the good air of Borsa.” Enough was enough. A thought began to disturb the man's sleep at night. He fought the evil urge that told him: not far from his house, on Reb Yitzchak's roof, there is a barn full of hay. Why did his own cow have to starve to death? And he could not decide which offense was greater - theft - or letting his wife and cow die. Finally, he decided to steal, so when he ran out of hay - then he would steal a bundle. Reb Yitzchak's maid felt that the hay from the roof was dwindling too fast and expressed her suspicion to her homeowner that someone was probably stealing from the hay. Reb Yitzchak decided to wait at night and see who the thief was. After a few nights, he was able to see the man carrying a package that was larger than his size. He was unable to see the thief's face, but by the way he walked he immediately knew who the thief was, and started following him to prevent him from his act. But since he was kindhearted, he felt sorry for the man and instead of standing in front of him and holding him back, he went behind him and helped him carry the big bundle. And because of the snow, the man did not feel the help and did not understand why he was suddenly relieved. Only when he reached his court and threw the package on the ground, he turned around and saw Reb Yitzchak standing there, and out of astonishment he froze and could not say a single word and beg for mercy. “It's fine,” Reb Yitzchak told him nothing. “I just wanted to help you, because I saw that you were carrying a package that was too heavy.” He turned and went home. Such were the people of my court.

I would like to talk about my late father, Yitzchak Leibushes , who was a simple Jew, and in addition a poor man who earned his living through hard work, and never asked for support from anyone. He was a member of Etz Chaim, and since he could not afford to pay membership fees, he would bring cuttings of wood to stoke the oven, so it would be warm for the Torah scholars.

He once told us how he saved Anshel Gantz from certain death during the First World War. During the war, my father hid with other Jews in the rabbi's basement, to avoid being drafted into the army. One night, my father went out into the street and was caught. That night a hunt was held for the Jews, so that they would bring supplies to the army that was trying to repel the Russians beyond Prislop. He was lucky that they did not ask for any certificates. (My grandmother wanted to save him from conscription, so she didn't register him when he was in the “primaria,” the municipality, so in fact, legally he didn't exist. If he had been required to show his documents, and he didn't have them – he would have been hanged as a spy.

And so, my young father left, laden with a heavy burden on his shoulders, together with old Jews who already were past the age of conscription. My father was not afraid, but the only thing that worried him was how to get the tallit and tefillin so that he could pray.

When the group camped in the forest, he came to a decision; he said to the policeman who was guarding them, that he had to go deeper into the forest for a moment. The policeman warned that he would shoot if he went too far, nevertheless, my father took a risk and, being among the trees, began to run in the direction of Borsa. He heard shots from different directions, but since the forest was dense, he was not hit. While running, he heard someone chasing him, and the more he increased his speed, the faster his pursuer ran. Suddenly, he heard a call in Yiddish: “Don't be afraid, it's me, Anshel Gantz.” My father stopped, and they both continued to run together.

Suddenly Anshel stopped running, because he felt ill, and asked my father to continue alone and call for help. My father resisted and began to carry him to the edge of the forest. There they waited until dark so they wouldn't be caught, and my father brought him to the first house on the edge of the city. When my father arrived at his house, my mother could not believe her eyes, and when my father told her that he was a deserter, she was afraid that he would be caught, since the search for him had already begun the day before. When my father saw how scared my mother was, he told her not to worry, he just came to take the tallit and tefillin and he would return. Finally, my father stayed at home and hid somewhere else.

By the way, Anshel Gantz was also saved, and he never forgot my father's help. After several years, Anshel Gantz died from the fear of the Romanian police, (when policeman entered his house), even though the policeman did not want to do him any harm except to write him a report for the disorder and cleanliness in his yard only. (Anshel's son was killed in one of the bloody battles) (Anshel, Moshe Gantz's son and his daughter, Leiko, returned from Israel to Borsa and perished in Auschwitz).

