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(may his righteous memory be for a blessing),
with his grandson Mordechai (Motele), and a friend
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[Page 54]
by Henech Berman
Translated by Yael Chaver
The reminiscences I am contributing to this book are limited, due to the time that has elapsed. As I left Horodlo as early as 1923, during those years I have forgotten many things and events concerning the town. I will try to present memories connected with events and people, in order to supplement the descriptions of the town and its residents.
The small town of Horodlo, on the western bank of the Bug River – the natural boundary line between Poland and Volhynia Province (the easternmost part of Poland) – was no different in its character and substance from other Polish towns. Like every other Jewish community in Poland, that of Horodlo consisted mostly of Orthodox Jews.
Most of the Horodlo Jews, headed by the town rabbi, my father (may his righteous memory be for a blessing), Rabbi Moshe Yehuda Leyb Berman, and the two ritual slaughterers, were adherents of the Hasidic leader of Radzin (may his righteous memory be for a blessing). However, some Jews were considered members of other Hasidic dynasties, such as those of Ger, Belz, etc.[1]
Although the Jewish community of Horodlo was small, it was renowned throughout the towns in Poland, thanks to its great rabbi, my father (may his righteous memory be for a blessing), who was famous for his piety and his knowledge of the Torah. He instructed his community devotedly for many years, accompanied his community constantly up to their final journey, and was murdered together with the community and his family, in the crematoriums of Sobibor.[2] I survived, as did my brother
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Chaim, who had by a miracle gone to the United States shortly before the war and thus escaped the fate of the Horodlo Jews and the destiny of murder that decimated our family.
We set the 25th of Sivan as the date for memorializing our martyred family members.[3] They are the following:
The Rabbi's wife Rivka – the second wife of my father (may his righteous memory be for a blessing)–who was descended from pious people, including her grandfather Moshe Kobrin (may his righteous memory be for a blessing).
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| The Rabbi of Horodlo (may his righteous memory be for a blessing), with his grandson Mordechai (Motele), and a friend |
My brother Shmuel and his family, may their memory be for a blessing. My sister Freydl and her husband, Rabbi Mordechai, descended from martyrs (may his memory be for a blessing), son of the Rabbi of Yaroslavl. My brother-in-law, Rabbi Naftali, studied with my father (may his righteous memory be for a blessing), and was de facto Rabbi of Horodlo during the last years before the catastrophe. My sister-in-law, Bracha, the wife of my brother Chaim, was the daughter of the Rabbi of Malyniv.
My father (may his righteous memory be for a blessing), the Rabbi of Horodlo – as he was known throughout the Polish rabbinical world – was recognized as one of the most
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eminent scholars in Poland. He wrote important books of Jewish religious law; great rabbis turned to him with questions and responsa, and trusted his religious decisions as they would a final authority.
His first book, Tiferet Banim, was printed in 1905. I possess a trove of his manuscripts, which he sent me through my brother Chaim (now a ritual slaughterer in New York).[4]
My father (may his righteous memory be for a blessing) obtained his first rabbinical position at the young age of 19. He did not come from a family of rabbis. He inherited the position from his father-in-law – my grandfather – Rabbi Yosef Gelernter (may his righteous memory be for a blessing), who was the rabbi and head of the rabbinical court in Hrubieszow. He was the father-in-law of the Hasidic leader of Radzin, the author of Orchot Chaim, Rabbi Gershon Henech Leiner (may his righteous memory be for a blessing), who discovered the source of the tekhelet.[5] He was a great scholar, and the author of significant works of scholarship that were renowned throughout the world of religious learning.
My mother (may her memory be for a blessing), Sarah-Gitl the Rabbi's wife, died in full bloom, at age 38, when I was 3 years old. She was a respected woman, famous for her acts of charity as well as for her friendly relationships with people beyond Horodlo.
After I had studied several years with my father, he sent me to the yeshiva of the great sage, the Chofets Chaim, in Radin.[6] As a yeshiva student, I dressed like Lithuanian Jews, in shorter garments (unlike the long clothing of Polish Jews). They wore fedora-style hats rather than the caps usually worn by Polish Jews. Many of them also trimmed their beards. When I was in Radin, I, too, trimmed my beard, and exchanged my clothes for those worn by Lithuanian Jews – European style. When I returned home in 1915, wearing my Lithuanian outfit, the residents of Horodlo were shocked and looked at me angrily. I think I was the only Jewish young man in the town with short clothing and a non-Hasidic appearance.
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Incidentally, I wore Hasidic garb on Shabbat and holidays; I was afraid I'd be thrown out of the synagogue because of my Lithuanian appearance.
