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Memories of Nachum Goldman, as written by Aron-Zvi Dudayi Dudman
Memories
of Vishnevo
Translated
by Eilat Gordin Levitan
Like
a long list of Jewish leaders, I belong to the last generation that lived
and took part in a very unique time in history, a period that shaped the Jewish
life during the last 50 years. IÕm
talking about the generation that had in its roots the essential quality of
Jews of Eastern Europe, but was educated in Western Europe. Melded in our essence is the culture and
personality of Jews from both Eastern and Western Europe. Amongst the representatives of these sorts
of Jews clearly you can name Chaim Weitzman. ItÕs not a coincidence that the prominent figures from this
generation became the leaders of modern Zionism. The distinct essence of modern
Zionism is that itÕs a synthesis between East and West. It is unique, with no brothers in the
rest of the history of the nation of Israel.
Since
the community censuses were lost during the First World War in the area of
Vishnevo and there is no exact date that we can give, as much as we can deduct
from municipal papers from Vishnevo during World War I, I was born in July
10, 1895. Despite the fact that I was only there
for six years of my childhood, this period of my life left an indelible mark
on my character. My spirituality
and personality were deeply affected by the traditions of Eastern European
Jewish life.
The
first six years of my life were spent at the house of my paternal grandparents.
My parents left Russia to try their luck in Germany shortly after my
birth. First my father studied at the universities
in Konigsberg and Heidelberg, but when he realized he could not afford to
finish his studies, his parents found him a home in Frankfurt on the Meine.
This was the town where my mother brought me when I was six.
My impressions from my earlier childhood that had such a big
influence on my personality were of the warmth of my grandparentsÕ house and
the cultural climate that was so special in the town of Vishnevo. My grandfather was the doctor of the town
and the entire surrounding area. He
had a farmer-like personality, very strong and natural in his habits, with
a large amount of common sense. He
was a real doer, not an idle dreamer. The villagers loved him with their entire soul. As for the
people who became sick, he had a extraordinary ability to communicate with
them.
He
was very, very different from my maternal grandfather who was dayyan in Vilna,
the most respected Jewish community in Russia. My maternal grandfather was a perfect example of the rabbinical
tradition: all his days he only studied the Talmud and Talmudic literature
while my grandmother, his wife, was managing a small store for their finances.
There
are many anecdotes that people told in the family about him where we could
learn of his personality. As
the head of the dayyan in Vilna, my grandfather was amongst the leaders in
the community, particularly since when the Gaon of Vilna died, the Jewish
community there refused to have anymore rabbis in Vilna as a gesture of respect
for the greatness of the dead. So
from then on the head dayyan became rabbi-like in status, earning the most
special place in the synagogue during holy days.
While
the poor Jews, amongst them wandering Jews, beggars, etc. would come to the
synagogue to take part in the prayers, my grandfather who could have gone
to the best seat would join the poor so they would not feel themselves inferior.
Symbolic
to his personality was the way he died: for many, many years, day after day
he would sit in his narrow room with the door closed, studying.
when finally it affected him and he became
sick with pneumonia. The doctor
suggested he should take a vacation in Crimea, but he refused to listen to
him. Many days he was very stubborn
about not going, explaining that the long voyage to Crimea, which he would
have to ride on a train for days, would take time from his Talmud studies.
And what kind of life would he have if he were denied the studies of
the Torah?
Finally
he couldnÕt take the begging of his wife and other family members and he went
on his way. When the train arrived
in Crimea, they found my grandfather lifeless. We never knew whether he died when arrived there or during
the travels.
I
only met my maternal grandfather in the last years of his life when I stayed
with him for a few weeks in Vilna on the way to Germany. In any case it is very clear to me that
I inherited my intellectual core from him.
From
my paternal grandfatherÕs side, where I grew up and where I was educated in
the first years of my life, I received other gifts that were no less important.
My paternal grandfather was not an intellectual type but a very practical
man. He had many children, most of them girls.
The days when I was there they were not yet married so they took a
large part in my education. I was the only grandson who lived at the
house and this fact stood in direct correlation to the amount of pampering
that I received. All the memories
that I have from those days have not even a hint of unpleasantness and I believe
that the tranquility and harmony of the first years of my life gave me the
self-confidence that I was blessed with. That, more than any part of my personality, has aided me in
my political activities later on.
Already
in my early childhood there were signs of my mature personality. I clearly remember many tricks that I
pulled that might have been an expression of my need to lead, and my need
to organize and take charge of things.
