[Page 237]

Ger and all the others favored large congregations so they could have their own shtiblach (small, Hasidic prayer houses) where they would pray daily, study and chat about spiritual and other matters.

The Amszynower Hasidim were not that lucky. Their congregation was small so they did not have a corner of their own. Even though the Rabbi was an Amszynower Hasid, their membership still remained small and even though they dreamed of having their own shtibl they could not manage it. They did not want to share with another group because they would have been the minority.

I remember when I was a child that they prayed at Mosze Berkowicz's house. Later the second minion prayed in the large synagogue and the last years they got together with the Sokolker Hasidim, who were also a small group, and created a shtibl where every Shabes and Yon Tef [religious holiday] they prayed together. I would like to tell about the Amszynower Hasidim, their virtues and stories so they can be an example to future generations.

Josef Mendl Cynamon

His day started at “dawn”. He was busy most of the day praying, studying and at the Khevra Kadisha (voluntary burial society). Later he would wander into the bakery, have a look around and then run to prepare a little for the world to come.

Here comes an author pleading for help to publish his religious book, which will soon appear. But he mentioned to his wife that he still did not have a guest to share his Shabes with and cannot go with a guest on Shabes. So he would run around and sing softly “world do not totter, world, world do not totter” …this was his favorite song that he with a merry melody which would steal into a sad tone. This was how he poured out his cares. For a long time he was a poor man…then he sold butter for a living and he became impoverished.

Icchokel the Painter

To me he was a short man with a large, grey beard and a huge tallis (prayer shawl) bag under his arm. His place was at the rabbi's house or in the synagogue where he would study all morning.

He was a scholar of the old type, simply studied, without getting into debates. He was the balmusef (prayer reader for the additional service, Shabes and holidays) in the shtibl. Well, he was far from being a singer, but everyone knew that he was the appropriate person to lead the community in prayer. When he said “my all being will recite, Me Kamoha, who is like you”, people really felt that every bone in his body trembled.

He came from the ancient rabbinical authorities of the Hasidim, lived with the motto “Dear are all people, who are created in G_d's image”! Nobody should be wronged, respect is owed to everyone, even children.

Jankiel Plocker

He was a capable, bright man and one of the assistants in the Burial Society. Without him the cleansing of the dead would not take place.

He was the sexton in the Amszynower shtibl and a prayer leader in the synagogue.

During the First World War he served in the military under Samsonow. When Samsonow was beaten he and a few others made it back to Russia.

During the entire war he never ate treyf (unkosher food).

During Simkhes Toyre (Heb. Simhat Torah, marks completion of the annual cycle of Torah reading) when everyone danced with the Torah, he was in ecstasy. He stood on a bench and yelled, “It should live”! He went after those who had strayed and brought back to the fold.

At a celebration he could not sit in one place. He ran to help prepare, to serve. He was a Hasid without great aspirations, but a dear, simple Jew.

He is gone but not forgotten.

[Page 241]

Reb [Mr.] Jakob prayed in the Sokolower shtibl. People called Reb Jakob Jekiel der dreyer [the turner, (mechanical)], because of his trade. He was something between a turner [lathe operator] and a carpenter. He had a sort of “mechanical thing” in his home for this purpose. It was a combination wheel with rope and tied together pieces of wood in an ingenious manner and all he had to do was press his foot against a plank. The wheel began to turn and with its turning, the entire machine moved. It is with this machine that Reb Jakob gnawed the wood and sticks that were needed to make the peasants' spindles. Therefore men call him Jekiel der dreyer.

All year Jekiel prayed in the Amszynower shtibl, but during the High Holidays he prayed in the large synagogue where he led morning services. Besides he wanted to be closer to the rabbi. He was an ardent Hasid and admirer of the rabbi. Therefore men also called him Jekiel dem rov's [the rabbi's].

Jekiel der dreyer was a religious Jew, even a little fanatic. He would become angry at the least little deviation from devoutness. Despite his anxiety over Judaism and making a living, he still had his worldly “hobby”. All those years he was always an ardent supporter of the well-organized fire brigade. Especially during a fire in the shtetl, he was always one of the first to arrive at the scene to fight the fire. His work he did with enjoyment. Being a fireman he considered a mitzvah [doing a good deed].

