In the days when the old Beit Midrash of the late Tiferet Shlomo [Splendid Shlomo] was in good condition, it served as the main Beit Midrash in the city. Every morning and evening several minyanim [groups of 10 men needed for prayer] prayed there, one after the other, and yeshiva [religious secondary school] students studied there during the rest of the day. But, over the years, when it became necessary to demolish it due to its age, they built the New Synagogue. The Old Synagogue was turned into a Beit Midrash – Kopel's Beit Midrash – and then the worshippers moved to the new Beit Midrash. The young men, the students, were divided into two parts. The majority moved to the Rabbi's Beit Midrash, while a small part moved to Koppel's Beit Midrash.

If my memory serves me correctly, about a hundred young men from the city and a small number from other cities, those called Ochelei Yamim ^[1], studied in both Batei Midrash. Besides the young men, a certain number of “sons-in-law,” who were supported by their father-in-law, always studied in the Beit HaMidrash. In addition to them, there were also several elderly Jews, the rabbi's Hasidim from other cities, who were left without family and a home, and their sons could not support them due to their poverty. These Jews used to come to the rabbi in Radomsk around the month of Elul. The most agile of them came to the Beit HaMidrash before Tisha B'Av [9^th of Av] and, as usual, stayed to find shelter with the rabbi until after Chanukah [Festival of Lights]. Then they left the city for a few weeks and went on a tour of the country's cities to grant the Radomsker Hasidim with the mitzvah of Hachnasat Orchim^[2] and sometimes also the mitzvah of Hachnasat kallah ^[3]. For Passover they returned “home,” that is, to the Beit HaMidrash in Radomsk and remained there again until after the holiday of Shavuot [the holiday commemorating the giving of the Torah to the Jewish people].

One of these Jews was the late Reb Yakov Dovid Najszteter. I find it my duty to mention him here, even if only briefly, because he was my teacher. When I moved from the cheder [religious primary school] of the late Reb Hirsh Yosef to the Beit HaMidrash, I studied under him for a whole year. Besides the fact that this Jew was a passionate Hasid, devoted to his rabbi with his heart and soul and believing in him with complete faith, he was also an outstanding scholar well-versed in the Six Orders of the Mishnah [commentaries on the Torah] and Poskim [scholars of religious law]. But his poverty outweighed both his piety and his erudition many times over. His apartment was a tiny room, a very narrow space in the Beit HaMidrash building next to the courtyard. About eighty percent of the small room was taken by a giant stove that was closed all year round. It was opened only once a year, the day after the Sabbath before Passover for the baking of Matzah Shmura ^[4] for the rabbi and a few of his close associates who came especially to Radomsk to participate in this mitzvah [commandment – often translated as good deed] and to be rewarded with a few matzos for the seder [traditional Passover meal]…

In the remaining area of the room were: a “sleep bench,” a small table and a broken chair. That was all the furniture in the room. What did he live on? Truthfully, he only lived on the Sabbath, when he ate at the rabbi's table with the rest of the “residents.” On Sunday and also on the gentiles' holidays, when my late father stayed at home (he was in the forest all week long), he always invited him after Minchah [afternoon prayers] and Maariv [evening prayers] prayers for dinner which, in those days, was the main meal. The rest of the week he lived and supported himself on two rubles a month – the tuition from me and from a friend of mine, and from a few kopecks a week that the Hasidim from other cities left for him when they came to the rabbi for the Sabbath…

Besides him, there were always several other Jews like him who wandered around the Beit HaMidrash in Radomsk: Reb Binyamin-Levi from Sosnowiec, Reb Binyamin who led the prayers


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on the Sabbath in the rabbi's minyan. Reb Yakov-Dovid of Wolborz, a bitter and sullen Jew who always grumbled about “a nation or to a man, alike” [Job 34:29]. “Crazy Meir'l” whose imagination was always full of hallucinations about Guta Rechtman, Leizer Rechtman's widow, who was supposedly his fiancée, and in a few weeks he would marry her in accordance with Jewish law. And so on and so forth. All were poor and hungry, especially for bread. And if no one from the Beit HaMidrash invited them for a meal, only dry bread with onions and a cup of “tea” they bought from the “lame” barber was their daily food… Berish the lame was one of the teachers in the city, and due to his old age and illness he could not continue teaching. He opened a so-called “café” in the Beit HaMidrash, in other words, he had a large samovar that boiled all day and some biscuits that he sold to students and from that he “earned a living”… Another Jew, Feibish Nosek,” sold apples to the students, but only rotten one; there was never a fresh and whole apple in his basket…

