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The Hebrew Minsk

by Daniel Persky

Translated by Jerrold Landau

Published in “Hadoar” year 27, issue 13, 26^th of Shvat 5708 (1948)

After a conflagration, one begins to enumerate the property that went up in fire. After a deadly tragedy in a family, one weeps over the loss. We were witness to a terrible Holocaust of six million Jews, a wholesale collective slaughter that has no parallel, not only in the blood-soaked annals of our people, but not even in the history of any people at any time. We are indeed stretched to the limit from our terrible and disastrous destruction. Experts and researchers describe the Jewish communities that were destroyed and entirely cut off. People with good memories relate details and paint pictures of the fundamental, old Jewish reality that was destroyed and is no longer. It is obligatory for us to collect fragments and shards from our beloved items that were broken by the bitter enemy, and to shelter them as eternal souvenirs and keepsakes for generations in our libraries. This time, it is not sufficient to have one “Shevet Yehuda” or one “Yaven Metzula” ^[1] from among the ancient books of tragedy. Many books of dirges will not be sufficient for our days of weeping over the tragedies of our people at such a time. Writers, researchers and collectors have only begun their historical work, and their pens are still in action.

And now, ladies and gentlemen, I will reveal to you my heart: a dirge for my native town of Minsk is eating me up. I have not yet read a descriptive and detailed eulogy in Hebrew about it. Who does not know that this community, until the First World War, stood in the first rank with its other famous, large sisters: Warsaw, Vilna, Odessa, Bialystock, and others. It was not only a city of sages, writers, rabbis, and Gaonim, but it was also an important center of movements and national factions, revolutionaries and proletarians. It was particularly known as the life grounds of the Zionist Movement, Poale Zion, and Bund. Its Jewish youth were intelligent, developed in spirit, idealistic in aims, stormy and effervescent.

Minsk was almost entirely Jewish. Everything before us, wherever one turned – there were only Jews. The language that prevailed was obviously Yiddish. To us, there were only three kinds of gentiles: policemen, government officials and janitors (“Dvornikes”). On occasion we would meet gentile farming women in the meat market, who had come to purchase various provisions and also non-kosher tallow at extremely discounted prices. It was also said that there were a few gentile neighborhoods, but they were far away, and the people did not mix with us. Our people who lived in Minsk during my childhood were a people that dwelt alone.

In truth it is not for me to describe to you Minsk in the present, as I saw it from the time I was born until I left it to go to America. I was very young, only three years after my Bar Mitzvah, when I left. As well, from the time that I became aware, I was always involved in a Zionist and Hebrew environment, and I did not pay attention to all of the internal political and numerous debates that took place regarding the various general and charitable organizations that were so numerous in the city. For example, there was great opposition and stormy debate surrounding the “Karovka”. That is to say, the wealthy lessee who leased the Kosher meat tax (one kopeck per liter) from the community for a set price for a year, and subsequently acted strongly, with the power of the authorities behind him, to raise the price of meat and cause all sorts of hatred and jealousy – exactly as is written in the story “Di Takse” ^[2].

I am certain that the researchers will succeed in describing the history of the community of Minsk, which goes back half a millenium. But what? It does not have historiographic fortune. In New York, a large committee of writers and activists prepared to publish a book “Pinkas Minsk” in Yiddish, in the same style as “Pinkas Pinsk” and “Pinkas Vilna”.

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And then tragedy struck, for the driving forces – folklorist A. Litwin and the three first editors, Shaul Ginzberg, Baruch Bladek and A. Lisin – all four of them passed away and the enterprise completely ceased. Later I found out that an organization of Minsk émigrés in Tel Aviv was preparing to publish “Pinkas Minsk” in Hebrew, but who knows if the war with the Arabs there would not abort the enterprise. Only I, the writer of these lines, girded my loins and published two feuilletons in “Hadoar”, “Minsk As It Was” (Year 20, issue 35), and “My Hometown of Minsk” (year 23, issue 35). There, among other matters, I attempted to deal with the following things: the unique Yiddish accent (“Fis on Sabbat”) ^[3]; the derogatory nickname “Minsker swine”; the two Gaonim of times gone by, the authors of “Shaagat Aryeh” and “Seder Hadorot”); three rabbinical personalities – “The Great One of Minsk”, Reb Yaakov Meir Baal Hamofet [Gorodinsky, elsewhere transliterated from the Polish as Grodzenski ], and Reb Isser and his synagogue known as “Reb Isser's Cheder”; jesters; fools; the scholarly and sharp drunk Morgenstern; the youth gatherings in the Painter's Synagogue and those who lectured there – Meir Halperin, Michel Rabinovitch, A. Ch. Rachlin, and especially Rabbi Sh. Y. Halevi Glicksberg who lectured on history (the author of “Hadrashah BeYisrael”), the Zionist leaders Yitzchak Berger, Yehoshua Dov Beininson, Yehuda Zeev Nofech, Shimshon Rosenbaum, and Dr. Chaim Chorgin.

