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In all Jewish cities in European Jewry, that lies plundered and ruined, it was possible to find great personalities and elevated types of people.

Our town of Belica could take pride in one of its sons, who was one of the greats of Jewry in the generations, and his name was R' Nachman Szebszinsky.

He was a man who stood great both in Torah, righteousness and wisdom. Accordingly, he was expert in the entire body of literature of our people, the ancient writings and all its ramifications, the medieval literature in all areas, and also the modern literature in all of its tributaries.

It began with the Tanakh, which he knew entirely by heart practically letter by letter. The volumes of the Mishna, the Talmud, Commentaries, the entire traditional literature, up to the Shulkhan Arukh, and its interpreters, he would dedicate hours on a daily basis to engage with them, with depth and concentration that was wondrous. From time to time, he would awaken from sleep take his “goose quill” and make notes in the margins of a book in his clear and shining writing, documenting some explanation or insight, put down the pen by his side, and immerse himself in his study again, while a soft pleasant murmur would issue from his mouth.

From “A Guide to the Perplexed” by Maimonides and the rest of the research books from the golden period of the middle ages, up to “Current Guides to the Perplexed” of Rabbi Nachman Krochmal, from the beginning of the period of the Enlightenment. there was not an author and book that he had not engaged with, and he knew them all with a clear and deep understanding.

From the books “Teudah b'Yisrael” by the Ribal^[1] and “Songs in the Holy Tongue” by Naphtali Herz Wiesel, to the books of Slonimsky, Frischmann, Peretz and Smolensky^[2], the poetry of Bialik, Tchernikhovsky, and Schneur – he read them all and enjoyed their wonderful creations with relish. Into his pure heart and holy soul, he absorbed everything good and noble from our literature from all eras, and from all generations, and in his clear eyes, saw no contradiction between the “old” and the “new.”

But it was not only in our literature from all generations that he was so expert, but also in the literature of the world, about which he had ideas in profusion and depth. He knew the Russian language fluently, as well as its varied and multi-branched literature. I can recall two instances when he spoke with such fervor about

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the personality and the literary talents of Tolstoy. He once said to me: “You should know, that this “gentile”

Tolstoy, was one of the great and righteous people in the world.” He added: “There are excerpts from his creations in which he attains heights of a sort that few of the greats in any generation achieve. When you will read his well known book – Resurrection^[3] you will run into such sentences that are literally driven into your head.”

He also knew the German language and its literature. With a feeling of respect, he would recall all the great German writers, poets and philosophers, and with special emphasis, he would speak about Goethe, Nietzsche (to his great fortune, R' Nachman was privileged to leave this world at the time that The Second World War broke out, and did not live to see what the German nation wreaked upon his own Jewish people).

R' Nachman was born in the city of Lida (according to my memory) on Tisha B'Av of 5614 [1854], to his father, the Rabbi Dov-Ber ז”ל who was the Dayan of the Lida congregation. As a child, he studied in Heder, and when he left Heder, his father personally took a hand in his education, and from him, he derived much of his lore and wisdom. When he grew up, he went to study at the Great Synagogue in the city, but he never studied at a Yeshiva. His father who was a great Torah scholar, and outstanding in his piety, was also a Maskil, and in general far from being extreme, and it was from him that he inherited his love and affection for all genuine forms of literary creation. I recall how he told me the way he learned the German language: “When I was thirteen years old, my father traveled to Prussia, and when he returned, he brought me a gift – a German-Hebrew dictionary, from which I began to learn the German language.”

He was an only son to his parents, but also had an only sister. His sister lived in Lida, and in his older years, she would occasionally come to visit him. When he was twenty years old, he married the highly praiseworthy and pure young girl, Malka, the daughter of R' Yaakov Baranchik (nicknamed Yankl Tsin'keh's) of Belica, and it was there that he spent the rest of his life, until he passed away in the year 5700 [1940]. His wife, Malka, was a “Woman of Valor” and all the days of her life, she was engaged in business, running a large store of woven goods – and from this, she honorably supported her family (as was the custom in those years). Her husband, R' Nachman, sat day and night, occupying himself with Torah, scholarship and wisdom, being completely at peace, without having to worry about supporting his family, however, in his old age, his financial situation

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deteriorated. In 1918, robbers assaulted the city, and killed four of the citizens of the city. They also plundered all of the woven cloth from the store of the Szebszinsky family, and from that time on, the family remained in a state of bareness, and want of everything.

After this great calamity, his wife Malka became ill with an incurable disease, and a short time later, she passed away, and R' Nachman remained alone. His only son – Moshe Noah, and his daughters, Min'cheh, and Esther (Et'keh) were already married, and did not live in Belica, and as a result, he was left with no means of support to sustain himself. Thanks to a number of loyal women, who were concerned enough to look after his minimal needs, and especially R' Yitzhak Kirschner (Itcheh the Shammes) who dedicated himself to him, and saw to it that he would not lack for anything, R' Nachman was again assured (although not from the same secure sense as previously) of his modest sustenance, and he continued to dedicate himself to his great and sacred work. Despite the fact that his spiritual and physical circumstances had markedly deteriorated, his spirit of this giant of a man was not broken. It is told of him, that the night after the attack of the robbers, he came at his usual time to the synagogue, wrapped himself in his Tallit, put on his Tefillin, and called out loud: “just as we bless the coming of good, so do we bless the coming of the bad, and we say “Baruch Dayan HaEmet,.” and he stood to recite the morning prayers with the same familiar fidelity that he was known for on a day-to-day basis.

For a short time, he was unable to live by himself in his neglected house, and he went to live in the house of R' Ben-Zion Shilovitzky. After that, he settled himself back in his own home in such a fashion, that he took in a family without charging them rent. He turned over his large house to this family and kept only a small room for himself and in return for this, the tenants would prepare his meals for him on a daily basis.

