Many residents of Kfar Chabad knew the beloved Chassid, R’ Zalman Bronstein a”h who passed away twelve years ago. But few knew his tumultuous life story, about his learning in underground yeshivos, then fighting for four years in the Red Army, until he made aliya and settled in “Safraya.” * A series of open miracles.
’ RZalman was a prominent and beloved Chassid who lived in Kfar Chabad. He did much to develop the Kfar and was known for his endearing personality, his smile for every person, a person who was “good towards heaven and good towards people.”
The following is from an interview I did with him in which he told me about his fascinating life:
My father was Rabbi Chaim Ezra Bronstein who was an outstandingly G-d fearing man. He was a sofer and then a mohel too. His hiddurim in writing were well known and in the Rebbe Rayatz’s court he was known as “Ezra the Sofer.” My father learned in Lubavitch where he grew in Torah and Chassidus. They said about him that he was on the level of the beinoni in Tanya.
My childhood years were spent in Cherkassy where my father was sent from the yeshiva in Lubavitch in order to spread the teachings of Chassidus there.
We were four children in my family. There was me, Michoel, Ettie and Bluma. We never attended public school and this entailed enormous mesirus nefesh on my father’s part. The government made it very difficult for him. For a long while, my father bribed the guard of the building in which we lived so he would not report that we weren’t going to school. Even when the authorities found out and made difficulties my father remained firm.
For a period of time we learned in town but when I turned eleven and my brother Michoel was nine, my father took us to Tomchei T’mimim in Kremenchug. We traveled part of the way by boat. I’ll never forget my father’s joy when he arrived at the yeshiva and met his friends, Chassidim he had learned with in Lubavitch, including R’ Yechezkel Himmelstein and R’ Yisroel Noach Blinitzky.
The conditions under which we learned were very bad. When I say “very bad,” I mean intolerable. We learned in a cellar under constant fear. At night we slept in the women’s section of the shul on benches covered with straw filled sacks. There were huge white rats the size of cats, which tormented us, but we couldn’t do anything about it because we were there surreptitiously and there was nobody to complain to.
We ate “teg” by Chassidishe balabatim, but the poverty at the time was so great that there were days that we simply didn’t eat.
Our maggid shiur was R’ Yechezkel Himmelstein, a small, thin man who was sick with TB, who couldn’t eat anything. I remember that I once ate by him on Shabbos. He made kiddush and ate HaMotzi but he could not swallow the HaMotzi. He just ate cubes of chocolate that he first melted in his mouth. We once asked Dr. Michelson who was one of “ours,” what this man lived on and he said, he lives solely on the pleasure in learning.
After the yeshiva in Kremenchug was closed, we went to Polotzk where we faced a crossroads. Some stayed and some went to Nevel. I continued to the yeshiva in Nevel while my brother remained in Polotzk.
I spent one year in Nevel, 5687. We were about fifteen talmidim who learned in the women’s section of one of the shuls by the Chassid, R’ Yehuda Eber, may Hashem avenge his death. One day, as we sat and learned, a man armed with a revolver suddenly appeared in the doorway and shouted, “Don’t move!” We knew just whom he was looking for, the maggid shiur. We lost no time and within a second we all jumped the man and took his gun away.
In the meantime, R’ Yehuda jumped out the window and managed to escape. Only then did we leave the man who left shocked and furious.
One day we found out that the Rebbe had been arrested and we were greatly anguished and frightened. Our great joy when we heard about his release was far greater. What joy! We sat all night and farbrenged and danced. Of course, this was all done quietly and secretly.
We all traveled to Leningrad to be with the Rebbe for Yom Kippur and also to part with him before he left Russia. They asked that yeshiva students not go to Leningrad under any circumstances because of the danger. (Laughing): I wasn’t a batlan and I went without permission, for how could one be without the Rebbe?
I can picture the Rebbe going up to the Torah and his bracha which was heavenly and amazing. What a niggun, what sweetness. I constantly yearn to hear this bracha again.
One day in Tishrei the Rebbe farbrenged and the room was full. Despite the great crowding, I also wanted to hear and see the Rebbe. In the end, I found an oven that hung from the ceiling and there was a narrow space between the ceiling and the oven. I jumped on the oven and managed to squeeze inside. People began shouting at me that the oven could fall on people. When the Rebbe heard this, he looked at me and said, “Leave him alone, leave him alone.”
