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The Hassidic rebbe of Radzyn Rabbi Gershon Chanoch had left the city. And once again the Mitnagdim of the town attempted to prevent the selection of someone from the Hassidic community. Only after the service of a Mitnagdic rabbi could someone from the Hassidic community serve and vice versa. This time the Mitnagdic circles prevailed and, against the wishes of the Hassidim, a Mitnagdic rabbi, who was called locally “the Rabbi from Piotrkow,” came to Ostroveh.

The Hassidim did not acquiesce. They did not accept the authority of the new rabbi. They brought a young Hassidic rabbi to town and appointed him as shov^[1], and decided only to eat meat that he had slaughtered. The rabbi sharply criticized this action by the Hassidim, but the latter remained firm in their position and defended their shochet, who did not function under the supervision of the Mitnagdic rabbi. And so the community was divided into two hostile camps.

The matter was offensive to the Rabbi of Piotrkow. The Hassidim harassed him at every turn. They gave him no respite. And while the core of the conflict centered about the Hassidic shochet, in fact it was intended to undermine the very mandate of the Mitnagdic rabbi as the rabbi of the city. The conflict only intensified. So one fine day the Rabbi of Piotrkow packed up his things and permanently left the city, which remained mired in disagreement.

The Mitnagdic camp in Ostrow Mazowiecka never forgave the Hassidim for their deeds. At their head stood Rabbi Dov Berish Shapiro, a distinguished scholar and man of means who had great influence locally. He was the son of the renowned gaon Rabbi Isaac Charif (“the Sharp One”), the rabbi of Slonim. Rabbi Berish himself was worthy of the mantle of rabbi and to serve as chief of the rabbinical court, which he vehemently refused to do. Instead he ran a trading business and was considered to be a wealthy man.

Rabbi Berish proposed to choose the gaon Rabbi Shimon Dov Anolik, a protégé of Rabbi Isaac Charif, as well as a childhood friend of Rabbi Berish, as chief of the rabbinical court of Ostroveh. Rabbi Shimon Dov had become known in Lithuania since his early youth as a gaon, and was dubbed “the black genius” because of his black hair. His fame preceded him as one of the giants of the Torah, as being both sharp and profound, and as an excellent educator.

Rabbi Shimon Dov Anolik presided as the rabbi of the small Lithuanian town of Shaki. He enjoyed his position and the members of the community enjoyed him. He lived there in peace and tranquility and was able to engage in the study of the Torah, as the small number of congregants he had did not disturb him in his studies and made few demands on his time. This was a relatively small rabbinical position that did not pay all that much, but was peaceful and tranquil, without much conflict, quarrel or trouble.

At the initiative of Rabbi Berish Shapiro, head of the Mitnagdim and one of the important people of the city, a delegation set out from Ostroveh to Shaki to invite the rabbi to come and serve as chief of the rabbinical court of their community. In addition to Rabbi Berish two other wealthy and prominent citizens went along as well. They presented him with a letter of rabbinic appointment signed by the most important Mitnagdim of Ostrow Mazowiecka and many of its householders, promising him a fitting salary from which he could live most respectably.

When the arrival of the delegation from Ostrow Mazowiecka became known in Shaki, the majority of its residents streamed to the rabbi's house and informed him that under no circumstances would they permit him to leave town. But when Rabbi Shimon Dov disclosed that he had in any event wanted to move to a larger

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and more important community, the people of Shaki began to put pressure on the rabbi's wife that she not allow her husband the rabbi to leave Shaki and move to Ostroveh.

The people of Shaki had some reasonable arguments. They were able to recount how the Hassidim of Ostrow Mazowiecka had harassed the Rabbi of Piotrkow because he was a Mitnaged, to the point where he had to pack up his things and abandon the city. The Hassidim in Ostroveh would likely continue to pursue the new rabbi as well, given that he was opposed Hassidim and Hassidism. Why would he want to leave a life of repose and tranquility to enter into one of conflict and dispute?

Nevertheless the members of the delegation did not back down. But the rabbi's wife did not agree to move to Ostroveh. So it was decided that Rabbi Shimon Dov would travel to Ostroveh by himself, without his family. He would stay in the city for a time and look into matters for himself. Only then would he make a final decision as to what to do. The Mitnagdim of Ostroveh had prepared an excellent reception for the new rabbi, but were very disappointed when they learned that the rabbi's family was not coming with him.

During the week that Rabbi Shimon Dov Anolik appeared in Ostroveh there was a wedding in town made by Feige Zissel Bromberg, the wealthiest woman among all the city's residents. She married off one of her six children into another extremely wealthy family.

The members of the wealthy Bromberg family decided to give the new rabbi 150 rubles for officiating at the wedding, a very considerable sum in those days. Of that sum seventy–five was presented to him in cash, and the balance was held as a deposit by the family, which they committed to remit once the rabbi's wife and her family came to town. This was an expression of dissatisfaction by the backers of Rabbi Anolik with the failure of his family to appear.

This fee (for the rabbi, cantor and shochet) for officiating at the nuptials was given at every wedding. Its size was always determined on the basis of the wealth of the respective families and their relationship with the officiating rabbi.

But even this pressure did not suffice. The rabbi's wife and his family stood their ground. They were opposed to his acceptance of the new position in a city where there were many Hassidim opposed to a Mitnagdic rabbi, and who would eventually make his life miserable and bitter. According to the rabbi's wife, she preferred the poverty in tranquil and quiet Shaki over the wealth and greater income in Ostrow Mazowiecka that would only be accompanied by conflict and disagreement.

