Goniadz, Poland
Yizkor Book Project
JewishGen Home Page
|
|
[Pages 265-268]
Translated from Yiddish to English by Dr. Isaac Fine
My father, may his memory be for a blessing, was born in Semyatich, a city in the environs of Brisk. His grandfather had been in a very successful business in association with his brother, who later became the rabbi of Bielsk. They transported salt in ships from the Carpathian Mountains through Galicia to the port of Danzig. When my father was three years of age, his grandfather traveled with a transport ship in the direction of Danzig. There was a great flood while traveling on the Vistula River, and all the ships with their salt cargoes went under. On that occasion they lost all of their wealth. My father's mother died from the severe stress which followed, and my father became a young orphan.
My father didn't study in yeshivas. His goal was to study with great and distinguished scholars. He traveled to Vilno, which was called the Jerusalem of Lithuania. Vilno had great rabbis and also renowned figures of the secular enlightenment. He spent a number of years there. When he returned home they began to refer to him as a “Berliner” and a “free one". Soon afterwards he married my mother and subsequently accepted a position as dayan in Sokolke. He stayed there several years, and then became rabbi in Vishnieve, a shtetl not far from Voloshin.
Vishnieve was encircled by forests. My mother was frightened, seeing the wild animals in the nearby woods from a distance. She became so anxious that she was unable to leave the house. She traveled to Vilno for medical consultations, and the physicians advised her to spend some time in Frantzenbad, as a curative experience. Returning back home she stayed with her parents in Suchovole, and from there wrote my father, informing him that the physicians ordered her not to live any longer in Vishnieve. Soon afterwards, Father left that town to join my mother in Suchovole. After arriving in Suchovole, he discovered that the Goniondz rabbi had recently left Goniondz after a great dispute with the Chassidim. Father traveled to Goniondz at that point, and then was accepted there as the new rabbi.
He spent the rest of his life in Goniondz. For five years, he suffered through another great dispute in town. After the dispute ended, however, everyone considered him a good friend. In character, he
was a rare, good man. My mother didn't let him handle money because he would give it away to the first guest who came to him. He would send every guest who came to him in the House of Study to the shtetl restaurant, and he would arrange to pay for that person's bill quietly with the restaurant owner so the person would have a good meal. He never argued with a person who disagreed with him. He would simply convey to him, quietly and peacefully, his intention. He would sit in the House of Study until one in the afternoon. When he saw a worker arriving in the House of Study, he would approach the man and inquire regarding his domestic affairs and also his work. Grandfather would walk with him around the House of Study, chatting with that person as one might with an important businessman. My grandfather was criticized for “lowering himself” too much by such behavior. His memory was quite extraordinary, and his mind was sharp and clear. I believe I do not exaggerate in stating that he knew the Babylonian Talmud by memory. He also was familiar with the old philosophical books. There were no cases in which protests were registered against his rabbinical judgments. He was loved by all the inhabitants of the shtetl, including the Christians. When he was occasionally traveling outside of town, Christian passersby would fall on their knees before him. When a Christian had a dispute with a Jew, he preferred to go to the rabbi for settlement of the case rather than to the secular court. When a wealthy Christian saw that my father was going to the river to bathe, he would accompany him, and wait for him at the river edge until he was finished.
I recall an anecdote concerning a Christian who came to the rabbi complaining that a baker had been required to pay him five rubles and sixty kopecks in exchange for grain. The baker had paid him the sixty kopecks, but didn't give him the five rubles. At the time of the transaction, the baker had told him that he had forgotten to bring the rubles. Later on, when he came to the baker to collect, the baker did not want to pay. My father immediately called in the baker and asked him, “What is the situation with the five rubles that this man says you didn't pay him?” The baker didn't answer. My father told him that he should pay the Christian the five rubles. The baker immediately took out five rubles and paid the Christian. After he had paid, the baker said, “God has sent me a reward, the rabbi has become my partner.” My father smiled broadly and remained silent.
My father was seventy-three years of age when he died, on the fourteenth day of the month of Sivan, 1907, on a Friday at sundown.
Anyone who grew up in Goniadz in the days of Binyamin the scribe, cannot be objective when writing about Binyamin. Willingly or not, the writer will touch upon moments of his own life that are bonded to Binyamin with chords of love. This assertion explains how when the synagogue was the grandeur of Goniadz, Binyamin was the key to its splendor.
