The Eighty First Blow

I first heard about the story that I am about to unfold to you here, dear readers, when I was a young child in Yisrael. The year was 1961.

In April of that year, Adolph Eichmann, the notorious Nazi criminal who was one of the initiators and implementors of the “Final Solution” for our Jewish People, stood trial in Yisrael, the National Home of the Jewish People after he had been kidnapped and brought to Yisrael.

The trial was broadcasted live over the radio. As a young child, I would never forget those long nights of pain, heartache and endless tears that poured like rivers from my parents’ eyes as the atrocious stories were being told, stories that no sane mind can digest. Those were the nights Yisrael stood still as witness after witness took the stand to point at this evil man and repeat two words that have become part of our Jewish DNA, “J’accuse!”

This is also where the story you are about to read was first told. This is where, my parents, two Shoah survivors, and I heard it for the first time.

It starts in the Przemysl ghetto. One of its inmates, a thin young man, age 16-17, along with a group of others were appointed as the “Transport Commando” where they were employed as carriers. Their duties consisted of emptying Jewish homes and transferring the content to storage.

One day, in the summer of 1943, close to the liquidation of the ghetto, the Nazis executed the train station manager. His crime, he was a Jew (though he had converted to Christianity earlier in his life). His wife who was not Jewish was shot as well.

Along with his team, this young man was assigned to empty is home. The place, as it turned out, housed many books,  a large portion, of which studied the subject of trains. The occupants of the ghetto had already heard about the trains and their destinations.

While removing the content of the train station manager’s residence, our young man decided to take some of the books and upon their arrival back in the ghetto hide them. Being aware that such a move was akin to signing one’s death warrant, did not deter the young man from pursuing his plan. He was adamant that those books should never fall into German hands.

A few days later, he was called into the yard. There, he saw the Jewish camp commander standing next to Yosef Schwammberger, the SS commander in charge of the camp. The latter was holding a leather strap which was tied to a dog’s collar. The strap was thick. On one side, it had a buckle.

The young boy had already witnessed the way the Nazi commander had employed the dog and on more than one occasion before. “Man, go get the dog,” was one of his favourite methods of punishment.

It was clear that something horrible was about to happen. One does not get to see commander Schwammberger for any minor issue.

“Where did you hide the books ?” roared the SS man after removing the strap from the collar.

Initially, the young man was unaware of his “crime.” When he realized what it was, he explained that when he got back to the ghetto, it was “lunch time” and by the time it was over, the books had disappeared so he had assumed that people had already taken them to read.

Wrong answer!

Yosef Schwammberger, raised the strap and hit the boy over his neck. He then ordered someone to bring in “the bench.” It was a special bench. On it, they would   lay the “culprits” or the victims and deal them twenty-five (25!) blows with no less than the buckle. After fifty (50!) blows, Yosef would produce his gun and shoot the victim. It was common knowledge.

The uncertainty of his fate was just as devastating as punishment by death.

When the strokes commenced, our young man started counting them. Surely, he felt, he could count to 25. After the 13^th and 14^th blows, he fainted. When he came to himself, he was hit again. He fainted several times. The other residents of the ghetto were asked to come out and watch it.

Suddenly, he felt nothing.

There were eighty (80!) blows, so the witnesses counted.

This young man was a miracle, the embodiment of one! Let me tell you why.

According to the Talmud, punishment by lashes, which was common in ancient times, should not surpass 39 for fear that the 40^th strike might be detrimental to them. The guilty person may be weak, can get sick or die as a result of them. The number of the lashes the accused was dealt was always measured against his health status for fear that such a practice might endanger him. But there were never more than thirty-nine. Thirty-Nine, NOT Eighty! To survive 80, it must be, it can only be a miracle

When he finally came to himself, our young man heard Schwammberger yelling : ”In three minutes, I want the books back in the library.”

Where he got the energy and the strength to get up and run to the piles of books, is an enigma to this young man who is now B’H 95 years old. He stood there with his back bleeding, waiting for Schwammberger’s orders. The latter pulled a Psalms book and asked him whether it was one of them. After, he confirmed it, the young man was ordered to go but not before he was dealt one more blow on his neck. For a few days afterwards, our young heroic man spent several days in the corridor.

This young man survived that horrific experience but lost his whole family. He survived Auschwitz. He clung to life, been to hell and came out of it ready to avenge the demons with staunch determination, a determination understood by very few.