* * *

A year after he got married, he left his young wife alone, and went to study at the famous Kollel of R' Isaac Elchanan [Spector] in Kovno. He remained in Kovno for two years, and there received his ordination to be a Rabbi by the Gaon R' Isaac Elchanan זצ”ל , who related to him with respect and great feeling, and wrote great things about him on the document of ordination that he gave him. However, despite the fact that his expertise in all aspects of Jewish law were profuse, and that he was ordained by one of the greatest of the scholars of his generation, never, for even a minute, did he consider serving as a Rabbi. In his very nature, he despised the rabbinate. It is interesting that I once heard the following from his lips, at the time that he had grown old, as he was sitting in the synagogue behind the oven on the warm “ lozhanka^[4].” He said: “ The winter is fierce, and when I walk from the Bet HaMedrash to my home, I feel a great cold in my head; I would put on a fur hat, but I fear that I might be taken as some sort of a Rabbi.” This was the degree to which he loathed the rabbinate.

A number of years after he got married, R' Nachman fell ill with Tuberculosis, and would spit blood, and a great danger was seen to his life. Afterwards, he told me, that the condition of his health was so serious and bad, that for two consecutive years he did not fast on Yom Kippur. To the synagogue, he would bring some baked potatoes, and from time to time, he would stop praying, cover himself very well with his Tallit, and take a little taste. (Those who prayed around him, did not sense what he was doing under his Tallit on this holy and awesome day). However, thanks to the famous doctor, Professor Titus from Vilna, his condition improved, to the point that he lived for [an additional] sixty years, even if, from time to time, he would still spit blood. (His expectoration was known to all the residents of the town...).

R' Nachman attempted to acquire a skill, so he would be able to support himself by his own labor. He mastered the skill of accounting completely, and worked as an accountant at the factory of the Baranchik family that had grown rich in Lodz. However, after a year, he left “his work” in Lodz, and returned to his sacred endeavor in the Belica synagogue. While he left the “work” of accounting to others, he did not abandon the “skill” of accounting for all the rest of his days. At first, he accurately ran the books for the store of his esteemed wife, for two reasons: A) To assure that she does not, God Forbid, profit more than what is permitted by law (to fulfil the behest of our Sages of Blessed Memory, “He who would get drunk shall not

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imbibe more that he can drink”); B) Not to deceive the regime with regard to paying taxes to the country, in order to satisfy the Halakhic behest “what is the law of the land, is the law.”

Even after the death of his wife, and the destruction of his store, when he was forced to support himself from charity, accountancy remained an large and important issue to him. He would always sit and “do computations” of his financial assets, as it were, in order to know if it was permissible for him to accept charity from the alms box, or if his “wealth” had exceeded the “200 zuzim” – and therefore could not enjoy the benefits of charity.

Many stories were told about his care in assuring that he would not earn more than what was permitted by law and the Halakha. I heard, a number of times, from Mr. Ben-Zion Stotsky, the tailor, that was taken regularly in Malka's store, and it is the story as follows: Many times, when he would send the apprentices to buy “little things” from “Malka,” “Nachman” would notify him that he owed him money, because the last time he had bought him some fabric for a suit, “Malka” made a mistake in calculation, and took more from him than she was supposed to. And R' Ben-Zion would add: And he was always watching over “Malka” to make sure that she returned to him what was owed him, in accordance with “his accounting.”

* * *

The method employed by R' Nachman in the study of the Torah was “traditional.” Just like one of the great “Rishonim,” he did not like the approach of casuistry and literal interpretation of the text. He would always delve deeply into the literal text at hand, until the underlying concept was explained, and clarified according the methods of the great among the “Rishonim,” and would come out bleached, like pure white wool. Not only once did it happen, that after several days, he would turn to me and say: “That which we had once talked about requires that we add an additional word, and only then will the entire issue become clear.”

He would emphasize and say: “Strive to work in the Torah,” and not to take the easy way out of the literal reading. I have met many scholars, who know how to pose difficult questions and formulate responses, and to throw “Rishonim” and “Akharonim” at you – as if to throw sand in your eyes. But all of this stems from their lack of understanding of the literal word. and he would then say: “The essential thing is that a person is forbidden to lie to and fool himself; it is not an accident if you leave a “sentence” or a “Halakha” into which you have not delved to the depth of its literal meaning – because it is not for you to finish the work.”

In order to portray the extent to which this great man would distance himself from “self-delusion,” I will tell what I heard from his mouth. He told me: “After my in-laws gave me the honor of leading a lesson in the Mishna study group in the old synagogue, on a daily basis after the morning prayers, I would expound on a chapter of the Mishna for them. I continued with this “exposition of the Mishna” over the course of a half year, but in the end, I stopped doing it. The reason for this, is the preparation of the exposition of the Mishna took most of the day from me, and not enough time remained for me to do my other lessons. Because of this, I decided to pass up the honor and not to continue with the study of the Mishna. And I remember his words in Yiddish: “Well, how is it possible to expound on the chapter of the Mishna without previously reading through the entire chapter of the Gemara with its commentaries? Doing this, took away most of the day, and no time remained for me to keep up with my agenda, and my other scheduled lessons. And for this reason, I gave up this honor, and stopped giving expositions of the Mishna.”

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Just as he had greatness, depth and conviction in his study of Torah, the same also held true for his piety. Especially, it was a marvel to see his devotion to his “prayer work.” Each and every prayer that he uttered during his long life, was a prayer of raising the soul, an elevated dialogue with his Maker, a delightful hymn. He would apply the full force of his concentration in the study of the Torah in the hour that he sat during the winter behind the oven (on the lozhanka) bent over the large Mishna volume, published by the Widow and brothers Ram in Vilna. Either that, or he would be standing at his window in the Bet HaMedrash, during the summer months, beside the “big clock,” where he would delve deeply into some deep and difficult concept, at which time he would completely forget about his surroundings, and was not aware of any other person standing in his general vicinity.

