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[Pages 355-359]

Lipica Gorna—for all appearances a village like any other in the anti-Semitic Ukraine. It contains some 1200 inhabitants, most of them children growing up without education or supervision, abject and poor in matter and spirit, and as stuffed full of superstitious beliefs as a pomegranate is with seeds. The “Holy Father,” the priest, is the only authority-figure in the village, financing himself through the inscription of the living and the dead and keeping evil spirits at bay, sprinkling his fanatics with “holy water” and taking a poor Gentile's last chicken as payment.

There is not a single doctor in the village, nor a pharmacy or nurse. A handful of Jews is scattered among the Ukrainians, and about thirty Polish families are closed into a completely separate neighborhood. Like them, we too are hated by the Ruthenians. From the sole Orthodox Christian church, which stands on a tall hill in the center of the village, there pours forth a flood of Jew-hatred and calls for vengeance in the name of the crucified Messiah. And the constant danger of the blood libel and destruction hovers over the heads of the Jews.

World War One is over, and Poland comes back to life. The Jews return from their bitter wanderings, downtrodden, poor, and lean. On returning, they discover their property plundered and their houses burned, and their claims of ownership over houses and goods are met with hostility.

The Ukrainians will not be moved. They see the Jewish property as their spoil for the sake of their warriors, their valiant compatriots, and the previous owners have no claim at all. What do they care about the plight of mothers expending all their strength to nurse their babies? Hunger and fear press upon us. We are all tattered beggars, with no one to help us and nowhere to turn.

The Polish police try to defend us, following the intervention of Howoywda Mstinsliwow, and Histrovstva from Rohatyn. The head of the village-council, Simho Procik, the Ruthenian, also tries to help us, through his great influence over the villagers.

The whole village is surrounded to the east by forest. At the center of the village are fields of corn and wheat. And in the very center is the rich and fertile land owned jointly by a convert named Karl Pricki, and Crbinski, a Jew-hater from birth, a member of the Polish nobility, and a boor and ignoramus who looses dogs on any Jew that asks for his assistance.

The intervention of the Police and Histrovstva from Rohatyn is helpful, and thirty Jewish families return to their homes and attempt to resume their normal lives, and as much as possible, to reestablish relationships with their Ukrainian neighbors. Houses and fields are returned to every Jew able to prove his ownership of the property, but moveable property is not returned. The Jews are happy that at least they have roofs over their heads.

Of the thirty families, five immigrate to America, and the other twenty-five, some 150 souls, of all ages and all three generations, stay in their place.

The elderly believe in the coming of the Messiah and the days of the Redemption. “I believe in the coming of the Messiah…I will await his coming everyday.” But the young generation is consumed with despair and disappointment. Their faces darken, for lack of knowing where to turn. The nickname “Sliuk” (“hick” in the forgein tongue) pursues them. The townspeople make fun of them, and try to convince them to transplant themselves to the urban Jewish centers. But love of their parents prevails upon them, and they remain in their place, helping to reconstruct the family's life and provide a livelihood sufficient for all its members. The small children reacquaint themselves with the free life in the bosom of nature, and trust in their parents erases all worry from their hearts.

Rivers traverse the village, one, the Naryuvke, responsible for more than a few floods and horrible scenes. Two flour-mills stand on the riverbanks, about a kilometer apart from each other, acquired from the nobleman Cerbinski by Reb Moshe Itsi Dorfman. In the course of time, a ramshackle hut has been transformed into a two-story stone building. The second mill, bordering the two villages of Lipica Gorna and Lipica Dulna, belongs to Moshe Shvaler.

The Ukrainians bring their kernels to the mill, and pay the fee in grain because they cannot pay cash. The Jews prove their generosity, and win friends among the Gentiles. Reb Eliezer Dorfman renovates his big house, which contains a bread bakery and a primitive oil-press. He opens a textile store in his big and generous house. Reb Eliezer Dorfman, a pure soul, turns his warm house into a place of prayer, and is adamant about releasing his clerks on Shabbat, festivals, and holidays, without exception. His wife, Mrs. Matala, of blessed memory, a simple and God-fearing woman, receives all comers with kindness, like a good, compassionate mother.