During the Death March, when the Nazis were hastily moving the inmates westward, in the freezing winter, he was able to escape with a couple of friends. They were hiding until the arrival of the Russians at which time, our hero joined Red Army, learned to drive a tank and fought against the Nazi army, on the Czech front.

After the war he made it to Eretz Yisrael on a refugee boat. The boat was captured by the British sent to a detention camp in Cyprus and eventually married, set up a family, joined the police force, became a police officer and was appointed to be one of Eichmann’s, the now miserable, dismal creature that the former Nazi had become, interrogators.

Amazingly enough, our hero told his story only once. It was the first and the last time he had shared it, until Eichmann’s trial.

One of the witnesses in the Eichmann trial was Dr. Bushminsky, one of the ghetto residents who had seen what had happened in that yard, in the Przemysl ghetto, on that dreary day in the summer of 1943. When they first met and our young man introduced himself. The doctor, who evidently did not recognize him, said “I knew someone by that name in our ghetto. He was dealt 80 blows by Schwammberger. “Last I heard, he added, “he was dead.”

"He is not dead, he is standing right in front of you,” answered our friend.

Dr. Bushminsky must have shared that with Gideon Hausner, the Chief Prosecutor at the Eichmann trial. When Dr. Bushminsky took the witness stand he also shared the story about the young man who was beaten 80 times. Suddenly and unexpectedly, Hausner turned to Dr. Bushminsky and asked: “Can you point that young man to us?” “Yes, your honour,” answered Dr. Bushminsky, “he is sitting right next to you and is wearing a police officer’s uniform.”

Later, when asked by  Gideon Hausenr, the chief prosecutor in the Eichmann trial why he never shared his story more than once, the proud man unveiled a very sad reality that many of the other survivors faced upon sharing their story.

Disbelief.

As it turns out, our friend, did try to share history once with a couple who he had met. When  he finished his recount, he saw the man turn to his wife and say to her in Hebrew: “Shoah survivors had been through so much, sometimes they tend to mix truth with imagination.”

“That’s it,” he resolved right there and then and later disclosed to Hausner and others during one meeting, “I am not telling anymore fantasies.” The silence that cloaked the room was deafening.

“And that, for me,“ he added to their blank faces, “was……”
“Your Eighty First Blow,” uttered one of those present.

This hero is B”H still with us today. His name is Michael Goldman Gilad. He is the father of our dear friend here, Tal Gilad.

A Vanished Culture

Last night, I was watching a TV programme about the acclaimed Yiddish poet, Avraham Sutzkever.

In my view, he is probably the best poet that the Yiddish language ever gave rise to.

Fortunately for me, Yididsh is my first tongue. What a blessing it has been to be able to read and study this and other great Yiddish poets in that language, in the context of the Yiddish culture

Sutzkever was born in the town of Smorgon, my mother’s hometown. As a result of the Ribbentrop-Molotov agreement, their part of former Poland fell into Russian hands. Shortly after the Nazi invasion into the Soviet Union, in the middle of 1941, they set up a Ghetto in Vilna to where my parents and their family were transferred. Sutzkever, also, ended up there.

Vilna, its rich Jewish history and Jewish life have been part of the fabric of my upbringing. Prior to the war, I had a large family there. My late grandmother visited that city on a regular basis. I used to listen to her stories, her vivid description of famous landmarks, its thriving Jewish culture, Yiddish theatre and renowned scholarship of Yerushalayim D’Lita” (Jerusalem of Lita). That city was an inseparable part of me.

I have been to Vilna three times. During one of those times, I spent a summer programme at the Vilnius University Jewish Institute with my daughter. It was there that I was introduced to the great Avraham Sutzkever.

One of his poems that was taught in the course, “By the Golden Chain,” (Songs from the Diary), especially, caught my attention. Here is my free translation of it from the Yiddish:

“By the golden chain […]
Already time to unbutton out of darkness the secrets

Where tiny hearts of slime continue to beat in the ocean’s laboratory

Now it is time to drink wine with long drowned
Sailors in water – innkeepers on deck of ocean, in a cabin

And hear them tell of pirates, albatrosses

And Love of a thousand years, and everything not yet - tranquil.”

It struck a familiar note. As an undergraduate in English Literature, these words reverberated those of another poem, a very well known one. It was Samuel Taylor Coleridge’s poem, “The Rime of the Ancient Mariner,” written in the late 18^th century.

