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The Map of Belica (1939)

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Rabbi R' Joel Baranchik with his grandson

He received the core of his education at the Yeshiva in Navahardok, being one of the outstanding and venerable pupils of the Gaon and Tzaddik, R' Joseph-Yoizl Hurwitz (his teacher saw in him a student-peer). He was an imposing figure of a man, tall and uniquely gifted: accomplished in Torah and Musar, a righteous man, dominating with fear of God, and deeply cognizant of real world issues; he was an outstanding explicator, and pearls would drip from his mouth, he had a reverent presence, and eyes that radiated wisdom; he was an man of honesty and good will, an accomplished leader of worship, with is pleasant voice and heartfelt intonations.

He developed a reputation in Yeshiva circles for being an inspirational speaker, and he was among the first of the speakers at the gatherings of the yeshivas of ‘Bet Joseph’ from its root in Novardok, and wherever he appeared he made a great impression. He dedicated himself, with all his ardor and will, to distant battles to return the hearts of sons to their fathers, and it was within his capacity to lecture on ‘Musar’ for three consecutive hours without flagging. With the magic of his lips, and with is words carved from tongues of flame, he held his listeners in thrall, and sometimes moved them to tears, and many returned to good ways by the effect of his hand.

During his youth, he was an overseer in the Yeshiva of Amcislaw, where the Gaon, Rabbi Elchanan Wasserman (The Holy One) served as the Headmaster. Under the direction and with the support of the great teachers of his generation, and his directors, the ‘Chafetz Chaim’ and Rabbi Chaim-Ozer Grodzhensky (May the memory of these righteous be for a blessing), he established a seminary of students in Grodno, and some time after this, he served as the spiritual leader of the Yeshiva at Kleck. Under the direction of his great teacher, Rabbi Joseph-Yoizl Hurwitz, along with the activists of the ‘Tze'irei Agudat Yisrael,’ he founded the gymnasium, ‘Torah v'Derekh Eretz’ in Riga, and served there as the Rabbi of the ‘Tze'irei Agudat Yisrael.’ He gave lessons at the Ulpan ‘Yagdil Torah,’ and at the Torah v'Derekh Eretz gymnasium, on a regular basis on Saturdays, and on festivals, and on the High Holy Days, he would speak before Tze'irei Agudat Yisrael to arouse them to Torah and the fear of God.

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He raised a generation of God-fearing people of integrity. And all of his students who heard his offerings, loved and respected him, just as Hasidim did their Rebbe. He was among the leaders of the conclave at the Yeshiva of Novardok, that took place on Friday – 11 Kislev 5690 [December 13, 1929] at the Yeshiva of Mezerich. One of his important speeches was publicized in the collection ‘Or HaMusar.’

The father-in-law of R' Joel Baranchik was R' Bezalel ben R' Dov Samrik, one of the first of the teachers in the ‘enlightened’ Heder in Riga, and one of the sainted members of the Yeshiva of Hebron.

Issachar Kamenetzky

The wound is entirely too fresh, to grasp the magnitude of the repercussions of the pain. It is still not possible to grasp and understand that a fact has been established thirty days ago, and it is necessary to get used to it, to accommodate one's self, and carry on forward. The matter is beyond comprehension and rationalization – emotion, the senses and everything about you, all of you are dedicated to a search that is not withing grasp, reaching for the one who has gone, whom you no longer perceive in the depths of your consciousness. The missing deceased person fills the ambience with his absence and with a dumbfounding silence, being orphaned shouts for veery wall and corner, that has served as an inseparable part of his precious presence, whose absence now you sense and inhale in all 248 extremities of your body.