Around 1924 the fire brigade in Czyzewo was reorganized to modern standards. The leader, a young Pole, a retired soldier, was very dedicated and well organized. He enrolled Jews and Poles, the majority being young Jews. All of them were issued special uniforms, with brass buttons and caps with lacquered visors. Every Sunday they exercised in the square at the shed. The Commandant drilled the volunteer firemen. From time to time the volunteer firemen also marched, like real soldiers, through the city and out as far as the railroad station. During the exercises several Jews distinguished themselves. But the best was Jakob Epsztejn who was tall young man and swift. He would climb the high ladder quick as a cat and was admired by all the onlookers who would applaud his acrobatics.

[Page 243]

When they began to study the Daf-Yomi in Czyzewo, the Talmud lessons were studied in the large Beis-haMedrash [House of Study], although the majority of students were from the Hasidic shtiblekh [small houses of prayer]. Later, when the congregation grew smaller, they studied in the Gerer shtibl. It must be acknowledged that studying in the Beis-Medrash^[2] was solemn.

Reb Yisroel Yona's voice during the teaching of the Daf had a gorgeous echo in the Beis-Medrash. Each word was clearly and distinctly heard, not only by those sitting around the large table studying with him, but also by those who stood and listened. Everywhere that someone stood around the entire Beis-Medrash, Reb Yisroel Yona's translations and hypotheses were heard.

Many modern theaters would have wished to have as good acoustics as the Czyzewo Beis-Medrash; the reading rang loudly and was sustained for a long time in the void of the Beis-haMedrash.

Reb Yisroel Yona was an earnest scholar; he had a wonderful power of speculation. Since the beginning of the Daf-Yomi, he had led it in Czyzewo with other scholars. Not only older Jews were drawn to it, but also the young, who were already able to study a page of gemara [commentary on the Mishnah (oral law)] with its critical commentary and there was no lack of them in Czyzewo. It was believed that the large Beis-Medrash belonged to the misnagdim [opponents of Hasidism]. But in reality, it was the Beis-Medrash for everyone, without differentiation,

Translator's notes

1. A daf is a two-sided page of the Talmud. Daf-Yomi is the daily study of such a page. It takes seven and a half years to complete the daily study of the Talmud. return
2. Beis-haMedrash and Beis-Medrash can be used interchangeably. return

[Page 245]

However for me the words sound very different; my heart beats with distant memories. I remember my youth, faith, doubts. An entire ball of thread of experiences awakens and I see them alive. Still more, the first time that I heard the name “Czyzewo,” it was bound with mystery, secrets.

An actual occurrence:

5685 [1924 or 1925], Sokolow [a shtetl in Poland], in the Rabbi's yeshiva [school for older boys], a tired summer day, we sit engrossed in a lesson by Reb Simkha Rosh Yeshiva [head of the yeshiva], some sort of difficult “school of thought,” some sort of small thought constantly ticks and disturbs, “How is a Litvak [someone from Lithuania], a misnagid [opponent of Hasidism] the head of the yeshiva?...” Suddenly, the door opens a little, quietly, quietly and a strange figure appears, a tall, thin Jew with a long, pointed, gray beard, on his head a sort of compromise of a Jewish hat with

[Page 246]

a Lithuanian cap, with a sack on his back, and comes in, makes a movement with his hand that we should not be interrupted, sits down for a minute, for the moment on the last bench near the door and is quiet. After the lesson, young boys approach, say hello. He answers with a cold, stiff hand and does not say anything; young boys become uncomfortable. A strange person; who can he be? They look at him intensely. Before nightfall, he prayed Minkhah [afternoon prayer]. He stood straight for an entire hour; he did not move. He recited Al-khet [first words of the prayer recited on Yom Kippur asking forgiveness for one's sins] on a regular day. Later, he ate bread with onions, drank cold water, all so quietly. Perhaps he is dumb? However, no, someone, somewhere quietly asked a question – When is the rebbe coming? After all, where could he be? He slept at night on a hard bench in the beis-medrash, rose at midnight for study and prayer. Perhaps only a penitent? Perhaps only a lamed vovnik [one of 36 righteous men upon whom rests the faith of the world]?... This was somehow more plausible to our 14-year old reasoning. We were filled with secret longing…

He sneaked around so full of mystery, without speaking, for several days. But the same morning when the “rebbe” came back, he tied up his sack and ran away. Where did he run?... The young know – he probably went to “stand watch” in a city where there are no righteous men…

[Page 247]

But…see…he still strides with his sack on his back right to the rebbe's room…

When the shamas left, a bold group lunged for the keyhole. They heard some strange words:

“Czyzewer Rabbi… A virgin… Simkha Sanoker – (there was such a person here with us, a somewhat elderly young man with wild, disheveled peyis [side curls], blazing, famished, yes, a scholar, a literal child prodigy, an assiduous student, studied the entire night, held his feet in cold water).