The same was true of his praying. At the hour when he stood to pray, his great and pure soul would literally seem to separate from his gaunt and weak body. He would then engage with the words of the prayer, adhering to them, letter by letter, and through them, he would connect with high and mysterious worlds, fly and ascend to the heavenly heights, and would connect with and cleave to the Maker of all Worlds, who had created then by the use of “speech,” “words” and “letters.” At that same time, R' Nachman would participate in the acts of creation that were renewed each day, at all times, and at every hour, as it is said, “who renews, in his goodness, every day and all the acts of creation.” This miracle did not occur with R' Nachman on the Days of Awe, a time when each and every one of the Jews strived to draw near to his Maker, and to beseech Him to forgive for what has gone on in the past, for a blessed and good year in the future. Rather, this was an ordinary daily occurrence, morning in and morning out, during which he would rise, and then speedily walk to the Bet HaMedrash. Each and every morning, when he would enter the Bet HaMedrash, he would stand by his “window,” wrap himself in his “Tallit,” and with a great and wondrous fervor, he would begin his prayer, as if this was a completely new prayer he was reciting, a prayer that he had never said, and had never heard before. After many years, at the time that I am writing these words in memory of this giant, I begin to understand and feel only the barest little part of how great this man was, the raging-soothing, angry-forgiving, lofty-simple [individual that he was]. Only very few privileged people throughout all the generations were gifted with possessing these conflicting powers, and our R' Nachman was one of them. I now stand far away in space and time, and wonder from whence did he draw such wondrous-mysterious powers? How was he able, during his long life, to return, day after day, to the same blessing, and to the same prayer? How was he able to reveal “Genesis”, new creations, and the discovery of the “Endless” and to return and return again, God Forbid, to the fact that “The End is in its Beginning?”

I feel that his greatness lay in his simplicity. He was simple in his learning. He was complete in his prayers, and he was simple and honest in his behavior. It was this simplicity that endowed him with all these lofty powers, these wonderful and noble ones. This simplicity of his brought him a complete harmony. His style of learning was simple – like the simple and clear words of God, without any twisting or turning. Every day, his prayers were simple, and yet new to him – like the growing of the grass, vegetables, the tree, fruit and grain, a new growth each and every day. His behavior had the simplicity of a creature that hastens to carry out the will of its Creator. He sat and studied Torah all the days of his life, because, in doing this, he felt he was connecting with the words of Him who gave the Torah, and participates in the renewal of the days to day “acts of Genesis.” With fidelity and simplicity, he would repeat each and every prayer each and every day, as if it was a fresh discovery, because in this, he felt that he connects to that world that grows and renews itself every day, with new and wonderful growth. His conduct was simple, loyal and modest, because he took his cue from the forces of nature: the sun appears and gives light each and every day, does its work with dedication and quietly, without aggrandizement. The moon and the stars come out regularly each and every night for their predictable voyage across the skies, to illuminate the darkness without complaint or

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demands. All the powerful natural forces align themselves with a precise , faithful and complete harmony, not showing any pride and asking no praise or thanks for it. So, therefore, why should he, a tiny mote of creation, that is a small spark in the creation that knows no end, not to also behave with simplicity, with faithfulness and modesty toward each and every human being?

This is the way this great man felt and thought, who graced our tiny shtetl. This simplicity of his, opened in him immense natural forces to be able to draw strength from all natural forces, to digest and admix them together, and from that to conjure a marvelous and delightful mixture. His dedication to his simple way in all areas, fashioned his lofty presence, and his wonderful personality into a completely harmonious unity in “Akhaddad”... that governed his behavior so thoroughly on a daily basis in his observance of “Akhaddad....”

* * *

And it was not only, in his spirit and in his ideas, that he was connected to and adhered with every fiber of his soul to the divine words that could be found in Torah writings, in the esoteric meaning of its letters, that illuminate and ennoble in every minute, mysteriously hidden worlds. Also in his deeds, he was careful to fulfil all of the commandments of the Torah, making no distinction and not separating “easy commandments” from “difficult commandments” – all embodied the same sanctity. He would say: “ If a person wants to be honest and complete in spirit and body, he needs to take care that his Torah be beside him at all times, whole, complete, [faithful to] its esoteric and mysterious intentions, to all of its details, and practical deeds. All of them, the commandments that are practical, and the commandments that are conceptual, all flow from the same pure fountain, and all flow and come from one Shepherd, and there is no separating or segregating between what is “difficult” and “easy,” all are outgrowths of “the simple unity” and it is not possible to discriminate among them. It is forbidden to divide them up. God Forbid, into “seconds” and “thirds...”

As he was always, with no surcease, given to delve deeply, research and explain, in the manner of the traditionalists, pursuing the hidden secret, and after its ulterior meaning of each and every commandment, so was he careful to comply with each Halakhic demand, as a “Commandment of Faith” whose meanings and mysteries are not given to us to apprehend – using the limited human intellectual capacities. I can recall cutting his hair, not only once, and he would hold onto his side locks with his hands, in order that they remain at their prescribed length not less than a handbreath. Eliyahu Szeszko, the son of R' David Aryeh HaKohen, that he once tailored a long black jacket for R' Nachman, who said to him: “The important thing, is you must be careful regarding two things: – A. The threads, so that you do not God Forbid, introduce Sha'atnez into the garment, and B. to round out one corner of the garment, so it will not be ritually required to put fringes on it.

It was in this way that R' Nachman loved and cherished all 613 commandments of the Torah, and he attempted to fulfil in his body and thought each and every commandment that is possible for us to fulfil in this day, without discriminating between those that were “difficult” and “easy.” It was with this same holy fervor of his, that he would carry out each and every commandment, whether he could with his enormous powers grasp its sense and secret, or whether the sense and secret of the commandment remained hidden “vanished” and “sealed” from the world for eternity.