After Nevel I learned in Vitebsk and from there I continued running from place to place after the yeshivos were rapidly exposed and closed down.
At twenty I had no choice and I left yeshiva and began working. I was in Nikolayev and did piecework.
My father instilled us with a superior Chassidishe chinuch. His entire being was the very image of a Chassid, his daily schedule was that of a Chassid. One day, there was a knock at the door. It was the mailman with a telegram for my father. My father read it and fainted. He was informed of the passing of the Rebbe Rashab [in 1920].
There is much to write and tell about my father but this deserves a special chapter.
***
As mentioned, in Tishrei 5688, the last Tishrei the Rebbe Rayatz spent in Russia, I snuck into Leningrad in order to be with the Rebbe. My brother Michoel and my father arrived on Chol HaMoed Sukkos. In those insane times, the Rebbe hardly received anyone for a private audience. My father wanted to see the Rebbe anyway and he told us, “You know what? I want to go to Rebbetzin Shterna Sarah.” When he learned in Lubavitch she drew him very close and he hoped she would help him get to see the Rebbe.
The three of us entered her room and when she saw my father together with us she smiled and asked, “These are grandchildren?” (She meant that someone who learned in Lubavitch was then called a son and their children were called grandchildren.) She smiled as she blessed us.
She arranged yechidus for us.
***
I married my cousin R’ Hershel Bronstein’s daughter in Moscow. After she was orphaned of her parents, one of her aunts took her to Moscow. The wedding was conducted secretly in the home of R’ Shlomo Chaim Kesselman. Great Chassidim such as R’ Pinye Rakshiker and many others participated in the wedding.
When World War II began we were living in Moscow and when the front approached the city we had to flee. After much wandering we arrived in Tashkent in Kazakhstan, which is near the border with Uzbekistan. Our plan was to stay in the home of a friend of the family who would always stay with my parents when he went to Moscow. We hoped to find hospitality with him in this difficult time.
He welcomed us but his wife was another story. We had no choice but to look for another place and we went to the village of Mankent also in Kazakhstan. My parents joined us a few days later.
That was 1942. We stayed in Mankent for a few weeks and did not know where all of Anash and the T’mimim had gone to. In the town we met hardly any Jews.
In Mankent there was a draft official whose job it was to send eligible candidates to the draft office. It was war time so it was especially difficult to evade the draft. In order to avoid being drafted I bribed him. This went on for two to three months and we had some respite.
One day, that official came to our house drunk. What I feared came to pass and the next day I received an emergency draft notice. I went to the draft office and tried to bribe one of the doctors, but during the state of emergency a bribe did not help and I was drafted.
The situation at home was terrible. We had no bread and water, there were three little children, and on top of that I was now drafted.
***
Not many of Anash and the T’mimim were drafted. It was extremely dangerous and whoever was able to, fled for his life. I had the “privilege” of being drafted and served in the Russian army for four years in difficult battles against the Germans. I have endless stories and wonders in my memory. I saw death before my eyes countless times but something supernatural always happened and my life was saved.
Right after I was drafted I was sent to serve in the 123 brigade. This brigade stood at the ready to serve as reserve units.
It was not easy being a Jew in the army for there was tremendous anti-Semitism. I remember that one of the soldiers once said to me nastily, “When we go on the attack at the front my first bullet won’t be shot against the enemy but at your back.”
When I was first inducted I had a pair of t’fillin with me but it wasn’t easy to put them on. I was afraid that I would be caught putting them on, which was dangerous, but I did it anyway. Every morning, when everyone else was still asleep in the bunker, I covered myself with my blanket and put on t’fillin. I said just the Shma and Shmoneh Esrei and immediately removed the t’fillin. The rest I davened without t’fillin.
When we were in the forest, I would wake up early and put on t’fillin quickly among the trees. I did so every morning until I lost my t’fillin. This is what happened:
At some point during the war I lost my night vision. This was due to a vitamin deficiency. By day I could see and at night I was blind. One night, we went on an exhausting march. Since I could see nothing, two soldiers led me by the arms the entire way. We arrived at our destination in the morning and, the way it was done then, the soldiers dispersed among the houses to rest. It was cold and there were both rain and snow. I also entered one of the homes. I took off my clothes and laid them on the stove to dry. I put the t’fillin there too.