But if these Jews lacked food to satisfy their hunger, they never felt a lack of spiritual food. All the days they sat and studied, a Gemara [commentary on the Torah] page with commentaries, a chapter from the Mishnah [record of the oral traditions] or Ein Yaakov.^[5] Between chapter to chapter they, “enjoyed” stories about Hasidim and tzadikim ^[6], sometimes to the point of forgetting the “existing reality”…

Apart from them were several elderly men who spent all their days in the Beit HaMidrash. They prayed, studied and participated in conversations about rabbis, about the righteous of the world and about their miracles and wonders.

I will mention several of them: Tuvia the gabbai [assistant to the rabbi], Yosel Zinger, Avraham-Leib (father of the well-known Kopel); all three served the late Tiferet Shlomo. The elderly Yitzhak-Fibel, great grandfather of Ben-Zion Grosman. “Nabiala,” whose pockets were always full of miracles and wonders about tzadikim. He always argued with his friends about the wording, claiming that his wording was correct and strongly rejecting the wordings of the others. Fishel Chaper, a poor and destitute Jew but with an incomparably sharp mind, and more and more.

And I will also mention here several young men my age who were closer to me: Yankel Sofer (Leib Fishel's, Hatomi's father), one of the most outstanding young men who were in the Beit HaMidrash at that time. Yitzhak Gnendel, son of Meir the milkman. On the other hand, Meir's wife, Gnendel, was a woman of valor whose name rose to fame throughout Shul-Gas [Synagogue Street], and more than her name – her mouth was “sweeter than honey”. She used to severely criticize, while distributing milk to her customers, all the students of the Beit HaMidrash not exactly in a positive way except, of course, her son. Although her son was among the most outstanding students in the Beit HaMidrash, he knew nothing other than the Gemara, and he was in terms of “like father like son.” He sat all day and studied while chewing on a piece of rope or a piece of paper, and was not interested in anything. Gershon, son of the rabbi (uncle of Tzvi Meir Rabinowicz), was a very talented young man, excelled in his quick grasp and even more in his perseverance. Avraham Tyl (my cousin) was as diligent as Gershon. However, while it was possible to discuss other matters such as Hibat Zion [Love of Zion], general politics and current affairs with Gershon, my cousin found no interest in anything outside of the Gemara. This young man was a strange and unique character. Entire weeks could go by without him opening his mouth. If you asked him a question, he answered correctly; if you did not ask him, he did not open his mouth. On his own initiative, he did not say a word, entered, kissed the mezuzah [small box containing a piece of parchment with the central Jewish prayer, Shema Yisroel – Hear, O Israel], went to the bookcase, took out the Gemara, and began to sway. When the time had come to stop, he closed the Gemara, put it back in its place, kissed the mezuzah and left…

Meir Dovid (I don't remember his surname) was the brother of Herschel the crazy ( the violinist). Moshe Luria, son of Yoske Luria, already belonged to the maskilim [enlightened] in the Beit HaMidrash. He was my neighbor. His family lived in the same house in which my parents lived. We both “sinned” together for several hours each day, ignoring the Torah, engaging in other studies and reading “unlawful books.” Among the maskilim were also Dovid Shlomo Zandberg, son of Nechamya Zandberg. Dovid Shlomo had a special room in his father's apartment on Stzalkowske Street at the corner of Dluga. We gathered there often, read books and newspapers and spent a few hours together.

I don't remember if in my time there were other young men in the Beit HaMidrash who came from homes such as Nechamya Zandberg, who at that time was already one of the city's richest men, and if there were others their number was very small. Most of the students in the Beit HaMidrash were from middle-class and even from poorer families. In those days there were no jobs for these young men in the city in those and only poor families gave their sons to the craftsmen.

A Jew with means, even to a limited extent, preserved the “family honor” and, as much as possible, strove for his son to be a scholar. By the way, there was also a calculation about the hope that such a son would be taken as a son-in-law by a wealthy family. He would receive meals and accommodation for a few years and then his father-in-law would give him a decent dowry and help him get by and to establish himself… a hope that sometimes came true.