Occasionally, in times of emotion, while secretly turning the pages of past correspondence – the heart tightens, and then expands with the love of the yearning emotion and from a number of odd , but meaningful words, that were sent from long distances to her husband, the mother, longing and expressing herself in the idiom of a foreign land. You ponder, and think to yourself, that you were privileged to hear from the beating of this great heart, ensconced within his warm breast. And you will say, he is not from among the ordinary people, he must be from a line of heroes, a cedar that will not cease to exist, who will not bow his head, who suckled from the love of humanity and his faith in it. His shadow influences in offering help, encouragement, and putting his shoulder to the task of public service. There is no personal stress, personal difficulty – was pushed aside in the face of important questions, endlessly -- the political situation in the country, the deterioration in the welfare of anonymous children, the war of independence in its full force, when he was

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ordered to stand aside with his hands tied. Where will the pain burst forth? Where is the pent-up personal cry? When will the self-restraint let go? – You will find this in the healing power of deeds, in work, encouragement, you will find it in educating and in giving direction, and in the carrying of one's head high, and in the glory of independence.

Occasionally, you will look for a recitation of shortcomings in others, but you will not find it. You will look for the casting of blame, and not find it. You find yourself alone, the one responsible for your own actions, and accept that judgement in its simple stark sense, as the least of evils. You find satisfaction in the minimal carrying out of the good, like a requirement. So this is the foundation, the foundation of character that accompanies you for the length of your days.

A man of the book, you think in your soul – how many words and how many conversations were had on the subject of whom and what to read.

You find his fundamental involvement and see how he hunches over the book of his books with his body, with his spouse, or in the company of neighbors and friends, those who are the lovers of the book, who come to warm themselves in the light of Torah – the Tanakh study group.

You see and sense that this is the best of his worlds, this is where he found himself, immersing himself in his own sea, in a fountain of wisdom, with which he is completely fluent, in which he can swim like a fish in water. And this is not simply happenstance, but rather just happens to be a fundamental trait, a basic trait, which reaches down to the foundation, to the main point, to the extract, and to the base. Thus can we say that he returned to the full exploitation of the essence on the source of sources, extracting and extracting, without slaking his thirst for the essence and the basis of his faith, upon which he finds himself, and his affinity for the nation and the heritage, upon which he builds his world - the book of books.

Not the spark on faith, and also no feelings about the traditions of his people, but rather in its simple literal sense as it sounds, a spark right to the essence, to the point of purity, to the untrammeled, to the primordial foundation, the language – the song – the prose – the lesson – the faith – the ideal, all these inflame his soul until you stand awestruck by the intensity of his faith, his power, his zealousness about the one thing that is never parted from him.

He comes from the little town of Belica in the Vilna vicinity. About forty years ago, he came to the town of Radaskovicy, which also was in that vicinity, as a teacher in the ‘Tarbut’ Hebrew School. With his arrival, an intellectual force was added to the school and to the entire town, in the direction of education and culture withing the school walls, and also by his association with the endeavors of the select of the area, in all of the many issues of the community, in every initiative and movement, Zionist and Halutz, to the expansion of the use of Hebrew, and of culture among the youth.

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In a few short years, he made aliyah, leaving behind him a well worked field, blessed in Torah and good deeds, and before him – the Promised Land, that enchanted every youth and adherent of the nation. And his initial steps in the Land were not easy. Several years went by before he was able to situate himself in a profession of his liking, direction, in serving as a teacher in evening classes for adults in Jerusalem. He even developed a course of his own in the instruction of adults, and published a textbook, called ‘Petakh’ that was distributed among his many students. His personal virtues and attitudes endeared him to all of those who knew him and were his friends, which he acquired over time. His approach – a straightforward and pleasant approach, his lofty methods, his intelligent knowledge of or national and cultural sources, his understanding and his readiness to participate in our national community activities – all in the end, brought him to a respected standing as the head of the journalism department of the Jewish Sokhnut in Jerusalem.

For fifteen years, literally to his last day, he performed his duties consistently with dedication and love – his own personal virtues – in his responsible position as the head of the press office; in good spirits, and one who derived satisfaction from a job that he adapted to himself, and also suited him, as a liaison between the public at-large and the Jewish Agency - with grace, taste and knowledge, to the satisfaction and high regard of all those who came in contact with him.

In his personal life, he stood out as a beloved man who was gracious to all about him., someone who had fundamental ideas of his own, about everything that was being done around him, following his own straight and sometimes bent line of his own, as a man of the labor movement, to which he had attached himself in youth, and in which he spent all of his life in the Land, educating the embers of his family in this spirit, and he had enormous satisfaction in seeing his son go off to be one of the founders of a kibbutz.