Reb Yankev Leib Freidan organizes communal prayers, and his voices rises up above the others: “L'chu neranena” [from the beginning of the Friday night service] or “Livshi bigdei tifarteych” [from the Friday night prayer Lecha Dodi], and though his clothes are worn and tattered, the soul strives for spirituality and Torah, and shared sorrow is half a comfort.

The aforementioned nobleman (the landowner) Pricko Karel, employs Reb Yankel Leib Friedan, a straight and simple God-fearing man, as the director of his property. Reb Yankel Leib Friedan is an able farmer, confident in his own skill, who has proven his ability to manage the estate, but never for an instant forgets the plight of his troubled brethren. He disseminates Torah to the multitude, organizing a communal printing-press, acquiring a Torah scroll for the community, and serving as its leader all the days of his life. And so that the children do not grow up neglectful of Torah, he seeks out teachers for the village, tests them, and supports them in their service.

Through the influence of Reb Yankev Leib Friedan, Pricko leases land to the Jews, and gives them grazing-grounds and stalls, and also gives them trade.

In addition to their meager trade, the Jews of the village also thresh fields, raise cattle, and distinguish themselves as farmers. Again the false hope of normalization, peace, and tranquility of home awakens in them.

I remember the communal matza-baking, when I was still a little boy. All the Jews of the village participated. As if in a dream, the seder nights pass before my eyes: reading the Haggada, a guest in every home, a poor person from the neighboring village, reclining beside the family in fulfillment of the commandment “all who are hungry [let them come and eat.]” “We were slaves to Pharaoh in Egypt, and we built the store-cities…and we went out from there.” …and here we are again in wretched exile. How long? “Next year in Jerusalem!”

How we yearned for that homeland. How many tears flowed when we prayed to the Master of the Universe that “techezena eneynu b'shuvcha l'Tzion birachamim,” [We envision the day when You will return to Zion in mercy] that the day would come when we would be farmers on our own earth in the Land of Israel, and not in this bitter exile, where we were like dung on the fields.

Many come to visit us from neighboring villages. Relatives forget to mock us as “hicks” when we make it known that village Jews do not differ from city Jews—their homes too are open to peddlers come from afar.

Holiday follows holiday, and joy follows joy. I remember the festival of Shavuot in the village, a true festival of spring. Houses were adorned in green, yards looked like forests, and the Gentiles could not believe their eyes, seeing Jews rejoice on a land not their own. They lost no opportunity to bring this fact to the Jews' attention. This is the nature of Jewish joy: that it is always diluted with sorrow. The Ukrainians “presented themselves” in the street in unruly mobs, and the devils threw stones into Jewish homes.

Mourners sit with downcast eyes in the house of prayer. The benches are overturned, the men are barefoot, the lapels of their clothing are torn. They bewail the destruction of the Temple. Sobs are heard from the women's section. Reb Yankev Leib Friedan, of blessed memory, opens up the book of Lamentations…

Emissaries come from Baron Rothschild, to see if the Jews of Lipica Gorna are truly farmers, and bringing financial assistance with them. Help also comes from the American Jews. Cultural life returns to normal. Jewish children study in cheder. There are few Poles, and the big and beautiful school, built before World War One^[Tr1], is without students, because the Ukrainians have proscribed it, and sought out different schools for themselves. In 1927, the Ukrainian national awakening began, and they resumed sending their children to the village schools.

The Poles return, remove their children from the common school and set up a new one, which the Jewish children also attend. In practice, this is a Polish school comprised almost entirely of Jews. The Ukrainians see this as a betrayal, and an act of complicity with the Polish enemy. Poverty and exploitation help to persuade the young Ukrainians of this. An uprising against the Poles begins, accompanied by acts of provocation against the Jews. They begin to organize, establishing cooperatives, and the slogan of their boycott of Jewish goods is “Theirs—Theirs Alone.” Their assembly hall becomes a center for propaganda against us.