I was sound asleep when I suddenly heard an urgent call for all soldiers to appear outside. As a result of the rushing and confusion, I hurried to get dressed and go out and we were on our way within minutes. That is when I remembered that I had forgotten my t’fillin but it was too late. I was inconsolable.
Another story I experienced also occurred as a result of the same practice. One day we entered a village and dispersed among the houses to rest. As I lay on the oven I happened to notice a page from a Torah scroll tossed in a corner of the house. I trembled both because of the terrible desecration and for seeing something holy after so long.
I jumped up and took the parchment in my hands with great emotion. I thought that surely a Jew had found it and left it here so it would not be desecrated out in the open.
An old Russian lady lived in the house and I, in my excitement, instead of simply taking the parchment from her, took out fifty rubles, all the money I had, and gave it to her. “Take the money and I will take the parchment.” She did not understand what these pages were.
When she heard that I was a Jew, she told me that many Jews used to live in this village and when the Nazis conquered it, they took them all to the banks of the nearby river and shot them. When she related this, she cried bitterly.
(Emotionally): During my four years in the army I never ate cooked food, and managed on bread and vegetables. It wasn’t easy but Hashem helped me in this too. Often, when we walked in fields, I pulled out potatoes. I had a pot with me that I filled with rainwater and I cooked the potatoes for myself.
As a result of inadequate nutrition, I became very weak. At a certain point I decided to stop eating almost completely in the hopes that my heart would become weaker and they would release me.
I was stricken with hepatitis and was hospitalized in Sverdlovsk in the Urals. When the doctors tried to give me food so I would regain some strength, I refused, saying I had no appetite.
One day, a Jewish doctor came and she whispered, “Bronstein, start shtuppen zich (Yid. stuffing yourself) and I promise you that if you eat more in the next two weeks, your heart will be a bit stronger and then we will send you on furlough. Right now we are afraid to release you because you will not be able to make the trip home.”
I took her advice and over the next two weeks I started eating bread and vegetables. Two weeks later I was examined again and the doctor said she was pleased with the condition of my heart. She kept her promise and I was given two months off. I immediately traveled to Tashkent where I met my wife and children as well as my fellow Chassidim.
After two months I had to return to the army. I went to the hospital in Tashkent and gave a bribe so they would allow me to continue on furlough. I got another month with difficulty, but in the end I had to return to my unit which was camped not far from Smolensk.
When I returned to my unit a great and most shocking miracle occurred to me. Many soldiers were waiting to go to their next assignment when, suddenly, one of the commanders loudly announced that they needed a thousand soldiers for work. Our unit was a reserve unit and some of the soldiers were supposed to be sent to the front and some to work.
All the soldiers immediately ran to the registration window for they all preferred working to going to the front. Of course, I was among them. The line moved quickly. In front of me were just two soldiers and I was almost at the window when a thought popped into my mind, “acharon acharon chaviv (the last is beloved).” I did not understand why this thought came to me and gave me no rest. I left my place and moved to the back of the line so I could be last.
Then I realized what I had done. Oy, by the time it would be my turn, they would already have a thousand men who would be sent to work while I would be sent to the front! I tried to console myself by thinking it wasn’t for nothing that the thought had come to my mind and there was something to it.
As soon as the registration was over, the thousand happy soldiers went off to work while I remained with the other soldiers, expecting to be sent to the burning front.
The next morning we received an order to start going. As we passed the fields we saw, to our horror, hundreds of bodies of dead soldiers with missing limbs. These were the soldiers who had registered for work but had actually been sent to an attack on the front lines and nobody remained alive.
I suddenly realized what “acharon acharon chaviv” meant. It was an open miracle.
***
Obviously, being in the Russian army wasn’t easy. Of those sent to the front, more than 50% did not return alive, and that’s where I was sent.
During hostilities I was in a bunker in the area of White Russia very close to the German enemy. The bunker was like a small room in the ground, fortified and protected, from which extended long trenches that we walked in.
