[Columns 617-618]

[Columns 619-620]

A Picture From Bygone Days Taken a few years before the war, when a Kurow native came to visit from America In the picture: At the center, the guest, Khayim Bornshteyn and his wife Rekhl, Yosl Zisls, Ayzik Loberboym, Yisro'el Volf Zaydenvorm, Hersh Yekhiel Shamesh, Yankl Shnayderman, Hersh Shtrasburg, Brayndl Borekh Ziseles, Royze Dineh Klimentberg, Nosn Klimentberg and his wife Khane, Mordechai Volfs, Hersh Kotlarz, two daughters of Royze: Dineh, Hinde Buchvayzer.

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I was born in Kurow in 1875. At the age of three, I was sent to a teacher of young boys named Mordechai Ayzik. Teaching wasn't his only profession – he also manufactured snuff tobacco…

I remember the way he ran his factory… He had an earthenware bowl, in which he placed various kinds of herbs. Then he would stir the mixture for hours (we students would usually help him stir, even fighting for the “honor” of doing it). Every so often he would pick up a pinch of the mixture and sniff it. When his sniff assured him that the merchandise was ready, he would say, with a sweet smile; “Well, thank God, this is the real thing, with a heavenly taste.” His snuff really was famous in the town. Almost all the Jews of Kurow used it. I remember my father saying, with a smile, “Well, praise be, his snuff has the best aroma.” Most of the customers would come on Friday, laying in a supply for Saturday, when a Jew of Kurow treated himself to fresh snuff.^[1]

In those old days, there was only one kind of snuffbox, “traditional,” all in the same size and shape. It was also customary that when a Jew came to buy tobacco, he brought his own snuffbox.

Editors' note:

We have few historical works about the town, and our knowledge is amplified by memoirs, especially by older people. When we received items from our important fellow native townsman, the scholar, educated person, and writer Rabbi Tuviya Gutman Rapoport, we were impressed by the quality of his writing: its fine style, directness, and fascinating content. We therefore approached him, the elder of our tribe (who turned 80 this year -- may he live until 120) and asked him to write an autobiography.^[2] It would also be a biography of our small town with its daily life, customs, characters, and figures. He responded very generously. His autobiography and his “Biography of a Generation” are important studies and achievements, for which we thank him whole-heartedly.

In fact, our teacher-manufacturer

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never measured or weighed out his merchandise. He sold by the box, charging everyone the same price. A packed snuffbox cost three kopeks.

I remember Friday as the happiest day of the week, when I would run to my teacher's house with my father's snuffbox. I felt proud when I handed him the three-kopek coin.

After I had learned Hebrew with Mordechai Ayzik for a year, my father said that I knew as much as my teacher (with all due respect, my teacher himself did not know Hebrew properly). So my father decided that it was time for me to move on to a teacher of Torah.

Unless I'm mistaken, my first Torah teacher was called Meir. It would have been bearable if he had started with the book of Genesis, with the wonderful stories that are so suited to the mind of a young child and spark his imagination (though the Torah teacher himself could barely read a Torah portion correctly). But he followed the old tradition, and started off with a section of Leviticus that deals with oxen, cattle, and sacrifices. For the life of me, I can't say that we young boys began to understand what it was about. One other boy and I had good memories, and we mechanically repeated the teacher's words after him. The other children couldn't do that. Well, those poor souls were liberally pinched and beaten by our grouchy teacher. I stayed there for two six-month sessions, after which my father decided to send me to a Talmud teacher.

My first Talmud teacher was a fine, decent young man, but – poor soul–sickly: thin, with sunken cheeks, who could barely breathe. His name was Kalman, but because of his appearance was called “Kalmaleh.”^[3]

The cheyder, which was also his apartment, was a small cubicle.^[4] The furniture consisted of

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two beds, an old wardrobe, and a single chair. There were six of us boys, and we sat three to a bed. The teacher sat “at the head,” on the only chair. This is where we young children started our first Talmud study, with small, skinny, sickly Kalmaleh as our Talmud teacher.

Before I tell you what I learned with my first Talmud teacher, let me describe what I didn't learn (and what no Talmud teacher of those days taught his students). The Prophets and the Writings were nowhere to be seen. Not only were they not taught to children, but we had no idea that they even existed. The teacher occasionally mentioned that the “Twenty-four” was unsuitable for small children; and we were always happy to avoid studying.^[5]

We did learn Torah there, and even Rashi's commentary.^[6] However, we did not learn Torah chapter by chapter. Rather, we would learn part of the portion for each week. All of Rashi's notes on grammar were ignored. “Grammar,” said the Rabbi, “is not studied”; of course, we did not know what “grammar” was. We always enjoyed not having to study. Talmud teachers, in general, considered studying even a small portion of the Torah to be trivial; it was done only once a week, on Thursdays.

Naturally, our teacher had no concept of the proper curriculum. Instead of gradually introducing us to the Talmud by beginning with the Mishna and then moving on to the Talmud, he immediately began with the Talmud.^[7] It is worth mentioning the language that the teacher used. Our first Talmudic extract was related to the Mishnaic tractate of Bava Metsi'a.^[8] He began chanting the translation of the opening phrase, “Two people are holding a tallis” as “Two people are holding a dress.”^[9] We young folks immediately realized that this was a gross error. Though the teacher was very bad-tempered, we did want to catch him out, and said, “Rabbi, what does a dress have to do with a tallis?” So the teacher explained that tallis here does not mean prayer shawl, but refers to a garment. But we still could not understand what a woman's dress was doing in the sacred Talmud. Couldn't they at least find a velvet coat? In general, we children marveled that the Jews who composed the Talmud were not ashamed to fight over a feminine article of clothing. But we were afraid to go on asking, because the teacher was very irritable.

Our teacher did not understand that children should first be taught only Mishna,

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because it was easier and more accessible to youngsters, yet he realized that they should also be taught Tosfos and Maharsha.^[10] So, after only three months of teaching Talmud, he started teaching the Tosfos, and gradually introduced Maharsha as well. I was the smartest student in class, with a very quick grasp. One other bright boy and I repeated the Tosfos and Maharsha after the teacher (though we did not fully understand the text). The other boys could not recite the material, and the teacher would scream at them as though he were possessed by a demon: “Peasant-boys!” (that was the worst swear word, because only “a donkey-people …work the field”).^[11]

After I had finished two terms of study with my first Talmud teacher, Kalmaleh, and had reached the ripe age of six, my father (may his memory be for a blessing) decided that it was time to go higher.

Only one teacher in Kurow taught older boys – and was the best teacher in town – was Mendl Partsiver (from Parczew). My father sent word that he wanted to see him, and Mendl immediately came over. My father proposed sending me to Mendl's cheder. Mendl responded gently, “Abeh, I'm in a bit of a dilemma. You know that students in my school learn more advanced material–Poskim, Yoreh De'ah and Shakh.^[12] All my students are grown boys, and your child is still too young for such studies.”

My father smiled and said, “Mendl, first listen to him.” He immediately took down a volume of Talmud and told me to recite my lesson. I practically knew it by heart – the Talmud section as well as Tosfos and Maharsha. I was a bold kid, and recited the lesson loudly. Mendl was amazed. He tried to trip me up, asked this and that; but when he saw that my answers were to the point, he smiled, and said, “Abeh, he's mine…” They agreed on the price, and it was my great luck to study with the best teacher in Kurow, at six years old.

As Mendl Partsiver was a true scholar, and taught advanced material, it's worth telling the readers of today what that “institution of highest study” looked like.

Mendl Partsiver's school was in a back alley, and you had to zigzag

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among the old houses, before you came to the right place. The school consisted of two rooms. The first was the home of a widow who was a baker, and the other was the location of our school (the entrance was through the widow's room). Both rooms had no flooring, and the surface was hard, lumpy earth. The schoolroom itself was actually not bad: larger, and furnished… with a table, two long wooden benches for the students, and, of course, two beds.

But there was a problem with the baker: she was old, and her eyesight was failing. Whenever she lit the oven, the rooms filled with smoke, to the point of suffocation. In summer, our teacher flung open the windows and did not stop the lesson, saying, “Never mind, you won't end up covered in soot…” So, poor souls that we were, we sat there and studied. The pillar of smoke soared over our heads effortlessly, passing from the school to the world.^[13] In winter, however, when the windows of Kurow were sealed with clay, it was truly miserable. All the doors had to be opened, and the teacher would chase the smoke out with a towel. We young guys enjoyed the fun, because the teacher allowed us to go out into the fresh air. Well, it was a game for us, but the teacher was very angry at the baker. (When I remember that tragic scene now, with the poor teacher quarreling with the widowed baker, old and half-blind as she was, and the fight often ended in curses, I tear up.)

Although my first Talmud teacher mainly taught Talmud with the Tosfos, we did learn some of each week's Torah portion (though not in depth). On the other hand, the more advanced teacher, Mendl Partsiver, taught no Torah at all. He said that we could study Torah “by ourselves” on our free day, Friday (when there was no cheder). Naturally, we young kids utilized Friday for better purposes than studying Torah. During the week, we barely studied Talmud, either. Almost all the studies consisted of the Poskim.