Those early deeds that I used my friends to help me carry out, many
times today seem to me to not have been in the best taste. But I remember that then I used to make
them a little less sharp since I would always take all responsibility on myself
without a moment of hesitation, in all the things my friends and I would do.
To be truthful, I must admit that in most cases it didnÕt take a lot
of bravery or self-sacrifice, as the grandson of a person who was the only
doctor in town and for many years was the head of the Jewish community there.
Already I received special treatment.
I
remember one Saturday when I created a huge mess in the synagogue when I entered
the synagogue riding my big St. Bernard dog. It was huge and very scary although truly he had a very good
nature. But the people praying
must have thought it to be a horrible, wild dog who was coming to tear them
apart. In the womenÕs quarters
above, a few women fainted and some of the men ran outside screaming. But all this pandemonium didnÕt make my
dog change his stoic essence. He
kept walking slowly and self-assuredly through the synagogue until we reached
my grandfatherÕs seat in the first row.
However, even that deed, which was absolutely blasphemous and so shocking
that people talked about it for many years, I survived without much punishment.
In
town my reputation was of a boy who appeared older than his age. For some health reasons I missed many
days of cheder studies, but this did not affect my education since I was very
quick and clever. It was enough
for me to have private lessons of an hour or two to catch up to my friends
who studied eight to ten hours a day.
So the basic Jewish education I received mostly from my grandfather
and a few tutors, amongst them the rabbi of the town [ed: Rabbi Perlman Margolis].
This rabbi later on went to Eretz Israel and when I had my bar mitzvah
he sent me a letter from there where he described an episode from my days
in the cheder of Vishnevo. This
episode is descriptive not only of the way I thought but also it is a perfect
example of Talmudic thinking. As
my former teacher wrote in his letter, while he was discussing with the class
the dream of Yakov where there was a passage saying that the angels of god
(this was when I was 4) go up and down, I could not in my logic let myself
accept such a sentence and I argued that the angels of God are in heaven so
how can they go up before they go down?
They must first go down and only then go up.
The rabbi said that this question bothered him for years and he investigated
this passage in all the different sources hoping to find reasonable answers
since illogic has no place in the logical Torah.
Typical
of religious people he could not accept the idea that it was just a phrase
that people might say casually, without any real thought. Up and down. It
was symbolic of a nation that for hundreds of years had been raised on the
Talmudic analytical, logical basis in which no coincidences could occur.
Without
getting into a deep psychological study, itÕs very clear for me today when
I look back that all the signs of my character were already taking roots in
me in those days would become extremely important in helping me decide what
paths to take. When I think of
it, everything I achieved was done without cries or yells, but through careful
persuasion instead. As a child, for example, I received special permission
that let me stay with the older people until late night hours. For many months, later on, I would argue
against what I saw as the punishment that I had to go early to my bed.
I grew up with adults and I loved listening to their conversations
at evening time, and I hated, as all children do, to go to sleep hours before
the adults. All the scenes that I created at that point didnÕt change that
rule, and at the end I realized that there was a more useful way to work this
out. As a child who was traditionally
educated, my duty was to do a kryatchma when I was going to bed.
So I used this rule, saying that I would not pray this prayer before
I felt a true need to sleep. This stubbornness brought my wished results,
and from then on they let me stay until I was ready to say the prayer.
This experience made it clear to me that what I couldnÕt do with fighting
and stubbornness I achieved with a little bit of ÒpoliticsÓ.
This incident also made me richer with another bit of knowledge: religious
thoughts cannot be forced upon you, and even more important, that prayer only
has meaning if it is said with free will.
I
was very lucky that my very first years, when the soul is still open to receive
impressions from the environment, unlike other times in the life, passed in
a house filled with pleasantness and warmth, surrounded by good natured and
generous people. When I think
today about my grandfatherÕs house I cannot decide who had the best nature
among all the family members. All
of them, my grandfather, grandmother, my aunts who took care of me with serenity
and devotion, and never-ending pleasantness seemed to me to be true angels. I am very sure that the lack of suspicion
and the need to help people, two character traits that were strong in me when
I became an adult, were rooted in those first years. The feeling of confidence and safety that
is so rooted in me might somehow be connected to the fact that my family then
already thought that I would do great deeds in my life. They even asked the rabbi of the town
to put special care in my education and development.
After
I left my dear ones to join my parents in Germany I never saw them again. The First World War and the Revolution
in Russia brought separation to many families. All my family members died before I could meet them again.
Still, their memory is deeply rooted in my heart and my soul and I
am very thankful for all that they gave me.
Those dear people created the soil where I could take root and receive
happiness and warmth and safety no matter what the future would bring.