 In Coleridge’s poem, after the ancient mariner commits a sin by killing the albatross, guilts hounds him. The ship he was on was wrecked by a storm and its crew of sailors sank to the bottom of the sea. The mariner was its sole survivor.

Without getting into the discussion on why Sutzkever chose that metaphor, I remember being astonished and utterly awestruck at the fact that he was familiar with Coleridge’s work. Moreover, I was very impressed by how well he incorporated it into his poem.

After having delved into some of his other poems, I understood the profundity and talent that Sutzkever possessed. I was intrigued, curious and challenged by his poetic gift and decided to learn more about him. What I discovered was overwhelming.

Poetry, Yiddish poetry it turns out was Sutzkever’s survival mechanism during the harsh daily reality of life in the Vilna Ghetto. That did not come as a surprise to me. Having been exposed to the pearls of Yiddish culture, values, its humour, I was aware of their potential to generate a perennial spring, keeping its speakers’ spirits and minds forever alive and alert. They were the source of vitality, endurance, and resilience that prepared, guided and supported Jews through the monstrous chapter European Jewish history.

Sutzkever wrote a poem every day during his stay at the Vilna Ghetto. He was also involved in the vibrant cultural life and activities in the Ghetto and was even able to salvage some literary works.

Following their liberation, Sutzkever, his wife and young daughter made their way to Eretz Yisrael.

Unfortunately, in the early days of the nascent state, Yiddish was discouraged from being taught, spoken. It was suppressed and even banned. To modern day Yisraelis, it was the language of the Diaspora, the language of the people who had allowed themselves to be led to slaughter without much resistance. Many mocked and ridicule me for speaking it with my grandmother. Many continued to mock me for teaching it to my daughter.

 I vowed, then, that I will do whatever is in my powers to preserve that great and wealthy culture. It is the fiber of my essence, the culture that helped shape my destiny and that of my offspring. I, we owe it to hundreds of years of Jewish survival and to all the immolation our Jewish brothers and sisters have endured to keep its practice alive and thriving.

It will not stop with me. It cannot stop with me.

The Great Yet Little Applied Lesson of Chanukah

Last week, as we were about to enter the Jewish Holy Day of Chanukah, I wrote an article about miracles. For many, and unfortunately so, I might add, Chanukah begins and ends with the miracle of the can of oil that lasted eight days when it should have sufficed for one day only.

A beautiful and cheerful story indeed which merely tells us why the holiday lasts eight days but not why we celebrate it. The second “why” is one of the most important lessons in our Jewish history, a lesson we seem to have forgotten.

For me, and many others, Chanukah is about the Jews taking over and shaping their own destiny. It is about Jews and ONLY Jews defining who we are and what our tradition, its symbols and concept are all about.

As during the times of the Maccabees, nowadays we also have Hellenizing Jews. Yes, I am talking about those Jews who lack a backbone, appease and cater to those who they believe can save them, little realizing that in many cases, those who claim to love us, are merely doing it in pursuit of their own agenda be it political, religious or economic ones.

Some of us call it, the “Ghetto mentality,” the kind Jews had been forced to adopt while living  under the rule of foreigners for a very long time. In Yiddish, there is a special term for it, the “Sha Shtil,” (be quiet) mentality.

These Jews who possess and practice such a mindset will go out of their way to please those they feel may give them a sense of security or a longer life sentence. They will let them usurp their most treasured symbols, allow them to define them and let them advocate for them wherever threats to Jewish existence lurk - all in the name of gaining and buying safety for one day longer.

Funny, because all around us, we see the opposite is happening. Minorities, be it people of colour, members of indigenous nations or anyone else, are offended and rightfully so, should an outsider engage in efforts to define them or usurp any of their symbols.

However, should a Jew “dare” to stand and speak up against such endeavours by others to do the same to us, they get chastised, blocked, offended and are subject to witch hunts.

I bet those members of our People whose blood has filled the rivers of history are probably turning in their graves witnessing and wondering if Jews have learned any lessons from their untimely death

Is that what was the fabric of our destiny when we entered nationhood? Were we meant to be followers rather than leaders? Was that the purpose of establishing a Jewish state in our ancient Homeland, merely to allow it to be conquered physically and ideologically?

Whatever happened to Jewish pride, the kind that the Maccabees restored, “in those days at this time?” What happened to their defiant Spirit or the Spirit of the heroes of Metzada? How about the vigor of the warriors of the Warsaw Ghetto or the Jewish partisans who fought in the forests of Europe against the Nazis? How about the essence of the members of the underground movements, in the years that preceded the establishment of the Jewish state, to whom we owe our presence here in Eretz Yisrael?

