The Undying Spark | ||||
PART ONE
PART
TWO
PART THREE |
By: Jacob Auerbach Copyright @ 1992- Jacob Auerbach, Long Beach, N.Y.
INTRODUCTION
When two Jews from Eastern Europe meet for the first time, the following exchange
almost invariably takes place:
"Where are you from?"
"Oh, you wouldn't know--a little town, a shtetl." "Well, its on the border between Russia and Poland; used to be Russia under the Tsars, then belonged to Poland, now under Russia again--the Soviets."
"I am also from Russian Poland--Vilner Gubernia. You know?" "Sure, who doesn't know Vilna? The 'Jerusalem of Lithuania'! I myself am from Grodner Gubernia, not far from Bialystok."
"Really? I know some people from Bialystok--Mandelstein. Zalman
Mandelstein. "Well, I am not from Bialystok, but from a small shtetl nearby --Bolotna, not far from Malybrod. Have you ever heard of them?"
"Bolotna? Malybrod? No, doesn't sound familiar. Maybe
you know Hradovka? "Hradovka?--No, never heard of it."
Hundreds of little towns, some no bigger than hamlets, scattered throughout
Eastern Europe, were the home of three or four million Jews prior to World War I I . An
additional three million or so inhabited the large cities in the same region. The small
town was called shtetl--the Yiddish diminutive of shtot, meaning city. Though most
of them were hundreds of years old, going back to the 14th century or even earlier, few
can be found on regional maps, and only those located on important crossroads, railway
junctions or river crossings ware known beyond their immediate vicinity.
Up to the time of my childhood, during the first decade of this century, there
was little intercourse between these communities. Transportation was by horse and wagon,
over wretched sandy or muddy roads; railroads and paved highways connected only the large
cities; telephones were nonexistent; and mail was delivered at most once a week. The
general poverty precluded travel except for urgent reasons, such as important business
deals; undergoing an operation in the nearest city which had competent doctors or a
hospital; meeting a prospective bride or groom and their parents; and similar weighty
matters. Such a trip, when undertaken, was planned for weeks in advance, the whole town
knew about it, and the traveler was encumbered with commissions, letters and messages to
be executed and delivered to relatives and friends at the destination. Conversely, on the
rare occasion that a stranger appeared in town, he found himself besieged with inquiries
about people in his own town who were known to local residents, and he too was given
letters and messages to be delivered upon his return home. These tasks were accepted as a
matter of course, and were usually executed faithfully--first, because it was a mitzva,
a good deed; and second because one never knew when he himself might need such a favor. In
the main, the town's residents never ventured beyond its precincts, and spent their lives
there from birth to death, just as their parents and grandparents had done before them.
Their dwellings might have been crowded, but there was no shortage of room at the cemetery
just outside of town.
Though largely isolated from one another, these small communities were never the
less alike in their general setup, since they had all developed according to the same
pattern, dictated by restrictions imposed by the governments under which they lived. But
in the course of time each area evolved its own unique attributes--in dress, social
customs, dialect, and even religious practice. Mile all East European Jews spoke Yiddish,
an admixture of words from the prevalent local languages enriched and diversified the
Yiddish of each region, in addition to a liberal sprinkling of Hebrew words and phrases,
often badly garbled in the process.
The economy of the shtetl was based on the peasantry of the neighboring villages.
Constrained by government fiat to live in the congested small towns, forbidden to own land
outside of their boundaries, barred from service in the extensive bureaucracy and from
most of the professions, Jews were perforce reduced to earn a living by commerce or manual
trades. They became the middlemen who bought the peasants' surplus products for resale
to the cities, and the purveyors of goods and services that the peasants needed. Except
for the few prosperous individuals who operated taverns, small industries or wholesale
businesses, most Jews eked out a living as storekeepers, shoemakers, tailors or other such
manual artisans.
Throughout the centuries, despite discrimination, persecution and occasional
pogroms, these Jewish communities stubbornly held on to the faith of their fathers,
passing on the old customs and traditions from generation to generation. Study of the
Hebrew Scriptures was a must for every boy, and learning was held in the highest
respect. There was hardly any illiteracy among Jew;, most of whom knew at least one
other language--that of the people among whom they lived. But secular education was held
to a minimum by government limitation of the number of Jewish children who could be
admitted to official schools, and to some extent also by the attitude of ultra-orthodox
Jews who feared, not unreasonably, that young people might be led astray from the
righteous path and learn the ways of the Goyim. And why drink from strange wells when all
wisdom can be found in the Talmud?
However, toward the last quarter of the nineteenth century fresh winds began to
penetrate the shtetl. A number of thinkers among the more emancipated West European,
primarily German, Jews started a movement to draw their coreligionists into the mainstream
of modern life, to eradicate the lingering ghetto mentality, to lift them out of the
morass into which they had been pushed by ages of discrimination and persecution. Secular
education was seen as the imperative first step toward this end. As this movement, known
as Haskala--Enlightenment--gradually spread to the then Russian provinces of Poland,
Lithuania and the Ukraine, a number of private Jewish schools, endowed by wealthy Jews and
supported by public contributions, were established in the larger cities. These schools
were patterned after the government Gymnasiums, and produced a new generation with a basic
grounding in social and natural sciences, eager to learn more about the wide world beyond
the horizon. The spirit of Haskala engendered a new Yiddish literature and a rich culture,
unique in its amalgam of old folklore and modern thought.
These new trends brought about a restlessness among the youth, a thirst for
education, an urge to break out of the confines of the shtetl. Emigration to the newly
discovered by them Western World, especially America, with its freedom and promise o f a
better life, seemed to be the best way out. The rash of pogroms which erupted in the 1880s
provided an additional impetus, and the great migration to America began, to continue in
ever increasing volume until it was interrupted in 1914 by the First World War.
Large-scale emigration resumed after the war's end, but was greatly curtailed by the First
Quota Act of 1921, and then abruptly brought to a trickle by the severely restrictive
Immigration Act of 1924, which practically shut the "Golden Door" presided
over by the "Mother of Exiles" the Statue of Liberty. Despite the loss of population through emigration and the ravages of the First World War the shtetl continued to exist and even thrive during the next twenty years, now under Polish suzerainty. Then, in September 1939, came the German onslaught and occupation of Poland. The Nazi's proclaimed "Solution of the Jewish Question" began to be implemented at once. Within three years the total Jewish population, men, women and children, after degradation and torture, was exterminated. The local gentiles, some of whom participated in the atrocities, were at first stunned by the massacres, but after the initial shock wore off they gradually appropriated the Jewish houses, stores, and whatever other property, accumulated by generations of toil, was left behind. The shtetl was wiped off the face of the earth. It exists only in memory. |
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