(More about the rabbi's family, from someone who resided in his house since her childhood)

So that the generations that come after us, the people of Borsa, will know who the late Rabbi of Borsa was, and why they called my court - the court of the rebbe of Borsa - I want to talk about the history of this dynasty that I learned from a picture that hung in the room of the rabbi of Borsa – the deceased Reb Alter Menachem Mendel Hagar. The picture was a gift from a Chassid from Borsa. I could look at it for many hours, it was a very magnificent work. Since it was forbidden to hang a picture of a person for fear of passing the commandment “you shall not make… and any picture”, the painter painted a wide tree with deep roots and branched branches, and on each root or branch was written the sequence of generations of Vizhnitz from its beginning to the last of them at that time.

I heard the story of the Rabbi's arrival in Borsa and his greatness from my late father, and the late Maiko, the only daughter of the Rabbi.

There is not enough time or space to describe my many memories of the court where I grew up and I did not leave it until I immigrated to Israel. I could write a whole book about the town, the house and court where I was born.

Many good and great people lived and worked in my court. Almost all of them had an influence on the entire town, such as rabbis, butchers, judges, doctors and many intellectuals, and many other simple and honest people whose good qualities greatly influenced me in my childhood. To this day, the court and its residents are engraved in my heart - and I will never forget them. I will try here to reveal their characters a little - as I knew and understood them.

The Rabbi of Borsa, Rabbi Pinchasel Hagar, was the sixth son of Reb Baruch Hagar of Vizhnitz, and the son-in-law of Rabbi Shmuel Rokah of Skohl,

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who was the eldest son of Reb Yehoshuale of Belz. His father was also the son-in-law of Reb Menachem Mendele of Vizhnitz, so was rebbetzin Sheina Rachela - a cousin of the Rabbi of Borsa.

Reb Mendele “Ha'Baal Zemach Tsadik” was the founder of the Vizhnitz dynasty. He was the third of the Kosov dynasty that began with the Baal Shem Tov.

The late Rabbi of Borsa was highly privileged, not only on his father's side, but even more so on his grandmother's side, who was the daughter of Reb Israel Friedman of Rodzin, the most famous and richest of all the courts at the time.

After the departure of his father, Reb Baruchel of Vizhnitz, in 1893, all his sons separated and each went to a different place where there were followers of their father, and thus each son received the name of the city where he served as rabbi. Only the eldest son, Reb Yisraelche, remained as the substitute of his father, the Rabbi of Vizhnitz.

I knew all the brothers of the Rabbi of Borsa who were: the Rabbi of Vizhnitz, the Rabbi Reb Chaim of Antonia, and the two brothers, Reb Pevshel and Reb Ma'acheli. At the time I knew them, they lived in Chernivtsi. Their only sister was the rebbetzin of Petrova.

The bringing of the rabbi to Borsa was organized by the Viznitz Chassidim, Reb Motel Adler, who was very rich and a descendant of the founders of Borsa and Reb Pinchas Wirtzberger, and Reb Yaakov Leib Fogel, who was later the second gabbai next to Reb Moshe the gabbai, whom the rabbi brought from Viznitz - this was in 1893, Parashat Yitro. I heard from my parents, and also from Maiko many stories that his coming to Borsa was not easy for his followers. The Viznitz court always had many opponents of the rabbis from other courts, especially from the court of Chanz. The descendants of the Siget rabbis, wanted someone from their court to serve as the Rabbi of Borsa. There was a great quarrel among the Chassidim of the two courts. The claims of the Chassidim of Chanz were that they belonged to Hungary and deserved the place, while the followers of Viznitz claimed that Viznitz belonged to both Austria and Hungary. This whole quarrel reached the government in Budapest, which had to rule on the matter, but the Viznitz court had more important lobbyists in Budapest, such as Reb Yeshayale Belzer and the famous rabbi at that time, Rabbi Kopelreich, and they managed to tilt the matter in favor of the Viznitz rabbi, and thus Borsa received Rabbi Pinchasel as its rabbi. (The people of Atinia “stole” Rabbi Reb Chaim from it).