– Rabbinical chair, in the future, a small dowry, kest [room and board provided to a son-in-law]…

They came to us, a little ashamed, disappointed, explaining that they think it is only a matchmaker, But no! Now we know with certainty it was not so simple that a sort of lamed vovnik was here and had brought a woman for Simkha… Very great things can come out of this… Someone even uttered the word “Mosheikh” [messiah or redeemer]…

But where is he?

Not here! Vanished! Out through the kitchen! And perhaps not out?

Just disappeared?...

The idea lingered that Czyzewo is somehow tied to secret world…

The next year I did not hear more of the cold, subtle argumentation and split hairs of Reb Simkha. My unease chased me through Jewish shtetlekh with young Breslover Hasidim. My soul was at ease, Likutei Moharan [Teachings of Rabbi Nachman of Breslov], stories of rebbes, Hasidic dancing at common meals, oh, how good!… But one still has to study! I was cast-away to Bialystok in the Noworadik yeshiva, in a dim, half dark building on the “Khanajkes” [an area of the city].

[Page 248]

Sad, closed off young men who repeat musar [ethics – religious study stressing piety], torture themselves and moan. They do not study in all cases. I thought I would find here “a synthesis of learning and manners.” I found only sadness and fear, fear of the world, fear of transgressing. No bright ray of light… It was so sorrowful for me and I would simply cry quietly from longing for our style [of study]. Reb Avraham-Yafa, the mashgiakh [person who supervises kashrus (kosher laws)], the handsome, majestic Jew with a yellow-blond patriarchal beard, with a mild smile, noticed my mood in my eyes:

– With you, Shmuel, there is no sadness, but melancholy – strengthen yourself.

– Take yourself in hand, he said to me…

I choked… I could not… only when I firmly decided to leave there did I discover that “even a small coin was nowhere to be seen.”

I did not have traveling expenses. But this did not frighten me; I knew that Jewish towns would not abandon a young man who was traveling to seek a place of learning.

I arrived in “Lapy” on a Friday (the first train station on the way to Czyzewo). Instinctively, my feet led me to the beis-hamedrash and there I experienced one of my greatest disappointments.

I saw him from afar through the open door… My heart began to beat fast… Yes, this is him then… My former lamed-vovniki; he was cleaning the beis–hamedrash with a large broom in his hand, sweating. Angry, he greeted me with complaints: (Now he did speak, oh, did he speak?!)

– Lapy is not a community cashbox – there is no money for Hasidic young men who are escaping from yeshivus [religious schools for young men]…

[Page 249]

Insulted, shamed, I hung around for several hours at the train station and in the evening, at Minkhah time, I returned to the beis-medrash. Demonstratively, I took a gemara and sat down to study aloud. After welcoming the Shabbos, a young man invited me for Shabbos. Sitting at the table, I asked him a question about the shamas. He made a motion of contempt with his hand, “Nonsense, a Jew, a villain, an ignoramus. Every summer he goes from house to house begging, proposing matches, presenting himself as a righteous man, a hermit who studies in order to serve God.”

In a bed made of rolls of textiles, I lay late into the night unable to fall asleep. In my head “false righteous men” and lamed vovnikes were tangled. Everything became “doubt”... I thought the first crack in the thick wall of my edifice of faith.

My host gave me a zlote [Zloty – Polish coin] on Shabbos night. He took it from the gabbai [assistant to the rabbi] so that I would be able to come again. I arrived in Czyzewo on Sunday, during the week of Shavous [holiday celebrating the receiving of the Torah] 5686 [1926].