Most of my father's livelihood derived from litigation in the rabbinical court. Besides the Horodlo Jews, who addressed him with their problems, Jews from the entire area brought him their issues. More than once, representatives of the surrounding Jewish communities came asking him to hear their cases and issue rabbinical rulings. Jewish communities would also invite him to arbitrate some important matter and issue a rabbinical ruling. More than once, property-owners protested against the Rabbi's acceptance of such invitations, which required him to be absent from Horodlo, albeit for brief periods.
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his wife Bracha (may God avenge her blood), and his brother Shmuel (may God avenge his blood |
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The rulings of my father (may his righteous memory be for a blessing) became famous throughout the region, and even secular judges took them into account. I would like to recount an episode in this connection:
At that time, Jews did not file suits in the government courts, but brought their disputes before the town rabbi. Only rarely did the losing party seek “justice” in the official courts.
Once, a Jew was found guilty by my father's religious tribunal, and demanded a new trial in the district court of Hrubieszow. The judge there was a Russian named Lashkevitch. During the trial, the judge wanted to know the verdict of the rabbi of Horodlo, and asked to have it translated. When he received the Russian translation of the verdict, he first came to his feet and read it with reverence. Than he turned to the Jew standing before him and scolded him for rejecting the verdict of the Horodlo rabbi “whose common sense transcended all the civil written laws.” This judge, of course, confirmed the verdict handed down by my father (may his righteous memory be for a blessing). The judge's words made a great impression on the Jews in the area. But when my father, the rabbi, heard the judge's words, he laughed the matter off: “A Gentile, even if he is a judge, considers every rabbi a scholar…”
At the time, Czarist Russia controlled large parts of Poland, including Horodlo. Russian law required the town rabbi to know Russian. If a local rabbi did not know Russian, the authorities would appoint a supplementary rabbi who knew Russian. Such a rabbi would be termed “Official Rabbi” – in other words, government-appointed. The residents gave him the title of “Rabbiner.” Naturally, the government was none too particular concerning the spiritual qualities and scholarly knowledge of the rabbi it had appointed.
In Horodlo, too, the authorities appointed an “Official Rabbi,”
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“Rabbiner Mandel,” from the nearby town of Dubienka. The influential people of Horodlo wanted my father (may his righteous memory be for a blessing) to learn Russian, so that he might be appointed “Official Rabbi” in addition to being the legally acknowledged rabbi of the Horodlo community. A meeting of the town's homeowners was convened at our house on this matter. The participants were Shmuel Biderman, Aharon-Chaim Feder, Yisro'el Safir, Hershl Grosburd, Dovid Bergman, Moyshe Mendl Vallach, Fishl Stav, Dovid Yosef Zuberman, Elazar Halperin, Aharon Leyb, Moyshe Fraynd (the last two were members of the city council), and other homeowners. My father (may his righteous memory be for a blessing) agreed that learning Russian was necessary, and he sent me to Lashkevitch the teacher (who was later appointed a district judge in Hrubieszow) to set a schedule. Shortly after he began these studies, my father sent me to Lashkevich to announce that the lessons would be discontinued. At one of the weekly Saturday night gatherings at our house, where town matters would be discussed, the rabbi was asked about his chances of becoming the Rabbiner, and whether he was studying Russian in preparation. The rabbi's response was that he had decided to stop his Russian studies, because “if I would put as much effort into studying Torah (not to mention them in the same breath) as into studying Russian, I would be a world-renowned genius. I therefore renounce my position and resign as ‘Official Rabbi.’”
I would also like to mention the wife of the previous rabbi – my maternal grandmother, Fradl (may her memory be for a blessing). She came from Slavuta, and was a descendant of the renowned Shapiro family and a grandchild of Rabbi Pinkhes Koretser (may his righteous memory be for a blessing). People in the town said that my grandmother Fradl had a document tracing her family's lineage back to King David. When my father (may his righteous memory be for a blessing) inherited the rabbinical position from my grandfather, Rabbi Yekutiel (may his righteous memory be for a blessing), my father's father-in-law (incidentally, he was the thirty-sixth rabbi in
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the chain of fathers and sons in this role) undertook the support of Grandmother Fradl (may her memory be for a blessing) in the weekly sum of two rubles.
Grandmother Fradl, the rabbi's wife, later lived with her daughter Zissele (my aunt), the wife of Leybl Zavidovich (who was nicknamed “the Rabbi's Leybl”), and died before the beginning of World War I, at age 84.
My Aunt Zissele (may her memory be for a blessing)
My Aunt Zissele was a righteous, highly respected woman. She never failed to pray three times a day, and knew the prayers by heart. She was well versed in religious law, and famous for her refinement. He appearance was elegant and respectable; the town residents held her in high regard.