This good friend and companion has left us in an untimely fashion, whose inspiring smile looked out from his eyes, that have suddenly been closed forever.

From the days during which I worked with I. Kamenetzky ז”ל, a memory of honesty and purity remains in my heart, unbounded loyalty, and a boundless dedication of a man, who saw himself for his entire life as the servant of a movement. Never did he lose his sacred cognizance of the role that he was fulfilling – all of which was seen in modesty in the public domain.

These are rare qualities in our time, and for this reason, he was treasured by his friends and all who worked with him.

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I mourn our good friend and dear associate I. Kamenetzky ז”ל. He was not well-known generally, and did not seek satisfaction in the larger public domain, but it was rather sufficient for him to discharge his obligations with a faithfulness that knew no bounds or end. His achievement was to earn the allegiance of those who came in contact with him, through his works, which bore the stamp of a dedication through tranquility, balance, essential and spiritual, and attention to detail. When I would enter the building of international institutions – from time to time, I was seized with a wellspring of homey feeling and a sense of continuity. Consecutive, traditional and pertinent, and when I would see the face of I. Kamenetzky, as he was preparing things, or as he completed technical things – and everything in service of the general public, for most of the journalists. Who did not derive benefit from the better part of his attention! According to a saying, the best of the women is the one who is least known, since she is not mentioned – it is understood that this exceptional man of Musar, life and work, this saying very beautifully applies to our dear friend who is no longer with us. He was decidedly ‘not modern,’ because he didn't inflate himself, nor did he seek publicity or fame for himself, even within the system in which he worked – but rather in the raising of his work he attempted to achieve harmony with whom he served. And so, as an example to the public services, and those whom he served, he remains always standing before my eyes. With modesty and affection, as befits him, according to his character, I will honor his memory.

He was taken from us without warning, while still full of energy and a desire to work. It appears to me that he never had the time to think about himself, because his work always waited for him, and he did it with a loyalty into which he invested his entire energy.

He worked in the Public Relations Department of the Jewish Sokhnut, and held a responsible position there. In the course of his work, he would frequently come in contact with international representatives of Zionism both in the Land and in the Diaspora. Accordingly, he served as a liaison between the Jewish Sokhnutand the leader in the world of journalism, and to them, he would bring the message of the Sokhnutand Zionism. Accordingly, the elements of this undertaking fit well with the character of Issachar who while still a youth, had immersed himself in it while in his parents' home, in Belica, that being the concepts of the Zionist movement, and the national rebirth, the love of the Land of Israel, and the Hebrew language.

He learned the Hebrew language from his father, Chaim-Noah ז”ל, who was a teacher in Belica – a rare education at that time – along with Mishna and Gemara. And when he went out to work for a living, he too, became a teacher of Jewish children in the towns of Byelorussia.

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At the beginning of the decade of the twenties, he made aliyah to the Land of Israel, with the Halutz aliyah, and lived for a number of years in Hadera. After this, he moved to Jerusalem. In the eveni8ng hours, he would teach Hebrew to the newly arrived immigrants, and in this connection even published a textbook that he wrote himself.

His first years in The Land were difficult. These were years of want, of pogroms, and of a struggle for existence. However, a love of the Land of Israel, coupled with a faith in the redemption of the Jewish people, which totally suffused him, gave him the strength to overcome these tribulations. And among others, weak in faith, lacking in character, who would leave the Land, he would bore into them, and infuse in the hearts of others a hope for the resurrection of Israel.

After the Holocaust, the remaining Jews from Belica began to gather in The Land. A well-defined number of people from Belica had already been living here from the period even before The Second World War – they had arrived as Halutzim. Most of us had relatives here. From the part of Issachar and his family, it was natural to host those remnants of the families of ours, in his house, and he supported us until we were able to get a home of our own.

In the first weeks already, we began to think about a meeting of Belica émigrés, and because of the effort of a number of comrades, with Issachar at their head, the first meeting took place in Hadera, where the largest concentration of people from Belica was located. This meeting, and at the other annual meetings, dedicated to the memory of the martyrs of our shtetl, the idea crystallized about a book as a permanent memorial to their memory.

