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IN-DEPTH FEATURES By R' Aryeh Gefen
Pieces of history from the Soviet valley of death are
waiting to be documented for posterity. Lithuania and Russia
once produced many generations of the finest bnei
Torah and yeshivos. During trying times it even seemed
as if the Torah itself was fighting for them, so that Torah
would never be forgotten by their children.
Generations passed. Great world powers fell apart, feats of
nature melted away, and the Torah continues to come forth
from that generation, a generation that was moser
nefesh for Torah. Thousands of baalei teshuva are
emerging from former Czarist Russia; they are not hungry for
bread nor thirsty for water, but to hear the word of
Hashem.
HaRav Yitzchok Zilber, one of the leaders of this movement,
spoke about his nisyonos and personal dealing with
times of crisis, a stubborn war fought with mesiras
nefesh. He lived with miracles everyday in Soviet prison
camps and in the country that was one big prison.
The interview portrayed different concepts in learning Torah
and keeping mitzvos. It was a living testimony to courageous
strength, forging the spirit and soul, uncovering rare
character strengths that are only revealed in times of
tremendous hardship. Keeping Shabbos, growing in
ruchniyus and learning Torah in almost impossible
situations, lacking everything -- all this in the Soviet
Russia of a generation ago.
This first-hand interview is an authentic testimony to our
generation, a generation that has lost its sense of
proportion and judgment, which is drowning in a sea of
luxuries and comforts and "tortured" with nisyonos
that upset its peace of mind, but pale in comparison to
those faced by HaRav Zilber.
@SUB TITLE=Growing Up
HaRav Zilber related: My father, Reb Ben Tzion zt'l,
was my teacher. He taught me alef bais, siddur, Tanach,
Mishna and Gemora. He also taught me Russian and
arithmetic so I should not be conspicuously ignorant
compared to goyim my age. I never went to a regular
school and stayed away from the Russian goyim as much
as possible.
HaRav Zilber was born to a well-known rabbinical family. His
father, HaRav Ben Tzion Zilber zt'l, was a great
rov and his grandfather HaRav Yitzchok Tzioni
zt'l authored a sefer of chiddushim and
halachic responsa Olos Yitzchok. In general, HaRav
Zilber said, there were tremendous geonim in Russia
at the time, in a measure that can not be found anywhere in
the world today.
The world has changed completely. To illustrate the point,
he said that one time when he was a child, he visited a
shul in Moscow where about thirty elderly,
distinguished looking men were sitting and learning.
As an aside, the shuls then housed old, rare
seforim and manuscripts of geonim. The war
brought upheaval and people wandered from place to place.
Many died without a name or house and the shul
gathered in the remnants of ruchniyus and precious
seforim.
As soon as I walked in, everyone looked at me suspiciously
and stopped learning. The country was swarming with
informers and spies. I immediately said to them in loshon
hakodesh, "Don't be scared. I am a Jew like you.
Continue learning." I gained their trust and joined their
group.
One of the talmidei chachomim wrote a precious
peirush on the entire Yerushalmi. Another knew
by heart Shas Bavli with Rashi and Tosafos,
Shulchon Oruch, Yad Chazokoh of the Rambam and
Sedei Chemed. A third was HaRav Yehoshua Yehuda
Meirovitz zt'l. And so on. I never met such a large
group of such great geonim in one place.
While speaking with Rav Zilber I gleaned from his casual
conversation that several times he had to say the entire
Haggodoh shel Pesach by heart, selichos
without a sefer, as well as tefillas Yomim
Noraim, mishnayos Kinin, and complete
masechtos of gemora. If I am not mistaken, in
order to be able to learn in those days, they had to engrave
everything on their hearts in any entirely different manner
than that which we are familiar with today.
@SUB TITLE=Boom! You're a Soldier!
They looked at life through different glasses, from an
entirely different viewpoint. For example, one Shabbos while
Reb Yitzchok was walking home from shul, a soldier
stopped him and asked him for his papers. Because he did not
carry on Shabbos, he was taken to the police station. There
they told him that, because of the war situation, he was
being drafted immediately! He was given a half-hour to
return home and get some personal belongings.
Reb Yitzchok came home white and trembling. He told his
father about his sudden conscription and that he could take
some personal belongings. His father gave him a warm,
fatherly look and said to him, "My dear son Yitzchok, did
you finish shnayim Mikro ve'echod Targum yet? You
don't have much time, finish your parsha quickly. Who
knows what the day will bring. Who knows if you'll ever be
zoche to see a Chumash again in your life."