When World War II broke out, she was able to cross the Bug River (the temporary border between Germany and Russia) and
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| Zissele Zavidovich (Zissele the Rabbi's daughter), her son Yosef Zavidovich, with wife and children, and her sons Fishl and Mordechai Zavidovich (may God avenge their blood) |
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was reunited with the families of her son Yosef Zavidovich and her daughter Malke, who lived in Ludmir. She was also joined by her daughter Khane, son-in-law Moyshe Tenenboym, and children, as well as by her son-in-law Note Perlmuter (currently in Montreal, Canada, with his daughter Fradl and her family). But the bitter fate of the Jews of Poland followed her to Ludmir, where she was captured by the Germans (may their name be blotted out). It was her terrible fate to witness the murder of her sons and daughters, as well as her numerous grandchildren by the German killers (may their name be blotted out). She was eventually slaughtered along with the Jews of Ludmir.
The Great Synagogue, the House of Study, the Prayer Houses
The Great Synagogue, with its massive walls and high, vaulted windows, was strong and solidly built. Its foundations were thick and its walls were constructed of large stones. It was the tallest building in town, and was located on a central square in front of the marketplace. The congregation of the Great Synagogue consisted mostly of ordinary Jews, laborers and artisans, headed by the town rabbi. The regular cantor for holidays was Kalmen Nayman (may his memory be for a blessing), whose sweet voice made the hearts of the listeners tremble. The synagogue's manager was Zelik, known as Avrom-Aharon's son (may his memory be for a blessing) Adjoining the prayer hall, a small synagogue existed in the anteroom, where some artisans prayed; this was managed by Fayvl Sher. A similar small synagogue (shtibl) was active in one of the synagogue's rooms; the congregation consisted of the Radzin Hasids[7] and its members were scholars, Hasids, and homeowners. It was also used by the House of Study ‘regulars’. During the afternoon service of the High Holidays, my uncle Leybl Zavidovich (may his memory be for a blessing) led the prayers, and his son Levi-Yitzchak performed the Torah readings. The House of Study was nearby, not far from the synagogue. Those who used it came from all the town's circles: homeowners, scholars, artisans, etc.
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| Standing: Rabbi Chaim Berman (long may he live) Seated, from right: Mordechai Zavidovich (may God avenge his blood), Hershl Groysbord (may God avenge his blood) |
There were two regular sextons in Horodlo: Mordechai (known as Moti), and Moshe Vortsl. Besides his community duties, Moshe Vortsl was occupied with his trade: laying shingles on roofs. Yet he was very poor, and barely made a living.
Horodlo also had a town elder, appointed by the authorities (the town magistrate); this was Chaim Hersh Vayntroyb, who was also the town's watchman. None could compare with Chaim Hersh, when he wore his official government chain with its image of the Polish eagle at the edge, as a symbol of his “elevated position”…
Miriam, Chaim-Hersh's wife, also had a public position as the supervisor of the ritual bath. Yet, with all these positions, Chaim-Hersh was poor, and always sought money to celebrate Shabbat. He was an ordinary, God-fearing Jew. In his favor, I can say that
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throughout the years when I rose very early in order to go to the House of Study, Chaim-Hersh was the only person who preceded me. I would see him in a corner, chanting Psalms with all his heart.[8]
Three Jews were notable among the Jews of Horodlo. They were characteristic types. They made a living by drawing water from the town well and carrying it in two buckets to people's homes. These were Volf (or, as he was known, “Volvenyu”) Kapel, who was also the town's gravedigger (may God preserve us), and Dvoyre, who also earned a living for a time as a water-carrier.
It's important to remember that at that time, the small towns
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| Kapele the water-carrier; left, Fishl Shek |
[Page 65]
of Poland had never heard of water pipes and faucets. Water had to be carried in buckets from the city wells. In the early morning hours of summer and winter alike, we could hear the confident strides of the water carriers echo throughout the marketplace, the yoke across their shoulders bearing two full buckets of water. The carriers would empty these into the water barrels in the Jewish households. They would then return to the well and fill their buckets once again. It was an arduous occupation that required hard physical labor, and they carried it out with responsibility and devotion.
There were also two well-known woodchoppers in the town. These were the brothers Zalmen and Berl Holts.[9] In addition to chopping wood, they worked and did various menial tasks for the Jewish households of Horodlo.
Most of the Jews in town were either tradesmen or storekeepers. They could be divided into two general classes: artisans, and middle-class. There were no rich Jews in Horodlo, except for two who were considered relatively wealthy. These were Hershl Grosburd (a family friend) and Aharon Berger. The latter had two sons, Pinkhes and Nokhem. As a rich person, Aharon made efforts to marry them to brides from important families. His son Nokhem was married to Sarah Gitl, the daughter of the Rabbi of Ciechocinek (may her memory be for a blessing). Yisroel Shafir also married into the family of the Rabbi of Ciechocinek (may his memory be for a blessing).