My late father told us many times about the reception held for the rabbi upon his arrival in Borsa. My father, Yitzchak Leibushes (Weider), was not born in Borsa. He was born in Lardna. He was only 16 years old when he was taken out of Siget Yeshiva to serve the rabbi upon his arrival in Borsa, because he only had one gabbai and needed another person. This is how my late father had the privilege of traveling with all the Chassidim of Borsa to welcome the rabbi. The reception was very luxurious. They traveled with 100 wagons, all the horses were decorated with flowers, flags, ribbons and slogans such as “Welcome,” “Long live the Rabbi,” and so forth. They sang and danced all the way until they reached the top, to Shasol (on the Prislop road), where they waited for the rabbi's arrival. When the rabbi and his chariot arrived, they all jumped from the wagons, and in a mighty voice called “Long live the Rabbi,” “Welcome,” and burst into a mighty song, circled the rabbi's chariot, and danced with devotion and enthusiasm. The rabbi was still very young, and was a beautiful man, and when he smiled, his face shone. My father said that he heard the people whispering, that “the Shekinah was literally resting on him.” The thing that made the biggest impression on my father was something huge and holy that happened there, an image that seemed distanced from the worlds of justice. In the middle of the clearing of the high mountain surrounded by a thick forest, people were dancing and singing with great enthusiasm and the noise was enormous, and suddenly, without a prior warning, someone said “Blessed are the inhabitants of your house” and the whole crowd followed him, because it was time for Minchah, and suddenly there was a deep silence. No one moved, everyone prayed quietly and with great intent. Great respect prevailed in the place, and the people who went through this profound experience had the feeling that thanks to their prayer, everything they asked for would be fulfilled.

The way back to Borsa was accompanied by horse riders in rows of four, and the children of Borsa received the whole entourage with torches and flags and a gate of honor on the street, which was later named after the rabbi. The rabbi was brought to the house that had been specially prepared for him. It was very large and built of wood and in the court was the synagogue built by the first Jews to arrive in Borsa.

It didn't take long for the stream of followers to begin to flow from all of Mara Mures, Siebenbergen and Hungary. The rabbi excelled, like all Viznitz rabbis, with a great love of Israel, a warm and open heart for all the poor who asked for help or support and a lot of common sense, to give everyone good advice. With the increase of the Chassidic stream, they decided that it was not good for the rabbi to live in an old house. And they began to collect money, and built a large, beautiful and spacious brick house in the inner court. The house was the most beautiful in Borsa. When the house was still under construction, a crazy man burned the old synagogue in the court to the ground. By the way, almost all the rabbis' courts had some crazy man walking around. This man came after the rabbi. When he was asked why he burned the synagogue, he answered, “It's simply not nice that there is a new house and an old synagogue. And indeed, there was no choice, and they built a huge new synagogue so that there would be room for the thousands of Chassidim who came to pray with the rabbi on holidays and it was the “Salash.” All year long, the synagogue was divided in two by a wooden partition, and on holidays they opened the partition so that there would be room for the thousands of Chassidim.

Every year, the circle of Chassidim expanded, and another beautiful building with six rooms was added in the court for the eldest son and the daughter that were married. There was a beautiful garden on the side of the street, and the beautiful architectural form of the house gave it the appearance of a castle and the flower garden, the acacia trees, the fir and the cherry tree added a heartwarming grace to it. On the other side of the synagogue, there was a large well, whose water was used for drinking for the synagogue. Behind the synagogue was a large garden for vegetables and cowsheds that the Chassidim built for their own use. Also, the rebbetzin, with the help of three friends (Idel Steinmetz, Ratzberger Pearl Yuntels and Miriam /Motel Adlers), managed the large household for the best. She also took care of the garden, and grew vegetables and fruits for the whole year. She was known as a hardworking housewife and in addition gave birth to a child every year; she had six children in total.

The eldest son, Reb Altrel (Menachem Mendel) was born in Viznitz, the daughter Maiko was already born in Borsa, later (Chaim ben Zion) Chaimke, and Yisrael'tze, Yitzchak Meiarel. Shalom (Shulmatz) was the youngest. The rebbetzin, according to my mother, would test the new cooks with the question “how many times should rice be washed?” And the cooks who thought the rebbetzin was asking the question because of kosher rules, would reply