There were families in Radomsk who sent several sons to the Beit HaMidrash: three, four, five and even six. In the six years that I sat in the Beit HaMidrash, I studied with the six sons of Icik Zilberszac: Dovid Zalman (was blind in one eye), Leibish (later had a haberdashery shop), Henech (son-in-law of the Rabbi of Będzin), Yeshayahu Elia and Zusman. Or with the three sons of Yosel Rozensztajn: Itshl, Henek, Shlomo and Elihu. Or with the three sons of Raphael Rapaport: Mendel, Haim and Berish. I think I also studied for a certain period of time with another of his sons who was older than Mendel.

When I imagine to myself during these days of Elul the appearance of the Beit Midrash during the months of Elul in those days, when the house was filled day by day, more and more, with the atmosphere of the approaching High Holidays when new faces of guests appeared in it, mainly from estates of “Melech Avyon”^[7] (Galicia). They arrived in Radomsk by carts from Przedbórz to prepare for the High Holidays or, at least, to say the first Selichot ^[8] together with the rabbi. My spirit enwrapped itself upon me… What is this Beit Midrash today, what is happening in it and in great many Batei Midrash like it at this moment?…

Oh! “Our heritage has been turned over to strangers, our houses to aliens…” [Lamentations 5:2]

1. Ochel Yamim (lit.“eating daily”) In Eastern European Jewish communities, it was a traditional custom for poor yeshiva students to receive meals by eating at the tables of a different host family each day of the week. Return
2. Hachnasat Orchim (lit. “welcoming guests”) A Jewish value and mitzvah emphasizing hospitality and kindness toward others, particularly strangers and travelers. Return
3. Hachnasat kallah (lit. “bringing in the bride”) refers to the mitzvah of providing the bride and groom with all that they need to marry. Return
4. Matzah Shmura refers to matzah made from wheat that is guarded from the time that it is harvested. Return
5. Ein Yaakov (“Well of Jacob”) is a multivolume compilation of stories, parables and biblical interpretation from the Talmud printed together with commentaries. Return
6. Tzadik (pl. tzadikim) A title given to people considered righteous, such as biblical figures and later spiritual masters such as Hassidic rabbis. Return
7. “Melech Avyon” is a phrase that means “a lowly King” or “a destitute King.” Return
8. Selichot (lit. “Forgiveness”) refers to penitential prayers recited to prepare for the High Holy Days, primarily Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur. Return

For all his days, he was called Der Amshinover Rebbe, that is the Rebbe from Amshinov [Mszczonów], even though he lived in Radomsko for most of his life and did not leave it until the day of his death. However, there is no doubt that the title of Rebbe was fitting for him.

His wonderful image remains etched in my mind from my youth until today. I recall my first “meeting” with him 35 or 36 years ago, when I was still a tender lad, immersed in games, running around with my friends, as mischievous as I was, in the Rebbe's courtyard. We were all immersed in games. Some of us regarded ourselves as the “horse” and others as the “wagon driver,” some as the “robber” and others as the “police officer.” The game was in full force, the faces were fiery, and the voices reached the midst of the heavens. Suddenly, everything became quiet. Reb Avrahamel put his head out of one of the windows in the green house and silenced us all with a single reprimand.

Even though the reprimand was delivered in the melody of the Gemara [commentaries on the Torah], as if it emanated from his mouth as a casual statement, it was sufficient to bring us all back from the world of horses. We again turned into good-mannered, quiet Jewish lads.

At times, we encountered him as he was walking through the courtyard. This was always with quick steps, almost running. During these meetings, we instinctively turned toward him with awe and honor. When we looked at his thin body covered with a silk cloak, with his wide, white forehead, every one of us sought a hiding place in a corner as if we were afraid to meet the gaze of his penetrating, burning eyes.

In general, the regular people, simple folk of the poor of the nation, clung to him. As the years went on, he became the rabbi of the simple folk.

There is no doubt that Reb Avrahamel himself caused the prominent people of the city to abandon him. He surrounded himself with a quorum of indigents –


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the ten loafers of the city as we called them – this was his entourage, and he never separated from them.

It is possible that the death of his only son Yankele at an early age influenced him to leave the “courtyard” of joy of Hassidism and Hassidic melody. Sadness and devotion pervaded within the walls of the house and never left him on weekdays, festivals or Sabbaths.