Along with his painstaking care, in the performance of each commandment in all its detail and steps, his approach to the understanding of the lofty issues and the attainment of understanding of the Divine revelations of the “unfathomable” that renewed themselves daily in a regenerating creation, and manifested

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itself through a variety of different channels, was different. “In thought” he would say: Every person is obligated to try and attain, to the extent that it is within his capacity to apprehend, that which is “invisible and hidden” in what it is that envelopes and surrounds us. He must try to uncover and reveal, to whatever extent possible, that light which is hidden in the black letters on the surface of the white parchment. [To revels] the immense power, that is esoteric and eternal, that is revealed to us in the acts of creation that are performed before our eyes anew, each and every day. Only when you arrive at the point that is above your intellect and above your grasp, you are obligated to return to a simple and total faith, and it will serve you well. And he would also say: Know that the essence demands that you have faith in the Creator of heaven and earth, to be connected, pure and whole, but when it comes to thoughts, each person needs to be different from his fellow human being, because each individual is a world unto themselves. He is obligated, utilizing his own personal powers, to attain his own practical world, and in this way, he will be privileged to grasp some small, modest part of creation in its entirety.

* * *

He had a great love for all genuine literary creations, from the ancient writings up to the modern ones of his own day. He praised them and derived a great deal of pleasure from all of them. As can be seen from his words: All emerged from the twenty-two sacred letters of the alphabet, the invisible... and therefore, there is no differentiating between the “sacred” and the “profane,” all are derived, and flow from the same single pure source. The difference between them lies only in that the “first” were clear and revealed prophecies, while the “latter” are hidden visions of the category “he prophesied, but did not know what he prophesied.”

It was not only once, that I heard from his mouth, of his affection and praise for all human writing, whether it be printed or “handwritten,” that had not had the privilege of being printed. I remember one time, as we sat on a winter night on the lozhanka, R' Nachman took a letter out of his pocket, and said to me: Here, read this, and you will enjoy this “feuilleton” that my daughter Esther (Et'keh) wrote to me. He added: She is quite talents and, thank God, she knows how to wield a writer's pen. May God show her compassion, and that she be privileged to make her wisdom known in print, so that many may enjoy her pleasant and sweet words.

A number of times, I saw R' Chaim Noah Kamenetzky ז”ל go over to the long table that stood behind the lozhanka, and hand over Hebrew newspapers to R' Nachman that came from the Land of Israel. With a smile of a lucky father, he would say, “Read R' Nachman, the words of my son Issachar. I promise you that you will enjoy it very much. R' Nachman happily received the newspapers from the Land of Israel, and after several days, he would give the newspapers to me, in order to return them to R' Chaim Noah. At that same time he would say to me: “You too should read Issachar's stories, and you will see how wonderfully he writes.” Finally, he would add: “When did he learn to write that way?”

Together with his great and complete sense of justice, together with his awe for each and every syllable of the letters of the Torah, he did not give duty to any person who sought to disparage any Hebrew writer of our own generation. I stood, and listened to, a very interesting conversation between R' Nachman and R' Joel Baranchik, the son of R' Shimon Yankl Tsin'keh's, who permanently lived in Riga, but would, from time-totime come to Belica to visit his parents and members of his family. R' Joel was known in the religious world as an accomplished Torah scholar, and he was especially renown as a great disciple of the “Mussar” movement, being one of the outstanding student of R' Yoizl of Novogrudok. The conversation turned, and went over to the Hebrew writer Dr. Joseph Klausner. And then, R' Joel began to assault Dr. Joseph Klausner with very sharp words: “Klausner the atheist, the one who rejects all belief, the one who incites and perverts;

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with his writing, he has despoiled and misled hundreds of precious Torah scholars.” R' Nachman sat quietly as was his custom. Suddenly, he raised his heavy eyelids, and said, in the form of a question:“Where did you get all of this? Aren't you one of the fanatic men of “MussaR' for whom it is forbidden to you to read “outside books,” and it is clear to me, that you haven't read so much as a single word of Klausner's. And from whence do you arrogate the privilege of passing judgment against a fellow Jew that you don't even know, that he is a rejectionist, an inciter and perverter?” R' Joel began to defend himself, and said: “Is it not known that Klausner says, the Book of Psalms was not composed by King David himself.” At that point, R' Nachman began to smile in his own manner and said: “Ha, Ha, Ha; Klausner says, Klausner says, and if Klausner says this, the commentaries themselves say this.” He arose from his place, went over to the bookcase beside the large clock, and took down a commentary on “Song of Songs” and showed him: Here, the commentary says, “The Book of Psalms was spoken by David and ten elders.”

* * *

At the hour when the Hebrew University in Jerusalem opened, a terrible conflict broke out between the “religious” and the “freethinkers,” regarding the study of “biblical criticism” at the Hebrew University. It is understood that the religious faction were opposed to this type of study at the university. One day, I remember, I came to R' Nachman, and told him what was written in the newspapers regarding this great dispute that had erupted, and this was his sage observation: “Nu! And what do they want, these fanatics? That study for the university student should be conducted the way one teaches a young boy in Heder? And there are no emendations in Rashi...?”

I remember yet another incident that demonstrates the breadth of view of this great man. We were still young in age, among the “budding flowers of the Bet HaMedrash.” We became aware that the actress Ida Kaminska was appearing in a play in Lida on Saturday night, and having discussed this among ourselves, we decided to go on foot (God forbid, not to ride) on the Sabbath, to Lida. About ten of us young boys, from the coterie of the Bet HaMedrash proceeded to do this, and we saw Ida Kaminska and returned home without incident. First, the elders berated us regarding this terrible thing that we had done, but after a few days went by, the matter was forgotten, and life returned to its normal course. Once again, we sat in the Bet HaMedrash, and busied ourselves with the study of the Gemara as we had done previously.

However, when a few weeks went by, an incident occurred in town that reminded me of the burden of our deed, the walk that we had taken on the Sabbath to Lida.