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by guessing “once,” “twice,” and “three times,” and only the one who would answer “until the water was clean,” would be hired. All the workers and helpers in the rabbi's house were afraid of the rebbetzin, because she was a very strict woman, but at the same time, they respected her greatly. All those around her, especially the Chassidim, respected her, but the greatest of them all was Reb Yitzchak Weider HaSodesh. My mother told me it wasn't for nothing. The rebbetzin helped him establish the business by collecting money for this purpose, and he did not forget her help. When she was blessing him, she would say that every Jew needs three things: “health, livelihood and pleasure.” She often used all kinds of proverbs. One proverb that I remember was: “Why do we love our grandchildren more than our children? - Because they are the haters of our haters.” They also took care of the education, the sons did not study in yeshivas but at home, and the daughter Maiko studied at home with a teacher of foreign languages and customs and manners that would not embarrass her in any society. The eldest son, Reb Altrel, who was later the rabbi of Borsa, married in Viznitz. Maiko married in Borsa in 1913, the son of the Rabbi of Vienna, the Kipichner. The people of Borsa remember the wedding as something fit for kings and counts. Chassidim and rabbis came from all over Europe for the wedding, and the groom was given a magnificent reception. When he arrived at the bride's house, they went around the court seven times singing and dancing on the chariots, similar to the seven times under the canopy. The celebrations continued for a week and twice a day the Sheva Brachot feasts were held. Unfortunately, the greatness and kingship of the Rabbi of Borsa has ended, after 22 years, and did not rise again.

In 1915, during the First World War, the Russians reached below Prislop, and there was a great danger that the Cossacks would reach Borsa. The rabbi and his entire family fled to Budapest until the danger passed, leaving the entire house, with the utensils and the precious furniture under the care of my parents, as he had known their integrity for 22 years. And that's how I also arrived at the rabbi's court, which I left only in 1939, to immigrate to Israel.

I was born in print, the meaning of which I still don't know. (“Print” - the front of the “Retris” in old Borsa - towards its expansion, G.S.) In front of my grandmother's house, the late rebbetzin Leibushes Greenspan, was a river. On this river were three flour mills at a distance of about 100 meters from each other - they all belonged to Jews: the first to Yehuda Leib and Laser Stein, the second to Yaakov Leib Fogel the gabbai, and the third to Nissel Adler.

The mills worked day and night continuously. Only during a storm or heavy rains did they stop working. To this day I hear the monotonous sound of the mills in my ears.

In the summer the river was used as a bathing beach. On both sides of the river grew willow trees that reached the water and the place was very romantic. The girls bathed behind one mill and the boys behind another (of course they didn't dare to bathe together).

I will never forget the day of our arrival to live in the rabbi's court. I remember as if from a distant dream myself, a four-year-old girl, and my brother, the late Hershmeilech, holding my mother's dress and going to the new and big house. I especially remember the huge crystal lamp, which sparkled with thousands of lights when the sun's rays hit them (some of the crystals occasionally disappeared). Finally, we settled in a sukkah that was empty of furniture and lived there until mid-winter.

One night we heard the noise of thousands of pairs of feet running to our court. Thousands of German soldiers occupied all the buildings and the court. They broke all the doors of the house, and in the synagogue, they set up their headquarters and a hospital for their soldiers who were wounded in Prislop. Before that, my late father managed to hide the precious vases in the basement, and the furniture on the roof. One day, a German officer noticed us, and filed a complaint to headquarters - that a civilian family lived in the court. Because civilians were not allowed to live in military territory, but after my mother's pleas, the headquarters agreed we could live in the basement that was used as the rebbetzin's kitchen. We lived there until my mother and all the martyrs of Borsa were brought to Auschwitz.

After the First World War, the army left the court, and what remained was not a very heartwarming sight. Everything was broken and hacked. The windows and doors were removed, the court was left without a gate. But we, the children, knew that this was the most suitable place for games of soldiers, hide and seek and ball. The condition of the house with four entrances created excellent hiding places, but at night people were afraid to enter the court. They told all kinds of scary horror stories about ghosts, some even talked about dead soldiers in white clothes that were seen through the windows, and there were also those who “heard” all kinds of songs and shouts at night and more stories of this kind. But we didn't hear or see anything.

I remember that one day a boy entered the living room of the abandoned rabbi's house, and discovered that the lamp and its sparkling crystals was not smashed by the soldiers. He took one crystal, and another child one more and that's how all were “picked” from this beautiful lamp by the children of Borsa. I think there was not even one child who did not have such a crystal.