But study of the Poskim was also haphazard. Instead of studying the Shulkhan Aruch, Orakh Khayim, morning rituals, regulations concerning the tsitsis, and other rules of everyday life that incorporate Jewish qualities, morals, and ethics; or even romantic material that appeals to a young child and caresses his soul, the teacher taught mainly Shach.^[14] We, young innocent children, were taught, day in and day out, rules governing commerce,

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fraud, theft, and robbery. One of the boys in our group became so immersed in the regulations concerning theft that he himself became something of a thief: he swiped three rubles from the teacher's chest of drawers. But he wasn't an expert, and was immediately caught.

My aim is not to describe the conditions of childrens' education long ago. Yet a Jew who wants to write his autobiography, which is naturally closely bound up with the cheder, must express his great dismay at the sad state of old-time cheders and teachers in general, and the wretched curriculum in particular. It is hard to grasp how old-time Jews, who were so dedicated to the ideal of raising their children to be religious scholars, were so negligent about our sages, who issued stringent warnings against changing the curriculum. This is specified in the Mishna as follows: “At five years old a person should study the Scriptures, at ten years – the Mishna, at 15 – the Talmud.”^[15] My heart aches, thinking of the poor intellectual and economic situation of the Jews in the small towns of Poland. Financially and intellectually, they were unable to set up schools with proper teachers and mentors. Almost none of the teachers, from those who taught toddlers to those who taught grown boys, had the slightest training for his profession, or understanding of the meaning and significance of childhood education. When a Jew lost his livelihood, especially if he was physically weak, he took up teaching. So it was that we lost a golden phase during which a Jewish youth would study nothing but Torah; only a few emerged as true scholars, due to their poor education. (In 1943, I published a long article exclusively devoted to childhood education, in which I comprehensively addressed and illuminated the problem of child-rearing among Jews. It included the opinions of great Jewish teachers on the matter, starting with the words of Talmudic scholars and commentators, and going on to the teachings of world-famous pedagogical experts. The article was published in the 25^th Jubilee Anniversary Book of the Toronto Eitz Chaim Talmud Torah school.)

My teacher would always tell me that the main thing a boy needed was a keen mind. In addition to laws of theft and robbery, along with Shach, Ketsos HaKhoshen, and Pilpul, which I studied regularly, he began introducing me to complex cases of pilpul, to sharpen my mind.^[17] He showed me how to do it: he would take one page of Talmud – for instance, from Tractate Kiddushin – and another page – for instance, from Tractate Eruvin. Using pilpul, he would combine the two Talmud passages so that they became as one.

I really envied the teacher, and

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also started doing mental acrobatics: using cunning peshat interpretations, I would link sections that had no relationship to each other, such as “A virgin who marries” (Tractate Ketubot) with “All the idols,” (Tractate Avoda Zara), Tractate Makkot, and Tractate Berachot. In short, the peshats were going very well. As such intellectual acrobatics were highly valued at the time, I became a famous child prodigy…

As I was already a renowned prodigy, and as in those days rich Jews sought scholarly sons-in-law, all sorts of matchmakers started turning up. Of course, the entire business of matchmaking concerned only my father, not me. After some time, a new matchmaker appeared: my grandfather, the Rabbi of Ostrowce, David HaKohen (may his memory be for a blessing), my father's father. He wrote my father the following letter:

“My dear son, Abeh, I know that you have a son who is a scholar. I have a good match for you (not for me) with the daughter of a Jew from Opatów, a Jew who is renowned for his devoutness and scholarship, as well as for his wealth. He is looking for a scholar for his only daughter. His name is Ya'akov Vizenfeld. Arrange this match, and don't even think about other matches.”

Naturally, my parents agreed to my grandfather's proposal, and hoped that I would soon become a bridegroom.

It was easier said than done. Months of correspondence between my father (may his memory be for a blessing) and my grandfather, as well as with the bride's father, were required. My mother (may her memory be for a blessing) also corresponded with my grandmother, the Ostrowce rabbi's wife, about the bride and whether she was beautiful. Finally, after agreeing on the dowry, the only item was left was for my father-in-law to come and test my knowledge. So, on one freezing winter day, he came to Kurow to examine me. In order to make sure, he brought a scholar with him, a kind of “expert examiner.” The test began. Now, if the examination would have focused on a Torah portion, it would have turned out very badly. However, they tested me on a complicated issue in Maharsha, a Peshat from Chidushei HaRim, and a difficult passage from Shakh.^[18] Well, I was an expert in these texts. So, I came out very well. The only thing left to do was to write out the engagement contract, in an auspicious moment.^[19]

The day set for writing my engagement contract was the eve of a new month. So my father-in-law postponed the actual signing to the next day, the first day of the new month, which was considered auspicious. My parents agreed, and spent the free day preparing a “poor meal” (the term for a meal

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specially made for the poor). They gathered a few impoverished men and provided them with a fine spread in our home. After the meal, my mother (may she rest in peace) gave each of them a paper packet of nuts, raisins, and almonds, and asked them to each make a wish that they would live long enough to scatter sweets over the wedding couple on their wedding day. After each blessing, my mother called out loudly, Amen!

My father-in-law was set on going to the ritual bath before writing out the contract… As he knew that the Kurow ritual bath was heated only once a week (even during winter), he called for the bath-house attendant, and instructed him to heat the bath an extra day. But he demanded that he be the first to enter the bath. As he came out, he gave the attendant a ten-ruble piece. The bath-house attendant was confused at the sight of such a coin, and remained standing, ruminating. My father-in-law said, jokingly, “Attendant, what are you thinking about? Not enough? Here's a fiver, too.”

Kurow was soon in an uproar over the incident of the bath-attendant's sudden riches… The whole town soon rushed to the hot ritual bath. My father-in-law joked, “Aba, my in-law, only now do I realize what an important person you are in your town: the whole town is going to the ritual bath because of your son's engagement…”

The next day, the first day of the new month, my parents prepared everything for the ceremony. Our house slowly filled with guests. My father, my father-in-law with the expert examiner, as well as the local rabbi, and the rabbi of Markuszów, a special guest invited by my father, headed the table. Almost all the important people of Kurow were there. My mother and her guests were in a separate room. They began writing the engagement contract.

My mother was a cheerful person; and now, when her child's engagement contract was being written, she was in an especially good mood. She felt like playing a practical joke, before the plate was broken.^[20] She called me in to her, in the women's room, and asked, “How long until the wedding?” “Seven years,” I said. “Why such a long time? That's not good.” “What can I do?” I asked innocently. “What do you mean, ‘what can I do?’” she said. “Go in there and tell your father-in-law that you don't agree to such a postponement.”

I rushed back to the men, and said loudly, “Father-in-law! I don't agree to such a long postponement of the wedding…”

The crowd rolled with laughter. My parents, as well as my father-in-law, were pleased at my retort.

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How Old-Time Scholarly In-Laws Said Their Farewells

The day after the engagement contract was written, my father-in-law and the examination expert prepared to leave. It was understood that they would set out at night, after having a home-cooked family meal, a sort of “farewell dinner.” My mother probably made sure that it would be a fine feast, for parting with my father-in-law. They had some brandy, and my mother served each person with a dish of esrog jam.^[21] My father-in-law paid my mother a great compliment, saying that she had understod how special a treat of esrog jam was. He also said that his rabbi (may his memory preserve us) considered esrog jam the only treat suitable for a feast celebrating a mitzvah, as the esrog had been blessed during Sukkes, and that it was extremely significant.^[22] My mother was delighted at this compliment, but soon had regrets at her choice of a treat. This is what happened:

While he was eating the esrog jam, my father-in-law remembered that there was a very difficult passage in Maimonides' discussion of rules concerning the esrog and lulav.^[23] He immediately began talking about this difficult passage, to which my father replied that Maimonides wasn't perplexing at all. My father snatched the volume out of the bookcase, and a great fight broke out between my father and my father-in-law. They almost came to blows… My poor mother, in the next room (at the time, women did not sit in the same room as men) went greenish-yellow, worrying at the outcome of such a fight… But the cart-driver came in to remind everyone that it was time to leave to catch the train at Klementowice. They finished off the meal hastily, began saying their farewells, and expressed their hope to participate in the wedding soon (in other words, in seven years' time). Most importantly, my father-in-law said, at the last minute, that he would not remain silent… He would send letters to prove that he, not my father, was right. He and my father exchanged letters rich in pilpul, all on the same issue. All these letters are in my possession; I keep them as a historical document about the relationships between scholarly in-laws in those bygone days.