Let us bring it back!

Am Yisrael Chai in Eretz Yisrael, its past, present and future Home 

Yisrael, the Jewish Homeland, or a Home for the Jews?

This article was co-authored by Roger Froikin and Bat-Zion Susskind-Sacks

For many of us it is not even a question. There is only fact. There always has been. As far as we are concerned, there will always be. Yisrael is the Jewish Homeland, the only Jewish Homeland.

Unfortunately, there are still many, Jews included, who refuse to see it. All around us, we witness NGO’s (non-governmental organizations) popping up promoting and supporting the creation of a “Civil Society” in Yisrael, instead of the Jewish one. We hear slogans calling for making Yisrael the “state of all of its citizens.” Some are even going as far as suggesting that “Hatikvah,” the Yisraeli National anthem be changed to reflect the reality that they purport.

Of course there are more pressing issues that need addressing, as some try to enlighten us. There always were, there always will be. However, as time goes by and more groups that call for such changes show up, the more urgency this issue gains.

In order to illustrate our stance, please allow us to take you through memory lane and remind you, the readers, of some vital historical facts.

Let us start with the Torah and the whole Tanach. We know that some would regard it a religious document that may not serve as a historical one. Unfortunately, for those who entertain such claims, history and archeology support our contention. Eretz Yisrael is the Homeland of the Jews. The Torah, the whole Tanach serve as our Deed.

True, Am Yisrael conquered it from the nations that were present here. Unfortunately, however, there is none of them left around to claim it as their own just as there are no Morori left in New Zealand to claim it back from the Maori who conquered them and now claim it back from the White man.

The Jewish essence of Eretz Yisrael was decreed thousands of years ago. Again, it is supported by historical and archeological evidence.

It was decreed by G-d to Avraham first and foremost. For those of you who feel that G-d has no room in this debate, fear not, there is abundant historical and archeological proof that the Jewish People walked this Land long before many of those who wish to strip it of its Jewish core. There is the Dead Sea Scrolls, there is plenty of written material as well as exhibits displayed in museums in Yisrael and other places around the world that point at that.

On top of it, and not that it matters much to the point of this article, it was the Gentiles who determined the strong and inseparable connection of the Jewish people to Eretz Yisrael.

First, there is the Cyrus Declaration. “In 539 B.C.E, having conquered Babylon, the benevolent Cyrus freed the Jews from captivity and empowered them to return to the Promised Land and build their Temple.” (http://www.farsinet.com/cyrus/).

Fast forwarding in History, we have the Balfour Declaration that specifically spells out the nature of the political entity that would be established in Eretz Yisrael. In a letter that Lord Balfour write to Lord Rothschild, on November 2nd, 1917 , he states, “Foreign Office November 2nd, 1917

“….on behalf of His Majesty's Government, the following declaration of sympathy with Jewish Zionist aspirations which has been submitted to, and approved by, the Cabinet

His Majesty's Government view with favour the establishment in Palestine of a national home for the Jewish people, …….

http://www.jewishvirtuallibrary.org/text-of-the-balfour-declaration

There it is in plain view, “A National Home for the Jewish People.”

That Declaration was also the basis for the San Remo Accord of 1920. In Article 22, the Supreme Council recognized the:

“historical connection of the Jewish people to Palestine and the grounds for reconstituting their national home in that country” 

Eventually it became International law in the form of the League of Nations’ establishment of the Mandate for Palestine, in which Britain was to administer parts of what was the Ottoman Empire to establish and develop a Homeland for the Jewish People.

To understand what happened we have to look at the world in that era of the mid to late 19^th century and into the early 20th.  It was recognized by all that it was necessary for ethnic minorities to have self-determination expressed through their own nation states and that no people needed this more than the Jewish people who were persecuted as outsiders everywhere.  

That belief in ethnic self-determination has continued to this day, though selectively.   Yugoslavia has split into 6 nation states whose differences are more based on religion and tradition than anything else.   The Soviet Union has been divided into many states based on language, religion, and ethnic identity.  In more recent history, Serbia was bombed viciously by NATO forces to create a separate Muslim and Albanian speaking Kosovo that caused an exodus of Serbian Christians fleeing discrimination. 

Each of these nation states, have a predominant religion and culture and often sizable minorities that do not share all of that culture with the majority. The world accepts that as normal and legitimate with ONE exception, the Jewish state.