I am absolutely sure if my parents had taken me to Germany as soon
as they had left I would lack this treasure that only life in a shtetl could
bring. And once again I will
emphasize that the spiritual climate of the Lithuanian shtetl Vishnevo was
a very important element of establishing my character.
Much
was written about life in the Jewish shtetl. Famous people immortalized the atmosphere and the way of life
in Eastern European towns and I will not try here to do that. I only wanted to talk about life in Vishnevo
from a personal point of view, only to see how life there affected my essence.
It is a great mistake to think that the life of a Jew in the shtetl
was life in a ghetto, or that the Jews in the shtetl showed themselves as
humiliated and marginalized people.
This observation might be true of the big town in Eeastern Europe where
the Jews were a minority amongst a hostile majority that oppressed and humiliated
them. This was not the situation in the shtetl
where the Jew lived in his own kingdom. And here, most of the population would mingle with Christians
in the nearby villagees, recognized that they had the right to feel superior.
Even
from an economical point of view, their situation was not exactly well but
it was still much better than that of most farmers in Czarist Russia. In usual days when there were no pogroms
in the area, the Jew had a better spiritual and financial situation than the
rest of the population. The Jew
lived in his shtetl as if in the solitude of a splendid spring.
The big non-Jew world was practically non-existent.
Although he lacked political rights, they had very little importance
in his eyes. He didnÕt care one iota if he was allowed
to take part in the elections for the Duma or not. The problems faced by the Russian Empire
didnÕt bother him at all. He
lived entirely in his own world, a world that was part of a tradition going
back thousands of years. What
was special about his splendid past was a source of power and splendor.
All the problems and troubles that the Jew cared about were to do with
life in the shtetl, and into that he put most of his energies. ÒWho is going
to be appointed for gabai? Who is the first and who second to receive
the aliyah for the Torah?Ó These
were the important issues where they fought for respect and ambition and the
need to rule and to show off.
The
Jew never questioned whether this way of living was right or wrong. He was blessed with a special gift of
absolute certainty in the belief that this was how it should be. He knew very clearly the punishment for
every bad deed, and the reward for every mitzvah. He knew what was expected from him in this world and the next
one. The deeply rooted belief
that the Garden of Eden was promised to him if he would not stray from the
road, and the Gehennim if he did stray, was an absolute, unquestionable belief.
He didnÕt feel one iota of being lesser than.
The opposite: he compensated himself for difficulties in life of the
Diaspora by feeling that he was superior.
Being part of the Chosen People was not just a phrase for him, it was
an absolute truth that was clearly understood.
Deep
intimacy was not only part of his relation with his own people, who were not
only comrades in race and religion like one big family with all the typical
fights that families have, he also felt the same intimacy with his Nation
and his God. Even when he was a small child who studied about Moshe, a picture
of him would appear to him as if he were an older, respected, if distant,
uncle. When a Yeshiva student would deeply study
the mishna of Rabbi Yudah or Rabbi Akiva, it wasnÕt just a historical study
in an old tradition, it was as if he was conversing with an old, smarter family
member who was sitting across from him. So from this essence, warmth and familiarity was created.
Also, the same essence affected the extreme emotion during fights. When everything is intimate, everything very quickly passes
through a more personal level. Differences
of opinion were never settled in a logical way. They were always filled with emotional,
personal baggage.
Since
the fact that I was a Jewish boy in Vishnevo was a clear fact to me, other
children, meaning non-Jews, were not to be found there. They were in the surrounding areas, some
village boys, but how can a Jewish boy ever think, even in his wildest dreams,
that he would want to be a son of a farmer? To be a Jew in those towns was as clear as to breathe, and
eat, and pray. I remember during
my first weeks when I arrived in Frankfurt I played ball in the streets. My
ball hit the wheels of a bicycle rider and made him fall down, and he yelled
at me, ÒJewish thug!Ó I didnÕt
feel at all insulted and answered him on the same level of discussed, ÒChristian!Ó
I am sure the humiliation to be called ÒJewÓ would clearly be felt
by a Jewish German child in the same circumstance, but for me it was totally
foreign and I couldnÕt understand why the adults kept repeating these stories
very surprised by the incident. Today
I know that the way I reacted was the expression of the unquestioning Jewish
essence that was based on an experience and not on something that could be
taught. So those are the values that were planted
in me at the dawn of my childhood while I lived at the house of my grandfather
in the Jewish shtetl.