The Days of Awe come, days of self-examination in matters between man and God, and between man and his neighbor. Leaders of prayer come from Rohatyn for the High Holidays, Reb Nechemye, or Reb Motsi the Schochet (ritual slaughterer,) and their affecting voices “break hearts.” Jews who on ordinary days pull a plough, chop trees, and struggle for their subsistence, now come to understand the bitterness of their lot in wretched exile, where their honor is demeaned and their freedom stolen from them. And what is their plea to the Master-of-the-Universe? Just a little peace, and a piece of bread with salt. They never protest their difficult circumstances, and joyfully recite the blessing “Who brings forth bread from the earth.” Who understood this blessing like we village-dwellers did? “Our Father, our King, fill our storehouses”—We repeat this prayer ceaselessly, because our situation deteriorates from day to day.

And for all the threats and persecution, the older generation never desists from their customs. “It is a mitzva,” my grandfather would say, “to begin building the sukka on the eve of Yom Kippur.” “Which sukka?” I asked innocently. “The fallen sukka of King David,” he answered.

I still remember Simchat-Torah at the house of Reb Eliezer Dorfman. A new Torah scroll was acquired by the community, so that it would not be without one. This was the only Torah scroll that survived the Bolshevik pogroms.

With what thrills of joy and love did we take note, we young people, of every letter of the Torah. How we rejoiced all through that night, singing Hebrew songs and feeling as though we were close to the Land of Israel, pioneers in one of its villages. That night many from Lipica Dulneh joined our pioneer ranks, and a covenant was forged between the two Jewish settlements.

But our happiness is not long-lived. The village council, which from 1928 has been dominated by the Ukrainians, is disbanded by the authorities. The district governor chooses a Polish village headman and a Polish treasurer, against the will of the Ukrainians. The Ukrainians rebel, destroying public property, railroad tracks, and telephones, and they also burn private property and Polish farmsteads. A penal squad from the 51^st battalion in Stanislowaw, and a squad of young policemen from Poznan are activated in Lipica Gorna, at the village's expense, and these bands make use of the opportunity to pillage Jewish homes and assault Jews coming and going in the town. These are truly Days of Awe for us, in all senses of the word.

The winter goes and comes again, and so too the fear and worry. Ukrainian youths go riotously through the village. One frosty night, their jackboots crunching the snow, they set fire to the house of Sara Futter, of blessed memory, and its four inhabitants are left naked and completely lacking. In a few days, a “relief committee” is established to assist them. My mother, of blessed memory, Mrs. Matla Dorfman, and Mrs. Shular organize a drive and gather new clothes, linens, beds, winter blankets, and so forth, and all of this is given as “secret gifts” so as not to injure, God forbid, the honor of the family. These were our “Yiddishe Mommes,” their hands in everything, at all times and in all places: full partners in sorrow and worry, joy and festivity.

Some older children go to the surrounding cities to study in a gymnasium. They eyes are opened, and when they come home they will not keep quiet, and will not rest, and begin organizing the Jewish youth into “Stam-Hachaluts,” “HaShomer HaTza-ir,” and “Brit Trumpledor” movements.^[Tr2]

Among these founder, I recall Yechezkel Bratsfis, superlative in the study of Torah and many other activities. He was the one who brought the spirit of the pioneers to Lipica Gorna. He organized and handed on the activities of the “K.K.L.”^[Tr3] A library was established, under the leadership of our dear friend Futter, of blessed memory, who would neither rest nor be still till he had brought the whole young generation to read selected good books. His kind mother, Sara F., of blessed memory, after the restoration of her gutted house, offered us the use of it, and it became the sight of our library, and our chapter of the “HaShomer” pioneers.