In order to conclude this chapter on a positive note, I will add one embellishment here regarding the essence and character of Minsk. It had many synagogues of specific groups of professions, more than any other city ^[4]. For example, we had synagogues for tailors, shoemakers, joiners, locksmiths, butchers, shopkeepers, masons (“moliares”), painters (“maliares”), salesmen, business assistants (“Gezelen shul”), and many others. What more could there be? We were blessed with a synagogue of water drawers (where my father and his household worshipped for a certain period), which was called by a mispronunciation by the people, “Shevemim Shul” or “Shamayim Shul”) ^[5]. How surprised would you be to hear that we were not lacking a synagogue for garbage pickers and rag sellers (“Anutshnikes Shul”), where my mother's uncle served as shamash [beadle].

And now I will move on to my main topic: The Hebrew movement in Minsk.

The mighty cultural activity that took place in our city is worthy of being engraved in letters of gold, in order to make known how much an individual man of great activity was able to do for our language. These “Sirotkin's Groups” were well known throughout the city even in my earliest youth. There was one Hebrew teacher, whose name was Mordechai Sirotkin (the brother of the well-known Hebrew writer and Zionist activist of his day, Avraham Avli Sirotkin, who signed his name as “Bar Yatma” and was the assistant editor of “Hamagid”, “Hamelitz”, and others), founded many groups, solely for girls, to study the Hebrew language. The groups would meet in private houses a few evenings a week. Several hundred students studied there with diligence and enthusiasm ^[6]. Since my sister Minka taught at “Sirotkin's Groups”, I knew about the quality of the Hebrew studies that took place. They studied, as was customary at the time, with a Russian translation in accordance with the book “Mesila Chadasha” [“New Path”]. This was a simple and straightforward guide of the study of Hebrew for Jewish youth, in the path of the spending teacher Dr. Ohn, written by Michael the son of Mordechai Karpel Volper. He was a teacher of religion in the second High School [gymnasia] and a teacher in the Hebrew Teacher's Institute of Vilna. It was a very widespread and popular book of study, from which Shaul Tshernikovsky studied in his youth, as is written in his memoirs. My sister's progress reached the point where she brought home the book of poems of Ch. N. Bialik, published by “Tushia” in Warsaw. She had apparently borrowed it from the “Nofech Library” that greatly spread the knowledge of our literature in our city. Apparently, this was the first time that I had

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seen this book, and I am not sure if I had heard about the writer at this point. I do not know who set up the equivalent groups for boys: was it the same Mordechai Sirotkin or not, but I faithfully remember that I also went to study Hebrew in one of those groups. The image of these evening classes in a private home is still alive in my memory. The teacher, whose name was Shapira, assigned us, the “quorum” of students, a composition to write on the topic Abraham our forefather. After I did my homework, the teacher read my composition to the group along with the rest. It was entitled “The Rock From Which We Are Hewn”. He then told the group that the only positive attribute of my composition was its nice title, since its style was poor and convoluted. I also studied the well-known book “Guide for Children” by Y. Ch. Tabiov, and I worked hard to translate individual, boring sentences from Russian to Hebrew. This was difficult even though the author assisted us slightly by placing numbers on top of the Russian words to inform us of the word order in Hebrew. I must admit that I succeeded very much with this book, and I also enjoyed studying the rules of grammar that were scattered in each chapter.

I already mentioned once (see “My Native Town of Minsk”) in greater detail the influence of the “Nofech Library” on the Hebrew-oriented youth, for we found there many Hebrew books to read. Almost all of the books that I read in our language during my childhood and youth came from there. It was possible to borrow books and Hebrew newspapers to read from the bookstore of the scholar Reb Meir Halperin (the author of the book “Notrikin, signs and innuendoes”) for a set price. My older brother Mordechai was registered in this lending library, and he designated me as his messenger to exchange books and periodicals. I obviously glanced in them as well. Since this was a private enterprise, it was less active than Nofech's library.

Here is the place to recall the interesting character of an enlightened teacher named Avraham Shachor. He was the intimate companion, assistant, and supporter of the young poet Matzi”r Maana who came from the town of Radoshkovitzi in the region of Minsk. Anyone who investigates the complete writings of Maana, published by “Tushia” in Warsaw, will find there the letter of the poet to Avraham Shachor. Avraham Shachor ran a cheder in our city, not far from where we lived. My younger brother Eliahu studied there. Since that Shachor was once a Sofer Stam ^[7], he was graced with a clear and fine handwriting. He subscribed to all of the Hebrew newspapers of his day: “Hamelitz”, “Hatzefira”, “Hatzofeh”, and “Hazman”. In the evenings, after the cheder was dismissed, I would go to him and browse through his newspapers. Thus did my soul become bound to our literature. This innovative teacher Shachor indeed introduced an innovation, for he brought in a singer to teach the children childhood and popular Hebrew songs, such as: “Ma Nishma Laregaim” by M. Tz. Maana, “Shuru Na” by Zeev Yaabetz, “Chushu Yeladim Vetzeu El Harechov” by Shaul Tshernikovsky, and other similar ones. Avraham Shachor, who certainly helped endear our language to this small group, later immigrated to America. He served as a Hebrew teacher in Memphis, Tennessee, and died there.