The rabbi's wife won out. She never set foot in Ostroveh. Rabbi Shimon Dov was forced to give in to her will and decision. He returned to his town of Shaki, where he remained for a long time. He was later appointed as chief of the rabbinical court of Tiktin [Tykocin]^[2], Lithuania. After serving there for years he moved to Siedlce, where he was appointed chief of the rabbinical court in that important community and where he remained until his final days. He died in the year 5667 (late 1906) at the age of fifty–nine.

After Rabbi Anolik had left Ostroveh the gaon Rabbi Weingott, a great rabbi of Torah from Poland, who was neither an avid Mitnaged nor a Hassid, came to replace him. But neither side, Hassidim or Mitnagdim, supported him. So as soon as he received a letter of rabbinical appointment to the much smaller Lipno he quickly left Ostrow Mazowiecka and moved there. The residents of Ostroveh once again began to search for a suitable candidate who would accept the seat of the rabbinate in their town.

And once again the heads of the Mitdnagdim in the city got together and chose the rabbi of Partzeva [Parczew] as the city's rabbi. He was a Mitnagdic rabbi far removed from Hassidim and Hassidism, with whom he fought, and who fought with him. They did not allow him to function in accordance with his views and wishes. They took a very aggressive stance, not accepting any of the rabbi's decisions on any matter that they did not agree with or like.

The new rabbi adhered to his own ideas, and fought hard for his views. But the many Hassidim in Ostrow Mazowiecka frustrated his plans and stymied his efforts, while the Mitnagdic camp in the city stood by his side and supported him. But none of this was sufficient to calm the storm and enable the rabbi to sit peacefully in his place and to conduct the affairs of the community as he wished, which in any event was against the wishes and aspirations of the many Hassidim of the town.

During this period the numbers of Hassidim in Ostroveh only grew. Many of the younger Mitnagdim joined various Hassidic sects. There was in fact no possibility for the rabbi to conduct

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the rabbinate in the city against their will. Thus, with deep sadness, the Rabbi of Partzeva, weak and ill for some time, left Ostroveh. In 5654 [1893–1894] he fell ill for a final time and died that year. He was perhaps the first rabbi of the city who found his final rest in the cemetery in Ostroveh.

The problem of choosing a new rabbi once again came to the fore. It became clear to all sides that it was impossible to choose a rabbi that was acceptable only to one segment of the population of the city. Rather every effort had to be made to find a prominent rabbinic personality whose rule both Hassidim and Mitnagdim, as well as regular residents, the plain people, artisans and working men, would be accepted by all and whose authority would not be undermined. The Mitnagdic circles had given up on the idea of choosing a rabbi acceptable only to them and in their spirit.

After an extensive search, the dignitaries of Ostroveh found a rabbinic personality who would be acceptable to all factions in the city, who was unanimously chosen as chief of the rabbinical court by all residents without exception. He was a Mitnagdic rabbi who did not belong to the Hassidic camp, but who understood and appreciated Hassidism and even defended it, whether vis–a–vis the hostile rulers of Russia or in any other context.

The gaon Rabbi Yehuda Leib Gordin was born in Rezhitsa near Drozkenik in the year 5613 [1853]. He manifested exceptional abilities from his earliest youth, and therefore even as a boy studied like a veteran student with the city's rabbi, the gaon Rabbi Yerachmiel Ziskind Katz. He did not go off to study in yeshivot until first rounding out his studies with the rabbi of the town of Svir, the gaon Rabbi Moshe Danishevsky, one of the distinguished giants of that generation.

Rabbi Gordin was incomparably diligent in his studies from the days of his youth. He did not desist from them day or night, nor did he neglect delving into or working in any area of Torah study, be it kabbalah or Hassidism, not to mention the Talmud or the works of the great decisors of Jewish law, whether of the earlier or later periods. Nor did he neglect the study of the Russian language, which he learned chiefly on his own and over which he attained great mastery. He was a true protégé in all areas and a possessor of great abilities, while having great perception and memory as well.

When Rabbi Yehuda Leib Gordin was twenty–four years old it happened that Rabbi Yehuda Leib Hacohen Kurlitzer, one of the renown older rabbis of the day, chief of the rabbinical court and teacher in the small Lithuanian town of Michalishok, passed away. In his will he ordered that the young Rabbi Yehuda Gordin be appointed to his position. He had been a great admirer of the young gaon who was so knowledgeable in all areas of the Torah and who was also sage and wise, who delved into the depths of issues, and yet whose piety exceeded even his wisdom.

In the year 5637 [1876]^[3], after nine years of service in that small town, Rabbi Gordin was invited to accept the seat of the rabbinate in the larger Augustow. The small town of Michalishok was no longer appropriate for the exalted abilities of the well–known gaon, who had become famous for being a speaker who attracted the masses, and for being a rabbi who was blessed with qualities and gifts like few others in the country. He was agreeable to the request and accepted the new appointment.

In Augustow, Lithuania, Rabbi Gordin found a wider field for his successful activities, news of which spread far beyond the limited boundaries of his not too large city and community, which adhered to its rabbi with true admiration and love. He was not only the official chief of the rabbinical court of the city, but also the rabbi and spiritual leader of all the circles and classes of the residents of Augustow without exception. There was not a person who was not at home in the house of the rabbi.