A quiet town. At the large market stood circles of Jews and they talked, accepted greetings and answered evasively and inquired about the rabbi. I had a small connection to him. Maybe I will meet Simkha Sanoker there; that would be so good. On a side street, on slippery stairs, I entered the beis-din-shtibl [small religious court room]. The rabbi welcomed me with a warm smile, questioned, consoled, spoke and taught, served tea (I was ashamed to ask about Simkha). Later, he sent for several young men, told them of my situation, asked that I be helped. They took me to the Gerer shtibl with them. We conversed on the way

[Page 250]

and they were happy with me. We became friendly.

There was a noise in the Gerer shtibl, a tumult, they were praying, they conversed, Hasdisic, joyful. I was again comfortable, so close, so familiar. Little by little, the older group dispersed. Meanwhile, several young men left to go through the shtetl to collect money for my expenses, brought me “lunch” and I remained alone. I looked around me and saw strange things – the other door led to the “Aleksander shtibl.” Was it possible? Ger and Aleksander Hasidim under the same roof? Was it really that way? – Yes! It was! I would have to speak about it everywhere…Useless hatred…I saw young men wearing white collars with neckties, so cleanly dressed. It was a sin in other, deep Polish provinces, strange, they would have to think about it…

Everyone quickly returned to the room; they brought an entire treasure for me. The gemaras were not even opened. A conversation occurred about something I did not expect, a conversation that surprised and scared me. It seems that they had gathered thoughts which they had to express to someone new, a stranger. When I told them about Simkha Sanoker, the one who was supposed to be their rabbi's son-in-law – everyone threw themselves into the theme of “purpose.” It had already become clear to them that there is no purpose in sitting and studying, waiting for a rabbinate. There were no longer any available shtetlekh; in general, there were already 10 kest-eidems [sons-in-law supported by their fathers-in-law while they study] waiting in each shtetl. Life in the small shtetlekh was difficult. Without zest and purpose, one must escape, escape to Warsaw or perhaps even to Eretz-Yisroel, do academic study.

[Page 251]

I sat confused by the new themes before me. My attempt to try and carry out a conversation about “Breslover Hasidism,” whose “messenger” I was considered, did not help. The group warmed up and became daring; we went out for a stroll, saw the shtetl. The conversation continued with each separately and when I sat in the back of the room at night at Minkhah time, eating evening bread near a young man whose parents had a restaurant, the young man took out from a box behind the bed several editions of Literarishe Bleter [Literary Pages], and from there read ideas and poems with enthusiasm, I felt that something

[Page 252]

was breaking in me. Something new had been revealed for me.

Late in the evening, when several people came to me – I do not remember their names (the faces stand clearly before my eyes) – and accompanied me to the train station, it became clear to me that “Sokolow is not my place and purpose.” I am going home, home to seek a “purpose.”

If I did not find a purpose, but only wandered on new paths – Czyzewo, you were the cause of this.

I remember you, Czyzewo, you are a holy loss. I cry at your destruction along with your former inhabitants.

[Page 253]

Arya, such a quiet one, was the quietest in the family. We came from a great distance, my wife and I, to the reception at his wedding in Czyzewo and there we saw our entire family. Hasidim were also there as wedding guests from the bride's side, with Shabbos-yom-tovidikn [Sabbath and holidays] charm. Jews with beards and peyes [side curls] and Hasidim with satin kapotes [long frock coats worn by married men] and shtreimlekh [traditional fur hats worn by some Hasidim] like my father. I alone was in European clothing. My father asked me if I had something with which I could change my cap and pointed to my wife, who was wearing a silk shawl on her head that was much prettier than her hair. She was much more practical than I. She knew she was coming among Hasidim.

Father – I said – it is true that there were various customs in various places about bare hair for me, as with women. But mostly, people went with uncovered heads. Our blessed sages also were not fastidious about this and even went to the Beis haMedrash [synagogue] with an uncovered head.

[Page 254]

A conversation started on this theme that I will not repeat here, only that my father concluded:

– Listen to what I have to say. My firstborn, I will not examine your learning. But, an observant Jew does not go with an uncovered head. And what does the Mishnah [rabbinic commentaries] say: Notnin alaf khomer makom shehalakh kesham [A person may have great knowledge, but his behavior can put him in a situation where he does not want to be.] and: “One should not act differently, so as not to cause divisiveness.” We need to carry on the way they do where we come from in order to avoid a quarrel.