At the beginning of the 20^th century, and with the rise of the national Zionism of Herzl, the movement of “Modern Cheders” awoken with all of its might. Of course, this did not pass over the large community of Minsk. Some of the teachers – Grayzel (the father of Dr. Shlomo Grayzel, the author of English scholarly books on the annals of the Jewish people, among other things. He edited the books of the Jewish Publication Society); Ch. D. Rosenstein (he was a writer, who authored study textbooks such as “Mishna Brura”, “Beit Hamidrash”, and others. His son is Avraham Even-Shoshan of Jerusalem, the compiler of the “New Punctuated and Illustrated Dictionary”, published by “Kiryat Sefer”) – banded together and opened up a modern cheder in a large premises with a blackboard, books, and other amenities, as would be found in

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the public schools. The main innovations were the introduction of the utilization of the scholarly method and the introduction of general studies in Russian. The tuition fee was higher than was customary in the older cheders. Nevertheless, the number of students from well-to-do and wealthy families was very great, so that there was no space – and the teachers succeeded materially as well as spiritually. The deep opposition on the part of the Orthodox teachers and rabbis greatly assisted them. Placards posted on the central synagogue and synagogue courtyard, as well as sermons, gatherings, and private endeavors, railed against he “Chadarim Mesukanim” in their language ^[8]. They claimed that the study of Russian will violate the holiness of the cheder, and the speaking of Hebrew will minimize the study of Torah, etc., etc. The influence of the modern cheder was felt in the city very quickly, for some of the students and youths began to speak Hebrew, and spread charm upon some of the fathers with their fine pronunciation. This caused many of the cheders to contract special teachers to teach grammar and language. Modern youth were particularly in demand for this role, so that even I, despite my young age and the fact that I was not such a “scholar”, received payment to give a daily class at one of the cheders. We read one of the study books (I believe that it was “Reishit Limudei Sfat Ever” ^[9] by Yehuda Grazovski, published by “Tushia” of Warsaw) to students whose parents insistently demanded this. Similarly, other Hebrew-Russian schools appeared, such as “Torah Vadaat” under the directorship of Yisrael Kaplan, the son-in-law of the well-known Zionist leader Yehuda Zeev Nofech (his son was Dr. Yitzchak Nofech, the eminent judge in Tel Aviv). That Yisrael Kaplan spread knowledge publicly, for on Sabbaths he would lecture eruditely, and in fine form, on segments of history and Pirke Avot ^[10]] in various synagogues. These lectures won the hearts of the youth. He later moved to the Land of Israel, served as a teacher in Hebron, published various research books, especially a book on “Hebron the City of the Fathers”. The modern cheder organized holiday celebrations that attracted fitting crowds. I recall that the daughters of the teacher Grayzel especially participated in these events. They were regarded as scholars. The daughter of Meir Halperin, the aforementioned scholar and bookseller, was known as an expert in Bible (Tanach) and Talmud. (She married the writer and scholar Michel Rabinovitch, the owner of the “Darom” bookstore in Jerusalem.) We were particularly impressed with Bayla and Ruchama, the two delightful daughters of the Zionist leader Yehoshua Beininson, who had previously spent time in the land of Israel, and spoke Hebrew with the Sephardic accent – wonder of wonders! They later became the two Mrs. Weismans, Zionist activists and well-known philanthropists in Cairo, Egypt. Within a short period of time, dozens of Hebrew speaking girls appeared in Minsk, products of the Sirotkin groups, from among those who studied in private lessons, or ones who had come from smaller towns. We young Hebrew speakers were invited to gardens, gatherings and private houses with Hebrew speaking girls – and obviously, our interest in Hebrew was intermingled with amorous pursuits.

One refined and intelligent girl made a particular impression on us. She was Nechama Katinski, who had come from Bialystock and remained in our city for a few months. Her knowledge of Hebrew, and especially her rich and flowing manner of speaking Hebrew, attracted my heart and the hearts of my group of comrades. She rented a large a large, pleasant, and spacious room on the second floor of a building in the square of the small civic garden, facing the mountain, near the house of the regional minister. About five of us visited the beautiful apartment almost every night and read Hebrew books together. I recall that she brought us from Bialystock the first novel of A. A. Kabak, “Levada” (published by “Tushia” of Warsaw, 5665 – 1905). According to Nechama, the heroine of the novel, Sara Margalit, was an actual girl from Bialystock who Kabak knew from when he spent time in that city. This first Zionist novel literally made us drunk, both because of its own merits and because it was read in such a romantic setting.

Translator's Footnotes:

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