It was as if all connection to this world and its desires were suppressed within him. Reb Avrahamel sat day and night connected to a book, immersed in the study of Torah.

The poverty that pervaded strongly in his house did not affect him at all – these things did not disturb his thinking. He was disturbed by the spirit of Judaism that was increasingly disappearing from Jewish youth in the city. It was sufficient for one of his Hassidim to come and inform him that some of the women who came to see the Hakafot [circular procession with the Torah scrolls] on Simchat Torah [holiday commemorating the completion of the yearly reading of the Torah and the start of the reading for the new year] night passed through the threshold of the hall designated for men to cause him to arise and run to the synagogue, as if consumed by fire and flames, ascend to the bimah [platform from which the Torah is read] and scream out with weeping about the terrible sin that was liable to cause a disaster in the city. There was no shortage of cases where the night of Simchat Torah turned into the night of Tisha B'Av [the 9^th of Av], until he succeeded in chasing out the women.

It would also happen that he found out that one of the Jewish barbershops continued to work late on the eve of the Sabbath. He would rise up and run to the offending barbershop, leading a group of his Hassidim, and cause a commotion. Nothing prevented him from standing on guard for the Sabbath – neither the police nor the court.

Once, a Jewish basketball team played against a gentile team on the Sabbath. Reb Avrahamel found out. He did not think too much. He burst through the playing field, stood in the center and did not allow the game to continue until the Jewish team left the field.

Reb Avrahamel won the hearts of Jewish Radomsko through such deeds. It was impossible to not value his deeds, faith and dedication to his religion with heart and soul.

Thus did years pass for Reb Avrahamel through poverty and modesty, always connected to the Gemara and immersed in sadness. Only his grandson, the son of his only daughter who was married to the Rebbe of Otwock, succeeded at times in bringing a smile to the sad face of his grandfather.

When Radomsko was conquered by the Germans, and during the terrible period of their rule, Reb Avrahamel's situation was far worse than the situation of other Jews, as he was a man immersed in books, far from life and its struggles, and lacking any way of getting accustomed [to the situation]. In addition, all the enemies of the Jews knew of the Rebbe's court, and saw it as some sort of spiritual fortress that must be destroyed.

The troubles and tribulations took their toll. People were busy with themselves and their troubles, and at times forgot about the helpless Rebbe.

Nevertheless, we should note that many of the Jews of the city restricted bread from their own mouths and shared their bread with the Rebbe. After some time, the Jewish council also allotted the Rebbe a set stipend, even though it was too meager for him. Here is the place to note that there were also several wealthy gentile farmers who, from time to time, gave Reb Avrahamel some potatoes, beets, carrots, etc. However, the Rebbe, in his own way, distributed the produce he received to those who were poorer, even though he himself was hungry for bread.

In the difficult winter of 1940, the first cohort of deportees from £ódŸ reached the city. Among the sea of deportees there were many who were ill, elderly, and children. The house of the Rebbe of Amshinov was open wide to these unfortunate people. The Rebbetzin's kitchen bustled with poor mothers and their children from morning until late at night. In addition to the Polish enemies of the Jews, there were several Volksdeutschen [ethnic Germans] in Radomsko who were enlisted into the local police when the Germans conquered the city. They afflicted the Jews with wanton wrath. To compound the tribulation, the police station was set up in Humblet's house in the Jewish area. That was the headquarters of tribulations.

I recall one evening when the civic police, along with the S.S. men, broke into Feivel Bogainsky's home, where we were sitting as a group of friends. As angels of destruction, they burst into the home and forced us all to go out to the street. When I left the house, I saw that the snow-covered street was full of Jews. My heart foretold evil. By chance, we were standing next to the window of the Rebbe. Jews, persecuted up to the neck, were streaming along from all sides. The murderers returned and counted, 500, 600, 700, but Pincher, the head of the murderers, screamed along that they must bring no fewer than 1,000 Jews.

As this was taking place, one of the Volksdeutschen approached Pincher and pointed to the lit window, saying in garbled German, “Here lives the Rabbiner.” The murderer Pincher was full of anger. He approached the first row, took out four people, and commended them to bring the Rebbe within six minutes.