God blessed Binyamin with the skill to ignite candles of holiness. For decades he sparked festive and ecstatic joy in the hearts of an entire community of Jews. He was at that time the “minister” of religious-celebrative moments in the supernal Goniadz, of which the synagogue was her corridor. It is, therefore, not a wonder that already during his lifetime Binyamin was a national hero and a legend.
In his poem, The Shul,” Eidel Treshtchansky poetically expressed the sentiments of many Goniadz Jews towards the synagogue: “withy her thousand charms – where rests Godliness himself.” But the man, who with the skill and enthusiasm of an inspired artist, made the poem “one thousand charms” vibrate and flutter in the synagogue – was Binyamin. Under his influence, the entire “ensemble” – the prayer leaders, the cantor, along with the choir and the holy congregation of worshippers – very impressively played the religious-Jewish symphony in the Goniadz synagogue.
Certainly, there were synagogue wardens and “remarkable bourgeois” who voiced their opinion to Binyamin. Binyamin, however, invested so much of his personality in the minutest detail pertaining to the synagogue that the wardens and the bourgeois were totally eclipsed. Everyone in the synagogue was happy to be Binyamin's “subject.”
The slim livelihood Binyamin earned working for the synagogue, was compensated by the productive moments that he experienced. This is the case with every authentic artist, whose true profit is the mere creation.
I remember the pogrom at the Goniadz synagogue by the local Polish pranksters in the year 1912. The scene of a torn Torah scroll on the ground, where nearby elderly Jews stood weeping like children, will never leave my mind. But the most unfortunate one of all was Binyamin; his synagogue, his Torah scrolls and holy accessories to be so lowly desecrated!
Binyamin demonstrated another virtue for which he earned the love and reverence of many of the Goniadz's Jews. He, literally, felt a paternal love for everything and everyone that had a connection to Goniadz; and to Binyamin, all of the surrounding towns belonged to Goniadz's parish, including Bialostock…
Through the red-kerchief-method of gathering and sending help to the needy in Goniadz and its vicinity, Binyamin, from America, helped and cheered up many people between the two world-wars. In the Vale of Tears on the other side of the Atlantic Ocean, where there were so many people who did not have any contact with relatives in America – he became their “relative.”
Binyamin managed a precise, although primitive, bookkeeping of the collected money and the money that was distributes on the other side of the Atlantic – understandably, according to his instructions. He would, literally, experience the complaint-letters as well as the thank-you letters from his correspondence. With time, Binyamin became a legend to those who were suffering on the other side of the Atlantic, and for us Americans – a national hero.
Binyamin spent his last years in the Bialostock nursing home on East Broadway in New York, where he was honorably cared for. For many years, he was a great patriot of the institution, as well as a frequent visitor. On the nineteenth of Kislev, 5754 (November 26, 1953) Binyamin passed away. Binyamin's physical body was redeemed from the institution, but his memory lives on.
Translated from Yiddish to English by Dr. Isaac Fine Yaakov Rudski was a Talmud scholar. He was also a man of worldly achievement. He was clever in dealing with the world, but not with himself and his family. Yaakov was a handsome man. He had a keen intellect and a charismatic personality. Yaakov was from the stock which gives rise to leaders and diplomats. He brought prestige to Goniondz. He was competent to serve as spokesperson for the Jewish community with the Tzarist government.
Yaakov traveled from Goniondz to attend the Fourth Zionist Congress in Basel, Switzerland. He had a momentous experience there, a face-to-face encounter with Teador Herzl, during which he received a greeting from this distinguished person. Yaakov built and destroyed worlds in Goniondz. In doing so, he exhausted his strength and his ability. He built the Osowiec fortress. He also destroyed the hill and built a beer brewery on its site. He was however not successful in this enterprise. Yaakov spent a fortune on the brewery project, and the hill lost its face.
His enterprise was phenomenal in scope. In the illustrious phase of Goniondz history during the Tzarist occupation, he served as leader of the Talmudic study group. Later, when Goniondz was in decline under the Polish regime, he wished to be town rabbi. However, he was not considered an appropriate candidate for this position.
He was a brilliant entrepreneur, but he did not acquire wealth. It always seemed that, for Yaakov, the scope of the enterprise was more important than the profits which might result. The town considered him a rich man. However, his demeanor was not that of a wealthy person. He had neither the time nor the patience to behave in such a fashion.