After my father-in-law parted from my parents, he came up to me, pinched my cheek, and said, “Little bridegroom, be well, and for God's sake, continue to love studying.” He gave me five rubles as a parting gift. I had no idea what to do with such a huge sum. Of course, I wanted to celebrate becoming a bridegroom by treating my friends, but did not know how. So I went to all the shops in

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Kurow, and bought the only two items I knew anything about: carob pods, and chalk… I bought up the entire stock in every shop. Later, I gathered my friends and gave each some carob pods and some chalk. The latter was very useful, as we used it to play tic-tac-toe. I was busy all day, having fun. But my happiness was soon over. In the evening, I remembered that I had been so excited all day that I had forgotten to pray. Sobbing, I immediately confessed this to my father. He consoled me, saying that a bridegroom is forgiven all sins. He gave me an easy way to repent and told me to recite ten chapters of Psalms each day for an entire year…

About four weeks later, I received my father-in-law's first presents. They consisted of a very expensive sable shtrayml, a silken sash, a Zhitomir Talmud,and various silver objects.^[24] Among the latter was a silver snuffbox, with a letter saying that he was sending it to me on his rabbi's advice: it was a talisman for a long life…

My joy was boundless, mainly because of the shtrayml, even more so than the Talmud set… In addition to the gifts from my father-in-law, I also received a gift from the bride: a red plush bag for matza, that she had embroidered with silver thread. She also wrote a letter to my mother. Not a single word to me, God forbid, or even about me… And, in truth, the bride's gifts and letter did not interest me in the least…

Now that I had a sable shtrayml, my parents decided that I should also have a satin kapote made.^[25] (It was actually my mother who demanded it. My father said that it wasn't necessary, and would be a waste of money… But my mother was adamant, and that was the end of it.) They sent for the devout tailor, Eli. He was renowned as a specialist in satin kapotes, and immediately took measurements. My parents specified that the kapote be padded, to keep me warm… Jews in Kurow generally wore satin kapotes on Shabbes, except for artisans and butchers. That was the festive garb of respectable Jews, or those who wanted to be thought respectable… All the satin kapotes were padded, to be appropriate in summer and winter… Incidentally, it was a very practical garment. A satin kapote was never considered too dilapidated to use. Even when it was badly torn and bits of padding protruded from all its sides, it was still a respectable Shabbes garment, according to the concepts of those days. After the tailor was regaled with cake and brandy, my mother asked him to wish to live to see our wedding very soon (in seven years' time). The devout tailor took on a God-fearing expression, and spoke his wish, to which my mother responded with a loud “Amen.”

I remember vividly that Shabbes, the happiest day of my life, when I went to the house of study with my father, wearing my new satin kapote, silken sash, and a very tall sable shtrayml….^[26] And, of course, two long, curled peyes.^[27] No one could outdo me! When we came back from prayers, my mother looked me up and down, and said, “Now, my child, you really are a perfect Jew…”

I must interrupt my autobiography here for a bit, for an important digression. Although I have criticized the curriculum studied in old-time Jewish towns, I meant only the “system.” As far as Judaism, decency, and Torah study in general are concerned, we need to bow to the traditional Jew, for whom Torah and study were so dear and important. When educating their children, they emphasized ethics rather than a career. The traditional wish for a new father was “May you live to raise your child to achieve learning, marriage, and good deeds.” (And, in fact, there were no child criminals in those days.) Amazingly, almost every man who made a living wanted a scholar as a son-in-law, and sustained the young couple for a few years, all for the sake of learning. There were always such sons-in-law who sat and studied in the Kurow house of study, while their in-laws beamed.

When I turned eight, my teacher, Mendl Partsiver (who was a true old-time honest man) came to my father, saying: “Abeh, you should take your son out of my school, because he is much more advanced than all the other boys, and it's slowing his progress.”

It so happened that at that time a young man arrived in Kurow

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as the son-in-law of Yisro'el Yitzchok, the ritual slaughterer, to start his period of supported study. The young man was a real prodigy, with an incisive mind. So I left Mendl's cheder immediately and became the young man's student.

Our sages showed us how to study, saying (in Tractate Avot): “Such is the way of Torah: Bread with salt you shall eat […], and live a life of deprivation, and toil in Torah.”^[29] Although – as noted previously – the bad study system, and the fact that it was not suited to all children, caused only a small number of young men to become true Torah scholars, there were a few whose attitude towards study was very serious. Living a life of deprivation, they emerged as great scholars. I remember only a few of them: Sholem, the rabbi's son, whose dedication was clear at a very young age; Itshe-Meir (son of Khayim Gedalia Leyb), who studied day and night; and another excellent one, whose name I can't remember but whose father was called Balkaleh the tailor: a small man who made clothing for both men and women… He was very poor, and his son had the honor of becoming very devout and a great scholar. A rich man from Puławy snatched him up as a son-in-law; everyone in Kurow envied Balkaleh and his fine son. It is impossible to imagine the father's pleasure – it was certainly greater than the pleasure parents nowadays derive from their children who are lawyers and physicians. No doubt, there were other such fine guys in the house of study, whose names escape me.

I would now like to give a brief description of the process of studying with my teacher, the son-in-law of Yisro'el Yitzchok the slaughterer, in the house of study. His name was Kalmen, but everyone called him Kalmaleh. I would get up at 4 a.m. and go to wake my teacher by rapping at his shutters. He lived next to his father-in-law, opposite the cemetery. The mud in the street was very deep. In the winter, during the worst cold snaps, I would leave the house without even a spoonful of anything warm, grab my “padded” zhupitse, my Russian leather boots, which were always too large (my father was very particular about having boots large enough to insert enough chopped straw), light my paper lantern, and wade through the mud until I reached my teacher's shutters, and rapped on them until he yelled, “Enough, I'm getting up.”^[30]

One winter morning, when the cold was

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horrendous, the mud was deep, and a cold, wet snow came down, I walked as usual at 4 a.m. to wake up my teacher. He lived down the slope from the synagogue, close to the slaughterhouse. As I passed the synagogue, I thought I saw a light in the window. I was steeped in stories about the dead of Kurow coming into the synagogue at night to pray… I became so frightened that I lost my footing, and fell face first into the deep, wet, snow-covered mud. The cold mud filled my boots, my throat, even my ears. In this state, I barely made it home alive, sobbing. When my parents saw me, they were appalled. I didn't look like a person, but like a blob of mud… Of course, they immediately removed my clothes and placed me in a warm bed. I had a bad cold, and developed a fever. I was seriously ill for two weeks. With God's help, I regained my health; but my father decreed that I would no longer go to pre-dawn lessons. To make sure, he locked the door every night and put the key next to his head as he slept. This lasted for several days, until I outsmarted him: I quietly slid the top and bottom bolts open, stole out before dawn, and went to wake my teacher. I was the victor, not my father…

My first class with the slaughterer's son-in-law began at 5 a.m., and ran straight through until 1 p.m. (all without having eaten). Then, I said my prayers, and went home to have lunch, as it were; there wasn't much to eat in those small towns. Immediately afterwards, I returned to the house of study and lay down on a bench, with a brick under my head. Following the afternoon and evening prayers, I ran home again, grabbed some warm food, and back to the house of study. I continued studying with the teacher until 11 p.m.

When I turned ten, my father took me aside for a serious conversation… that began as follows:

“My child, now you are ten years old, thank God. In only three years from now (may we live to witness it), you will become Bar Mitzvah, and the burden of Jewishness will rest on you alone… It is only fair that I begin preparations in good time. I say this because you should know, my child, that this is the age when lust will start to bother you… You must be very wary against a sin, or even the thought of a sin… And, as the Bible says, ‘There is no one on earth who is righteous, no one who does what is right and never sins,’ and a Jew must think of penitence each night before he goes to bed…^[31] (My father actually created a special prayer for himself in the

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style of the penitence prayers, which he said each night. This prayer is now in Jerusalem, at Rabbi Maimon's home, along with the manuscript of a religious book that my father wrote, and which Rabbi Maimon promised he would have published – together with the special prayer – by the Mossad HaRav Kook Publishing House.)^[32] “Therefore,” my father continued, “from now on I myself will be your supervisor, of studies as well as of morals and ethics. Beginning today, I will teach you two sessions a day, one in the morning and one in the evening. But for company, find a decent young man, and I will teach you both.”

I chose a friend with whom to study: Sholem, the rabbi's son (as he was known). He really was a very fine boy, with many good qualities: he was very quiet and unassuming, and at the same time cheerful (though he did not play pranks like other boys). Most importantly, he was serious and loved to study. My father immediately liked my choice; as time passed, his approval increased, and he would say, “Little Sholem has a fine quality: he won't be short-changed on learning, and won't leave a passage until he understands it fully.”

My father (may his memory be for a blessing) certainly did not believe in children studying for long hours at a stretch; it only weakens them, and is pointless. He used to say, “Better only a little, but with intent.” He taught us only three hours during the day, and three hours in the evening. The morning session was from 8 to 11, and the evening session from 6 to 9. One session focused on the Talmud with commentaries, and the other focused on the the Orakh Khayim section of the Shulchan Aruch. He said, “A boy must know the laws of tzitzit¸tefillin, and reciting the Shema.^[33] Those are the most important things.” He taught us in this way for several years.