By chance, the four were people were raised in the vicinity of the Rebbe. They were Avraham Binem Eisen, Berish Herbert, Yaakov Eichner, and the writer of these lines. The four of us were like stone, and we could not move from the place. The murderers stared at us and we stared at them, but we did not move from the place. We advanced to the other side of the Rebbe's house with warnings and beatings that were rained on top of our heads. We stopped for a moment when we reached the door as we listened to the quiet Gemara melody bursting forth from inside. When Pincher saw the ray of light emanating from the blinds, he pointed his gun and warned, “He is not yet asleep, the dog.” He then shot inside through the window. We all stood paralyzed. After a second, we heard weak, slow footsteps. Pincher broke into the door that opened with a gun in his hands, and we behind him. I will never forget the scene that I saw. Pincher, with the gun perched on his arms, stopped, as if he had lost the power of speech. Reb Avrahamel stood in front of him, with a pale face. His large eyes were perplexed. He was covered in white clothes, his long tallis was spread over his chest, and its tzitzit [fringes attached to prayer shawls] reached his white socks. I felt as if an invisible battle between two opposing forces was taking place. Both stood silently, staring at each other. Slowly, the murderer lowered his gun, and began to retreat backward without averting his gaze at the face of the Rebbe. He stopped at the door and asked us quietly, “Is this the rabbi?” When one of us responded affirmatively, Pincher said, “Fool such as you, this is a man of God and not an ordinary human.” He left the house partially immersed in thoughts.

Of course, we breathed calmly for being saved from the tragedy in that manner.

However, miracles do not always occur. The situation of two police officers, the Volksdeutsch, Abramowicz and Nelner, was more serious. As they were looking for a Jewish victim, they encountered the house of the Rebbe and found him sitting with a book, as was his custom. The two murderers began to rain beatings upon him. In his anger, one of them, Nelner, took a match and ignited the Rebbe's beard. In his terrible pain, the Rebbe uttered the curse to the murderer, “Let your hand be cut off, and you will not continue.”

People gathered when they heard the Rebbe's screams of pain. After intercession and giving a bribe of several hundred zlotes, they succeeded in saving the Rebbe.

The Rebbe lay in bed for several weeks, and the two murderers continued their “pleasant” deeds until their luck took a turn to the worse. The two were caught for theft and were removed from the police. Having no choice, they returned to their former professions, from before they attained greatness. Abramowicz returned to gardening and Nelner, who set the beard of the Rebbe on fire, returned to his workplace as a worker without specialty at the carpentry workshop of Tahonet Mundos.

One day, as he was working at the saw, Neler's hand was caught between the gears and half of it was completely crushed.

This news spread quickly in the city. Many saw this as caused by the Rebbe's curse, and hoped that revenge would catch up with all the Germans for their torture of the Jews. After a few weeks, when Nelner was discharged from the hospital with half of his hand amputated, I was witness to the scene where the two of them went to the Rebbe and pleaded with him to forgive them for their deeds. However, the Rebbe did not want to listen to this. The two wept, offered money and expressed their regret, but the Rebbe stood firm in his refusal. The pleas and efforts of the two murderers lasted for more than an hour, until


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the Rebbe said he would forgive them, after the involvement of those close to the Rebbe. From among them, I recall Reb Yitzhak Rubin, Yitzhak and Aharon-Yidel Landau, Dovid Yechiel Zinger, Yechezkel Frentke, Yisroel Gliksman and others. The Rebbe forgave them but under no circumstances wanted to extend a hand to them.

In the meantime, the situation of the Jewish ghetto grew worse. The decrees became progressively stronger and crueller, to the point where life became unbearable. The Rebbe, himself broken and weakened, attempted with all his energy to comfort them all. Those who complained to him about their tribulations found words of comfort and support.

In 1942, when death began to stalk through all the Jewish cities and towns, the Rebbe received the bitter news that his son-in-law, the son of the Rebbi of Otwock, was murdered along with his entire family in the city of Otwock. With a heavy heart, he informed his daughter, the wife of the murdered man, who was in his house throughout the wartime period, about this. They slunk down onto the low chairs and sat shiva [seven-day period of mourning] with groans and broken hearts.