R' Eliezer, the Ritual Slaughterer, traveled to Warsaw for the wedding of one of his daughters. Because R' Eliezer was the Torah reader in the synagogue, there was no one who was available to read the Torah on that Sabbath. My very dear friend, Michael Ratnowsky (who lives in Israel today) was among the young people in the Bet HaMedrash, and he had the skill to read from the Torah. Well, as is understandable, he was called upon to come up to the Bima and read the Torah. And here, one of the elders stood out, and began to grumble in a low voice, and afterwards raised his voice and said: “ A couple of weeks ago, he desecrated the Sabbath, by walking to Lida on the Sabbath, and now he is going to read Torah?!” A tumult arose in the synagogue, and my friend didn't know what to do – to go up to the Bima, or not to. At that hour, R' Nachman. as was his custom, was already standing, and leaning on the reading stand of R' Yaakov Beksht s”hv in order that he be able to hear each and every word during the reading of the Torah. He sensed the tumult, and raised his head to see what was going on. And when he heard the words of complaint from the mouth of the elder,

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he turned to him “vehemently” and said: “What? Are you too proceeding to pass judgment? Begone, you...” and he turned to Michael and said: “Go, go read.” Michael went up to the Bima, and read from the Torah, and from that day on, no one had the nerve to ever bring up our walk on the Sabbath to Lida. From this we can see the greatness and loftiness of this giant, who for all his days, sat behind the oven of the synagogue in our shtetl. This incident reminds me of several discussions I had with him on the subject of sin and transgression. He would always emphasize and say: You should know that no man had the right to exclude a Jew from the community of Jewry; even if he has sinned and committed a transgression, he belongs to the body of all Jewry – as in the words of Our Sages, of Blessed Memory, “He is a Jew, and despite the fact that he has sinned, nevertheless, he is a Jew.” And in Yiddish he would say: “Nu, so if someone does indeed transgress, does this mean that he no longer is a decent Jew?” God forbid!

** *

Did the people of this town recognize and appreciate this giant, who stood beside the last window on the northwest side of the Bet HaMedrash? No, very few indeed recognized what he was, and his greatness. Very few knew that among them could be found a man who stood “head and shoulders above them all.” All the people in the shtetl, men, women, and children, felt, in their lack of perception, that a wondrous, but strange persona was in their midst. In addition to being a great Torah scholar, he was equally skilled in secular matters. Righteous in his relationship to God, and dealing justly with his fellow man, was a work that occupied him for his entire life. He was complete in his integrity within his frail physique, his powerful spirit, and his pure and holy soul. Yes, everyone sensed this might oak that cast a shadow over them, and shielded them with its redolent and broad branches.

He was strange and different in his habits. He almost always went into a rage and became angry, even screaming. Because of this, most of the people in town thought he was a tyrant, as a person not at peace with the world around him. But only very few among an already small minority knew what a compassionate and forgiving man he really was. Several times, when I sat beside him in the Bet HaMedrash, suddenly, the door would open, and the sound of wailing would resound from the space beyond the door. Boys and girls would burst in with heartrending crying, running to the Holy Ark, coming to beg for mercy on behalf of their endangered father, or a dying mother. And when they would leave the Bet HaMedrash, R' Nachman the “Tyrant” would get up and go to his corner beside the bookcase, bow his head and begin to pour out his words before God with triple tears. With a genuine outpouring from his soul, he would pray for the well-being of the imperiled man or woman, and especially for the sake of the vulnerable children, that they not, God forbid, be left as abandoned and neglected orphans.

He was considered to be a person not at harmony with his surroundings. However, only the very few knew how much this man loved to talk about the life around him. He loved to tell stories of the past, both distant and closer, and he had a strong inclination to hear pleasant stories from others. From time to time, he loved to hear a witticism or a sharp joke, and even occasionally a drawn out one. And he was always ready to hear and enjoy a good and sharp joke when it was told.

In order to describe and show R' Nachman's זצ”ל greatness, I will present two additional sayings I heard from the mouth of this holy man: A. “You should know that if a person writes a book, and he cannot shadow what he has written, then his composition is no composition... B. Each and every person is obligated to follow the path that he is beating out, and not to follow in the footsteps of others. As the prophet says: “The ways of The Lord are true.” The prophet does not say “The way of The Lord is true,” rather that The ways of The Lord are true, and he emphasizes that there is not one perfect way for each and every individual, to

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attain the “infinite” the hidden and the esoteric. There are many and different ways, and every one has to follow the path suited to him, being that way that he is hewing according to his own capabilities. And he added: It would be laughable if a midget were to dress in the clothes of a giant...

I feel with all the sentiments of my soul, that these remarks of his, demonstrate more forcefully the wondrous feeling that dwelt and resided in the great soul of R' Nachman זצ”ל .

* * *

Under the Bridge – On a Fall Day

A number of years before he passed away, R' Nachman fainted suddenly in the middle of his prayers beside his “window” in the synagogue. He was brought to his home and laid in his bed, and immediately summoned the town physician. The doctor came, examined him and said: “You all can see that this man is dying, and there is nothing that can be done for him. His dying may take several hours, or a day at most, but for him to return to his [normal] strength, is impossible.” And so, R' Nachman lay in his bed, for the final minutes in this world. A candle burned on the table, as was the Jewish custom at a time like this, and beside his bed sat a member of his family, R' Yaakov Schmuckler (m”h Yankl Tsin'keh's) to witness the “giving up of the ghost.” R' Yaakov Schmuckler told afterwards: “Suddenly, in the middle of the night, my uncle awoke, opened his eyes, and looked at me with his large and penetrating eyes. I said to him: “Uncle, Nu? I signed to him by putting my hand to my mouth, meaning, whether he wanted a cup to drink; He answered in his usual fashion, Ho! Ho! I gave him a cup, and then a second one, and this revived him a bit, and he returned to his station. After this incident, and the doctor's “assessment,” he lived another six years. However, during these six years he was very weak, and he could not walk to the Bet HaMedrash, which was so beloved by him. He returned to his full spiritual health, but not to his [normal] physical strength.