We Start Repenting, and Try To Mortify Our Flesh…

I had actually become friends with Sholem, the Rabbi's son, a few years earlier, and occasionally even studied a bit with him. But once my father began teaching us, we became very close, and almost ignored the other boys, our former friends. We studied together, went for walks together, and mused together. On one of our walks, I discussed what my father had told me: that every day a Jew must repent, at least before going to bed… We really liked the idea, and decided on the spot that we would start doing that. So, even though we did not know what sins we had committed… we immediately realized that repenting was a good thing… but had no idea how to go about it… So, first of all, we began studying books of ethics and morals. We started off with the

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two most popular books of morals at the time: Kav HaYashar and Shevet Mussar.^[34] We began to be devout. The first change concerned our prayers. Whereas previously we would finish praying quickly, we now devoted more time to our prayers. We no longer started off the morning prayers in the conventional way, with Ma Tovu and Adon Olam, but also recited such “pre-prayer” texts as Yehi Ratson from No'am Elimelech, and Patach Eliyahu from the Zohar…^[35] Our morning prayers now lasted longer. However, our evening recitation of the Shema in the evening took even longer. After the Shema, we recited Tikkun Leah and Tikkun Rachel. Later, we began reciting Bet Rachel and Sha'ar Hallel as well.^[36] The latter, with varying texts for each day, combined with the long recitation of the Shema, left us calm and ready for sleep…

At that time, both of us usually dedicated every free moment to reading various books of ethics and morals; when we discovered the number of fast days and mortifications of the flesh we needed to undergo in order to be saved from the sufferings of hell, we decided to start them.

The first mortification was fasting on Mondays and Thursdays; but we gave up right after the first fast… we were very hungry, and couldn't overcome temptation… Then we decided that we would at least immerse ourselves every day before prayers. So that our parents wouldn't find out, we immersed ourselves in the Klementowice stream. This continued for a long time, summer and winter. We dipped ourselves even on the coldest days, and never missed a single day.

The moment I began my thirteenth year, my father started to receive letters from my father-in-law, emphasizing that he needed to keep watch over me, as I, poor soul, was now responsible for my own sins…^[37] At the same time, he asked for the exact day of my Bar Mitzvah, as he wanted to give a meal for the poor of Opatów. My father told him that it would be eight days before Hanukah. My father-in-law now sent a letter directly to me: if I would send him a textual interpretation for Hanukah, he would send me a fine present. My father therefore began adding a lesson on Tractate Shabbat and the regulations of attending to faulty candles…^[38] Once we had gone over the arguments thoroughly, my father said: “Now, my child, I want you to come up with an innovative commentary on this matter. I won't help you with it,

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because that would be cheating your father-in-law… And you're prohibited from cheating, as you now deserve to be punished as an adult…

I got to work seriously. I worked out an innovative interpretation and showed it to my father. He said, “It's very good for your age. I, however, would have done it differently…” My commentary was sent to my father-in-law, and I immediately received a gift: a tall Hanukah menorah made of silver. For the first time, my bride wrote a letter – to my mother, about me… She wanted her groom to be a scholar and required nothing more…

At that time, Bar Mitzvah feasts and parades were unknown in Kurow, but I was, after all, the son of a rich family. I bought some brandy, and some two-penny cookies from Khaye-Dinah the baker (this was quite lavish… treats usually consisted of penny cookies…) and handed them out to the guys in the house of study. In an auspicious hour, I started to lay tefillin.

From then on until my wedding, my father (may his memory be for a blessing) was my only teacher.

At age 16, I was married to a girl from Opatów (Radom governorate). My father-in-law, Rabbi Ya'akov Vizenfeld (may his memory be for a blessing) was then at his zenith: he was very wealthy and influential, and a renowned scholar. It was really “wealth and scholarship in one place.”^[39] He owned a large wholesale dry-goods warehouse, and another one with fabric. My wedding was very expensive, with hundreds of guests.The klezmer band played throughout the seven days of the festivities, and the final Sheva Brokhes was attended by the righteous rabbi of Ostrowce, Yekhiel-Meir (may his righteous memory be for a blessing).^[40]

Rabbi Ya'akov Vizenfeld of Opatów (father-in-law of Rabbi Rapoport), a great businessman and man of influence, later Rabbi of Zaklików

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My Father-in-Law Becomes My Teacher

A few weeks after my wedding, my father-in-law (may his righteous memory be for a blessing) had a serious talk with me, saying: “My child, until now, you were under your father's supervision, and he was your teacher. Now that you are, thank God, living in my house, I must take you under my wing. I will have one lesson with you every day, and you will then study on your own in the house of study.”

And so it was. We started each day with a concentrated lesson of Talmud with commentators, as well as the early and later Poskim. Our lessons continued on for a number of years (my father-in-law, may his memory be for a blessing, had an enormous library in his home, numbering thousands of books, beginnning with rabbinic literature, hundreds of Responsa, and a large number of Talmud commentaries, as well as books of ethics, science, and philosophy; thanks to that we were able to study at home without needing any books from the house of study).^[41]

Every day, after ending the lesson with my father-in-law (8 a.m. until 12) and eating the midday meal, I went off to study in Rabbi Meir's house of study, where mostly unmarried men and young folks would study with great dedication… In keeping with the customs of the time, I spent several nights a week studying there until morning. At first I studied on my own; later, I met a young man who asked me to teach him.

As soon as I began studying with my young student, I was amazed to discover that he had a sharp mind and wisdom. He was my star student almost for the entire time that I studied in Rabbi Meir's house of study. He became a great scholar (later becoming the rabbi of Leczno, in the Lublin province) and wrote a Halachic book titled Emek Avraham.^[42] I had the pleasure of my student sending me, as his former teacher, a copy of his book.

After regularly studying with my student for seven years, I began thinking about making a living. I understood that I couldn't go on being supported by my father-in-law forever. Though I was the only son-in-law in the family (my wife was the only daughter), I knew that when the time came for me to make a living, a flourishing and well-established business was ready. But I had no desire to become a merchant – it would lead to neglect of religious study – and felt an internal

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urge to continue my studies. I therefore decided on the rabbinate as my career, and concentrated on rabbinical law. In order to gain practical experience, I sat alongside the rabbi of Opatów every Wednesday and Thursday. Each question that came up was handled by consulting the Talmud, Shulchan Arukh, and the later Poskim. After I had been doing this for some years, I was ordained by Rabbi Tzvi Aryeh (may his memory be for a blessing), the rabbi of Opatów, and by the rabbi of Ostrowce, the great and righteous Rabbi Yekhiel Me'ir (may his righteous memory be for a blessing). I then began thinking about a rabbinical position. In the meantime, I continued to be supported by my father-in-law.

It is rare that wealth and scholarship reside in the same place, and are able to survive for long. That is what happened to my father-in-law. As he was mainly preoccupied with religious study and Hasidism, he did not supervise his business as properly as the business required but relied only on his appointees, managers whom he trusted completely. But gradually the business was weakening and going downhill. A special bookkeeper was installed as the primary overseer of the books. It became clear that regular, systematic thefts of merchandise and money were occurring through false bookkeeping. My father-in-law (may his memory be for a blessing) was a very honest person, and did not even think of suing his managers. He immediately decided to liquidate the business. As soon as it became known that Ya'akov Vizenfeld was no longer a businessman, various rabbinical posts were offered to him. At first he refused, not wanting to be a rabbi; but finally, based on the advice of his own rabbi, he took the position of rabbi in the town of

Rabbi Ya'akov Vizenfeld in old age

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Zaklików, Lublin province. By then, I had two young children; naturally, a rabbi's position in a small Polish town could not sustain two families. I began to seek a rabbinical position for myself.

When I had only begun to think about finding a rabbinic post, I accidentally became acquainted with the representative of a company in Berlin, which was interested in purchasing various forest products of Poland. He proposed that I become the agent of his company. This involved locating and buying the products and delivering them in Berlin. He promised me a percentage of the profits from the products, varying according to quantity and quality. I promptly agreed to become the agent. Immediately after receiving instructions from the company concerning handling and delivering the products,

Rabbi Rapoport as a rich businessman

Now that my business was well-developed,

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I needed to travel almost every week to visit my supply sites, I decided to make my permanent center in a larger city that was serviced by a network of railroads, and settled on Lublin. However, before I had begun to arrange my new location, the first war broke out. The bitter year of 1914 arrived. On that historically tragic day, the ninth of Av, 5764, the streets of Lublin were festooned with posters: “War,” “Mobilization.”^[43] Germany was closed off. All my far-flung merchandise – worth thousands, packed and ready to be shipped – stayed where it was. In addition, all the money I was owed in Germany was lost. I lost not only my livelihood but also my entire fortune. Naturally, I was in great despair, and consoled myself with the thought theen common: a war so violent could not last long (in every war, people have this thought…). A year went by, then another, and the war intensified. A livelihood was vital. So, having no choice, I decided to become a shopkeeper. However, as my entire personality was far removed from shopkeeping, I was unsuccessful. My shop went the same way as Bialik's coal supply business… The situation was dire.^[44]

At first, the organizing committee consisted of myself and my dear friend, the scholar and writer Shloyme-Borekh Nissenboym (may his memory be for a blessing), author of Notes on the History of the Jews of Lublin.^[45] We often spent long hours pondering whether Lublin could indeed support its own daily newspaper. After we had decided that this was a possibility, and that Lublin – with its large Jewish population – really deserved to have its own press, we began thinking about the financial means required. We were both very poor, and we began to count the wealthy men of Lublin. We came up with quite a few rich men, who had mostly made their fortunes during the war, but doubted whether they would be ready to invest money in such impractical projects… Thinking about finances, we were very pessimistic at first, but never stopped thinking about and assessing the newly rich men. I must say that both of us had personal interests. We thought that we should certainly

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be among the writers in such a newspaper.