Despite all of his many other responsibilities, Issachar assumed the role of assembling the content, editing it, and organizing the book itself. To this end, Issachar invested a great deal of thought, and dedicated a great deal of his time to working over the raw material, that was written by all of our friends, and even had gotten to the point of having set the chapter headings for this book.

From 1954 onwards, my home was located in the Karit-HaYovayl neighborhood of Jerusalem, near Issachar's house. And apart from being relatives, we were good friends, and not only once did I benefit from his good advice and his wise counsel.

At different opportunities we raised the subject of this book, getting on with assembling the content, its editing and arrangement. And here, when the matter was finally beginning to take shape, and the publication of the book was almost a fact, suddenly Issachar was taken from us, and he was not privileged to see this book appear in his lifetime.

We are diminished by losing him, and we will not forget him.

B. Krasnoselsky

After the war, he went off to Poland, were he married anew, and began to raise a family. Later on, he made aliyah to the Land of Israel, settling in Kfar-Saba, and started to settle in anew. Death, however, suddenly tore him away. תנצב”ה

Israel Zlocowsky

Israel Zlocowsky speaks on behalf of Keren Kayemet L'Israel at a Meeting of Survivors in Austria

While yet a young man, he had given himself over in our shtetl to community work, with loyalty. He sunk his energy and strength into all the institutions of the community in the shtetl, and he was especially active as the head of the fire brigade – and in this way, maintained vigilance over the meager assets of the townsfolk.

He stood out for his sacred endeavors during the days of the Holocaust. Even in those dark days, he would concern himself with his acquaintances and friends, and all of his needy brethren. With is warm heart, and his profuse love for all humanity – he worried for the weak, so they not suffer from hard labor, a lack of clothing - to assure they were dressed and covered, to the ravages of hunger == to feed them bread. Not only once, did he put his own life in danger in order to help others, to rescue them from the unclean hands of the murderers of our people of all types.

When the decree against the Jews of the town arrived, that they must leave it, he and his family did not leave

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until he had arranged for wagons to convey those families that had remained after the incineration of the houses, who had no roof over their heads first, and the means for them to sustain themselves. He left the shtetl last, and went with his family to the ghetto in Scucyn. There too, he dedicated himself to community efforts, looking for, and finding ways to ease the distress of his brethren. He was one of the founders of the ‘community kitchen’ for those who were left without anything, and concerned himself with assuring that no person in the ghetto would go hungry.

When it became evident that there was not a shred of hope to remain alive in the ghettoes, he slipped out of the hands of the Nazis with his family, and fled to the partisans in the forest on the banks of the Neman. In these forests too, he was active in the affairs of the group, and sought both ideas and means by which he could protect the remnants in the forest, so they would have the strength to withstand the tribulations until the liberation from the Nazis would arrive. And, even after the liberation, we saw him engage in activity in all aspects of life that was beginning to re-form anew among the survivors of the Holocaust, in our shtetl, and its surroundings. He did not rest, nor did he remain silent until the remains of the Jews who were murdered in the forests, fields and roads, were brought to a proper Jewish burial. And when the survivors of the Holocaust began to leave the places where they had lived, he also took up the wanderer's staff, in hand, and went with his family to Poland. From there, he continued his peregrinations, in the clandestine routes that led to Austria, and reached the D.P. camp at Bindramichal adjacent to Linz. Here again, he was among the first to engage in community work, and invested his entire energy to organize the life of the survivors on their way to their historic homeland. And so he became a way station for every transient, and for everyone who required help and support, to familiar and unfamiliar people alike.

In Austria, he was one of the founders of the פח”ח organization (Partisans – Soldiers – Halutzim) and the spirit of life in the center of the organization. He was active in the same way in the Zionist Federation, in leading the KK”L, and all the community Zionist institutions that conducted activity withing the survivor community.