The empty synagogue was used as a performance hall for Hanukkah and for Purim. The main actors were Shlomo Nachmans Yankel the tailor (Glik) and Moshe Begitza. Among the children there were good actors: Hershmeilech Gold, A.S., long may he live, and Avraham Fogel, who could sing very well.

In 1919, the post office moved from Koza's house to our court. The manager was Rinza Raziel Neulander, who was assisted by my cousin Raizel, the daughter of Naftali Greenspan, and later the wife of Herschel Mendelovitz. These two girls were the only ones in Borsa who received a matriculation certificate. And so, there was a constant movement of people in the court. Of course, on Saturdays and Sundays the post office was closed, but this bothered some members of the antisemitic intelligentsia, so they replaced the manager with a Christian Romanian lady.

In the court there was also a small factory for cleaning intestines for Meir Steinmetz's sausages and later Reb Israel Cohen, the butcher, also moved in, and so we had neighbors at night as well. Rabbi Israel was a great scholar, he studied day and night and would leave the Gemara only when he went to slaughter. They had children, and all of them were talented and hardworking. His wife managed the household quietly and modestly; they were an exemplary family.

The family of Reb Yaakov Uri moved to the basement on the other side of the house. He served as a melamed; he had many children and they lived in great poverty. His wife was no longer alive. He was always happy in his life and had great confidence in God. He always had a joke ready. One Thursday, he entered our house and said to my mother: “You

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know Feige, today I bought a whole calf for Shabbat.” My mother was very surprised and asked how this was possible, but he said, “look, here is the head, here are the lungs and liver, and here are two legs, and there you go, a whole calf.”

After that Doctor Salomon came to our court. After he got married, he rented the rooms behind the post office. I will never forget the home of the Salomons. I owe them a lot, Dr. Salomon especially influenced my education, he opened his library to me which was full of Yiddish books, such as by Shalom Aleichem, Ash, Bialik and more. Dr. Salomon was a special person of his kind, who combined ardent piety and intelligence, he was an enthusiastic Zionist. All the Zionist conventions held by emissaries from Israel took place in our court (jointly with Meir Steinmetz). Dr. Salomon had several hobbies. In his spare time, he embroidered beautiful napkins, or tapestry pictures, and his sport was chopping wood for firewood. It was probably due to his belly that was growing constantly. He went to the synagogue on Saturdays and prayed every day. His wife was also traditional and intelligent and gave a lot of charity. The flaw that the people found in her was that she did not wear a head covering. Dr. Salomon and his wife visited Israel during the Eastern Fair, and before I left Borsa, he told me that during his first visit to Israel he bought a plot of land and he hoped we would meet soon. Unfortunately, he was late and, like many other Jews, he remained in Auschwitz.

The rabbi never returned to live in Borsa. In 1918, he settled in Wiszów. He served as the Rabbi of Borsa for 22 years, from 1893 to 1915, from 1918 in Wiszów and in 1926 he moved to Siget, the district city of Mara Mures. In total he served as rabbi for 48 years, he died in Siget in 1941, on the 13th of Adar.

The rabbi was a great scholar and well versed in Shas and great in Kabbalah. Even in his lifetime his followers recounted all kinds of miracles and wonders that happened to them thanks to him. A miracle also happened to my family personally. One evening my father was captured by soldiers and sent to Prislop with supplies for the soldiers. My mother was very worried about him, and when he didn't come back after two days, my mother went to see the rabbi in Wiszów, cried in front of him and told him what happened, that her husband didn't come back and she was alone at home with five children and soldiers walking around the court. The rabbi told her – “go home - Yitzchak is in the house” but my mother claimed that it wasn't possible, because she left the house only an hour ago and her husband was not at sight. The rabbi told her again: “Go home, your husband is at home, don't be of little faith.”, and so it really was. (In another place, I will tell how my father ran away from the Prislop and returned home).