We approached Zionist organizations, as well as the Mizrachi organization, but our attempts were like voices crying in the desert…^[46] Eventually, after many transmutations and an endless number of meetings, we finally succeeded in interesting several men of wealth in the project. These followed quite different political directions.

The committee of donors consisted of only a few people: the two Katzenelenboygen brothers, who owned a cigarette-paper factory (they were Folkists and followers of Pryłucki), a young man named Gradel (I don't remember whether he was a Folkist or a Bundist), my brother-in-law (the only brother of my wife, may she rest in peace) who was a fervent Zionist.^[47] I think there were also some young typesetters, who were Folkists as well. They brought in the well-known writer S. I. Stupnicki (a dedicated Folkist) as the editor; the first paid worker was the Kurow native, Yankl Nissenboym (a sworn Bundist), who turned out to be a very successful journalist.^[48] After a long series of preparations and preliminaries, the newspaper finally began to appear under the heading Lubliner Togblat. Naturally, the newspaper was far from Zionist… But they nonetheless supported me. I was the only person to write anything with a Zionist tone; I also wrote almost all the special holiday articles and feuilletons (without pay, of course).^[49] Due to differences of opinion and political disagreements, the newspaper was auctioned off, and sold to the typesetters.

Rabbi T. G. Rapoport when he was a founder and worker in the Lublin Togblat, as a representative to the Ministry

When mobilization began in Lublin, the local magistrate received an

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order from the ministry in Warsaw, not to call up grammar school students “temporarily.” The Lublin magistrate interpreted this to mean students of the government grammar schools only and not the students of the Jewish grammar schools. (There were Jewish grammar schools in Lublin, which were attended exclusively by Jews.) There was quite a commotion in the city; it was decided to send a delegation to the Ministry, because people were sure that the local magistrate's interpretation was due to simple anti-Semitism… Only two people were selected as delegates, I and a certain Sheftel, a very intelligent person. Incidentally, we both were keenly interested in this matter: both of our sons were students of the Jewish Gymnaziya (my son Shabtai, may he rest in peace).

Shabtai HaCohen Rapoport, son of Rabbi Tuviya Gutman. He was a renowned pedagogue, writer, beloved community activist, who died in Canada at the young age of 52. His friends inscribed his headstone as follows: “He reflected the brightness of his generation.”

For some reason, I am reluctant to write about this. I was completely astonished at such a question in a time of great danger, coming from a Jew such as Rabbi Kliatskin (may his memory be for a blessing). To this day, I am convinced that he said this solely out of

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fear of the Agudas Yisro'el^[50] party in Lublin, which considered it a sin to send a child to the Gymnaziya. He was timid-natured, especially concerning his party. I immediately realized that arguments would be useless, and said, “Rabbi Kliatskin, I assure you that all the young people are honest and true to the Torah and its commandments. I can give you my son as an example: he never forgets to prepare the water for his ritual morning wash before going to bed^[51]…

“If you say so, Mr. Gutman,” he said, with a satisfied smile. “Please sit down, and I will write you a letter immediately.”

I did receive the letter. As it happened, we did not meet Rabbi Perlmutter (may his memory be for a blessing) in Warsaw; we went to the Minister, and were successful. We received a letter from the Ministry to the Lublin magistrate, and the edict concerning the Jewish students was promptly rescinded. (Although this episode is not directly connected with my biography, I think it is worth noting, as it reflects specific notions of that time.)

As soon as the Keren HaYesod campaign was announced, and Lublin started to prepare to collect funds for the organization, I was elected the local director for the city and the region. The first campaign in Lublin proper was inaugurated by the Secretary General of Keren HaYesod, Leyb Yaffe (may his memory be for a blessing) who came from Jerusalem for the occasion. He was based in the center of the city, and held his speeches in the Maharshal synagogue, which could accommodate 6,000 people, as well as at other locations. Naturally, Yaffe had his own committee to help in his work. My activity was around the center, Czechiw (Wieniawa), Zamoyski, Bichowski sands. I had my own committee for those areas. Both of our campaigns concluded very successfully.

After the end of the first Keren HaYesod campaign in Lublin, and following Leyb Yaffe's fond farewell to Lublin, marked by a lavish banquet arranged by the Zionists and Mizrachi members, he left Lublin to continue on his itinerary. I remained the local director of the Lublin region. I visited all the cities and towns in the vicinity of Lublin. As I was a fervent Zionist, I devoted all my youthful energy and enthusiasm to this work, and enjoyed great success. My work received very good notices in the Hebrew newspaper HaYom (September 14, 1925), in Haynt

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Rabbi Rapoport as the director of Keren HaYesod in Lublin and the vicinity

At that time, the slogan “Stay with your own kind” was becoming widespread in Poland. The anti-Semite Grabski and his Ministry of Finance had a single aim: destroying the Jewish merchants.^[54] They were taxed with sums that exceeded their entire income. All Jewish commerce was declining. There was a deluge of defaulted promissory notes and bankruptcies. As the donations to Keren HaYesod in Poland were also in the form of promissory notes, they were obviously not paid (we did not let promissory notes for Keren HaYesod go into default). It was very difficult,

Rabbi Rapoport (sitting fourth from right) as director of Keren HaYesod, with the local Keren HaYesod committee for Lublin and the vicinity.

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almost impossible, to obtain money from the impoverished, unfortunate Jewish merchants. Only a few very wealthy people were still able to contribute; they endured, though with difficulty. However, it would certainly not be a general campaign. As a result, the Keren HaYesod leadership had to reduce its expenses and have fewer spokesmen. Considering this difficult situation, I immediately handed in my resignation, and once again remained without a livelihood.

I had a young son in Canada (long may he live), who fled at the outbreak of World War I, and eventually settled in Toronto. He later brought his family over as well. I began to correspond with him about my plan to go to Canada, and he wholeheartedly agreed. However, before making a final decision, I wrote to the great Rabbi and scholar, the righteous Rabbi Avraham Yitzchak HaCohen Kook (may his memory be for a blessing), whom I knew very well from my work in Keren HaYesod.^[55] I asked for his approval of my plan to go to America. Naturally, I told him about my situation, saying that I saw no other solution, but I did not want to do this without his approval. I immediately received his response: he approved, and sent me heartfelt wishes for success in my new country. He also sent the following letter of recommendation:^[56]

Avraham Yitzchak HaCohen Kook
Chief Rabbi of the Land of Israel^[57]
Head of the Rabbinical Court in the Holy City of Jerusalem (may it soon be rebuilt, amen)
With God's help, the 14^th day of Av, 5688.

In this letter, I wish to ask of all my acquaintances and those who are familiar with my name, to show honor and respect to the most deserving of men, the important rabbi, a man of high quality and traits who has done much for the good of his people: Rabbi Tuviya Gutman Rapoport HaCohen (may he live a long and happy life). Following his initial spiritual and material success, he has now been ruined by recent events, and must now travel far afield in order to seek a suitable livelihood. As people in a strange place – especially one as honored and important as he – have difficulties making their way among strangers, I am honored to be the speaker for this noble and trustworthy person, and address every Jewish person of high standing: treat him according to his fine qualities, and as befits his great family as well as his important works for the general good; and especially for the benefit of the Holy Land and its development. I sincerely hope that he will be satisfactory. It would be a very good deed to restore the standing of such a fine person, who is worthy of recognition by all those who possess Jewish feelings. His supporters will achieve happiness and all the best, selah.

Signed, with blessings from the sacred mountain of Jerusalem,

The insignificant Avraham Yitzchak HaCohen Kook^[58]
(official seal)

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A Yiddish Translation of Rabbi Kook's Letter (may his memory be for a blessing)

Avraham Yitzchak HaCohen Kook
Chief Rabbi of the Land of Israel
and Chief Rabbi of the Holy City
Jerusalem

With this letter, I request all my acquaintances, and all those who know my name, to extend great respect and esteem to the excellent person and very important rabbi, Rabbi Tuviya Gutman HaCohen Rapoport (long may he live).

In addition to the fact that he is remarkable for his admirable features and qualities, he is also of illustrious descent.

Years ago, Rabbi Rapoport attained a high spiritual and material status, but the stormy events of recent times have ruined him economically. Now he must leave his previous homeland and travel far away, to find a way to make the kind of honorable living that befits such an important person. I am writing this letter in order to introduce Rabbi Rapoport, and I request all my acquaintances to treat him as he deserves thanks to his qualities and attributes, his important family, his great activity for the sake of the Jewish people, and mainly for his work to benefit our sacred land. All those who help him in this matter will have done a very good deed in providing an honorable position for a person who has earned the respect and appreciation of all honest Jews. All those who help in carrying out this mission will be greatly rewarded. Selah.