The Ohel [structure over a grave] of the Rebbes of the Radomsko dynasty in the cemetery

On the third day after receiving this news, the Rebbe called a minyan [10 men required for prayer] of Jews to his home for the Minchah [afternoon prayers] and Maariv [evening prayers] services. He recited Kaddish [Mourner's prayer] with a quiet voice, saturated with grief. He remained standing at the podium after the service, with his head between his hands and his body shaking from weeping. Suddenly, he turned his face to the congregation, and began to sing a song full of devotion with a quiet voice. All those gathered were surprised at this sudden change. Their gaze was fixed on the visage of the Rebbe. Through his fiery face and his shining eyes, it was possible to understand that the Rebbe had overcome the Satan, and he saw the approaching redemption through the eyes of his spirit. The Rebbe became silent and commanded that the Rebbetzin and his daughter be summoned, and that they bring his young, three-year-old grandson, as well, to light candles and bring a snack. After setting the table, the Rebbe sat at the head with his young grandson Shlomole on his lap, and began to bless him with a trembling voice that he merit comforts and to greet the face of the Messiah. With a rising voice, he called out, “Mazel Tov [congratulations], Mazel Tov Jews, the dynasty of Worka and Otwock will not be cut off. From now until age 120, Shlomole will occupy the rabbinic seat of Otwock.” Those gathered drank a Lechayim [to life] toast, and blessed the Rebbe and his grandson with eyes full of tears. Wailing and weeping broke out among the women, and he called upon those gathered to strengthen themselves, for it is a joyous day today, and in the merit of the young Tzadik [righteous man], innocent of all sin, God will have mercy upon the Nation of Israel… “Drink Lechayim, Jews!…” Heartrending groans burst forth from his mouth…

The terrible news about the emissaries of death began to arrive with silent steps. The heart refused to believe that there was indeed no escape. At first, all types of remedies were prancing around behind me. For a full measure of money, Jews obtained various certificates and workplaces, where they could, so to speak, find protection from the terrible decree.

During that period, two days after Rosh Hashanah [Jewish New Year holiday], the head of the Judenrat [Jewish council established by the Germans] Mr. Gutstat and Yosef Peinski appeared at the house of the Rebbe. They both brought the Rebbe a certificate of passage and money, and advised him to leave the city and travel to Pilica. The Rebbe looked at them with extinguished eyes and asked in astonishment, “Why should I leave the city in which I have lived for more than half my life?” The two began to explain to him that the aktion [action – usually a deportation] had already taken place in Pilica, and life would be more secure there, whereas Radomsko was still before the aktion, and who knows what was awaiting its residents. It would be better, therefore, for the Rebbe and his family to leave here in advance. The Rebbe listened but did not grasp why he should suddenly leave the city and become the rabbi in Pilica. And the rabbi of Pilica, what would be with the rabbi of Pilica? This was the first time that Mr. Peinski was in the house of the Rebbe, and he had never exchanged a word with him. He stood there astonished at the sight of the man refusing to save himself from danger, who was stubborn and did not want to accept the certificate for which many would have paid all of their belongings to obtain. Peinski the assimilationist, a good person and a good Jew, attempted to explain to the Rebbe the severity of the situation. He said, “We do not want to chase the Rebbe out of the city, but the entire Jewish population in the city is in great danger, and it is our wish that the Rebbe be saved from this danger.”

As soon as Peinski finished his words, the Rebbe jumped from his place and shouted, “What are you saying? All the Jews of the city are in danger, and I shall leave them? Such a thing will not be. I was able to live together with all these Jews, and I am able to die together with them.” As he was speaking, he ripped up the certificate which was in front of him on the table into shreds, as he declared, “Thus shall the decree against all the Jews be ripped up!”

On October 9, 1942, I saw the Rebbe of Amshinov for the last time among a crowd of thousands of Jews who were gathered in the square next to the communal council building.

The aktion was in full force. When the chief slaughterer Kampinik ordered all of them to sit, the Rebbe of Amshinov was the only one who remained standing, as he cast his gaze upon the entire community.

On October 12, the Rebbe was sent to the gas chambers in the Treblinka extermination camp along with all the Jews of Radomsko. There he breathed out his holy soul along with all the Jews.