In 1914, his world was completely overturned by financial reversal as a result of the events of the First World War. He was left penniless. Yaakov left Goniondz, and was not heard of again until the War ended. When he returned to town, he was like an eagle whose wings had been clipped. He again became involved in public affairs. But it was not as it had been before. He had become a poor man, and was dependent on the community for economic support. Yaakov Rudski ended his years in poverty and loneliness, even before the Jewish community of Goniondz was destroyed.
Translated from Yiddish to English by Dr. Isaac Fine His first education was in the traditional religious elementary school of his Jewish town. However, he did not continue his studies in the House Of Study, as did the children of other merchants in town. At the beginning of the twentieth century, some young Goniondz men journeyed to known centers of Torah learning, such as yeshivas and torah centers in other cities. Dovid Rudski was among those who pursued secular culture. He went to Lodz, where the German language prevailed. There he succeeded in acquiring a smattering of German language and culture. Since he did not receive economic support from home at that time, he was forced to return to Goniondz.
When he came home he suffered from pulmonary problems. His family very actively sought a cure for him, and a cure was found. He continued to improve his competence in the German language and later in French as well. He wanted to travel to France and study there. Meanwhile, the time came for him to present himself to the Russian Army for induction. His parents were suppliers to the Osowiec fortress. He had learned how to make a certain kind of hatband worn by the army in summer from a Goniondz hat maker.
He was recruited into the army and sent to Moscow, where Russian physicians conducted pulmonary exams for recruits. After a time, he was given a medical certificate stating that he was cured from pulmonary disease and fit for military duty. After being declared fit for duty, he went to Paris with neither parental approval nor their assurance that they would provide him with economic support. He hoped to achieve economic independence by his own efforts. He did indeed succeed in achieving this goal by means of the hat maker trade he had learned. Later, however, he did receive financial support from his family in Goniondz.
At first he concentrated on philosophic studies and passed the baccalaureate exam. Dovid at that time transferred to the Faculty of Medicine. He completed his medical studies shortly before the outbreak of World War One, and was granted the title of Doctor of Medicine. In Goniondz, Dovid had been very involved with a group of friends who were immersed in Zionism and secular culture. He very much enjoyed their discussions. Dovid also participated in the foundation of the Goniondz Zionist Library, later called “The Dawn”, after the Dawn group of young Zionists in town. In Paris he participated in Zionist meetings with Dr. Max Nordau. The Paris Zionists recognized this very competent Jew from Russia. They fully accepted him into their group.
When World War One broke out, he volunteered for service as a military physician with the French Army, with the approval of the Russian Embassy. France, England and Russia were at that time allies against the German Empire. He fulfilled this role with distinction. In a weekly edition of the Russian periodical Rivya Vidanosti Ogonoyed, his photo appeared with the inscription “A son of our land, doctor of medicine, now on the French front in charge of a medical detachment.” He was once wounded on the front line. After his recovery, he again returned to the front to assist in providing medical care for the wounded both in hospitals and in the field.
At the time of his return to active duty, the typhus epidemic was spreading among the troops like wildfire. Dovid's devotion to curing the ill moved him to labor tirelessly day and night. He finally succumbed to the disease and perished. In his life and in his death, he distinguished himself by his dedication to duty. May his memory be for a blessing.
Translated by Marvin Galper Leibel was born and raised in the town of Grajewo. He acquired distinguished competence in Hebrew language and grammar, the Bible, and the Talmud through a program of personal self-directed studies. He studied Hebrew language and grammar in the seclusion of his attic. He also acquired knowledge of Russian and Polish as well as calligraphic script. When his time arrived for active duty with the Russian Army, he was assigned to serve as a regimental headquarters scribe. This duty spared him from many strenuous military drills and maneuvers. When the time came for him to stand watch with his rifle on his shoulder, he would memorize the 618 commandments from the book “Commandments Of The Lord”, whether by day or by night, in intense heat or in bitter cold. He observed these commandments throughout his life, but the law of the rifle, never. This is the sort of soldier Leibel Bachrach was in the town of Saratow on the Volga River in the late eighteen hundreds of the nineteenth century.