All
that is wrong with this life, the narrow-mindedness, the isolation, and petit-bourgeois
values, were never an obstacle for me. I overcame the negative values with no
difficulties when I came to the big world of Western Europe. I came to the Western world embedded with
a deep awareness of complete Jewish existence that only life in the shtetl,
in contrast to life in the big towns, could create. The whole of my later life, when I met
many different cultures, forever was embedded in me the basic essence of never
having an inferiority complex about being a Jew.
When
I was six and my parents became a little more established in Frankfurt and
it was time to bring me there and to open me up to a wider range of education.
My mother came to Vishnevo and together we left for the long road to
Frankfurt. At first we took a wagon to Smorgon.
There, for the first time in my life I saw a train.
It was in evening time and the sight of the engine car with his huge
lights approaching us left a big impression on me and through my later life
I kept having dreams about approaching trains.
But in my dreams it was never a fearful sight. I was always happy to see the approaching train that symbolized
the big, wide world. I loved
the lights and the way I responded to this first impression of the train is
also typical of my later traits. A
train that would have maybe made other kids fearful created a very positive
and happy feeling for me. And
ever since I remember myself I always tried with every core of my being to
find something positive in everything I experience. The way a person experiences his life
is so dependent on his personal understanding of it. The ability to look positively on situations that are unavoidable
is a required condition for having a fruitful and happy life. ItÕs not always possible for us to turn
something negative to a totally positive experience, but I would like to emphasize
that I put a large amount of energy towards thinking positively, and it was
always like a candle to my feet that if I do not wish to be uncontrollably
taken away with life, I must create my circumstances.
From
Smorgon I arrived with my mother at Vilna, and very little memory I have from
the spiritual center of the Jews of Lithuania. Distant images come to me of my maternal grandmother and grandfather,
where we stayed for a few weeks. An image of my studious grandfather, an image filled with spirituality,
a man that was sick-looking but despite that was extremely impressive.
In contrast, his little woman, who was very practical, grounded, and
energetic; my grandmother was the one who took care of all the family's financial
needs. Although later on in my life on other
visits I learned to love the architecture of Vilna, this visit left very little
impression. The only physical
thing I clearly remember was a jump rope that I received from one of our friends
that I used for many hours while running through the parks in Vilna.
The next station on our road was Warsaw, where I met the family of
my uncle Shelkovitz, the brother of my father.
He was a well-known publisher of Hebrew books and he was also a talented
writer. These relatives, together with the Gordon
family, who were related to my uncle, at whose head was a well-known writer
and educator, were my only family members that I kept contact with through
my entire life. They became my
family and in many ways their sons who live today (1970) in Israel, fulfilled
for me all that I lacked in being an only child.
In
the spring of 1900, I arrived in Frankfurt to see a very different world that
was very foreign to me. Still,
being in a very different environment was not a big shock or very strange
to me. I was always able to quickly
get rooted in a new environment. In
some ways I feel at home where ever I am. During my never-ending travels and with all my missions in
different countries and continents, I was never ill affected either physically
or psychologically. Once again
I think that this ability is largely rooted in that basic self-confidence
as a man and as a Jew that I already talked about. When a man feels assured about himself, it is very easy to
accept different life conditions. Only
when someone didnÕt root anywhere can he easily be uprooted when life conditions
change. Whoever develops basic
roots will carry them and can be replanted in new soil.
Most
of the friends of my parents in Frankfurt came originally from Russia, which
enabled me to immediately feel comfortable in the new environment. But fairly
quickly I found out that past the house of my parents there was another world,
a world of Jews who were very different from the ones I had known, and especially
a world of non-Jews. But more
than making me fearful, it made me very curious to get to know this world.
I never felt what is called the fear of the Jew who experiences the
superiority of the non-Jewish world.
During my public life I met many kings and princes and ministers and
generals, leaders of nationsÑI stood in front of these leaders of huge nations
as a representative of a small and weak nation.
Although I was aware in each meeting of the gap between the powerful
nations versus the weakness of the ones I represented, still I donÕt remember
once in any meeting that I felt inferior to them whether it was Mussolini,
the head of France, the Prime Minister of Britain, the American President,
or the German Chancellor. I always recognized that they came from
a much stronger position, but they were never superior, anyway not as representatives
of their nations. I explained
to myself the fact that changing the circumstances of life in those early
days of my life didnÕt create any difficulties for me although I was a sensitive
child because I was so desirous of knowledge. I was surrounded by strange people, strange
building, a different way of life, and all I wished for was to get to know
them. Although my memories from
the shtetl Vishnevo were never lost, and my happy life keeps coming back to
me, but I never felt as if I lost something.
From the minute I arrived in Frankfurt I felt as if I was at home.