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I would like to describe for you the world from the eyes of a 5-year-old boy at the beginning of the 20^th century. The world is divided into Jews and the Gentiles. The Gentiles who are part of Jewish daily life are the nanny, the gardener, the customers, etc. The Gentiles who are etched in memory are those seen in photos of soldiers chasing Jews, catching an old man and pulling his beard, as well as “impures” who provoke scuffles with Cheder children.

The Jewish world was reflected in the shtiebel. A shtiebel is a place of prayer in a regular room in a house. Our shtiebel was in a dedicated room in the house of the landlord Hershli Grossman on 16 Stacja Street. It was called The Radomsker Shtiebel, which is to say for the Chassidim of the Radomsker Rabbi, but it was not actually especially for Chassidim and was not especially connected with the Rabbi it was named after.

Reb Hershli prayed quietly, in deep concentration, his upright posture reflecting respect. He set the atmosphere in the shtiebel such that there were no Chassidic exaggerations. Reb Hershli was punctual and organized, the prayer never began without him. He was late or absent only when he was sick.

In the eyes of the 5-year-old boy at that time, the shtiebel looked huge and all-encompassing. Well into his adult life, it was the only public building he would enter. The Holy Ark, the cantor's stand, the Holy Table, tables and benches and the sink – every part of the shtiebel was full of content and significance. The audience around each table was distinguished in character, diverse and original.

The people will be described here from the eyes of the 5-year-old regardless of how he came to see them when he was an adult.

The reader of the Torah was Yechiel Shlomo Szitenberg. During the High Holidays, he read the prayer “Unetanneh Tokef” in a quiet reverent voice and the audience stood silently trembling. The boy imagined the pathway that connected the shteibel with the Seventh Heaven and the Ruler of the World on his throne deciding the verdict of every soul.

Before Mincha prayers on holidays, shtiebel worshipers enjoyed beer, drank le'chaim, smoked cigarettes, leisurely chatted about the past, and sang songs. The prayer “Ata Bechartanu” on the pilgrimage holidays brought joy and good spirits upon the boy who was dressed for the occasion in a new suit and new shoes. He looked forward to the egg pancake that awaited him at home on Pesach, to the apple cake and apple with honey he will eat in the decorated Sukkah on Sukkot, and to the cheese cake on Shavuot. The boy proudly held the Torah during Simchat Torah Hakafot, and said the blessing he learned before the holiday. The cantor's “Sisu VeSimchu” filled the shtiebel and the hearts with joy.

One of the shtiebel occasions was different than the other holidays, etching the heart of the boy with the unique bitter destiny of his people. Astounded and afraid, he saw the people arriving in tattered weekday clothing, mourning faces, to a dark unlit shteibel. The chairs were overturned as was the custom during Kaddish when a person passed away. Everything was silent. Grief. sorrow and whining over the burning temple and fallen walls sounded to the boy like the howl of our matriarch Rachel.

Through the eyes of the boy, the shtiebel audience was categorized by what he perceived to be permanent ranks that preserved a predictable routine world. The first rank sat around the table that stood between the pillar and the Holy Ark – prayer leaders, leaders of morning prayers, leaders of the noon prayers and those who led the public in song. The second rank were Cohens, Levys, and ordinary Israelites. And at the end were those who were called up to read from the Torah and occasionally also read a Haftarah.

The shteibel layout changed depending on whether it was an ordinary Shabbat, a holiday or a special day. On regular Sabbaths the usual audience attended. On holidays people from all corners of the town came to this particular shtiebel. On the High Holidays and Yahrzeits, visitors from out of town gathered there as well.

The shtiebel atmosphere would also change according to prayer traditions. In the morning, the worshippers walked through the court yard with their children who held the tallitot. The more adherent congregants came early; others were known to always arrive after the payer began. For the sections that were read standing up, everyone pressed together. After the Torah reading and during the Haftarah, some people moved to the entrance room and even outside. The women would sometimes gather in the entrance or in the apartment of a neighbor across the street from the shtiebel.

There was a regular mix of voices: elderly, men, youth and children. From his designated corner, Hershli always finished the service with “amen, may his great name be blessed forever”.

The space here is too limited to describe everyone who made a mark on the shtiebel. Yearning for Zion and Jerusalem was intertwined in every prayer and song. “To next year in Jerusalem” was called out after the “Semah Israel” at the end of the Yom Kippur closing prayer. Most of these people however, did not reach the Promised Land.

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Updated 15 Nov 2025 by OR