At the end of one shift I went into the bunker to rest a little and dozed on a bed, which was really just a few boards nailed together. Suddenly, one of the officers came in to shave. Till today I have no idea why he needed to shave in the soldiers’ bunker when he had his own officers’ bunker.
He began singing in Russian and I shuddered at his singing off-key. I got up and politely said, “Comrade Officer, you are off-key. And it’s such a nice tune…”
He looked at me and then exclaimed, “You know the song? I can’t sing it. You sing it for me.”
I wasn’t in the mood to sing and I apologized and said maybe my voice isn’t that good but he insisted. I began to sing and he looked at me and said, “You? With a voice like that you’re on the front lines? That can’t be! You need to be moved away from here!”
Two days later, as I lay in the trench, I heard one of the top commanders calling on the phone from the platoon command post, “Singer Bronstein, who here is the singer Bronstein?” We were eighteen soldiers and it took me time to realize he meant me.
Getting out was a problem because whoever went outside was exposed to the German snipers who surrounded us on three sides. You just had to pick up your head in order to be shot at. We were only a few dozen meters away from the Germans so that sometimes we could even hear them talking to one another.
The commander ordered me to hold my rifle on my stomach and crawl out on my back while holding onto the phone line so I would not veer right or left. I crawled nearly an entire kilometer toward the command post until I saw our artillery nests. Only then did I stand up. I presented myself at the command post while covered in mud and soaking wet.
“Are you the singer Bronstein?” one of the soldiers asked me and I said yes.
He led me through the command rooms until I was standing before the senior officer who looked at me and asked, “You did not lose your voice at the bunker?”
After that, I had a far more “important” job, to sing Russian songs for the officers and soldiers. The first time I performed for them was at a concert that took place in a club for generals. There were twelve generals and I sang the Russian folksong I sang in the bunker. The musical director told me later that, “All the generals here are fighting over you. Each of them wants you in his battalion.”
I definitely preferred standing on the stage and singing to lying in a damp bunker, exposed to German bullets. I joined the military choir and we traveled to many places. We were a large group, comprised of a choir, soloists, musicians, directors and producers – more than forty people. We held a concert wherever we went and I sang solo.
From the start of my new position I firmly resolved that at every concert I would sing only three songs and no more. The officers might beg for an encore but I wouldn’t sing more. I stood by that decision and did not sing more than three songs. Whatever I did was only to remain alive and for that, three songs were enough.
That is how I escaped nearly certain death. Afterward, I met a soldier who told me that shortly after I left the bunker, the bunker took a direct bomb hit and many soldiers were killed or wounded.
Till today, when I think about what occurred, I think that the officer who entered my bunker for a shave wasn’t merely an officer. He was the instrument of divine providence so I would remain alive.
***
One day, my sister Ettie found out that all of Anash had fled to Tashkent and Samarkand. My wife immediately contacted the Chassidim and within a short time the family moved to Tashkent to be together with the other Chassidim.
Since there was no breadwinner, my wife began to work. She bought threads and fabric, got a machine to make socks and other piecework and then sold the socks.
When R’ Nissan Nemanov heard about this, he said it wasn’t befitting for a woman to go about looking for threads and raw materials. He made sure to have a machine and raw materials brought to her house and she did all the work there. Now and then, R’ Peretz Chein would go and take the merchandise from her and sell it and bring her the money.
I found out about this from letters that I received from her while I was in the army. (Laughing): Who knows, maybe R’ Nissan had ruach ha’kodesh and knew that one day his granddaughter would marry our son.
***
I served in the army for four years, far from home. I received a letter from my wife saying that she found out that most of Anash were in Tashkent and she left Mankent together with the children and my parents and moved there. I was homesick and kept thinking about my family.
We moved from concert to concert and were met with acclaim wherever we went. However, when the war intensified and we found out about tens of thousands of soldiers who were killed, nobody was in the frame of mind to make concerts. Moreover, there was a severe shortage of soldiers and it was decided to send some members of our group to the front.
One day, officials came to take some of my colleagues from the musical group to the front. The commandant suddenly came out and said there was an order from the general to leave three soldiers since the general wanted them to accompany his entourage. I was one of the three and that was my “immunity” for life.