In 1924, Parashat Vayechi, once again, the joy returned to prevail in the rabbi's court, the walls of the house once again shook with the singing and dancing of the Chassidim of Borsa, Reb Altrel was the rabbi of Borsa. He too, like his father at the time, had opponents who wanted a different rabbi, but in the end, he was chosen. He was 33 years old when he began his tenure as the Rabbi of Borsa. I will not forget the Shabbats and holidays that were held again in the court. The Chassidim would behave like drunkards (especially Hananiah Steinmetz) and used to steal the neighbor's kuglen. Once, they sneaked into the kitchen of Zelta, Israel and Steinmetz, and stole all the kuglen that did not belong to her (she used to cook the cholent of all the neighbors in her oven). On Shabbat morning, she came to the rabbi with a kippah in her hand and asked: “Can the dear rabbi tell her if his Chassidim are doing the right thing when they steal the kuglen that she cooks for the poor people, in order to save them the oven trees, what will they eat on Shabbat at noon when, because of the sanctity of Shabbat, nothing can be prepared?” The rabbi gave an order to his Chassidim not to repeat this prank again.

I remember the Purim days favorably. I've been waiting for these days all year. On Purim, many Purim celebrations were held, with the participation of young and old. I especially remember Alter Steinmetz and Avraham Fogel as main actors, they would go up on a big table and play in front of the rabbi and his Chassidim. I remember that there were also two “outstanding” dancers from the rabbi's Chassidim, the two brothers Yosef Baruch and the Hershale, simple people, owners of wagons, who worked very hard all week for their livelihood, and on the Shabbat they would dance for hours before the rabbi and especially on Purim. I remember an old cobbler named Reb Hersh After, they said of him that he was one of the 36 righteous, he was a constant learner, and it was said of him that they saw him sitting all night over the stove and studying Torah with Eliyahu the prophet. Every Purim he wore a red blanket and would play the violin (as an imitation) and collect money for the poor, especially for the Talmud Torah.

There was also great joy at Simchat Torah. Meir (Glick) Israel Leibs used to dress up every Simchat Torah as a drunkard. He would leave his house with a slice of Purim challah in the length of 80 cm - singing and dancing and passing in the street, and all the children of Borsa flocked after him up to Reb Israel Steinmetz's house. Zelta already knew what he wanted, she put a bowl full of honey on the table, he dipped the whole slice in the honey, and then went singing and dancing to the rabbi's house and then distributed the slice to everyone.

Many more deeds and joys were done in the Rebbe's environment. I think very few people knew him closely. He was a wonderful personality, in the holiness of his life in the purity of his actions, he was a torch of fire, his whole being burned in the holiness of his life. As far as I know, he had more opponents than followers, yet this did not deter him from following the path he chose. The way in which he guided the members of his congregation - according to the basic lines of his holy father's method, the way of honesty and justice - love of Israel and acts of charity guided him in all his actions. That's why quite a few of the rich hated him, because he would often force them to give money for charity. Acts of charity were so important to him, that he would give even from his meager salary and his garden yield. He would send the needy to the basement and they would take what they needed. His wife the rebbetzin Esther, peace be upon her, would also give out good advice and words of encouragement to those in need in addition to the groceries. They had four children, two daughters and two sons. Only Mania (Miriam) and Aharon, who are in Israel today, are left alive. Malka, who was the first wife of the Rabbi of Spinka Rebbe, and Yitzchak (Itzile) perished in the Holocaust.

Malka followed the ways of her father and mother from a young age, she would go among the women of Borsa and ask for alms for the needy, and when she grew up and was independent, she would even give away her food portion. She was kind-hearted and had good virtues

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like her father. Many times, I have heard her say: “How can I be satiated when I know there are so many hungry children in Borsa?” even though it was known that she did not have many luxuries. If someone needed a specialist doctor, or an urgent operation, and did not have the money, she would send me with her jewelry and silverware to the pawnbroker, Shmolko Giskoltz, to pay the doctor's fee. And she did all this in secret, and I was the only one who knew about it, because she needed my help. She was among the founders of the Bnot Agudath Israel, and at Beit Ya'akov, and on her own initiative she brought a teacher from Vienna. When she had financial difficulties in paying the teacher's salary, she herself created several plays for Purim and Hanukkah. She excelled in writing articles and speeches. The son (Yitzchak) Itzile, followed his holy father's way of life. And I am sure that if he had not stayed in Auschwitz, he would have reached greatness. The dream of all the members of the rabbi's family was to immigrate to Israel. The rabbi hoped to serve as the rabbi of Rehovot, where expatriates from Borsa settled. He managed to tour Israel and was finally impressed by it, and when he returned, he began to influence the members of his congregation to emigrate to Israel, and it is thanks to him that I am here.