The learned and scholarly people of Augustow found in him an outstanding gaon. There was no area of the Torah in which he was not an expert. The Hassidim enjoyed his exceptional knowledge of the lore of Hassidism and its foundations, and his positive attitude to this worldview. The simple people could not sufficiently praise the rabbi's talks which, while they were profound, were nevertheless understood by them in part thanks to his great oratorical abilities.

Even the Maskilim [literally “enlightened ones,” meaning more modernized, secularized intellectuals], who among themselves were less invested in tradition and were involved in different ideas and ways of thought as regards the nature of Judaism and its future, spoke in admiring and appreciative terms about their great rabbi, who did not omit any subject at all from the scope his expertise. The officials

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of the authorities in Augustow and those who happened to be passing through it could not stop praising the rabbi for his rare knowledge of the Russian language and the rich and varied expressions that he used. Even the Russians marveled at the richness of the rabbi's language.

In this period, as in previous ones, there was no lack of converts who were brimming with anti–Semitism. They did everything they could against the Jews in order to ingratiate themselves with anti–Semitic Russian circles, mainly so that they would not be suspected as still being Jews or still having ties to Judaism. There were those who had no shame in performing any repugnant act that would help them to advance up the anti–Semitic ladder and among anti–Jewish organizations.

One of these converts found himself a unique hobby: writing memoranda against Hassidim and Hassidism and circulating them among the heads of the anti–Semitic tsarist government. Like his predecessors in this disgusting work, he portrayed Hassidim as an ignorant sect whose adherents hated the Russian government and frequently cursed the Russian Crown. There were no more traditional haters of Russia or its government than the Hassidim.

These lies had their effect. Little by little the tsarist Russian authorities began to take concrete steps against these “dangerous” Hassidim. The Jews of the Enlightenment in Russia, profound antagonists of the Hassidim, did much to re–awaken the tsarist authorities to take action against Hassidism. They unhesitatingly encouraged the officials of the regime to take steps against the aura of rebellion that surrounded the Hassidim, those enemies of true light.

In fact the persecution of the Hassidim and their leaders began immediately as soon as Hassidism spread across Russia. The heads of the Hassidim were arrested and Hassidim were persecuted. Only with great efforts were they able to refute the accusations against them and to free the great leaders of Hassidism. These new activities against the Hassidim once again spurred hostile views among the authorities against Hassidim and Hassidism and encouraged them to do everything to renew their persecution.

The gaon Rabbi Yehuda Leib Gordin

After extensive research, the Minister of Education decided to appoint Rabbi Gordin, the rabbi of Augustow, who was not a Hassid but rather a Mitnaged, to clarify in a fundamental manner the nature and substance of Hassidism and to present a complete report on this subject to the government of the tsar. Rabbi Gordin accepted this assignment and promised to write and edit a detailed, fundamental and comprehensive survey on the question of “What Is Hassidism?”

In a high caliber book entitled, What Is Hassidism?, Rabbi Gordin was able to recount the entire history of Hassidism, its philosophy and fundamental beliefs, the bases of its worldview, the entire mystery

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surrounding Hassidism, the philosophy of Hassidism as expressed in its various streams, and the practical implications that Hassidim had brought about in the Jewish world at large.

The book, written in a pure literary Russian and in an exquisite style, made a deep impression on all the intellectual circles in Russia and its capital. The question of persecution of the Hassidim and Hassidism was removed from the public agenda entirely. Rabbi Gordin's name soon became well known all across Russia. Even the opponents of Hassidism and its sworn enemies were forced to praise the book and its gifted author, who had succeeded once and for all in quashing the malicious calumnies and false accusations against Hassidim and Hassidism.

There was no lack of enemies of Israel in Russia at that time. Some aimed their poison arrows at Hassidim and Hassidism. But there were others who fought against Jews in general, against the religion and the Talmud. From time to time there appeared posters against the Talmud and Jewish law in which blatant words of incitement against the Jews and Judaism were expressed, citing miscellaneous quotes from the Talmud.

In the anti–Semitic Russian press there occasionally appeared antagonistic pieces about the Jews and against Jewish law based largely on the Talmud, to the effect that Jews were likely to kill non–Jews, to poison them, and to use their blood, whether for Passover or other purposes. In fact all this venomous anti–Semitic propaganda was based on the “authority of the Talmud”, which was portrayed as a “truly terrible and poisonous” work.

Acceding to the demands of many people, Rabbi Gordin decided to publish a book in defense of the Talmud, to prove that all the accusations and calumnies were based on lies. It was a high caliber and substantive book written in polished Russian entitled, What Is the Talmud? It was a balanced and serious reply to all the accusers with their malice and falsehoods. As a scholar and brilliant gaon imbued with the Talmud, which he knew by heart, he cited pearls from the treasury of the Talmud that made a great impression upon wide circles in tsarist Russia. It transformed those who railed against the Jews and the Talmud and Jewish law into mere superficial instigators lacking any substance or seriousness. Thanks to this book he became well known across Russia and one of the leading Russian writers of the era. Leo Tolstoy began a correspondence with him. Ardent Jew haters did not harass Rabbi Gordin, nor were they able to threaten or debate him. They simply ignored him and continued to spread their poison about the Jews. In the famous Beilis Trial^[4] in Kiev the defense used this book to undermine the blood libel.

Amidst admiration and honor Rabbi Gordin presided in Augustow at the time when the people of Ostroveh were seeking a fitting rabbi for themselves, one who stood head and shoulders above others, one who could unify all segments and movements in the community and who could restore the honor and glory of the rabbinate to its former luster. The Mitnagdim sought a candidate of stature, as did the Hassidim, recognizing that they should not once again engage a rabbi who was not acceptable to all sides.