For most of his last days, R' Nachman was bedridden. From time-to-time he would exert himself, get out of bed, and walk about hither and thither in the big dining room of his house. Occasionally, on a summer's day, he would go out on the porch, spread himself out on the porch bench, and look with his sharp and penetrating gaze at everyone coming and going by, in and out of the dreamy town that is undergoing change and is passing away along with him from this world... it would appear that he was able to sense with his powerful feeling, the coming of the Holocaust that was to destroy his shtetl, along with thousands of other Jewish towns, sacred communities that had lived full and faithful Jewish lives, pure congregations, that in their simple and honest lives, embodied the persona of the “Jewish grandfatheR' for generation upon generation. In the year 5740 (1940) after the Sukkot holiday, R' Nachman passed away זצ”ל .

His son, Moshe Noah, who lived in the town of Rakow, came to accompany his great father to his final

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resting place. Despite the fact that the Soviets, at that time, ruled White Russia, and it was not easy to publicly display religious-national sentiments, all of the townspeople gathered, from the old to the young, to escort R' Nachman to his final resting place. All of us felt that it was a great privilege, that R' Nachman passed away in his bed, as did the rest of the world, and was summoned to the Heavenly Yeshiva so that he eyes would not have to behold the destruction of his people, a destruction that could already be sensed in the outside world. I recollect the eulogy that our Rabbi, the Rabbi of the community, the Holy Rabbi Gaon R' Shabtai Fein, s'hv, offered. He dwelt on the sentence from Isaiah 57:1 – “ The righteous perish, and no one ponders it in his heart; devout men are taken away, and no one understands that the righteous are taken away to be spared from evil.” He said: “The Tzaddik, R' Nachman was summoned to the Heavenly Court, so that he would not have to witness the “evil” that we can hear descending on the nation of Israel.”

And it was in this manner, that the townspeople escorted their great son to eternal rest, with sweet feelings and sentiments of solace, felling of sorrow, and weariness. They took comfort in the fact that R' Nachman could be given the dignity of a Jewish burial, but were saddened in the knowledge that they – themselves – were not certain if they would enjoy that same privilege, when their time came – to be laid to rest with their ancestors – in a Jewish burial place...

During the Shiva mourning period, R' Moshe Noah assembled and organized the writings of his father, the Gaon.

After he arose from his mourning, he took this great legacy that his father had left him – a box full of a variety of handwritten items; in Halakha, Legends, Jewish thought, and even poetry, and returned with this precious treasure to his family in Rakow. Who knows, perhaps during the days of the Holocaust, R' Moshe Noah may have turned over his father's writings to a non-Jew, and after years and generations, perhaps the writings of this giant will yet be found.

In addition to all of the great, lofty and important things in which R' Nachman engaged, he also found the time to keep a diary. He kept a diary beginning in the days of his youth, to the end of his long life, without interruption. He would set down his thoughts with which he struggled, in order to reach the state of completion and integrity that he strove for, and in it, he also set down everything that happened to him, and every event that transpired in the town. At this hour, as I write these words, in order to support the publication of “Pinkas Belica,” to commemorate our devastated shtetl and in memory of our martyrs s”hv, that we are preparing to have printed in our Holy Land, I especially feel the absence of this “diary” of his. If we only had this “diary” today, we would not have to search and dig into unfamiliar sources, sometimes unreliable ones, to find references in other sources regarding the history of our town. If we had this “diary” we would have solid material for the publication of our “Pinkas” whose objective is to give us a complete, and living portrait of the ambiance of our shtetl, on all the types of its inhabitants, from the day it was established to the day that we left it.

At the hour in which I bring my writing to a close, I am convinced that I have written down and made visible only a small part of what it is possible, and necessary, to say about our R' Nachman. I brought up merely a small drop out of the ocean of the wisdom and righteousness of this great man, this one, who lived and worked among us in our shtetl, modestly and clandestinely, without the shadow of desire to derive any benefit from the publicizing of his greatness in the larger world.

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I give thanks, and offer praise to The Creator of Heaven and Earth, and gave me the privilege to be able to raise a memorial to my outstanding teacher, R' Nachman זצ”ל , who was one of the great men of the Jewish people to come along in any generation. And in so doing, to make a contribution to the memory of our devastated shtetl, and to the memory of its beloved martyrs הי”ד

Translator's footnotes:

1. Acronym for R' Yitzhak Ber Levinson, father of the literature of the Haskalah. Return
2. Perhaps referring to the Russian Jewish novelist Peretz Smolenskin. Return
3. Tolstoy's novel Return
4. The bench placed near the oven, to enable worshipers to keep warm Return

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A. Rabbi R' Yoss'li Belicer

From the elders of the shtetl, I heard about a great Rabbi, who was known throughout the Vilna area, by the name ‘R' Yoss'li Belicer,’ one of the first pupils of R' Chaim of Volozhin. R' Yoss'li was known as a Gaon in Torah and piety, and a devotee when it came to doing good deeds. He was particularly attentive in performing the commandment of tithing from his own income. It is understood, that his income, from as small a congregation as was in our town, was not great or substantial, but in spite of this, he would require that all members of his family declare and make known to him each and every penny they brought in, and if he became aware of any added income that came into his household, he would immediately set aside a tithe. He would distribute this ‘tithe’ among the poor of the town, in the form of ‘anonymous giving.’ He would do this with painstaking care, such that even his closest friends did not know to whom he had given his ‘tithe.’ He did all this out of his own great sense of propriety, so as not to embarrass, God forbid, those who have to receive charity.

This Gaon and righteous man, who concerned himself with all the issues of the town, lived his own life within confining limits, and in great need. He would content himself, during the days of the week with only dairy and vegetables. It was only on the Sabbath that he would deign to partake of meat, in honor of the Sabbath.