Many newspapers, in many languages, come to us everyday. Pamphlets and all kinds of learning materials open our eyes and lighted us the path that we had chosen. Yechezkel Bratsfis, of blessed memory, does not rest on his laurels, but goes on to organize a drama club, into which he welcomes anyone who demonstrates even minimal singing ability. They put on a number of short plays from Jewish sources, and the proceeds go to the library, the movement, and to a reserve fund. Jewish youth from all around flock to Lipica Gorna, which is transformed into a spiritual and cultural center from the whole region. We establish strong ties with the nearby towns of Rohatyn and Brzezany. In summer and winter we hold meetings, joint hikes, and joint discussions on the future of Zionism and the aims of Jewish youth.

Can it be believed that in a village such as this many actually master the Hebrew language? Hebrew songs are sung by big and small alike, and Hebrew poems and songs are well-known to all the Jewish youth of the village. The chapter organizes a Hebrew club, and public lectures, led by Yechezkel, of blessed memory, on Jewish authors, and Jewish and Hebrew literature. The study of the Jewish histories of Gerets, Balaban, or Dubnow is required of all members.

The riots of 1929, and the news of them that comes to us through the Jewish press, cause us worry and dejection. We are all ready to join the struggle immediately, but the gates of Israel are locked. Illegal ships are returned and we are forced to wait until our hour comes, with prayers of peace for the Land and its Jews. Our mothers arrange a fundraising drive, serving both as donors and collectors.

In 1930, the first of our comrades go through kibbutz-training. Our parents accompany us, filled with a joy mixed with fear. Will we be worthy? Will we make it? The skies of Europe are darkening. The black monster of the swastika is casting out its horror. What will happen? Will it come here too? What will become of us? Our hearts cannot possibly envision the occurrence of what actually came to be.

In 1933, Yankev Steinwurtzel (Gallili) is our first comrade to leave for Israel. His letters stir us, and the cry of “Come quickly, however you can,” will not allow us to rest. After him, more of us immigrate to Israel.

A noisy train station. Dear ones of all ages are singing, “We are going to the Land of Israel,” but your heart cries, because you are being separated from those dear to you. Will you see them again? Tears of joy and sorrow intermingle. Hands press hands and hearts throb and plead, “Come, join us, for the enemy is at the gate!”

1933. Fascism rears its head. The madman proclaims his intention to conquer Europe, and the Jews above all else. The Jews of Lipica Gorna seems to set their worries aside, and go one with their work in the fields, with the fattening of cattle, and with the little trade through which they eke out their living. The older children stay in the village, not wanting to abandon their parents. The war comes in an instant. The letters fall silent and the voices cease…

We are left adrift, bereft and lonely. We remain united with our dear ones, whose love and pleasantness never left them in life or death. Until the last of days we will remember the evil that the murderers did to us. We will remember out loved ones along with all the martyrs of Israel who were slaughtered, without mercy and free of fault. Accept this eternal people, because their blood cries out and will not be still.

Footnotes

Tr1	Text reads “World War Two,” but this appears to be an error. back
Tr2	These Zionist organizations can be translated “General Pioneers,” “The Young Guard” and “The Covenant of Trumpeldor.” back
Tr3	Keren Kayemet L'Yisrael (Jewish National Fund, an organization to purchase and care for land in Israel) and “Keren HaYesod” (Foundation Fund, an organization to raise money for Israel) back

[Pages 360-362]

I wish to summon memories of Lipica Gorna, the village where I was born and lived for twelve years. The name by which the village Jews were known is quite familiar: “Yishuvniks.” If one wished to refer to another as a boor and ignoramus, it sufficed to call him “village-boy” (“drofs-yingl in Yiddish.) There was some truth to this appellation, because most village Jews were terribly poor, and it was out of their arms' reach to bestow education upon their children. The distance from Jewish centers also exerted a negative influence, and when transportation was bad, these Jews could not allow themselves to send their children to the city. Besides, a child had to help his parents, and was harnessed at an early age to the yoke of earning a living. Most were burdened with many children, and the traditional livelihoods of Jews in all places, and especially in the villages, did not allow for elevated lifestyles, let alone broad education.