In Ostrow Mazowiecka there lived at that time a wealthy and honored man by the name of Noach Feinzeig^[5], a contractor to the Russian army, and one of the leading citizens of the city. In the course of his business he frequently visited Augustow, where he became friendly with and close to its famous rabbi, the gaon Rabbi Yehuda Leib Gordin. Full of admiration for this extraordinary rabbi, he began to think about having him as the rabbi of Ostroveh and as an appropriate candidate for that position.

Reb Noach Feinzeig assembled a group of people in his home, to which he invited all the factions in the city, both the Hassidim and the Mitnagdim. He presented to them the attributes of the rabbi of Augustow: a brilliant Torah scholar, one who was knowledgeable in Hassidism, a man of broad–based knowledge, and a wonderful speaker. He was one of only a handful of such rabbis. Ostroveh could not even imagine having a more capable and fitting rabbi.

Word of the rabbi had reached the people of Ostroveh from time to time. The Hassidim knew of his work in denying the accusations made against the Hassidim and of the publication of his book, What Is Hassidism?, which was sympathetic to Hassidism.

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The Mitnagdim had heard of the greatness of his knowledge of the Torah. Plain Jews had heard of his wonderful lectures. Thus, it was decided unanimously and by all circles in the town to choose Rabbi Gordin as the rabbi of the city.

A special delegation, comprised of the head of the Hassidim in Ostroveh, the Hassidic gaon Rabbi Ben–Zion Rabinowitz, and Rabbi Berish Shapiro left for Augustow. They met with the rabbi for a long time, discussing the Talmud and the works of the great rabbinic decisors with him. Both were impressed with the rabbi's greatness, with his wisdom and the depth of his intelligence, and with his radiant and attractive personality. They decided to ask him to move to Ostroveh and accept the position of chief of the rabbinical court.

When Rabbi Rabinowitz moved on to discuss Hassidism, the rabbi revealed an exceptional knowledge of the teachings of Chabad^[6] within Hassidism. As a Hassid of the Kotsk and Ger sects, Rabbi Ben–Zion displayed a somewhat disparaging attitude towards that approach. But the rabbi of Augustow stood his ground and enthusiastically defended the Chabad–Lubavitch viewpoint. Thus Rabbi Ben–Zion thought he was a Chabad Hassid. But it soon became clear that he was a Mitnaged who appreciated all outlooks in Hassidism and Judaism.

When the delegation returned to Ostroveh the community sent a letter of rabbinical appointment to Rabbi Gordin. It was signed by all residents of the town without exception.

Despite his unanimous selection as rabbi of Ostroveh, Rabbi Gordin still had doubts about accepting the position in a city full of Hassidim, given the fact that he was, and conducted himself as, a Mitnaged. It has been said that he decided to consult with his neighbor, the gaon Rabbi Yisrael Meir Hacohen^[7] of Radin, author of the Chafetz Chaim [Desirer of Life], and to accept his decision on this matter, be it positive or negative.

The author of the Chafetz Chaim listened to Rabbi Gordin's question and immediately replied: “I do not understand the question. Why are you afraid of the Hassidim? What is the worse they can do? To gulp down some drinks and toast one another with l'chaim [“to life”] or what? Drink some liquor with them and say l'chaim back and you'll get along. How can it hurt?”

Rabbi Gordin listened to the advice of his brilliant and saintly neighbor and accepted the offer from Ostroveh. So in the year 5657 [1896–1897] he arrived in Ostroveh to the joy of all its residents. They felt that the burning question of the rabbinate that had divided the city more than once was finally coming to an end. Ostroveh had a rabbi who was appropriate for the position and was able to unite all the city's residents and bestow upon them his authority, thereby solving all the questions of religion locally.

From that time forward the influence of the rabbi was infused into everything in Ostrow Mazowiecka. Hassidim and Mitnagdim, the mass of people, workmen and Jews of all circles and classes admired their rabbi. On the day of his official appointment by the Russian government authorities, when the rabbi was supposed to give a lecture at the house of study, Russian military and civil officials thronged the study hall in order to hear the rabbi's words in his engaging Russian.

Such speeches, lectures that he gave first in Augustow and then later in Ostroveh, were not ones designed merely to flatter the Russian government, however. Rather they were substantive and impressive speeches in which he exposed the glory and beauty in Judaism. He also gave full expression to the suffering of the Jews in the bitter and difficult Russian Diaspora of those times. These speeches were later printed in a separate book in the Russian language entitled, Saluba, for which he received a special expression of appreciation from Tsar Nicholas II.

In those speeches he fully expressed his condemnation of anti–Semitism. Rabbi Gordon did not conduct disputations with either the clergy of the Catholic Church or the White Russian [Orthodox] one. But he did consider what would have happened had he done so with these spreaders of anti–Semitic viruses, who were directly or indirectly responsible for the bloody pogroms against the Jews of Russia and Poland.

But the essence of the greatness of Rabbi Gordin did not lay in his knowledge of Russian or in those lectures. Rather they resided in his absolute brilliance in the Torah. He especially excelled in teaching. Many rabbis from near and far turned to him

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with questions, which he answered in great number with practical solutions in his characteristic clarity and his deep and straightforward intelligence, eschewing sophistry and complicated thinking, and getting down to the essence of matters and resolving them.