In Israel too, he stood out for his community activism, in his place of domicile in Netanya, and accordingly became the very first in all community endeavors of the organization of the émigrés of Belica in Israel. He gave of his time and energy, his heart and soul, and his entire capacity, in order to see the publication of Pinkas Belica, but was not privileged to see it appear. His name and memory will be preserved in our midst as a blessing, together with the names and memories of all those pure and holy souls to whom this memorial book is dedicated.

Israel Zlocowsky, his wife Taib'eh, daughter Chaya and son, Schraga (Fyvel) Beside the Memorial Slab, in Memory of the Jewish Martyrs in the Ebensee Concentration Camp (Austria)

From the left: Israel Zlocowsky and wife, Shmuel Shimonowicz and wife – Two surviving Belica Families during a meeting in Austria (1948)

He was not only my father – he was a father to hundreds and thousands of Jews: in his hometown of Belica, and after that, in the ghettoes of Scucyn and Lida, later on in the forests with the partisans, and even later than that, in the D.P. camps of Austria, and in the end – in the final location of his life, Netanya. Hundreds of local residents and tens of friends and acquaintances from all over the country – accompanied him on his last journey, came to the thirty day commemoration, at his fresh grave site, and to the memorial service in the synagogue named for those who rose up in the ghettoes and were partisan fighters, which he built with his great force and energy, and considered his greatest pride of the last years of his life.

From the moment that I began to walk as a child, I followed, and ran after, my father until the last moment of his life. But it was only here, in Israel, did it really penetrate and did I understand the greatness of his soul as a father, a Jew and a mensch. Because, it was only here in Israel, that I achieved the maturity, and the level of comprehension, to assess a person and his accomplishments and it was in this way that my father's entire life's experience was laid out for me anew in its full force and color. I discovered in him not only Jewish creativity and human heroism, but I also saw before me a father who was a jewel – a teacher and an educator, a comrade and friend. The essential thread of his character – a heartfelt simplicity – the leitmotiv in his relationship with all people – enchanted me as well, his youngest son.

It is in this way, that I will always carry him in my heart and soul – my father.

Zalman Yosselewicz Magnified and Sanctified be the Name of the Lord

My father and mentor was privileged to depart this world at a ripe old age, almost attaining fourscore years.

The center of his life was led in a period of much upheaval in the affairs of nations, and was woven into the whirlwind of the great Holocaust that befell the Jewish people. Despite this, he was privileged to see the rebirth of the nation in our renewed country in the Land of Israel, and he was enveloped in the first waves of the aliyah of survivors – he and his two sons, the sole survivors of a multi-branched family that was exterminated in the Holocaust.

He was born in Belica in the year 1889, to his parents, Abraham and Zelda, who earned a living baking bread, and engaged in the grain trade (his parents' home was in the center of the marketplace). From childhood on, he began a path that rooted him into the life of the shtetl, and for his entire life, he was like an inseparable part of it, every aspect of his life reflected the life of the shtetl itself, and its people of the past century.

As a youth, he studied in Heder, and afterwards, he joined with the group of young people who followed the principles of socialism of that era. When news of the Zionist movement reached Belica, my father followed R' Chaim-Noah Kamenetzky, who was the head of the Zionists, but my father also continued with his allegiance to the socialists that fought against the oppressive police of Czar Nicholas [II].

About a year before the First World War, he was drafted into the Czarist army, and returned home after surviving the tribulations of the war. He found the shtetl disrupted and impoverished, after all the changes that had befallen it, under the rule of the captors, the Russians, Germans, Bolsheviks, and the ‘first’ Poles, all of whom extorted the Jewish residents. With the entry of the Poles into the town, in the absence of a permanent authority, bandits fell upon the Jews in the town and they murderers four men. They entered my father's home and demanded 10,000 rubles, as ransom for his life. After finding that such a sum was not available, they took my grandfather out, R' Abraham, and made ready to murder him. However, my father, Zalman, offered his life in place of his father's, grabbing the end of the rifle in the hands of one of the bandits, and in this way, caused him to retreat. This incident remained deeply etched in the soul of my father

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for all of his life, and he would return and re-tell the incident to his children, his friends, many times.