Many leased taverns from the noblemen, or flourmills, or land. They also peddled all manner of haberdashery, maintained small shops, or traded in foul and cattle. Here and there were a few artisans, and even some Jews that lived off working the land, thought this was rare, because land-work could not provide nearly as much as trade.

A few of the Jews who leased mills and property were quite wealthy. In the course of time, they even acquired their own mills, and purchased their own property, though very few actually did this.

Despite their great poverty, the Jews spared no expense to provide their children with a little “Yiddiskeit.” Several families would band together, and bring a teacher from the city to teach the children the basic concepts of Tanach (Hebrew Bible,) and teach them how to write a letter in Yiddish, and even sometimes in German. In the twenties, it was also customary to learn a little Hebrew, especially when the teacher was a young student who had been unable to complete his course of study for lack of funds.

In addition to the worries of livelihood and education, the Jews suffered further from a lack of security. There were schemes against Jewish property, and plots against their lives. Often, bandits attacked the homes of village Jews, robbing them and also setting the houses on fire, and the next day the Jews were without a cent or a roof over their heads. Even so, they could not go away to the city, lacking the means to do so. And so thousands of Jewish families lived in constant fear of tomorrow, worrying about security, livelihood, the fate of their children, and most of all the fate of their daughters, lest they be led away, God forbid, to conversion.

According to the news that reached me, pertaining to the fate of these Jews in World War Two, it seems that a portion of the village Jews were killed by Ukrainian hooligans even before the Nazi's systematic destruction began. Most were removed to the towns, and placed in ghettos, and only a small number were able to hide in the forests, in bunkers, or here and there to join the partisans, though the great number of these were murdered by the “Benderaftsi” and only a few survived.

The picture I have drawn of Jewish village life portrays the reality that I knew in the village of Lipica Gorna. But on top of that, there was something special about this village that for several years served as a center for the surrounding towns. This was because of the founding of bubbling and seething Zionist pioneer youth movements. Thanks to them, the Jewish youth took on a new character. The charge was led by “Stam Chaluts” (“General Pioneers,”) which was associated with the “Ha-Shomer Ha-Tsayir” (“Young Gaurdians”) movement, and later by “Ha-Shomer Ha-Tsayir” itself, led by older members of “Ha-Chaluts.”

The youth began organizing in 1927/8. A few young people, who detested the idle and stagnant life of the village, decided to found a Zionist youth organization. With the help of a friend from Pudhice, who happened to join the circle, they gave the village youth a chance to learn about Zionist issues, and founded a drama club that contributed to the independent cultural activities of the Jewish youth. With the proceeds from performances founded a library and meeting-hall that drew in scores of youth from a 40-kilometer radius. This was no small feat, considering the state of transportation in those days. In addition to plays, they held various benefits for Zionist funds, and memorials for men like Herzl, Trumpeldor, and so forth. The town became a cornerstone, not just for the village youth, but for youth from surrounding towns as well. After the founding of “Stam Chaluts,” a group of youth broke off and started a chapter of “Betar,” but this contributed little to Zionist cultural activities, and none of its members immigrated to Israel. A Zionist meeting-hall was founded for the older youth, but its aims were hazy and unclear, and it did not last long.

At first, we had to struggle hard against old-fashioned beliefs, and the resistance of parents to send their children to meetings of these organizations. But we triumphed over all these obstacles, with the help of people who saw the wisdom in supporting us. One of them was M. Shvuler, the owner of a flourmill, who, though not a Zionist himself, still helped us as best he could. He was our shield and dear friend. I cannot possibly forget to mention my mother Rivkeh, of blessed memory, whose house was a meeting-place for all the young people. At first my father stood to the side, but later he too helped us in all kinds of ways. Everyone who came to out house was received warmly, and though our voices rang out in debate late into the bight, my mother, may her memory be blessed, did not disturb us at all. And like her was mother Futter, who rented a room to our chapter. With how much warmth and self-sacrifice did she worry over us, like a real mother. And when we went months without paying our rent, she would tell us laughingly, “So be it. If you don't have it, don't pat it.” She even often lent us money buy coal and firewood.