A large number of Rabbi Gordin's responsa in Jewish law were printed in his notable book of responsa, Divrei Yehuda [The Words of Judah], which became well known in scholarly and rabbinical circles. Many used it in dealing with practical problems. A few years later he published another book of responsa entitled, Teshuvot Yehuda [The Responsa of Judah], at the time when he was chief of the rabbinical court in Smorgon. But not all of the responsa that he sent to rabbis and dayanim [religious judges] far and wide were printed in his books.

Rabbi Gordin presided as rabbi of Ostroveh for only seven years, which many in the city later called “the Seven Fat Years”. He enjoyed honor, admiration and even affection on the part of the residents. It was approximately at the beginning of 5664 [1903–1904] that he then decided to move to Smorgon^[8], which caused great sorrow to many of the residents of Ostroveh.

It was there that he published his homiletic book, Degel Yehuda [The Flag of Judah], a classic book that raised the level homiletics among the Jewish people. His books sold out quickly (though for some reason most of his writings were never published). Rabbi Gordin established a yeshiva in Smorgon, something he was unable to do previously. He appointed the gaon Rabbi Zalman Ashinovsky to be its head. More than 200 students studied there under Rabbi Gordin's overall supervision. He even occasionally gave a lecture there as well.

Rabbi Gordin had wanted to stop moving around and to remain in Smorgon. But in 5673 [1912–1913] the rabbinate in the city of Lomza, the provincial capital, became available. The residents sought an appropriate rabbi that would be able to administer this large community, as well as represent it vis–a–vis the authorities, to quash libels and to prevent harsh edicts. They could find no more suitable candidate than Rabbi Gordin, whose fame had preceded him.

Thus Rabbi Gordin moved to Lomza and remained there until his later years. But he never forgot the communities in which he has served with distinction as chief of the rabbinical court and continued to do much on their behalf. The people of Ostroveh remembered their great lofty rabbi, who was a Mitnaged both in fact and in principle, but one with a warm soul, a Hassidic soul, one that expressed his deepest thoughts and his true enthusiasm for the sacred. He maintained warm friendships with all of the local residents, including the head of the Hassidim, Rabbi Ben–Zion Rabinowitz, and the head of the Mitnagdim. Even when he was presiding over the rabbinate in Lomza he said, “I still have strong feelings for Ostroveh until today. I still feel love for the people of that city, and their love for me. I have great affection for Ostroveh, where I was able to author my best books that were of use to so many.”

The community of Lomza was much larger and of far greater importance, far and above that of Ostrow Mazowiecka, Augustow or Smorgon. It was the provincial capital where some of the greatest rabbis, giants of the Torah and performers of great deeds, whose names were well known far beyond the borders of their city, had served.

In 5673 [1912–1913]^[9] Rabbi Gordin arrived in Lomza. But even before he could get settled into his rabbinate, World War I broke out. Difficult and dark days soon arrived. The large Jewish communities in Russian Poland began to suffer the pains of Job from the harshness and cruelty of the Russian commanders, who were anti–Semitic and full of hatred towards the Jews.

They were incited principally by the Poles, poisonous enemies of the Jews. Many of the Poles were pro–German. Many of them hated their occupiers from the east, who had forcefully suppressed all nationalistic feelings among the Poles and even prevented them from emerging. But in order to hide their tracks and to harass the Jews at every step, the Poles continually informed on the Jews and pointed to them as some sort of dangerous spies.

This duplicitous Polish activity was very effective. The Russians paid close attention to the accusations of the Poles. Jews were arrested, were brought before unauthorized “field courts,”

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and were sentenced to death for spying and treason, or were even just hanged, on orders from cruel Russian officers. Entire communities were expelled, while the Russian soldiers carried on at will, pillaging and robbing the Jews.

The exalted Rabbi Gordin, who viewed it as his mission and task to defend his captive and persecuted people, stood tall during this difficult battle. He worked day and night on behalf of the Jews of Lomza and hundreds of other cities and towns around her, both near and far. No task was too much for him. More than once he put his own life in danger in order to save Jews. Often Jews were arrested and the rabbi got them freed, mostly on his own personal recognizance.

Not too long after the outbreak of World War I, the ongoing retreat of the Russians began under pressure from the German forces, which successfully conquered extensive territories in Russian Poland. As the battle lines neared the city of Lomza, the Russian command, believing the Polish accusations that every Jew was a German spy, issued an order for the expulsion of the Jews of Lomza.

The commander of the Russian army in the Lomza sector at that time was General Baziladnov, a Ukrainian, a sworn anti–Semite, who was glad for the opportunity to expel the Jews and to harass them at every step. When Rabbi Gordin came to his command post, General Baziladnov shouted, “Hands up, Jew. Who knows if there is a bomb of some type in your pocket….”

The rabbi was not afraid and raised his hands in a scornful way, and said loudly in reply, “We Jews have no bombs, not in our pockets nor in our homes. We do not shed blood. I am responsible for the people of my community and assure you that they are innocent of any blame. I would be pleased if you would take me as a hostage.”

When General Baziladnov refused to cancel the edict, Rabbi Gordin turned to his commander, General Danilov, and succeeded in getting the decree nullified. But the battle lines drew even closer. The defeated Russian commanders were angry and their assignments were frequently changed. Now a General Miasvidov arrived in Lomza who was even more anti–Semitic and hateful of the Jews than his predecessor. This enemy threatened the rabbi that he would kill him if he continued to interfere in “the performance of his duties”. The rabbi was not intimidated and continued in his efforts, not paying attention to the threats of this antagonist, who was carrying on without restraint and who was likely to carry out a death sentence and kill the rabbi.