The insignificant Avraham Yitzchak HaCohen Kook

(official seal)

Once I received the letter from Rabbi Kook consenting to my move to Canada, I wrote my son and asked him to start the process of obtaining a permit for me. After procedures that took several months, he sent me a permit together with a boat ticket. Both of these were only for me and not my family: first, they were extremely expensive and second, the immigration regulations of the time did not allow my son to bring his brothers and sisters, so that my wife and the other children remained in Poland. After parting from my wife and children, and shedding some tears… I left Poland and arrived in Canada on September 4, 1928.

During my first days in Toronto, I felt uncomfortable and lost, as I had no family or acquaintances in the city

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besides my son. However, only one week later, two Jews came up to me and greeted me warmly by name, saying, “Sholem Aleykhem, Rabbi Gutman.” They introduced themselves as natives of Opatów. They knew that I was the son-in-law of the scholarly and formerly wealthy resident of that town, and later the rabbi of Zaklików. They remembered me sitting in Meirl's house of study and teaching students. They said they had been sent to invite me to their synagogue, to meet the Jews of Opatów whom I had known long ago, and where I had spent my best years enjoying studying and teaching. They asked me to come with them now, because the Opatów natives were waiting. How surprised I was, when I entered the synagogue, to see a very large crowd sitting at tables covered with a wonderful spread. Everyone greeted me happily, and crowded up to greet me, as if I were – excuse the comparison – a Hasidic leader…^[59]

Before I knew it, I was sitting at the head of the table… They started filling small glasses of liquor, and the gathering became quite tipsy… I pretended to smile, but was secretly sad, knowing that I had left my wife and children at home with no means of subsistence. I thought, “Where will my help come from?”^[60] The assembly immediately noticed this, and they shouted as one: “Don't worry, Rabbi Gutman! You'll be olrite. You'll make a living!^[61]

I had no idea what olrite and “make a living” meant… After the magnificent feast, I was accompanied home, with good wishes; and once again reassured, “You'll be olrite, we'll try.”… I didn't know what “try” meant, either; but I supposed that it wasn't a bad thing. Two weeks passed, and I hadn't seen anyone. My pockets were empty, but my brain was full of thoughts. I was constantly tormented by thoughts of my wife and children. I thought to myself, “What kind of people are the American Jews? I don't need their pomp. All I need is a livelihood. I immediately thought of the verse from Ecclesiastes, “What does pleasure accomplish?” (Ecclesiastes 2,2); or, as the Aramaic translation puts it, “Laughter at a time of pain is mockery.” But what can I do? All the Opatów natives had disappeared.

The weeks go by, and I am still pondering the meaning of the words “make a living…”

After some time, two Opatów Jews come to see me, not the same ones as before, greet me in a friendly way, and say,“Do you know, Rabbi Gutman, why we've come?

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We have a request of you. We'd like you to come with us to our Opatów synagogue. Forgive us, but please come with us now. We have a special meeting concerning you, and we need you to be there in person.”

Naturally, I went at once. This time, there was only a small group of people in the synagogue. They explained that were the delegation of the entire community and were authorized to make decisions on its behalf. After the usual greetings, they began a serious conversation, as follows.

“Rabbi Gutman, we'd like you to know that we've all been thinking constantly about the best way for you to make a living. We've come to the conclusion that you should be our rabbi. We know that you're ordained, and we're asking you whether you'd be willing to be a rabbi here.”

I answered, “I don't know what the rabbinate means here; I'm still new, but if you think I can make a living at it, I consent. I certainly have no desire to do so; I stopped being a rabbi when I was young, and have been a merchant for a long time–but to become a rabbi now, in my old age?”

But they immediately had a counter-argument: “Your father-in-law, Rabbi Ya'akov, also became a rabbi after a lifetime of being a merchant.”

In short, I had no choice, and I agreed. I'll be a rabbi, as long as I can make a living. Then and there, a contract for a lifelong appointment was written, and we all had a drink (which had been previously prepared) to celebrate. There was a feeling of merriment. As for me, I looked at the whole thing feeling somewhat strange. I had come as a simple Jew…and here I am, a rabbi… But I must say that I was secretly pleased. True, I remembered that my father-in-law had wept when he was appointed rabbi, at becoming a rabbi late in his life. But I consoled myself with the fact that my father-in-law came from a family of merchants, whereas I felt a throb in my heart: my roots were stirring… All my ancestors, as well as their ancestors, had been rabbis. I thought that this might be divinely ordained; as our sages said, “The Torah seeks its home.”^[62] When the Opatów men told me their secret – they had sent my wife a check for $100 – I was quite happy and optimistic. I felt more certain that I would make a good living; and, most importantly, send for my family. At times, I would pace my room in thought, but in general I felt very confident.

I slowly began to go out and visit long-established rabbis and learn about the situation of rabbis and how they made a living. The information that

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Rabbi Rapoport as rabbi of the local Opatów community

“Rabbi Gutman, as you are so surprised, I will tell you one more thing: you should know that beardless rabbis here receive very large salaries, ten thousand dollars a year or even fifteen thousand, and more (these enormous sums made me dizzy…) They give speeches in English in their synagogues, and are greatly respected… But almost all our rabbis slave away for a paltry salary. They receive no salary from their own synagogues, but must seek out additional income… such as supervising the kosher standards at the butcher's, giving rabbinical approval for kosher standards during Passover, officiating at an occasional wedding, and similar income – such as, for example, giving eulogies… I gradually gleaned information about the situation of old-time rabbis with beards and peyes… I realized that it was the truth. I knew that I was not at all suited to such ways of making money. Meanwhile, I found out that chicken-slaughterers made good money, more than the rabbis. I also discovered that there were rabbis who were slaughterers as well, and most of their livelihood came from this occupation (in addition to rabbinic ordination, I also had a chicken-slaughtering certificate issued by the rabbi of Sokołów, Rabbi Y. Z. Morgenshtern, may his memory be for a blessing). I gathered my Opatów Jews and announced that I had decided to become a chicken-slaughterer. At first, they did not agree, and promised me a certain salary; but I told them that I wouldn't be able to bring over my family on this salary – I needed boat tickets, an apartment, furniture,

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Rabbi Rapoport's wife upon arriving in Canada

Immediately afterwards, they rented a fine slaughterhouse for me, and truly supported me. Everyone came to me to slaughter their chickens, and often paid higher prices than usual. Thank God, it was very successful. I hired When I saw that I was able to pay for boat tickets, I immediately sent them. (Naturally, I had bank credit.) On October 10, 1929, I had my family with me, in an auspicious, lucky hour. I immediately settled them in an apartment, and felt that I was a resident of Toronto. The Opatów Jews were truly delighted when my wife arrived. It was no small thing to welcome the only daughter of Ya'akov Vizenfeld, the rabbi of Zaklików. They promptly held a banquet, gave speeches, and presented various gifts and housewares. They also declared me once again – in my wife's presence – their rabbi and spiritual leader for life.

As long as I was on my own, I had no patience for anything. All my thoughts and actions were dedicated to one purpose only: to gain economic security and bring my family. But soon

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after my wife and children arrived, with God's help, settled in a home, purchased the necessary furniture and housewares, and became properly set up; and finally, with God's help, there was a proper housewife in my home, I began thinking about the true, and main purpose of human life.

From the innermost depths of my heart, I began hearing the quiet, but very powerful, cry of our great prophet, the prophet of destruction and rebuilding, who ended his “Lamentations” with the fiery words”Renew our days, as of old.”^[64] I recalled my youth, my best, blossoming years, which were exclusively dedicated to Torah and Jewish studies. It is only the private destruction-“Lamentations” of each person, the constant “Lamentations” of cruel life, rushing, and seeking a livelihood, that cause most people to renounce spiritual life in favor of transitory pleasure. These were the reasons why I myself underwent a long period without spiritual study. It was the extreme change in my life, the change of place and the change of profession, that impelled me to take stock. The life-flow of my ancestors began to course through me ever more strongly.

I decided that it was time to spend most of my time studying, and that my livelihood should take second place. I reached the conclusion that I needed to spend the rest of my days following in the paths of my forebears. My grandfather, David HaCohen (may his memory be for a blessing), the rabbi of Ostrowce, bequeathed his children sacred books and manuscripts that he had composed. My father (may his memory be for a blessing) composed ten sacred books in his lifetime, which were divided among my brothers and sisters. My uncle–my father's brother – Rabbi Tuviya Gutman (may his memory be for a blessing), the rabbi of Kielce, bequeathed his children his Responsa, titled Birkat Cohen (published after his death by his son, Aba HaCohen, who inherited his father's position as rabbi of Kielce. He honored his father by publishing the manuscript in Piotrkow in 1907; he was one of the murdered Polish martyrs (may his soul be bound up in the bundle of life).^[65] Thinking of all this, I felt that I was bound to carry out the injunction of our sages, “We continue the customs of our ancestors.” I needed to pass on to my children, and to future generations, a spiritual inheritance. However, I did not know how to do this, as I was constantly occupied with my business.