Apart from the regular activities, we read newspapers together in the chapter, and this was something of a novelty, because the newspaper had not previously been a regular guest in Jewish homes. But we also established more fundamental lessons in Zionist and socialist ideology. We were involved in every Zionist activity, beginning with collection work for the Jewish National Fund, and ending with the distribution of proceeds. In this service, we would wander far away, to the most remote villages, and were the first to bring something new to the village youth thirsting for activity. When there were congressional elections, Lipica Gorna became an election headquarters, and scores of youth would stream on horse or foot to the command center. All of these activities changed the nature of the youth of Lipica Gorna, and set them on the king's highway. Whoever was able began to attend secondary school in Rohatyn, but even in the village itself, the youth strove to acquire through independent study what they could not get in school.

I cannot record all the names of Lipica Gorna, and will recall only the few that contributed the most to the advancement of the youth. The Kornweitz family, one of whose sons, Yosef, of blessed memory, who hid through the war in a bunker and was killed with his sister only a short time before liberation, served as a teacher for the children of Lipica Gorna, and began to spread Zionist ideology. And likewise, the writer of these lines was very much involved with the Jewish National Fund. Its beginnings in Lipica Gorna were humble, but with the rise of the youth movements it branched out and came to involve all the neighboring villages, until there was not a home without a J.N.F. contribution box. All the other young people also made their contributions to the youth organizations. The children of the Steinwurtzel, Kliger, Dorfman, and Fundik families played considerable roles in the “Chaluts” movement, being among the first to join, and they also immigrated to Israel in their turn. Most of the “Chaluts” members from Lipica Gorna went through training outside of Israel, but only some of them immigrated, whether legally or illegally. Two survived the war, and now live here in Israel. Most of them live on the kibbutzim of “Ha-Shomer Ha-Tsayir,” Ramat Ha-Shofet, Ma'arot, Ayn Ha-Miforets, Sharid, and K'far Meserik. The rest remained outside Israel, for lack of certificates or means to immigrate illegally. They were caught during the war, and put into the ghetto. Most of them did not want to abandon their parents, and perished with them…

I know that my brother Avrum stole out of the ghetto every week, went to the village, and brought back food for our parents, until he was caught by the Ukrainian “Bendereftsi.” He was tortured cruelly for three days in the forest beside the village, until his soul departed, may his memory be blessed.

A small number of Jews from Lipica Gorna were able to hide in the forest, or in bunkers on Polish property. The Poles were a minority in the area and so were willing to help us, in contrast to the Ukrainians, who turned over any Jew they found to the German authorities. Thanks to the good relations that existed between Jewish and Ukrainian youth, there were never any murders in the village, but no help was offered either.

After the war, most of the survivors came to Israel, among them two daughters of the Shvuler family, and only three immigrated to other lands.

Of the 25 families in Lipica Gorna, some 100 people or more, most perished in the Rohatyn ghetto. Today there are some 15 people from Lipica Gorna in Israel, and in addition, a few individuals from surrounding villages such as Lipica Dulna and others. All the immigrants from Lipica Gorna have integrated into the work and creative life of Israel.

It pains me greatly that such a small remnant remains of these deeply-rooted Jews, all good Zionists, who with purity of heart believed in immigration and the building of Israel. Let these pages be a monument to the thousands of Jewish families who lived in the thousands of villages of Galicia, scattered among the Gentiles, their hearts simple and warm Jewish hearts. Whenever someone contested them they responded with understanding, and devoted themselves to the cause of redeeming the Land of Israel and themselves.

May their memory be bound up in the life and the building of Israel.

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