In the year 1922, he married, and devoted himself to the establishment of a family. His living lay in the ownership of a small pharmacy, and after than in an ironmongery. There were three sons and one daughter in our family, and my father did everything in his power to give all of them the best possible education. He gave of his own personal energy and time to our education, being active in the establishment of the Hebrew School and afterwards in assuring that the required funds would be raised to pay the teachers and secure the school.

He was also an active member of the management committee of the Jewish bank, and a officer of the local municipality, and devoted himself to developing instances of support in the midst of the Jewish populace. Because of his integrity and desire to help the public, he was well-received and respected both in the eyes of the Jews of the town, and also in the eyes of the Christians of the entire area. They would come to ask for his advice and help, especially in instances where there was illness involved.

When Belica was included in the area under Soviet control (September 1939), and he was compelled to find other means of making a living, my father did not find a place in the new order of things. His pharmacy ceased operation, and all of his medicaments were taken away from him, and after the remainder of his wares were sold off, from the ironmongery – his source of income dried up entirely.

In June 1941, when the Nazis penetrated into Belica, my father's home was also torched and burned down. His experience during the years of the Holocaust were not materially different from that of the other remaining families in Belica. After the expulsion to the ghetto in Zhetl, and the two slaughters that took place there, my father and two of his sons were left alive, who after many wanderings, reached, as was said, The Land, on the waves of the first aliyah after the establishment of the State of Israel.

Here, my father lived with his sons, who settled down into work and raised families. Towards the end of his life, he derived a great deal of nachas from his sons and five grandchildren – a recompense for what he suffered during the Holocaust period. Here, he also dedicated a lot of his time to the writing of his memoirs about Belica, whose people and history, from the end of the previous century onwards were well remembered by him. This material is largely presented in this book that we have before us.

My father was an observant man for his entire life, and therefore, he felt privileged in seeing The Land built up, and Jerusalem liberated and united. When he fell ill on the eve of Rosh Hashanah 5728, I traveled with him to pray at the Wailing Wall, and his reaction to this at the time was very emotional and moving.

On 28 Heshvan 5728 he passed away.

His name and memory will remain guarded by his issue and among all those who knew him, and his friends, the émigrés from Belica – in sorrow and deep affection.

Holy brother, I hear your voice, I do not know if from the hill or vale, I sense the echo all about, over all From the heavens, deeply, I sense its impact. And suddenly in a distressed hour I detect your breath certain and clear. You ask: ‘My brother, are you here?’ I feel the tremor of the reverberation on reality. And with great simplicity, you speak further: ‘My brother, I will relate and share’ How I took account of myself Minutes before I needed to expire. Remember we heard three shots: All of you scampered off like rabbits But only I remained alone Why? I do not understand to this day. Confidently I approached them Thinking, that I will encounter my own along the roads The smile of a representative met me Sensed it all, ended, not a step further… They took of my jacket, Removed the pistols from my belt, Tore off the boots from my feet,

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Turned and bent my arms behind me. They began to torture me murderously, beating, Demanding to be told and shown where my brethren sit, But I was stronger than them, Smiled at their satanic shouting. Dog's blood began to boil Feral wildness, as if insane, Foam began to drool from their lips like serpents, A hail of staves broke my body. In pain I bit my lips, Gritted my teeth and locked my mouth, Smile with a serpentine grimace, Laughed at their staves, joked about their bullets. Then I felt, and embraced The shiver of trampled grass, The shiver of an autumn evening's twig, The fever of a leaf in the grave. The shame of bent-over trees, The wail of cut off roots, The sigh of roiling pools, lapping waves, The groan of the twinkling stars, dying flames, Mutterings from the dumb, dark earth, A silent prayer from the tearful heavens, The sorrow of the lowing, the congealed Moo, Moo, Of a cow being led to slaughter. And the brush of the wind, That constantly wept

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Blew, shook and whistled, Carried its expressed reply Like a child weeping without cause. Do you want to know, grasp, understand? It is futile, too young, too young! Here, my brother, this I will tell you So that you apprehend and understand. And I then lay still They? – They left ashamed. And in this way I was victorious On their road of victory… A holy brother, your trembling is everywhere, overall, From the deep heavens, I take your meaning.

Eve of Rosh Hashana 5706

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