As this point, it doesn't matter what the end of the story
was. We told this story only so we can try to grasp the
thought process of those days. From time to time, sparks of
geonus burst into the interview. The rov's
patriarchal face suddenly reminds us of another chapter in
our nation's history, the years that Yaakov Ovinu was
separated from his son Yosef at the parsha of eglo
arufo. Reb Yitzchok has signs for different periods --
he knows that he went into prison , yes it happened in the
middle of sugya aliyo in the beginning of
Yevomos in the year . . .
The rov's shining face twinkles with youthful charm
and the years melt away as he reminisces about interesting
episodes from his period in Russia. Life was not good to him
-- jail, bitter nisyonos in keeping Shabbos, harsh
wounds for Yiddishkeit, backbreaking work in prison,
years of pain; recently his heart weakened and he hovered
between life and death until he was redeemed from his
suffering. A smile always twinkles in his eyes, as if to say
to the world -- they can never overpower me.
@SUB TITLE=Learning with the KGB
With untiring strength, Rav Zilber related how he had to
spend two entire hours explaining a Rebbi Akiva Eiger on
Eruvin daf lamed hey, omud beis to KGB investigators.
This is how it came about.
In 1945, Reb Yitzchok learned with a member of the
Lithuanian parliament, the famous Reb Mordechai Dubin
zt'l.
For three weeks we learned together in shul. Reb
Mordechai learned three shiurim every day in
shul. During the week, he hurried off to his
business, but on Shabbos he devoted the entire day to Torah
and tefilloh, from which he drew strength for the
entire week.
Reb Yitzchok imitated Reb Mordechai's voice, how he used to
daven in a heavy Lithuanian accent, a hypnotizing
tefilloh. Anyone who heard him could not move. His
Shabbos davening lasted from seven in the morning
until four o'clock in the afternoon. The entire
tefilloh was punctuated with heart-rending tears.
Today we don't see such davening.
I asked him, Reb Yitzchok related, what I could do for him.
He told me to call my sister on the telephone. I immediately
ordered a telephone call in the post office, as he
requested.
On Thursday, about a week before my wedding, I was crossing
the street and a police man stopped me and said, "You did
not cross the street properly. Come with me. You are
arrested!"
I went with him. We came to a certain building that was one
of the most infamous KGB prisons. We went into a room where
a large sign hanging on the wall opposite me read, "Death to
Spies."
They put me on a chair and a group of five tight-lipped,
stern faced "interrogators" greeted me. While hitting me,
they asked me, "What do you have to do with Dubin."
They showed me the telephone call I ordered and I told them
the truth. Checking through my pockets, they found my small
personal note pad and that's when the problems began.
"What are these signs and these numbers, you spy?"
I said innocently that they were money I give to charity and
record in my note pad.
And what are these strange words?
Tosafos, Rashi, and Rebbi Akiva Eiger.
Secret spy codes!
I told them that it had to do with religious laws and
customs in a difficult Talmudic section and they wouldn't
understand it. "Explain everything to us," they roared. "You
explain it and we'll understand it," they shouted. "What are
the names and words you wrote here? Your life is at
stake."
Left with no choice, I began to delve into maseches
Eruvin daf nun ches: "Shomati shemikadrin
behorim." I explained the shittah of Rashi,
Tosafos's kushia and Rebbi Akiva Eiger's
teretz on shittas Rashi as I saw in the
seforim in shul and wrote down in short to
remember it. (These were the notes that they had found.) I
explained, or at least tried to explain, to bring it to
their level of intelligence. I toiled and earned reward, and
they toiled and boiled with anger.
For two complete hours, I tried to explain in vain, and they
looked at me suspiciously with blank eyes. They did not say
a word and could not understand what "spy" secret I was
trying to hide from them.
Two hours before Shabbos, the policeman who detained me
suddenly came into the room and chased me out. Until today,
I do not know exactly what happened, who aided me and who
didn't, and who succeeded in finally explaining to them the
Rebbi Akiva Eiger.
The Communists' wickedness knew no bounds. A number of
misguided Jews were drawn after them and cruelly trampled on
everything holy. One time, they shortened the week to five
days. The new week had no Shabbos or Sunday, in order to
uproot any remembrance to religious rest days for the Jews
as well as Christians. Afterwards, they made a six day week
and only Friday was a rest day.