After Dr. Salomon moved into his own house, Reb Mordechai Zisman moved into our court. His house was like a restaurant for the needy, and the smile never left his lips. In his trade–he was known to be so honest that even the farmers in the area knew that if the goods were bought from Michael–the weight is always correct.

After the great fire in Borsa, Reb Gershon Shtuber, who had a large family of 9 children, moved to our court. Yitzchak Fruchter and his family, Avraham Greenspan, Hersh Glick and Israel Vag, all found a place in the basement. After the dayan moved from our yard, Herschel Einhorn also lived in the court.

I would also like to say a few good words in favor of two women who lived on the other side of the court. The first was Zelta, who did a lot for the sake of the poor in charity and medicine. She was a simple woman, who didn't even know how to read and write, but she fed generously many of the poor people in Borsa. She generously distributed milk, butter, and cheese (especially before Shavuot), and potatoes before Pesach, wood for the winter, and straw for mattresses in the summer, and the more she distributed, the more her wealth increased. Her house was the only house in the town where the Christian servants ate at the same table with the members of the household.

The second was Pradel Yaakov Leib, the daughter of the gabbai. I remember her as an older girl, who ran their flour mill during the day, and at night she sat with the poor patients who could not finance medical treatment. When someone was sick, they first called Pradel to determine if the patient really needed a doctor. She was a kind of charity bank. She found for every person a good word or medicine. She wasn't just a doctor - the “Babitschka” didn't throw breadcrumbs into a glass and didn't whisper all kinds of spells. Her medical book was the Rambam's book. On Shabbat she would cover her head with a handkerchief, so that she would not have to comb her hair, and despite all that, she was a modern girl, and knew about what was happening in the world, from reading books and newspapers.

Such were the people who lived in my court and beyond it. And I will forever remember them and their children who left us before their time on Kiddush Hashem. I cry about them and I will always remember them.

I was not among those who saw the destruction of Borsa, because I was already here, in Israel. I left a flourishing town with great youth and many scholars, and simple and poor people, who even in their poor situation - knew that it was necessary to give and did not think of asking, people who were content with their lot. Where today are all the dear Jews of Borsa, who all week toiled in all kinds of hard and strange jobs to earn their bread for the weekdays and to prepare Shabbat HaMalka. They were the spiritual ministering angels of the Shabbat. With royal pride, each one would return to his home from the synagogue, the table was set with delicacies, and the candles spread their light throughout the house. And when a Jew would sing “Shalom Aleichem Mal'achei Asharet” (Peace be with you, ministering angels), he really saw them, and when he sang “Eshet Chail” he meant this sincerely to his wife, a woman of valor, who saved penny for penny all week, to prepare delicacies for Shabbat. And our mothers knew how to make many good dishes for Shabbat with little money. Every “Tsimes” he ate, he did not forget to say “Lichvod Shabbat Kodesh.”

Even though there wasn't a loaf of bread in the house for the whole week, and in many homes, there wasn't even enough mamaliga (a corn meal mush), on Shabbat, everyone prepared good food. I remember a joke that was common with us, when a melamed from Mara Mures asks his students, what blessing do they say over the bread? The students answer: In the middle of the week – “She'akol” and on Shabbat “HaMotzi”. Unfortunately, for many of the children of Borsa this was the reality, and despite all this, they were happy and did not feel their lack because “as long as a person has nothing, he does not feel that he lacks anything.” On Shabbat, chanting was heard from every house, and after the meal they went to the rabbi to hear Torah, sing songs, drink a toast and dance and rejoice in honor of Shabbat.