The bride's relatives also came closer to be able to hear the conversation in which several older Hasidim took part. I listened to the Czyzewo juicy, Hasidic conversation with great enjoyment, until my father, smiling, realized that the conversation was taking up another subject and said:

– What do you say, Gad (strongly stressing the letter “daled” [d] in my name, as the “daled” in “ekhad” is stressed in the Krishme Shema,^[1] so that it would not come out as an error as with the word God). But Arya the khazan [cantor] approached unexpectedly:

[Page 255]

– He said, “Father, just as the “your” from “Honor your father” in the Torah, you should also honor your brother even with your knowledge. Therefore, I must give Gad respect and not carry on any disputes with him.” And Dowid, the youngest brother, with the rabbinical diploma in his pocket, said:

“I do have rabbinical ordination, but he [is the one who] studied, not I, so that in matters of Halakah I will not interrogate him. But the customs are not according to law but according to compassion.”

My mother also listened to the conversation and answered intoxicatedly:

“I also know the law. I am the daughter of a rabbi.”

Here I said to her:

“And my father is the son of a rabbi.”

Avrahaml Lande, the Sokolower rabbi, a son-in-law of the Czyzewer rabbi, mentioned, pointing to me:

“You see, he is quiet. Soon he will probably have something to say to you.” The older Czyzewo people of stately appearance divided themselves. Some spoke favorably about me, because I come from an area where the rabbis even dress in this way. But the others, several strict Kotsker [Kock] Hasidim took even more offense at me because I did not even have any sign of a beard with which they could console themselves:

“Probably it is not with any kind of ta'ar (razor), but with a scissors, or a machine.”

They intensely wondered how this could happen in a Hasidic house. Such attire?

My father said to me:

[Page 256]

– Do you think they are, God forbid, separate? It is “just like this” – having a conversation with a man from the newspapers. I know them, dear, good Jews.

I understood that my father wanted me to spend them with them.

He said:

– Of course, they must then be answered:

Therefore, I answered and said:

– Gentlemen, two things happened here – one, an error, and the second that we understand our sages of blessed memory. The mistake is that all religious laws and customs about which my respected brother, the ordained rabbi, asks that we obey with a moderate application of the law is only about “bareheadedness,” about going with a bare head. But not about with what the head is covered, if with a hat or with a cap? The Maymer Khazal [aphorisms of the sages], which we appreciate is the commentary in Messekhta Shabbat, daf kal [the tractate dedicated to the laws of Shabbos, page 130] which states “Likha ketuva dela mai b tigra” – (at every wedding, a quarrel takes place) and thus as it then written how much and about what the quarrel must be, we then fulfill the mitzvah [obligation] with the Maymer Khazal.

To the veiling of the kale [bride]! Then to the khupah [wedding canopy – marriage ceremony].

When the khosan-kale [groom and bride] were sitting at the table after the khupah, they demanded their due from me, a blessing in addition to a mazel tov [good luck]. I said to them:

“The letters kale [khof, lamed, hey] arranged differently, are read as hakl [hey, khof, lamed – “everything”] and the letters of khosan [khes, sof, nun] changed in the same manner to nakhes [nun, sof, khof – “joy'].

Therefore when khosan and kale are together, there will be hakl nakhes [everything joyful].

[Page 257]

I could record a “world” of Hasidic conversations from that Shabbos here, about the minyon [minyonim in the plural – 10 men required for prayer] at the bride's house, how six minyonim of men occupied the two rooms, who sang, with such excitement, a great number of bold Hasidic Shabbos songs, with such warm-hearted sincerity.

Where are you Czyzewo, amiable shtetele?

Where is your undug grave? What remained of you?

[Page 258]

Where are you, Arya, my quiet, quiet brother? The only horapashnik [proletarian], the only manual laborer in the family.

What can I do for you, for your remembrance, more than saying Kaddish [memorial prayer] with those from Czyzewo, one of the warmest Jewish shtetlekh?

Thus I sit on a stone and cry:

“Yisgadal veyishkadash” [“Exalted and hallowed…” – the first words of the Kaddish].

Translator's notes

1. Prayer recited when going to sleep and during morning and afternoon prayer – Shema Yisroel Hashem Eloheinu Hashem Ekhad – Hear, O Israel: the Lord is our God, the Lord is One. return

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