Once, Yom Kippur fell out on a rest day and all the Jews
were very happy that they would not have to work on Yom
Kippur. The reshoim, however, sent a letter and
requested that the Jews be obligated to work on Yom Kippur
and forget about the rest day. In those days, if you didn't
work you did not have bread, which meant that death was on
the doorstep. Being fired simply spelled death!
On Yom Kippur, the Jews gathered in shul, but none of
them wanted to speak divrei Torah as the place
swarmed with spies and informers. Finally, HaRav Kalmanus
zt'l went up to the bimah and told the
following story.
A Jew raised chicks in his yard. The chicks grew and
recognized the Jew who gave them their food. One day, the
rooster disappeared. They told the Jew, "Go to the
shochet. Maybe someone stole your rooster to do
kapporos."
The Jew hurried to the shochet where he saw a
stranger holding his chicken. A quarrel erupted; each one
claimed that it was his rooster.
The shochet told them that there's a very simple way
to find out who the rooster belongs to. Take it near this
Jew's yard, untie the rope and see where the rooster goes.
They did as he said and the rooster immediately returned to
its true owner.
The rov finished his speech and said, "Ono bekoach
gedulas yemincho, tatir tzeruroh." Please Ribono shel
Olam, untie the rope and we'll see where everyone will
go.
He was referring to the fact that there were more people in
shul on Yom Kippur afternoon for
minchoh and ne'iloh than in the morning. They
had been forced to go to work in the morning.
@Sub Title=Watching Every Detail
Stories punctuate the interview, stories of mesiras
nefesh, scrupulous observance of the halocho in
all situations, and keeping Torah study sessions without
exception.
While everyone was busy guarding their basic necessities
like food and clothing, there were others whose existence
was focused on other areas. They vigilantly guarded each
piece of matzo, Yomim Noraim davening and
daily Torah learning with unusual stubbornness.
If one guards the Torah, the Torah will guard him. To
illustrate this fact, Rav Yitzchok Zilber related the
following story:
The famous gaon, Reb Eliyahu Meizes zt'l, a
heilege Yid, was sitting in court before Jewish
Communist judges who spoke Yiddish. "What do you think about
the verdict?" they asked him mockingly.
"Kol man de'ovid Rachmono letav ovid. And you will
receive your just rewards. I will dance on your graves," he
answered fearlessly. They immediately added another few
years of prison onto his sentence.
When he was in jail, he made himself a calendar. On erev
Pesach according to his calculations (the night of
bedikas chometz), he washed netilas yodayim to
have a bite of bread. Suddenly, before he said
hamotzi, a prison guard came in, grabbed away his
bread and hauled him off to the prison warden.
The warden greeted him with shouts, pointed to a package and
yelled, "What is this package? Why did you get a thick book
and a package of matzo? Why doesn't anyone send me
matzo?"
Meanwhile, Reb Eliyahu looked at the sefer and saw a
calendar. To his surprise, he discovered that that
night was already leil haseder; it was the first
night of Pesach! Heaven watched over him on leil
shimurim and saved him from eating chometz -- in
between netilas yodayim and hamotzi.
Another hero was Reb Yitzchok Weiner who sat in prison for
sixteen years. He was starving but did not lose his noble
self dignity. He feared no man and did not bow to the
Communist idol. An accountant in a large pharmacy, he never
worked on Shabbos.
Once, at the end of the civil year, a delegation came to
investigate amounts and percentages of sales and purchases
before the prices went up. They needed the accountant. As
usual, he did not work on Shabbos, and that year Pesach and
Shabbos came one after the other.
The committee was very angry and complained to the manager.
He claimed, "Yitzchok does not listen to me." The complaints
reached the highest offices, but Reb Yitzchok stood firm and
would not work on Shabbos. They could have easily put him in
jail for another sixteen years, but he did not bat an
eyelash. Finally, he convinced them that he would calculate
everything they needed on motzei Shabbos and by
Sunday, they would have all the percentages and
calculations. They grudgingly agreed.
With Hashem's help, he did a few day's work in a few hours,
to their complete satisfaction.
@SUB TITLE=Valuing Every Minute
As if many years have not since passed, Rav Yitzchok
remembers his own time in prison: I received permission from
the prison warden to stay in his room in exchange for
getting him three buckets of hot water a day and washing his
floor.