He was an iron merchant in Goniondz. Leibel was always immersed in his studies at home during his leisure time. His wife Shayne Belke facilitated his freedom for solitary studies to a considerable extent. He often studied late through half the night while very quietly humming a Gemora tune, so as to not awaken the family from sleep. If any of us awakened during the night we would witness a remarkable sight. The house would be enveloped in darkness and sleep, except for father immersed in his Talmudic studies, with a small kerosene lamp by his side. The sweet melody which accompanied his studies was wonderful to hear.
He never relied on the classroom teachers of his children or their private tutors. He often had talks with teachers and tutors about the most effective methods for bible instruction and childhood education in general, as well as education of his own children in particular. His first step was to teach his children Hebrew with the proper intonation, so their teachers could then continue on in the same fashion using the appropriate word stresses. With his talent as an educator, he allowed his children to pray according to the Ashkenazi tradition. Goniadz was very immersed in traditional Judaism. He, however, was a Chassid, and prayed in the Sephardic fashion of the Chassidim.
Leibel Bachrach was the first in Goniondz to advocate the principle of equal education for boys and girls. His vision embraced not only German, Polish and Russian, which were then in fashion, but also the Hebrew language, the Prophets, a special book of bible commentaries, and the Introduction To The Talmud as well. He was a gifted educator and completely lacking in self-consciousness in his approach to teaching. He could explain the first problems encountered in Talmudic study with such clarity that even a child could comprehend. All his students found it a pleasure to learn from him.
When the First World War broke out in 1914, the German Army bombarded the Russian fortress of Osowiec. While this bombing created devastation among the homes of Goniadz, Leibel Bachrach remained immersed in Talmudic studies in the tiny apartment of Yehuda the cap maker, surrounded by a group of refugees from Grajewo. The assembled group seemed oblivious to the surrounding bombardment.
Leibel Bachrach was also a prolific writer in both Hebrew and Yiddish. He was interested in both secular and spiritual matters. He communicated with both merchants and yeshiva directors. When he sensed that a merchant in Warsaw or Brisk, for example, was an educated man, he would add on a few sentences on biblical matters or other Jewish topics to the end of each business letter.
He was a long time subscriber to Yiddish and Hebrew periodicals such as “The Time”, “The Friend”, “The Life” or “The Moment.” Russian newspapers from St. Petersburg also arrived at our home on a regular basis. The Russian newspapers were intended only for us children to learn Russian, and certainly not for absorption of the Russian spirit. Leibel Bachrach established a well-balanced Jewish education for his sons and daughters. In November 1917, when the news of the Balfour Declaration reached Goniondz, he advised the town youth, including his daughter Chaske who now lives in Israel, “Children, learn a trade and be in the land of Israel.”
Arye Leib Bachrach died in Goniondz in 1919. His bones remained in Goniondz and it seems that not a trace of his grave remains. But his name lives as a perpetual memory, engraved on the tombstone of his wife Shayne Belke in a Tel Aviv cemetery.
Translated from Yiddish to English by Dr. Isaac Fine When I wish to conjure up a mental image of a tzaddik , I think of Nissan the tailor. He was a short, hunchbacked man with a blond beard. He was always dressed in a long tallis coat when he was sewing or working with the steam iron. At all times, his mind was filled with spiritual thoughts in connection with divine matters. His wife was a tall, heavyset, commonsense-minded woman, like most women in the shtetl. He, however, was very sensitive and delicate. He was never heard to speak a coarse word. His thoughts were always immersed in Ein Yaakov or in other holy volumes. From his work he barely made a living.
I recall a Sabbath when my father and Reb Nissan were leaving together from the synagogue. We were neighbors. Reb Nissan told him that in a dream he had seen the Temple in Jerusalem and heard the singing of the Levites. His description of the ceremonies and the music from the Temple, which he had experienced in the dream, took a long time to tell and we stood in the street listening until he had finished.
I loved to hear his teaching of the Ein Yaakov legends. He studied with a group of men in the House of Study at a table near to the porcelain oven. He explained the interesting stories from Ein Yaakov with great love and understanding. His customary students were Avramke the glazier, his brother Arkye, Chatzkel the water carrier and other Jews of humble social standing. On Yom Kippur, after Shir HaYichud , he never went home, but would remain for the night in the synagogue. He would lay on straw under one of the benches for a few hours, and then he would read Psalms. In this way, he remains in my memory a pure tzaddik in his relationships with both God and man.