Rabbi Ya'akov Chesner, the Shochet (Ritual Slaughterer)
The ritual slaughterer, Rabbi Ya'akov Chesner, was a holy, first-rate person. He was naïve and cautious, not involved in life's events, and famous for his piety and Hasidism. He would spend long hours, day and night, studying Torah and following God's precepts. It was common to find him sitting late at night in the Radzin synagogue, as well as in the pre-dawn hours.
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Looking through a window of the illuminated Radzin synagogue, you'd see him bent over a copy of the Talmud and studying a chapter.
His piety and diligent observance of all commandments were unprecedented. I am personally acquainted with the following episode. Once, his wife – whom he never referred to by name because of modesty, following the custom of old-time Hasids, but by a nickname such as “the wife” or simply “she” – bought a new kitchen utensil. Rabbi Ya'akov believed it had not been properly purified in natural water. As he wasn't sure which utensil was the new one, he brought all the kitchen utensils to the well, placed them in a bucket, and lowered them into the water for ritual purification.[10]
Rabbi Ya'akov believed every Jew to be as modest and naïve as himself, and could not imagine that some Jews were not as devout but, on the contrary, frivolous. I remember one wintry Friday night. After the Shabbat-eve meal, some friends and I went for a short walk. My companions were Leyb Zuberman, Moshe Grosburd, Muni Halperin, Aharon Vallach, and Avrom Shek. As we walked, a thick snow began falling, and we decided to go into the small Radzin synagogue. Rabbi Ya'akov the shochet also came in, and began chanting the Shema with his typical enthusiasm.[11] We listened to his chanting with reverence, trembling with awe as we stood there. “Happy is the man who is so devout!!” we said. When he had finished chanting the prayer, he came up to us and rubbed his hands together in his usual manner. Smiling with satisfaction almost childishly, he began a conversation: “I hear you are becoming more devout,” etc. etc. When the conversation became a discussion, Rabbi Ya'akov said, “Why argue? I'll show you a well known, compelling rabbinical quotation, and I'm sure you'll agree that it's true: when the Torah was given to the Israelites,
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God brought in all the unborn souls, down to the last generation.” All, together with the Israelites who were present, called out, “All that God has said, we will do, and we will obey!”[12]“Nothing more needs to be discussed!” he called out triumphantly. Smiling victoriously, he added, “I thank God for having supplied me with the right quotation. Thanks to it, I could fulfill the sage's phrase, ‘Know how to answer a doubter.’”[13] He made his farewell, saying “Shabbat Shalom!” and resumed his studies.[14]
In 1915, Poland was occupied by the German-Austrian armies. Horodlo was held by the German army during the first two weeks of the war. (The behavior of the German army during World War I was different from their behavior during World War II.) The military authorities ordered us to leave the town, as it was on the front line, and would be gravely affected by the horrors of war. Almost all the town's residents did leave, and moved to the farming village of Teptiuków, near Hrubieszow.
When we were settled in our new place, the German commander (with the rank of General) demanded that we select a mayor. I happened to be standing next to my father (may his righteous memory be for a blessing); the General saw me and asked who I was. I told him that I was the rabbi's son. He then ordered that I be “selected” as Mayor, and lead the residents. I never found out why he selected me, out of all the people. I believe it was thanks to my modern, European-style clothing; I was almost the only one not wearing the traditional long Hasidic garb common to the Horodlo Jews.
I held that august position for only three months. The Christians were not happy to have a Jew as mayor, and they did their best to replace me with a Christian. When the Austrian authorities took over, they were strongly influenced by Polish intellectuals, and managed to have me dismissed
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from my mayoral post. I was replaced by Prince “Padebinski of Rybna village.”[15]
I left Horodlo in 1918, for Kiev.[16] After about four years in Russia, where I sampled the miseries of the Russian revolution, I returned to Horodlo in 1922. Some of the young people had abandoned the House of Study, and most had exchanged their Hasidic clothes for European dress. Anti-Semitism had increased, and the enemies of the Jews grew bolder. The economic regime of the new Poland (under Grabowski) impoverished most Jews.[17] Most young people began to think of leaving the country to go abroad. I, too, considered the situation, and decided to leave for a country where the future was more secure.
After a long journey, I arrived in the United States. I had had to travel to Kishinev and stay there for some time, in order to obtain permission to come to America.[18] While I was there, I was able to work and sustain myself. I also became acquainted with my future wife. In 1925, I left Kishinev and came to the United States.
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