Why was it important that I live in his room? I made a
cheshbon that my job was to draw 3000 buckets of
water a day. If I ran instead of walked, I could gain
fifteen minutes of every hour -- a full two hours by the end
of the day. So, every three- quarters of an hour, I ran to
my room to rest, hid behind the thick curtain and learned
mishnayos Kodshim and Tanach.
I had tefillin. My wife brought our small daughter to
visit in the prison, and under the watchful eyes of the
guard I took off the baby's shoe and fixed it for her. While
doing so, I took the tefillin shel rosh and the
shel yad, that were hidden in the shoes, and slipped
them into my high boots.
Matzos were sent in pieces, in packages labeled "dry
cookies for tea." My wife a'h brought them. I'll say
a few words about the seder we celebrated in prison
and how it came about.
@SUB TITLE=Preparing for Pesach in Stalin's Prison
Robberies in prison were par for the course. Prisons
naturally contain the dregs of society, murderers and
sinners who lost their tzelem. For example, the first
night I took off my shoes and put them next to me, and the
next morning they were gone. For eight days I walked
barefoot in the snow until they got other shoes for me.
I didn't know what to do. How could I hide matzos or
potatoes for Pesach when everything disappears from its
hiding place with professional haste.
It was a well-known fact on the streets of Russia,
especially in that terrible time, that baking matzos
risked immediate imprisonment. I was not scared, and
promised all the Jewish prisoners that we would not eat
chometz on Pesach! But the difficult question
remained -- what would we eat? If even the bread was not
enough, how would the matzos be enough?
Everyone was entitled to buy a few kilograms of flour. My
wife saved up her rights and bought twenty-four kilograms of
flour. While she was walking in the street with the package
of matzos she had just baked for us and the other few
Jews who were not afraid to risk the baking, a policeman
suddenly stopped her and asked what she was carrying. She
quickly made up that she was carrying a birthday cake and
present for her daughter.
The policeman told her to come with him to the nearby police
station. She said that she had small children waiting for
her at home and did not have time. The policeman whistled to
his friend to come help him check her. The commanding
officer growled at him and told him to leave her alone. My
wife always used to say that this was none other than
Eliyahu Hanovi zochur latov.
My wife broke up the matzos into small pieces and
brought about 300 grams each time she visited, until we
gathered a large quantity of matzos. I asked the
prisoners to collect potatoes and they managed to get a nice
amount. For a small bribe, we received permission to cook
the potatoes on the radiator in the warden's room.
The leader of the robbers in the camp was called Mishke
Kosov. He was a violent man who could murder anyone in his
way without batting an eyelash. He approached me as I was
cleaning out a pot to cook the potatoes in and told me in
Yiddish that he's also a Jew and will not eat chometz
on Pesach. He gave me money to buy a chicken to
shecht properly for my wife to cook.
The custom was that if a wild man, especially a member of
the robbers, came to you and asked you for something, you
immediately gave him a half or third of it. Otherwise, he
would take all of it. Now, the head robber, who revealed his
Jewishness, stood up in the middle of the camp and
announced, "This is a table with drawers and a lock. From
now on, from now and all eight days of Pesach, anyone who
`asks' for anything from Rav Zilber will lose his head."
With the help of all those "tzadikim," we smuggled
raisin wine and charoses from my house, and we had
almost everything necessary for the seder table. Even
the assistant head doctor in the camp did not eat
chometz and agreed to push off his office hours in
the clinic for our convenience. So, twelve Jews sat at a
full seder table with plenty of wine, matzos
and morror. I think we smuggled in a Haggodoh
as well.
@SUB TITLE=The Eighth Day of Pesach -- Yom Tov of
Goluyos
The matzos lasted until the eighth day of Pesach.
There was not even a crumb left. One of the prisoners, Isaac
Meronovitz, whom we'll mention again, grumbled that in Eretz
Yisroel they're already eating chometz and he can't
fast an entire day after the backbreaking work. He suddenly
remembered that we say Yizkor that day and asked for
permission to eat bread after Yizkor.
I said Yizkor with all of them. In the middle,
someone who had not eaten the matzos joined us and
asked if he could say Yizkor, because his parents
begged him not to mention their names on his lips after he
was malshin on the shochet and mohel
and sent them to jail, and also closed down shuls and
mikvo'os in Russia. At this time of grace, I said
Yizkor with him as well.