A Revolution in My Way of Life – a Spiritual Monument to My Wife (May She Rest In Peace)

After a serious conversation with my righteous wife (may she rest in peace), in which I revealed my thoughts and feelings, and concerns about not living a spiritual life, she said,

[Column 652]

“Listen, my husband. As I see it, you make most of your livelihood on Wednesdays and Thursdays.^[66] True, a bit of money arrives on the other days of the week, which we really need. We are still newcomers in a strange land. We need our own space, and other necessities. We will have to take care of the children's weddings. But for now, the only things we need to worry about are food and clothing. As to the rest, we trust to God.” She continued, “I advise you to devote only Wednesday and Thursday to work. Close your slaughterhouse on the other days, and you'll have time to devote yourself to study, as your heart desires.” That is what happened. As in the good old days, I dedicated myself, heart and soul, to studying Torah and Jewish literature.

1. Encyclopedia of the Land of Israel (based on materials I gathered with God's help, from the writings of the Sages, the Babylonian and Jerusalem Talmuds, the Tosefta, Mekhilta, queries to the Zohar, and many passages of Midrash concerning the Land of Israel. I have the recommendation letters praising the work from the following scholars.^[68] 1. From the great Rabbi Ya'akov Moshe Charlap (may his righteous memory be for a blessing). 2. From the great Rabbi, Chief Rabbi of Israel, long may he live, Rabbi Yitzchak Ayzik HaLevi Herzog. 3. From the late professor at the Hebrew University, Simcha Assaf (may his memory be for a blessing). I also have a review of this book by Rabbi Hillel Posek (may his memory be for a blessing) in the HaPosek periodical. There is also a brief review in The Jerusalem Post.^[69]
2. Yalkut Tuviya, on the five books of the Torah. There is a long review by Rabbi David Graubard, Ph.D. and head of the Orthodox rabbis of Chicago, and the son of the renowned scholar Rabbi Graubard (may his memory be for a blessing), head of the Chicago rabbinical court.
3. On Jewish Customs (New studies on the customs of Kapparot, Tashlikh, and other Jewish customs).^[70]
4. Book of Old Age (Positive and negative aspects of old age in the Talmud, Midrash, Hasidic and Kabbalistic literature).

Khaya-Sarah Rapoport (may her memory be for a blessing), wife of Rabbi Rapoport, who died in 1949, aged 75

[Column 653]

[Column 654]

5. Faith and Heresy (short sayings about the happiness and material riches of a person of faith).

Shortly after my wife's death, I emigrated to Israel and my children, but with no specific plan, except for consulting with my children about the possibilities. For various reasons, mainly because of the need to liquidate all my economic affairs in Toronto, I left Israel, intending to return. If God grants me life, I hope to immigrate to Israel in the near future, and publish my last books there.

Rabbi Tuviya HaCohen Rapoport
Toronto (Canada)
April 1954

Bella Rapoport-Miodovnik, daughter of Rabbi Rapoport, was an announcer on Kol Zion LaGolah

[Column 655]

The Editor: Below are the reactions of great scholars to the works of Rabbi Rapoport:^[72]

Jerusalem, between Rosh HaShana and Yom Kippur, 1950^[73]

The esteemed rabbi of priestly lineage, Tuviya HaCohen Rapoport, had the admirable plan of collecting all the sayings of the Sages concerning the Land of Israel in the Babylonian and Jerusalem Talmuds, the Tosefta, and Midrash, and publishing them in a book.

If this work is carried out properly and suitably, it would be a blessing.

The rabbi, author of this book, is worthy of help to enable him to complete the work and to publish it. The major rabbis of the Land of Israel have recommended it, and I concur in the opinions of those greater than I.

S. Assaf^[74]

Yitzchak Ayzik HaLevy Herzog
Chief Rabbi of the Land of Israel
The Sacred City of Jerusalem (may it soon be rebuilt)
June 4, 1950

This book, The Encyclopedia of the Land of Israel, by the great rabbi who is perfect in every way and of great lineage, Rabbi Tuviya HaCohen Rapoport (may he live a long and good life) has been read by important scholars (see the recommendation letter by the righteous man who contributes to the world's foundation, my close friend Rabbi Ya'akov Moshe Charlap, may he live a long and good life). I join them in saying that it has the virtue of awakening hearts to love the Land of Zion and its sacred places.

I sincerely hope that our generous brothers, God keep them and guard them, will extend their generous help to the dear writer so that he can distribute this work throughout Israel. May God bless them with many good wishes.

Yitzchak Ayzik HaLevy Herzog
Chief Rabbi of Israel

[seal]

Meir Rapoport, Zionist activist, man of letters, the brother of Rabbi T. G. Rapoport

[Column 656]

Ya'akov Moshe Charlap^[75]

The Sacred City of Jerusalem (may it be rebuilt soon)

With God's help, Jerusalem, May 24, 1950

I encountered a man who carries out his sacred work speedily: my friend the great Rabbi, of distinguished lineage, Rabbi Tuviya HaCohen Rapoport (may he live a long and good life), who aspires to gather and collect everything in the writings of the Sages, the Babylonian and Jerusalem Talmud, Tosefta, Sifra, Sifrei, Mekhilta, Queries to the Zohar, and many passages in Midrash about the Land of Israel.^[76] God's will has guided his hand, and he has amassed thousands of phrases, which will serve to increase our nation's love for the Land of Israel and atone for the sin of disliking the land, as the verse states, “They despised the pleasant land.”^[77] May they repent out of love, to reverse malice into merit, and may God be inspired by this to send us the righteous Messiah in our time, and complete what we are now witnessing: the beginning of the redemption.^[78]

Anyone wishing to compose works about the Land of Israel will also find this book very useful, as it contains thousands of well-organized phrases. Many will thank him and praise him for his great work in compiling this book. He also added several comments that will be very helpful to those wishing to gain knowledge on these matters as part of their professional work.

The beloved people of Israel will bring this book into their homes, and will appreciate their privilege in sharing the love for the Land of Israel. Our redemption and salvation depends only upon realizing the importance of the Land of Israel and striving to restore its children to it as soon as possible.

I therefore address my brethren with all my heart: hear me, and God will hear you. Acquire this book, for full price, and God will do good unto his nation of Israel, and will spread compassion across the entire world. “I will redeem you at the last as at the beginning, I am the Lord your God.”^[79]

Written and signed, with the blessing of God from Jerusalem

Ya'akov Moshe Charlap

[seal]

Translator's Footnotes:

1. As lighting a match on Saturday is prohibited in Orthodox tradition, Jewish men used snuff as a substitute. Return
2. The traditional Jewish wish for longevity is “till 120.” Its origin is in the biblical Book of Genesis, 3, 6. Return
3. The diminutive translates as “little Kalman.” Return
4. Cheder (literally, room) is the term for the elementary boys' school. Return
5. The books following the five books of the Torah (Genesis, Exodus, Leviticus, Numbers, Deuteronomy) are the Former Prophets (Joshua, Judges, I and II Samuel, I and II Kings) and the Latter Prophets (Isaiah, Jeremiah, Ezekiel, and the twelve minor prophets). The final portion of the Hebrew Bible is known as the Writings (Proverbs, Job, Song of Songs, Ruth, Lamentations, Ecclesiastes, Esther, Daniel, Ezra, I and II Chronicles). “Twenty-four” refers to the twenty-four books that constitute the entire Hebrew Bible.The original Yiddish here is svarbere, a corruption of esrim ve-arba, the Hebrew for twenty-four. Return
6. Shlomo Yitzchaki, generally known by the acronym Rashi, was an 11^th-century French rabbi and author of a comprehensive commentary on the Talmud and commentary on the Hebrew Bible. The commentary is widely used to this day. Return
7. The Mishna is a 2^nd-century CE compilation of legal opinions and debates. The Talmud was compiled in the 6^th century, and focuses mainly on elucidating and elaborating the opinions of the Mishnaic scholars. Return
8. The Mishna is composed of six sections, known as tractates. Tractate Bava Metzi'a discusses civil matters, largely torts and property law. Return
9. The tallis is the prayer shawl that Jewish men wear for community prayer. Return
10. The Tosfos (Hebrew for ‘additions’) are early 12^th-century critical and analytical glosses on Rashi's commentary. Maharsha is the acronym for the 16^th-century scholar Shmuel Eidels, who wrote exegeses on earlier Talmudic commentaries. Return
11. The phrase is from the Mishna, tractate Kiddushin. Return
12. The Poskim are scholars of the 12^th and 13^th centuries who collected, arranged, and systematically codified halakha (Jewish religious laws). Yoreh De'ah is Ya'akov Ben-Asher's 14^th-century compilation of halakha. Shakh is the acronym for Shabtai HaKohen, the author of a 17^th-century commentary on the Shulchan Aruch, the 16^th-century codification of Jewish law that is still authoritative for all Jews. Return
13. This is an allusion to the pillar of smoke, often mentioned in the Torah, which was sent by God to guide the Israelites by day in the wilderness of Sinai. Return
14. Tsitsis refers to the fringes worn on traditional or ceremonial garments, as reminders of the commandments in Deuteronomy 22:12 and Numbers 15:37–41. Return
15. Tractate Avot, Chapter 5. Return
16. Pilpul is the method of studying the Talmud through intense textual analysis. Peshat is the literal, obvious meaning scholars give to a Jewish text. Return
17. Ketzos HaKhoshen is an 18^th-century halachic work by Aryeh Leib Heller, which explains difficult passages in the Shulkhan Aruch, mainly the Khoshen Mishpat section. Urim ve-Tumim is another commentary on the Khoshen Mishpat, written by Jonathan Eybeshutz in the 18^th century. Return
18. Rim is the acronym for Rabbi Yitschak Meir Rotenberg (1799-1866), who composed extensive commentaries on the Torah and the Talmud. Return
19. The engagement contract is made between the parents of the couple, and includes a commitment to marry at the agreed-upon time and date, and to participate in wedding expenses as well as the anticipated startup costs of the new household. The engagement contract is almost as binding as the marriage contract. Return
20. It is customary in many communities for the parents to break a plate as a mark of an engagement contract. Return
21. The esrog is the yellow citron used during the week-long holiday of Sukkes in the ritual customs, along with the lulov (palm frond), hodes (myrtle), and arove (willow). Esrog jam cooked after the holiday is considered a delicacy. Return
22. Marriage is considered a mitzvah (commandment), and signing the engagement contract is part of the mitzvah. Return
23. Maimonides' major work Mishneh Torah was written in the 12^th century. Return
24. The shtrayml is a round fur hat usually worn by men after marriage, and often on special occasions. During the years 1858–64 a printing press in Zhitomir printed a beautiful edition of the Babylonian Talmud. Return
25. The kapote is a long black coat, often used only on Shabbes and holidays. Return
26. The house of study (bes-medresh) is primarily dedicated to study, though it usually houses a synagogue as well. Return
27. Peyes are the side locks that ultra-Orthodox men never cut. Return
28. Parents of new brides customarily supported their sons-in-law financially for a period of time, so that the latter could devote as much time as possible to traditional studies. Return
29. The Mishna tractate Pirkey Avot, sometimes translated The Ethics of the Fathers, is a compilation of ethical teachings and maxims from rabbinic Jewish tradition. The quote is from Chapter 6. Return
30. Zhupitse may be another term for the kapote. Return
31. Ecclesiastes 7, 20. Return
32. Rabbi Yehuda Leyb Maimon was Israel's first Minister of Religions. Return
33. Orakh Khayim is the section that discusses daily ritual observance. The Shema prayer derives from Deuteronomy, and affirms the acceptance of faith in God. Tefillin are the phylacteries (small leather boxes with parchment inscribed with verses from the Torah) that Jewish men strap on during morning prayers. Return
34. Kav HaYashar was first published in 1705. It is an ethical-kabbalistic collection of stories, moral guidance, and customs. Shevet Mussar was first published in 1712, and is an ethical work divided into 52 chapters, corresponding to the weeks of the year. It offers a methodical path towards character perfection. Return
35. Elimelech of Lizhensk was one of the founding fathers of Hasidism. Return
36. Tikkun Leah, Tikkun Rachel, Bet Rachel and Sha'ar Hallel are collections mostly consisting of psalms, meant for recitation and prayer late at night. Return
37. According to Jewish law, at the age of thirteen a boy changes his status from child to man. Return
38. This refers to Shabbat 21B, where there is a discussion of candle wicks that do not burn well and are therefore not to be used for Shabbat candles; according to one of the polemicists, they may be used during Hanukah. Return
39. Transl ator's note: The quote is from Tractate Gittin 59a. Return
40. Sheva-Brokhes are seven blessings recited over wine during the wedding ceremony, after the wedding feast, and following festive meals during the next seven days. Return
41. The Responsa are replies by rabbinic scholars in answer to submitted questions about Jewish law, beginning in the 6^th century after final redaction of the Talmud. Return
42. Emek Avraham by Avraham Yerachmiel Bromberg was published in 1912. Return
43. In the Jewish calendar, 9 Av is the traditional anniversary of the destruction of both the First and Second Jewish temples in Jerusalem. The Jewish year 5764 corresponds roughly to 1914; 9 Av was on August 1, when Germany declared war on Russia. Return
44. The important Hebrew poet Khayim-Nakhman Bialik (1873-1934) was unsuccessful in his attempt to become a coal merchant in 1897-1900. Return
45. Le-korot ha-yehudim be-lublin (1900). Return
46. The religious Zionist organization Mizrachi was founded in 1902. “A voice crying in the desert” is a quote from Isaiah 40, 3. Return
47. The Folkists were a Jewish political party that sought Jewish national autonomy in the Diaspora; it was founded by Noyekh Pryłucki. The General Jewish Labor Bund in Lithuania, Poland, and Russia was the active organization of a secular Jewish socialist movement. Return
48. S. I. Stupnicki (1876-1942) was a renowned Yiddish journalist. Noach Pryłucki (1882-1941) founded the Folkspartei, which fought for Jewish autonomous rights in Poland. The Bund was a secular Jewish socialist party initially formed in the Russian Empire and active mainly between 1897 and 1920 Return
49. A feuilleton is a piece of light fiction, a review, or an article of general entertainment. Return
50. Agudas Yisro'el was established in Europe in 1912 by Orthodox rabbis, and became the political, communal, and cultural voice of Orthodox Jews. Return
51. Observant Jews wash their hands when rising from sleep. Return
52. Keren HaYesod, founded in 1920 by Leyb Yaffe, is an official fundraising organization for Israel. Return
53. HaYom was a Hebrew daily, published in Warsaw, 1925-1939. The Yiddish daily Haynt was published in Warsaw, 1906-1939. Lubliner Togblat was a daily, published 1918-1939. Return
54. The tax reforms of 1924-1925, instituted by Wladislaw Grabski, Polish Minister of Finance, had an adverse effect on Jewish merchants. Return
55. Rabbi Kook was an Orthodox rabbi, and the first Ashkenazi Chief Rabbi of British Mandatory Palestine. He is considered to be one of the fathers of religious Zionism, and had great moral authority. Return
56. The first letter, in Hebrew, is written in the very flowery style typical of scholarly addresses. The corresponding Gregorian date is July 31, 1928. Selah is a locution common in Psalms, indicating the end of a poem. The second letter is a less flowery Yiddish translation of the first. Return
57. The name Palestine was used by the British authorities to refer to the area covered by the Mandate. The traditional Hebrew term Eretz Yisra'el (Land of Israel) was designated an official part of the name. Return
58. “The insignificant” is a scholarly expression of modesty. Return
59. “Excuse the comparison” refers to the difference between the sacred and the profane. The writer may be emphasizing the fact that he is not a Hasid. Return
60. This is a quote from Psalms 121, 1. Return
61. The English words “all right” are presented in Yiddish transliteration, and were commonly used by Yiddish-speaking immigrants in English-speaking countries. The locution “make a living” is not used in Yiddish. Return
62. Quoted from the Mishna, Bava Metzi'a 85, 1. Return
63. Peyes are the sidelocks worn by some observant boys and men. Return
64. Lamentations 5, 21. According to Jewish tradition, the prophet Jeremiah was the author of Lamentations. Return
65. Piotrkow was a renowned center of Jewish printing. Return
66. Fowls were usually slaughtered in preparation for the weekend. Return
67. This section is translated from Hebrew. Return
68. Letters of approbation, recommendation, or endorsement from a noted rabbinic scholar, which one might receive for a book one has written or for a ruling one has issued, are customary. Return
69. The Jerusalem Post is an English-language Israeli daily. Return
70. Tashlikh is observed on the first day of Rosh HashanahHH, when Jews traditionally proceed to a body of running water and symbolically cast off their sins. In the ritual of Kapparot, before Yom Kippur, the sins of a person are symbolically transferred to a fowl. Return
71. In 1950, Israeli broadcasts specifically targeted at overseas audiences began as “Kol Zion La-Golah” (“The Voice of Zion to the Diaspora”); they were operated from Israel Radio facilities by the World Zionist Organization in collaboration with the Jewish Agency. Return
72. These are the recommendation letters mentioned earlier. The texts are in the extremely hyperbolic style customary in rabbinical scholarly circles; the style includes Aramaic phrases. I have translated them to the best of my ability. Return
73. The ten days between these major holidays are traditionally a time of deep reflection and repentance. Return
74. Prof. Rabbi Simcha Assaf (1889-1953) was Professor of Talmudic Literature at the Hebrew University of Jerusalem since its inception in 1925, Rector of the University 1948-1950. In 1948 he was one of the original five members appointed to constitute the Israel Supreme Court. Return
75. Rabbi Ya'akov Charlap (1881-1951) was one of the major rabbis of Jerusalem in the first half of the 20^th century. Return
76. I was unable to translate an Aramaic phrase in the first section of this paragraph; it is likely a formulaic compliment to a great scholar, part of the hyperbolic language Return
77. Psalms 106, 24. Return
78. Rabbi Charlap was of the rabbinic school of thought that considered the establishment of Israel the beginning of divine redemption for the people of Israel. Return
79. Quoted from the liturgy. Return

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