Now, ask yourselves, why is this Jewish State the sole exception to the pattern?   Why is it that the only ethnic nation state in the world that has a 3400-year connection to its land, world recognition of its rightful existence written into International law, and after the need to fight several times to prevent genocide of its people, is asked to reject its identity and traditions and beliefs in order to be a “nation of all its citizens?”  

Should Italy ban celebrations of traditional Christian holidays,  many of them legal holidays,  to become a state of all its citizens.  Same with France.  Same with Germany.  Should France ban traditional pork from school lunches to be a nation of all its citizens?   Should Germany ban Oktoberfest because it is too ethnically German and might make Muslims feel excluded?   No one asks them to do that.

There are only 2 possible answers.   (1)  Anti-Semitism on the part of gentiles making such demands who want to see the end of the Jewish state and of the Jewish people and (2)  a Ghetto mentality on the part of some Jews who are so desperate for the safety promised by disappearing into some universal mass.

We need to stop with apologetic Hasbarah, cease with the need, by Jews and non-Jews alike, to constantly define and redefine who and what we are. Just like any other nation, we need to put our foot down and present the world with the incontestable fact. Yisrael is the Jewish Homeland just as it always has been and forever will be!

Special thanks go to Moshe Schwartz

Yiddish, anyone?

It was not easy growing up speaking Yiddish in the nascent state of Yisrael. The language evoked memories of the Diaspora and its recent tragedy of the Shoah, an experience that has forever changed the Jewish people.

It was my first language, the only one I could communicate through with my grandmother who never spoke Hebrew. It was also the language that drew much mockery, contempt and disdain by many. “That is the language of the Ghetto,” some suggested. “That is the language of those who went like a lamb to the slaughter house, without any resistance,” others yet never hesitated to contribute their two cents. I was called a “vusvus.” (what, what in Yiddish). I was called a “soap” since, after all, Yiddish was the language spoken by those, some of whom were targeted to become soap by the Nazi killing machine.

These condescending remarks, however, never deterred me. They had the opposite effect on me. “I am a daughter of two such ’lambs’,” I always came out in defense of Shoah victims. I saw their existence as a triumph. “It is the language of survivors,” I retorted. “in fact, Yiddish is the culture of survivors.” I was proud to speak it, to hear my grandmother’s Yiddish stories about shtetl life, to sing its songs and to laugh at its humour. “If not for Yiddish and its humour,” my late mother told me on more than one occasion, “I doubt that even those who had come out of the inferno would have. אז מעז הונגעריק זינגט מען אונד אז עס טוט ווי לאכט מען  (When you are hungry, you sing and when you hurt, you laugh) was our motto when we were in the Nazi camps,” she repeatedly told me. I adopted this motto.

Years later, when I lived in Texas, I taught a Yiddish course in one of the synagogues as part of an adult education program. I always started the lesson with a humourous anecdote about life in the shtetl. On one occasion, I had to travel out of town and asked another teacher to cover for me. “Why have you been teaching them only about the wonderful aspects of shtetl life?” she asked me upon my return. ”Why don’t you teach them about the hunger, the poverty, the anti-Semitism?” I did not need time to think of an answer. “That, they can read about in any encyclopedia,” I told her. ”The purpose of my course is to teach them how the Yiddish language and culture helped Jews overcome some of the darkest chapters in our Jewish history. This is what Yiddish is for me, this is what Yiddish was for many, a survival tool.”

Unfortunately, not many are aware that the Yiddish culture which nearly became extinct since so many of its members were brutally eradicated, was also blessed with great writers, poets, philosophers and thinkers. My daughter and I had the honour to have had a glimpse at it when we attended a two month Yiddish course at the University of Vilna, in Lithuania.

Vilna housed one of the largest Ghettos during the early years of WWII. The Ghetto library, full of Yiddish books, was one of its busiest centers. One hundred thousand books, per month, were checked out at one point of its existence. The Yiddish culture was the residents’ sustenance, their elixir and sliver of hope during those difficult years.

So yes, Yiddish it is for me. I still learn it, read it, speak it and sing it. I vowed that as long as I am alive, it will live on with me and through me. My parents taught it to me, I taught it to my daughter and I intend to teach it to my grandchildren. After all, isn’t remembering, keeping our heritage alive one of the tenets of Judaism? Is it not what Exodus 13,8 commands us where it says, “And you shall tell your son. וְהִגַּדְתָּ֣ לְבִנְךָ֔” ?