The mission of the feldscher was to heal wounds and also minor ailments. They were not trained to deal with any more serious medical problems than that, nor were they permitted to do so. However, there were able men among them who, through practice and experience, had earned the confidence of the people and had been permitted to deal with more serious problems. Yankl the roife was this kind of feldscher.
I recall him from my childhood as an older man. Goniondz Jews rarely went to the Polish Dr. Knapinsky, although he was a quite competent physician. One needed to converse with him in Polish, and one needed to treat him with reverence. In addition, a visit to his office cost twenty kopecks. Also, it was required to buy the medicine for his prescriptions from the Polish pharmacy of Lintchevsky, which again was quite expensive. In contrast, the expenses with Yankl the roife were much more modest. This was in large part because he prepared the medicines himself. By seeing him, one was able at the same time to save money and also avoid the gentiles.
The whole town used to buy common remedies, such as zinc ointment, from him. He mixed the ingredients himself. For stomachaches he would first prescribe castor oil and then an enema. Even though the roife was very much respected, there were rascals who used to tease him about conducting this sort of unclean business. One time, for example, when one of the wilder young men met him at night in the darkness, he cried out to Yankl from the distance, “Rabbi Yaakov, make me an enema.” This comment affected Yankl's dignity. He ran after the youngster as fast as he could, but could not catch him. After this incident, he came to Gedalke's classroom, where I was a student, and asked where was Shimon Abramsky. The latter was a youth from Grayve who was studying with Gedalke. When the youth was pointed out to him, Yankl wanted to hit him with a stick. The boy swore that he knew nothing of the matter, and was overcome with fear.
When Yankl the roife recommended that an ill person be brought to Dr. Knapinsky for a consultation, one knew that the matter was quite serious. Yankl would accompany the patient to the physician, and Knapinsky would obtain a detailed report from Yankl. It was quite clear that the doctor respected his opinions.
Yanke1 the roife was quite successful in his professional career. On Sundays, when the Christians would come to church, and on Mondays, which was market day, many of them would come to “Pan Yankl.”
In the winter of the great fire, Pesach of 1906, he married off his youngest daughter to a wealthy young man from Krinik. He didn't invite in the orchestra from Stutchin, which was ordinarily invited. The Stutchin orchestra consisted of a fiddle, a flute, and a drum. Rather, he brought in the military orchestra from Osoviec. The whole shtetl was in a very festive mood. Everyone stood in the old marketplace and sang and danced along with the music. Goniondz had never had this kind of attraction before.
Immediately after the fire he built a magnificent wooden house next to Schloime-Yossel the fisherman, and did not require any loan in order to do so. During the three bitter years of the German occupation during the First World War, Goniondz did not have a physician. The German military doctor from Osoviec was very rarely brought in. For those reasons, during that time period Yankl was the only healer of the sick in town. Many people died of weakness, simply because they did not eat enough, and Yankl's remedies could not help them.
During the winter of 1918/19 “Rabbi Yaakov” was very busy. He cured the first of those who were struck with the typhus plague at that time, including Cheikel Yevreisky and me, and thank God we were restored to health. Later, when the epidemic had spread in a very dramatic fashion and there were many critically ill, a physician from Kniesin was brought into town, but he was not able to help very much.
In 1923 the Polish government sent the roife a medal as a reward for his meritorious actions in the past. In 1863, the second Polish uprising against the Tsarist regime broke out and the Russian regime threatened the death penalty for any person who provided the slightest assistance to the rebels. Yankl the roife, who at that time was living in Sapatzkin, which was located near Grodno, had given medical assistance to those who participated in the uprising. Yet years later, when Poland achieved its independence, they recalled his deeds and rewarded him with great honor.
He was very much loved by all. When one met another townsman in the greater world, the first question was about the synagogue hill, and the second, “What do you hear about Yankl the roife?” He lived out his years in honor and generosity. He left this world in 1926, at which time he was more than ninety years of age.
|
|
JewishGen, Inc. makes no representations regarding the accuracy of the translation. The reader may wish to refer to the original material for verification. JewishGen is not responsible for inaccuracies or omissions in the original work and cannot rewrite or edit the text to correct inaccuracies and/or omissions. Our mission is to produce a translation of the original work and we cannot verify the accuracy of statements or alter facts cited.
Goniadz, Poland
Yizkor Book Project
JewishGen Home Page
Copyright © 1999-2008 by JewishGen, Inc.
Updated 5 Dec 2007 by LA