Afterwards, he got up and asked if it is permissible for us
to eat butter and herring today, because he received a large
package from Moscow and would give it to anyone who had not
eaten chometz today. Someone by the name of Vladimir
Epstein, formerly secretary of the city of Kazhan, also
remembered that he was Jewish. He brought a tin of jam for
dessert and offered it only to those who did not eat
chometz. Be'ezras Hashem, we made a feast of
cooked potatoes with butter and herring. We walked together,
and I told the prisoners the story of yetzias
Mitzrayim and midroshim.
@SUB TITLE=The Warmth of Torah in the Cold Prison
The cold in the prison camp was unbearable. Everyone stayed
away from the door because of the terrible cold there, but I
preferred that place. A samovar of hot water stood behind
the door and I said kiddush there every Friday night
for whoever wanted to hear it -- and there were many.
On Friday night, I tried to say divrei Torah and
stories from the parsha and medroshei Chazal,
even for those who were far from Torah. I remember a
Communist named Rubinchik who once interrupted my speech. He
bitterly said, "The situation is not good; this can not go
on anymore."
We all looked at him in astonishment. He took out a
newspaper that showed a picture of Stalin with white hair.
This Communist sobbed with real, salty tears, "Stalin has to
be young and healthy. If he's turning white, our situation
is absolutely terrible." We all had to hold ourselves back
from smiling.
A month before I left prison, this Communist asked us to
help him divorce his non- Jewish wife because he wanted to
marry someone Jewish. Two months after I was released, I met
this man on the street and he told me that he had already
divorced his non-Jewish wife. I remember another assimilated
Jew who came back to Judaism as a result of the
shiurim we gave in prison.
@SUB TITLE=. . . Even His Enemies Bring Him Peace
There was a goy named Padek Obrov, a terrible
rosho, who took down the curtain that hid my
activities and tried to interfere with my Torah observance
in every way. It was as if he was sent from Heaven to add
nisyonos on the already impossible conditions.
One day, to my astonishment, he came to me and asked if he
could prepare hot water for all the prisoners for Shabbos
instead of me and requested the key to the place the water
was kept.
During that time, they gave all the prisoners shots; they
claimed it was some kind of medical experiment. This
goy refused to get a shot and they threatened to put
him in the dungeon for a few days. After all the prisoners
received their shots, he suddenly agreed to take his also.
They asked why he changed his mind. He answered, "I
remembered that if I'll be in the dungeon for a few days,
there won't be anyone to fill water for Shabbos for Rav
Zilber."
Someone asked him why he changed his tune and stopped
bothering Rav Zilber at every opportunity. He said that he
had a dream in which he was warned not to bother Rav Zilber
anymore.
One Shabbos, a delegation came to the prison camp to
investigate the level of cleanliness in the camp. The
director of the laborers gathered all the prisoners and
lectured on the camp's condition and the prisoners' actions.
He publicly announced that Rav Zilber does not work on
Shabbos!
Rav Zilber said, "I wasn't at the speech. I was busy
learning. I hid behind a large, heavy door and learned in
almost complete darkness." To illustrate the conditions
under which he learned, Rav Zilber turned off the light,
took a worn Tanach out of the closet and covered
himself with a tallis over his head. To my
astonishment, he managed to make out some words slowly,
slowly in the complete darkness.
As we said, the director of the camp spoke against me, and I
was standing and learning in the room behind the big door.
Some time later, the prisoners told me what had happened.
The investigation committee started to ask questions --
where is this Zilber? What does he do? And so on.
While they were speaking, two non-Jewish prisoners, wild
murderers, came over to the camp director, grabbed him by
the neck and informed him, "You're here only three years; we
are here seven. Since Rav Zilber came, there is always
water! Don't say another word against him."
He quickly changed the topic and Rav Zilber was no longer up
for discussion.
@SUB TITLE=The Purim Miracle of Russia
13 Adar 5713 (1953). Purim. I gathered a number of Jews in
the camp to tell them about the Yom Tov and
Megillas Esther. We didn't have a megilla. The
gemora says that reading the megilla is
hallel, so we said Hallel instead.
One prisoner named Isaac Meronovitz asked us, "Where is the
One Who does miracles for you? Soon all the Jews will be
`dust,' like Stalin promised."
I told him, "Stalin is only flesh and bones. No one can know
what will be with him in a half an hour." He angrily
left.
The next day, Isaac urgently searched for me and told me,
"Twenty-five minutes after we spoke, Stalin had a hemorrhage
and stroke. Remember that you said `a half an hour' -- that
no one can know what will be with him."
I immediately sat down to say Tehillim and continued
doing so for a few days, until that blood-stained sonei
Yisroel died.
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