The difficult winter months of 5774 [1914–1915] went by, with the Jews of Lomza living under threats and suffering. Throngs of Jews from the nearby areas and further afield filled the streets of the city when they were cruelly expelled from their homes and places of residence. Every day brought with it new decrees and new suffering. Incited by the Poles and unrestrained by their anti–Semitic officers, Russian soldiers frequently carried on, pillaged, attacked Jews and even made false accusations against them. Rabbi Gordon knew no rest during this period. He turned into a defender, a shield and a fighter. Day and night he was available for every assignment, even the most dangerous, in order to save a Jew, to prevent looting, or to free a Jew from imprisonment.

It was Passover time. The Russian army began to strengthen its positions against the German spring offensive that was well under way. Hurriedly the Russian army began to create fortifications and trenches around Lomza. Shortly before the holiday was to arrive, on the eve of Passover, forty–one Jews were picked up by the Cossacks and were assigned to the heavy labor of building fortifications. Immediately Rabbi Gordin appeared before the commander of the regiment of the Cossacks and asked him to free the Jews. He argued that the Poles were suffering from unemployment and would be only too glad to undertake the construction of fortifications and the digging of trenches if they were given appropriate compensation for their work. Why, then, pull Jews out of their houses on their holiday?

At first the Russian commander refused to listen to the advice of the rabbi. But after he was promised a large sum of money with which he could hire many Polish workers, while also keeping a not inconsiderable sum in his own pocket, he accepted Rabbi Gordin's recommendation. But he made it

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clear that only after he would receive the entire sum that he demanded would the last Jew be freed. But by the time the rabbi finished this negotiation with the officer over bribery it was getting near evening.

The rabbi hurried from the headquarters of the Cossacks to the Magen Avraham synagogue, where the wealthiest Jews in Lomza prayed. The rabbi delayed the service and placed his own private contribution to free the captured Jews on the table. He demanded that the congregants hurry back to their homes and that each to bring back his own contribution on the very eve of the holiday. Only when they would collect the entire amount needed would he allow the evening service to proceed.

The congregants scattered to their homes, while the rabbi sat at the table. Gradually the wealthy congregants returned, each with his own contribution. The rabbi did not move from his place until the entire required sum was collected. He then sent the money to the commander of the Cossack brigade. The rabbi did not deviate from this plan until the last Jew was released from the hands of the Russians and had returned to his home in order to celebrate the holiday of Passover in the embrace of his family and in his own home.

In the wake of the war, the expulsions and the edicts, the acts of pillage and the pogroms, the effects on business and employment were great. Many Jews were impoverished. Most of the refugees went about lacking everything. Some were even starving for a mere crust of bread. Rabbi Gordin never forgot about these matters. He saw it as his duty to care for them, about their pressing needs and in general. It was said by those around him that the rabbi loved the poor and visited them even more than the rich. There was a story about one of the wealthy people of Lomza whose poor tenant in one of his houses complained to the rabbi that he had struck him hard. The rabbi lost his temper and ordered that the wealthy man be punished and labeled a criminal in public. But in the end it became clear that the entire story was false. People complained to the rabbi that he had acted too rashly on behalf of the poor and their complaints. But Rabbi Gordin did not flinch. ”It is better to err and later to apologize to a rich man than to witness the humiliation of a poor man and stand by silently,” he said.

Lomza was captured by the Germans^[10], but the rabbi did not know a word of German. So the rabbi holed up in his house for a while and learned perfect German. Given his extraordinary abilities he was able to attain this goal in a very short time. Henceforth he had a command of pure German with all its intricacies, as if he had been born in Germany. He appeared before the German commander of the district, Wilkens, to represent his community. The German commander liked the rabbi and was impressed with his knowledge of the east and of philosophy. Wilkens enjoyed debating with the rabbi about matters of religion and faith. Whenever he had free time he would meet with the rabbi. Thus the influence of the rabbi with the German commander grew, and he used that influence for the benefit of his suffering brethren.

During the German occupation in World War I the Poles tended to lay low. They did not know German, and did not succeed in communicating with them or in understanding the language of their conquerors. So they always had to use Jews as interpreters. By contrast the Jews somehow managed to master German and were considered close to the authorities, even though among themselves they felt that German anti–Semitism was no less severe than the Russian, perhaps even more so, albeit covered in a silken wrapper.

The Jews, who had suffered endlessly during the period of the Russian occupation, especially during its latter days, breathed a sigh of relief during the German occupation. They received permits to import various needed supplies and were not limited in their ability to travel. They were freed from the nightmare of Polish tale telling. The latter tried to explain to the Germans that these very people, whom they had previously accused of spying on behalf of the Germans, were now spies on behalf of Russia. The masses of Poles, who saw the Jews frequently conversing with the Germans, saw them as sidling up to the rulers, who in turn viewed them as superior to the Poles. To the traditional and ancient hatred of the Poles towards the Jews were now added feelings of jealousy and revenge because of this insult to their honor.

So when the German occupation authorities decided to organize a local militia to oversee law and order within the bounds of the city of Lomza, once the Germans

[Page 38]

had to transfer most of their forces to the front, the German commander appointed a Jew as commander of the militia with broad powers. The rabbi understood that this would only intensify the feelings of hatred and incitement of the Poles towards the Jews, and that the Germans would not rule Poland forever. Thus Rabbi Gordin made every effort to change the decision of the German command and to appoint two commanders to the local militia, a Pole who was acceptable to the local Polish community, and a Jew.