His residence was in a tiny house that was part of the old Bet HaMedrash (dos polish shtibl), where he lived with all the members of his family. He would spend most of the hours of the day in the Bet HaMedrash, involving himself in the pursuit of Torah study. In his day, our town was a center of Torah study. Thirty students, preparing for higher learning, sat in the old Bet HaMedrash, who came from towns both near and far, to study and learn torah from R' Yoss'li. Day and night, they would sit and sway over their large Gemara volumes, intoning sweet chants, and the sound of Torah learning never stopped within the walls of the Bet HaMedrash.

R' Yoss'li would personally look after the needs of his disciples. He would arrange lodging, and meals for them at the homes of the balebatim in his community. Every Jew who had a somewhat spacious abode, had the great honor of having a disciple from this group as a house guest, and to give meals for ‘days,’ as was the accepted custom of the times (every family would invite such a student for a set day to eat in their home). The younger students would go to eat in the houses of the town residents. However, the older ‘bachelors’ did not go to such houses to eat ‘days’ excepting on Sabbaths and Festival Holidays, because chaste women would bring them their meals in the Bet HaMedrash. It was in this manner that the necessary requirements were provided for these disciples, in order that they be able to dedicate themselves to Torah study, with peace of mind, and without any real world worries. As to the remaining small expenses, R' Yoss'li himself took care of these, and no one knew from whence he obtained the money for these expenses.

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After many years, R' Yoss'li left our congregation and went over to a larger one. He was accepted to occupy the rabbinical chair of the city of Krynki (Krynok) which was known as a large and important Jewish congregation.

We do not know many details about his life and his sacred work in the city of Krynki It is told that all of his charitable traits were revealed there as well, and there, he also especially looked after the indigent who were too ashamed to extend a hand to receive charity. And he always did this in a self-effacing way, anonymously, in order not to embarrass them.

And in Krynki too, he did not abandon his commitment to the dissemination of Torah study, and tens of young boys and men would stream to Krynki to study Torah with R' Yoss'li. While in Krynki, he developed a substantial reputation among Jewry, and he was known throughout the entire country as a Gaon and a righteous man, by his name, ‘R' Yoss'li Belicer.’

It was told in the town, that in his old age, R' Yoss'li left Krynki and returned to Belica, the reason being, it was said, that he loved Belica and its people, and he wanted to live out his last years in his first congregation, whose name (Belicer) he carried all the days of his life.

Upon his return, and in his old age, he fell ill with a paralysis and was unable to walk on his own legs. A wheel chair was made for him, and on it, he was transported each day from his house to the Bet HaMedrash, and back. When he was old, sick and confined to his wooden wheelchair, he called once to his near ones, and told them he wanted to marry a woman (it appears that his wife passed away before he did), and even designated the ‘blushing bride’ that he wanted. His near ones were astonished at his words, but they could not go against the will of their own rabbi who was so beloved and dear to them. They went and proposed the match to the ‘blushing bride,’ and she agreed to marry the aged and ill R' Yoss'li. A few days passed, and a wedding canopy was erected ‘at a good and auspicious hour,’ and R' Yoss'li sanctified the ‘blushing bride’ in accordances with the laws of Moses and Israel. With a modest smile, it was added that a year later, this ‘chaste young woman’ bor R' Yoss'li a male child.

Apart from his brilliance and righteousness, R' Yoss'li was also known as a ‘miracle worker.’ In connection with this, I hear from the elder R' Moshe Wolkowysky (Moshe Bezalel Leib's) the following story. When he [sic: R' Moshe] was a young boy, a great fire broke out in town, and nearly half of the Jewish houses were consumed in flames. All the men in town tried to extinguish the flames, but the matter did not work out that way. There was a danger that all of the Jewish houses would go up in flames. Suddenly, R' Yoss'li came to, and asked to be taken out to the place where the fire was. He was sat in his wheelchair, and he was brought to the point of danger. (R' Moshe used to tell that he was one of the boys who pushed R' Yoss'li's wheelchair to the location of the fire). R' Yoss'li spread out his hands towards the fire, mumbled a prayer, and the fire retreated from the houses of the Jews that remained, and went off in a different direction in the town. It was in this fashion that Jewish houses were saved by the action of R' Yoss'li the ‘miracle worker.’

R' Yoss'li lived and worked in our town for a span of about fifty to sixty years, approximately, from 1800 - 1850.

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B. Rabbi R' Noah Orlansky

Succeeding R' Yoss'li, in the rabbinical chair of our town, was his venerable student, R' Noah Orlansky, who honored and praised his teacher and served at his hand for many years. When R' Yoss'li left Belica, he asked of the townspeople that they nominate his dedicated student to fill his place. The townsfolk who honored and loved R' Yoss'li very much, fulfilled his wish, and accepted his student, R' Noah as the rabbi of the congregation. R' Noah occupied the rabbinical chair of our town to his last day.

R' Noah was born (c. 1825) in the village of Lozyany, close to our town. His parents were known in the area as honest, God-fearing people. they were charitable people, and excelled in extending their hospitality to guests. Every Jew that passed through the village found a place for lodging and food in their home. The peasants in the village also respected them, because they saw in them, Jews who were honest and straightforward.

The elders would tell: when R' Noah was studying during his youth at the Bet HaMedrash in Belica, he would rise each and every day, and walk on foot from the village of Lozyany to the shtetl, and before nightfall, he would return to the village to attend to his elderly parents, in order to discharge the commandment ‘honor thy father and thy mother.’ In the midst of his trip both there and back, he learned by heart the renown book ‘Chayei Adam’ written by the well-known Gaon R' Abraham Danzig.