Despite the great oppression and the difficult life, the people studied diligently. They all belonged to some “society,” the tailor, the shoemaker, the coachman and the merchants, who barely sold one calf a week, the melamedim and the negidim. Everyone organized to help others. There were “companies”: “Matan Baster Company,” “Bikur Holim Company” and “Mishnayot Company,” that taught Torah. But the youth had more meaning in life in the spiritual and cultural sense. There was a lot of time for reading books, classic books and not today's light novels, we traveled around a lot, organized many plays and performances. I especially remember the feathers. It brought our youth together. On Shabbats, the girls would go for a walk as far as Koza (God forbid if she was caught walking with a boy there; all of Borsa would gossip). There were associations for girls only, such as the Agudath Israel girls and the Mizrahi girls' association, where they spent every Shabbat afternoon. Despite the hard life that were in Borsa, I miss the Borsa of my childhood. In little Borsa there was more cultural and social activity than in the big cities in Mara Mures.

I don't know how other people of Borsa saw their town. I always considered the people of Borsa as more learned and spiritual people than the rest of the people of Mara Mures I met. To my dismay - that generation disappeared and was lost, and the court also disappeared., Only the land remained, without a sign and a name for the people who lived there, and were killed by murderers. May God avenge them.

Friedel's dream to see Borsa after its destruction came true (Borsa was destroyed for us – but not for the gentiles – because it flourished and was changed beyond recognition). She barely recognized the place where

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once the rabbi lived. She followed her heart to the home where she was born and educated. She found an old gentile there and asked her, “Have you ever heard from the rabbi who lived here?” And she answered, “I didn't hear from the rabbi.” I left this place. That mean that the case of Borsa Jews is over, it will move to a place of honor in the book.

For many years I dreamed of seeing once again in my life the town of Borsa. In my daydreams, a warning bell ringing all the time in my head, telling me that I would be disappointed, because Borsa is gone. I didn't believe it for a long time. I wanted to see with my own eyes. I thought that only after I see my small town, I would stop thinking about it, but it didn't help. I always tell myself, “maybe you should stop digging in the past like everyone else” because I only live in the past, as if I want to revive Borsa and its people with the power of my memories.

I write about my town and its Jews at every opportunity… My desire overcame reason and I finally arrived in Borsa after 42 years of absence. Borsa, which was once entirely Jewish, because the Christians lived in the vicinity, “is not erased from the map” but rather a new town has risen in its place, a town of Christians only, free of Jews, all of whom are strangers to me. I could swear that I have never set foot in this small town where I was born and lived until I came to Israel.

I continued to the Rabbi's Street, “on the way they are building many new houses with floors.” I can't remember which Jewish houses were in their place because there was no trace of them. As I approached them, I got terribly excited, I felt that my heart was beating and close to exploding with excitement and longing for the old days. Only their church, of the Christian community, stood in its place, renovated and beautifully decorated but without its orchard, from which the children of Israel plucked fruits on the night of Hoshana Rabbah…

I approached the place that used to be the home of the rabbi and mine, in order to set my feet once more on the precious land that I trod with my friends and neighbors for many years. Suddenly, my heart stopped: There was no trace of the land either. The gentiles built new houses on it, and it was not even possible to find the land where my dear house once stood. I burst into tears, I remembered the song the Jews sang in Russia when they returned to their homes after the pogroms: “I did not even find a pit or a pile of dirt.” Everything was rebuilt, houses, new streets and new faces. I found only gentile faces. To be sure that I had arrived at the place where the house once stood, I asked the gentile where the “retor” was, that was the street that passed by the rabbi's fence. Yes, she answered, you're standing right in front of it, “nevertheless I found the place I longed for.”

From there I continued to the cemetery. Only the dead are still in their place. Many of the tombstones were missing and it was very difficult to locate the graves of those who still had the right to be buried in a cemetery, unlike the rest of the people of Borsa, together with my mother and sisters, that even their ashes are gone. There are only many signs of graves that sunk deep in the soil of Borsa. Luckily, I found the grave of my late father complete with the tombstone in a large area without tombstones. I felt a great relief, I finally had a place to visit without restraints, to free myself from the oppression that oppressed me all the time since I arrived in Borsa. Now only the dead remain in my memory. Only they are still part of my childhood. In some of my many photos, only they still remind me of Borsa.

By Friedel Feige Weider from the rabbi's court.

There, instead of a house of glory,
That used to be my homeland,
now there is a thornbush
and a lonely pile of dirt.

Translated by G.S.

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