The rabbi succeeded in his mission. Alongside the Jewish commander of the militia was appointed a Polish commander, to the great satisfaction of the Poles. This was a wise step that bore fruit a few years later, when Poland received complete political independence.

After World War I, when the independent Republic of Poland was established, the rabbi, despite his advanced age, decided to learn perfect Polish, after having mastered Russian and German. It was his view that it was one of the responsibilities of a rabbi to represent the Jewish population to the authorities, to be a representative of the Jews, and therefore it was incumbent upon him to know the language of the state. Otherwise he could not successfully fulfill his duties properly. His abilities once again came to his aid. And although he never knew Polish previously, he quickly succeeded in mastering Polish and even in orating in that language in public.

As an excellent speaker he captured the hearts of all his listeners with his lectures and speeches even in Polish, which became widely known. Unlike other rabbis, Rabbi Gordin was not satisfied in giving the lectures traditionally presented by the rabbis of Israel, i.e., on the Great Sabbath or the Sabbath of Repentance^[11]. He expressed his views much more frequently, at every opportunity. He would say, “In the past, in the ‘good old days', it was sufficient for clocks to ring only twice a year. Life flowed along in a quiet and predictable way. Today, in these crazy and bizarre times, when a person does not even know what day or what time it is, clocks need to chime more often.”

In the early days of the independent Republic of Poland the Jews suffered many shocks, pogroms and shortages. Rabbi Gordin stood at his post and represented the large community of Lomza brilliantly. He cared for its institutions and for the situation of every poor person and sufferer. When things settled down, life began to flow along more calmly, on a more steady and regular course. The rabbi now came to experience a brief period of rest and tranquility. But as a veteran fighter he did not suffer this period of tranquility and inactivity lightly. The status of the yeshiva of Lomza^[12], which had been developing nicely, was now in a bad way. Its debts were overwhelming, and its leaders had no prospect of funding its budget. In Lomza the rabbi did everything he could to strengthen the status of the yeshiva, but its modest income could not guarantee the existence of this great yeshiva.

The rabbi decided to respond positively to the requests of the heads of the yeshiva to embark for America on its behalf. He also had a personal family reason for this trip, despite his advanced age. His brother and two of his sons had immigrated to America and had cut all ties to Judaism and to the rabbi. Rabbi Gordin hoped to try to influence them to change their attitude and behavior^[13].

In 5685 (1924–1925) the rabbi departed on his long and exhausting journey. He arrived in Chicago, where his family lived. He met with them and was very sad. Chicago at the time had a very large Jewish community, but one that was chaotic in matters of religion and Judaism. The rabbi envisioned a vast field of operations for himself. When the rabbis of the city and the presidents of the synagogues appeared before him and proposed to him that he accept the position as chief rabbi of the city, a post that had not existed previously, he immediately agreed to accept this assignment.

Before he left for the United States the rabbi devoted some of his time to learning English perfectly, so that the knowledge of the language of the land could assist him in his work in America. The observant and traditional Jews of Chicago saw before them a well–known and distinguished gaon, a brilliant speaker and a wise man, to whom all the intricacies of the rabbinate were clear. He was experienced in the running of a community, and also spoke fluent English. He had great influence on all who came into contact with him. They hoped that

[Page 39]

Rabbi Gordin would be able to bring about a fundamental turn around in the life of the Jews of the city.

For his part the rabbi believed that through his work as chief rabbi of Chicago he would be able to assist the yeshiva in Lomza and could also help change the ways of his relatives and their attitude towards Judaism. But while the rabbi was preparing to enter into his new job, and while still living in a hotel, he suddenly became ill and in a few days his great and pure soul was returned to its maker. This occurred on the Tenth of Iyar, 5685 [April 11, 1925]^[14].

The death of the rabbi evoked great sorrow in Chicago. An enormous funeral was held for him, and he was buried in one of the city's Jewish cemeteries. The news of the passing of Rabbi Gordin shocked the Jews of Lomza and the other cities in which he had worked during his long years of life, including the Jews of Augustow, Ostroveh and Smorgon. In all these places there were emotional eulogies in his memory. The light and glory of the Jews of Lomza was extinguished. At the initiative of the rabbi's admirers in Chicago a fund was set up for his orphaned family in Lomza, which later immigrated to Israel. (His grandson, the son of his daughter, was Mr. David Raziel, the first head of the Irgun Tzvai Leumi^[15]. His son–in–law, Rabbi Regensburg, later moved to Chicago, where served as a lecturer at its rabbinical college.)

At the Lomza yeshiva a free soup kitchen, called Beit Lechem Yehuda [Judah's House of Bread], was established in the rabbi's memory. And up until the last day of the glorious Polish Diaspora many cherished the blessed memory of this devoted rabbi, who had so much impact and who did so much for the residents of the communities in which he worked and for Polish Jewry as a whole as one of the great rabbis that brightened the name of the Torah in Poland.