R' Noah, as was his teacher, R' Yoss'li, was known as a formidable Torah scholar, and as a result he was famous throughout the area, and for his great sense of charity. People came on a daily basis from a variety of places, to seek advice from R' Noah, sometimes regarding the means to get out of a difficult situation, others coming to receive a ‘blessing,’ to get healing of their bodily ills. R' Noah would receive each and every person graciously, and with his insightful and pleasant words, he would create an influence on his guests, and each and every one of them would leave him in a state of tranquil spirit, and with the belief that everything will come out well, to the best.

I can recall that R' Nachman Szebszinsky would say: ‘R' Noah of Belica was as well known in his time as Israel Meir of Radun (The Chafetz Chaim) is today.’

R' Noah was a rabbi committed to each and every member of his community, and worried like a compassionate father about each and every individual in the shtetl, walking in the footsteps of his great teacher, and engaging himself in the dissemination of Torah. In his day, as well, there were more than ten ‘disciples’ in the old Bet HaMedrash, who were immersed in Torah study, day and night. R' Noah treated these student ‘disciples’ with great affection, and worried about each and every one of them the way a father worries about his own sons of tender age. Many of the students of R' Noah, who were among the attendees of the Belica Bet HaMedrash, afterwards went on to become famous Rabbis in large, and important, congregations in Jewry.

I heard from R' Nachman, that one of the ‘disciples,’ of the Belica Bet HaMedrash (a young man from the shtetl of Lubicz) afterwards became the Rabbi of the Jewish community in the well-known city of Suwalki.

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Regarding a second young man, named R' Gabriel, he would tell that he was thoroughly trained and expert in everything, a Torah genius, and also a great Maskil.

After R' Gabriel left the Belica Bet HaMedrash, he was the rabbi in a number of important congregations. He occupied the Rabbinical Chair in the Polish city of Siemiatycze, and afterwards was he was also appointed (as the Lubicz Youth) to be the Rabbi of the Suwalki community. After spending a number of years in Suwalki, he left Europe and went to America. In the United States, he lived in New York, and was one of the most important rabbis of greater New York, and one of the leaders of Orthodox Judaism in the United States as a Whole.

On the Banks of the Neman

On the ‘Old’ Bridge

On the ‘New’ Bridge

R' Noah put an ordinance in place, that each and every person in the town had to make a weekly charitable donation to the ‘book fund,’ and on every Friday, they would go from house to house to gather money for the ‘book fund.’ R' Noah guarded these funds personally, as if they were the apple of his eye. Every time a bookseller would come to town, he knew that he had an outstanding buyer here for his merchandise. Immediately as soon as the bookseller had arranged his wares on the long table of the Bet HaMedrash, R' Noah would approach the table, review the books, and buy books from him with the funds that he had at hand. This was the way he always behaved, and he would not leave so much as a penny behind in the ‘book fund’ that was in his pocket. To his last day, R' Nachman would, with a sacred trembling, watch over these books that he had received as a legacy from R' Noah, on behalf of the Bet HaMedrash.

I heard from the mouth of R' Reuven the Baker (Ruv'eh der Bekker) about the exorcism of a ‘spirit’ at the hands of R' Noah. He told that a woman was brought to R' Noah that had been possessed by a ‘Dybbuk’ and they beseeched him to drive out this spirit from the unfortunate woman. R' Noah gathered a minyan of important Jews, to assist him in the exorcism of the ‘Dybbuk’ and R' Reuven himself was among this quorum.

R' Noah ordered that the shofar be blown and he began to decree that the ‘spirit’ emerge from the woman. At first, the ‘spirit’ stubbornly refused, and nervily replied that he would not leave the woman. After a long conversation between the ‘spirit’ and R' Noah, the ‘Dybbuk’ agreed to exit the woman on the condition that he be permitted to exit by way of the throat. R' Noah did not agree to this condition, and decreed to the ‘spirit’ that it should leave by way of the pinky finger. After a long and difficult struggle, the ‘spirit’ gave into R' Noah, and left the way R' Noah had ordered him to. The elderly and feeble one would continue to tell that after the ‘spirit’ left the woman, all those gathered saw a drop of blood on the pinky finger of the

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woman, and she left Belica healthy, and whole both in body and spirit.

The elders of the town would recollect the names of the three sons of R' Noah, and they are: R' Leib; R' Yaakov-Meir; R' Chaim.

It was said of R' Yaakov-Meir that he was the most accomplished of the three. While his father was still alive, he was already the Rabbi of Jasiniowka, beside Bialystok. And there, he occupied the rabbinical chair all the days of his life.

Before he passed away, R' Noah asked of the balebatim, that they should fulfil his desire to install his eldest son, R' Leib in the rabbinical chair of the town. The people of the town, who held R' Noah in high esteem, fulfilled his wish, and installed R' Leib in the rabbinical chair of his father.

The third son, R' Chaim, was not a rabbi. He lived his entire life in Belica, and supported himself by teaching Gemara to talented pupils.

R' Leib was the Rabbi of the town for many years, and he distinguished himself in his great charity. In old age, when he felt that his memory was no longer serving him properly, he was afraid that ,God forbid, he might err in some matter of law, or a ‘question’ on which he was asked to rule and that he would incorrectly rule on Halakha. He decide not to continue as rabbi any longer, and publicized the fact that he wanted to sell off his ‘rabbinical franchise.’ When this became general known, a young Rabbi arrived – a pupil of the נצי”ב of Volozhin – a formidable Torah scholar^[1], and a marvelous orator, and purchased the chair from R' Leib. This young rabbi, afterwards, became our beloved Rabbi whom we held in high affection, the Rabbi Gaon R' Joseph Rudnick זצ”ל. He is described further on, his son R' Abraham Abir, and his prominent daughters, Tema, Sarah and Breineh, who are found in Israel.

Translator's footnote:

1. Rabbi Naphtali Zvi Judah Berlin (1816-1893) also known as Reb Hirsch Leib Berlin, commonly abbreviated as Netziv (lit. “pillar”) was Head of the Volozhin Yeshiva and author of several works of rabbinic literature in Lithuania Return

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