Editor's notes:

1. The contraction “shov” (for shochet ubodek) encompassed the two basic functions of a Jewish religious slaughterer, first as the actual slaughterer of the animal (shochet) and then as the subsequent examiner (bodek) of the health of its internal organs, which if not healthy could render the meat treif (not kosher). In some communities these two tasks were divided between two separate functionaries, but in many they were combined in a single position, usually held by an ordained rabbi. He, plus the synagogue or pulpit rabbi, along with the chief of the rabbinical court, who often was also the town's official rabbi, would constitute the beit din or rabbinical court of three. Return
2. While Tiktin was culturally more part of Lithuanian (Litvishe) than Polish Jewry per se, it was in fact legally part of the province of Bialystok, Poland, and was originally a far older and larger Jewish community than the latter's eponymous city, which later grew enormously in the industrial era. Reflecting its past glory, today Tykocin is the site of one of the few large and magnificently restored Baroque synagogues of Poland, built in 1642. Return
3. Other sources indicate 5646 [1886]. Return
4. In 1913 Mendel Beilis, a Jewish brick factory worker, was accused of the ritual blood libel, i.e., of killing a Christian boy and using his blood for making matza. Despite extensive anti–Semitic publicity, the trial, which garnered worldwide attention, resulted in a not guilty verdict. The story was the basis of Bernard Malamud's later novel, The Fixer, which won the Pulitzer Prize for fiction in 1967, and which was later made into a film. Return
5. The Feinzeig [Fajncajg] family, of which this editor is a descendant, was one of the oldest, largest (it was the fourth most common Jewish surname in town) and most prominent Jewish clans in Ostrow Mazowiecka, with roots there going back to the mid–1700's. The name itself derives from some of its early members' most common occupation, the tailoring of fine clothes from fine fabrics (the words “fein zeug” mean “fine cloth” in German), one of the few professions originally permitted under the 1750 Revised General Code for the Jews by King Frederick the Great of Prussia, which ruled parts of Poland at that time. Many of the clan subsequently also became government suppliers and contractors to the military of whatever power ruled the area at the time (Prussian, Russian or Polish). Among them was this editor's paternal great–grandmother and partial namesake, Leah Gittel Feinzeig, who ran just such a business in Ostroveh until her departure for America in 1920 to join her husband, Chezke, in New York, where he had arrived in 1911. Return
6. An acronym for chochma, binah and da'at (wisdom, understanding and knowledge), the fundamental principles of the Lubavitch sect of Hassidism, founded in 1775 by Rabbi Shneur Zalman of Ladi (1745–1812) and headquartered in the Belorussian town of Lubavichi for a century. Lubavitch is now the largest Hassidic sect and known for its assertive outreach to non–observant Jews around the world. Return
7. Rabbi Israel Meir Hacohen Kagan, (b. Dzyatlava [now Belarus], February 6, 1838, d. Radin [now Belarus], September 15, 1933). Return
8. Smorgon was also the birthplace of Chazzan Moshe Koussevitzky, one of the greatest cantors of the 20th century (b. June 9, 1899, d. New York, August 23, 1966), with whom this editor had the privilege of singing in New York. Koussevitzky had served as the last cantor of the Great Synagogue of Warsaw (the “Tlomackie Shul”, named after the street on which it was located), where he succeeded the great Gerson Sirota (1874–1943), who died while officiating at the last Jewish service on Passover in a bunker beneath the Warsaw Ghetto. Return
9. Other sources indicate 1914. Return
10. The “fort” of Lomza fell to the Germans on or about August 8, 1915. See W.C. King, ed., King's Complete History of the World War, The History Associates: 1922, p. 174. Return
11. The Sabbath before Passover and the Sabbath between Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur respectively, which were traditionally occasions where rabbis delivered major sermons. Return
12. The yeshiva of Lomza was founded in 1883 by Rabbi Eliezer Shulevitz. This editor's grandfather, Rabbi David Tzvi (Hershel, later Harry) Schiff, studied and was ordained there, and served for some years as the editor of the publications of its faculty, including Rabbi Gordin. It was an unusual yeshiva in that while it followed the highly intellectualized and analytical educational model of the classic Mitnagdic Lithuanian yeshivot, it allowed the majority of its students, who were from Hassidic backgrounds, to continue their Hassidic family traditions in regard to style of prayer, etc. Also it was the first Lithuanian–style yeshiva to adopt a favorable attitude towards Zionism, establishing a branch in Eretz Yisrael as early as 1926 in Petach Tikvah that still exists. See Gary S. Schiff, In Search of Polin: Chasing Jewish Ghosts in Today's Poland, pp. 169–170. Return
13. Passenger list records indicate that Rabbi Gordin also made a trip to the United States in 1921, arriving in New York City on August 1st of that year reportedly for a period of three months. Return
14. Chicago–area newspaper articles of the time give Rabbi Gordin's date of death as April 11, 1925, which corresponds with the 17th day of Nisan, during Chol Hamoed Pesach, the intermediate days of Passover, rather than the 10th day of Iyar. He is buried in the Tiferet (or Tipheret) Zion section of the Waldheim Jewish Cemetery. Tiferet Zion was the name of the synagogue he had been asked to lead. Return
15. The Irgun Tzvai Leumi (or National Military Organization, sometimes referred to as just the Irgun or by its acronym, Etzel) was an underground military organization in the pre–state period that fought against the British Mandate outside the scope of the mainstream Zionist movement. It was headed by Menachem Begin (b. Brest–Litovsk, 1913; d. Tel Aviv, 1992), who later headed the Herut (now Likud) party, served as Prime Minister of Israel from 1977 to1983, and won the Nobel Peace Prize in 1978 jointly with President Anwar Sadat of Egypt for their peace treaty. Return

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