I won’t forget the day I saw masses of soldiers preparing for a major offensive while the general himself stood and supervised them, and I stood nearby, under a protective covering and watched. That was my immunity. I knew where my place was…
The battles reached their pitch and the Russian army began to triumph over the Germans. Slowly, the Reds began invading Germany.
At the end of the war I met a Jewish officer in the Russian army who told me to go with him. Without saying a word, I followed him and he entered one of the hospitals in Berlin where there were many German soldiers. He grabbed his automatic rifle and began shooting at them, “This is for my father, for my mother, for my family, for my entire family,” he screamed and killed many Germans.
After the war, many soldiers were free to go home. I saw them being released one after another and wondered when would I be free to go?
One day I was called to the senior general who said, “Listen Bronstein, our unit is going to Kiev now and I want you to accompany us there. I will provide you with an officer’s apartment and salary. Bring your wife and children and I want you to reorganize the choir for me.”
I began to sweat. I so badly wanted to get out of the army and go home and now he wanted me to arrange a new choir, a job that took years. I said I would think about it and let him know.
When I left his room I met a Jewish officer who was passing by and I told him the situation. He advised me to write home and ask them to send me a telegram from a doctor that my wife’s condition was very serious and I had to return home.
I did that and a few days later I received an urgent telegram telling me to return home since my wife’s condition was very serious. I took the telegram to the general and showed it to him and he gave me a penetrating look and said, “That’s a Jewish head. I protected you from these dangers and now you’re running away from me.”
Finally, after years of danger and war, I returned home in peace and joy. I met my wife and three children and my mother. I was saddened to hear that my father had passed away.
In Tashkent I met many of my fellow Chassidim who lived there. Our joy was indescribable.
***
I re-acclimated to civilian life and opened a small watch repair store. I did not know the secrets of the profession and I acquired my experience and expertise with time. Obviously, there wasn’t much parnasa to be made in this.
I remember attending a meeting for a Maos Chittim fund where R’ Chaikel Chanin said I should give 500 rubles. I told him that I had been released from the army just two months earlier and was not on my feet yet. Still, I got the money and gave it to him.
That was the atmosphere among the Chassidim in Tashkent, very family-like. Whoever had any difficulty whatsoever was immediately helped by the others.
I was in Tashkent for a few months when I heard that it was possible to leave Russia as Polish citizens. At the time, I knew a woman in Lvov by the name of Paula Svetlana. She had good connections with the train director and I wanted to use these connections to benefit the Chassidim. How did I know her? That is also a story of divine providence.
My sister, Ettie Levitin, escaped from detention after a big bribe was given and arrived in Tashkent where she spent one day and then traveled to Lvov where she rented a place with an old Jewish woman. I arrived in Lvov a few days after her, and she told me that her landlady’s friend had a woman living with her who had connections with the train director and maybe she could help us travel. “It pays to go and meet her.”
I took her advice and met Paula and began to work with her in arranging the trains that smuggled Jews out of Russia. I helped the committee that was set up for this purpose.
In the meantime, I began arranging a group of about seventy families so they could leave at the first opportunity. Included were R’ Shlomo Chaim Kesselman and his family, R’ Yisroel Noach Blinitzky and his family and other greats.
The first train set out on 19 Kislev 5706 with two hundred and fifty Chassidim. I was supposed to go with that group but my daughter Shterna was born on that day and of course we could not leave. I began working on arranging a second transport.
I remember that on the night of 19 Kislev we found out that the first group of Chassidim managed to cross the border. We were ecstatic. For me it was a three-fold holiday. First, it was Yud-Tes Kislev, second, my daughter was born, and third, the trainload had gotten through. I was in the house of the working committee together with R’ Mendel Futerfas, R’ Garelik and R’ Leibel Mochkin. I drank plenty of mashke and we took off our shoes and danced all night in our socks.
As I said, I got to work on the second train and in doing so, arranged things with that woman. The date was set for a week after 19 Kislev.
On the last day before the trip, I went to Paula’s house to arrange the final details and she said, “Bronstein, take your wife and children and we are going today. I am afraid to travel with such a large group of people.” I nearly fainted. After all the work and effort, the tension and fear, she was changing the entire plan! And people were packed to go!
I said to her firmly, “Either we are all going or you are not going either.” She was very angry and screamed, “Get out. I don’t want to see you again!”
The woman with whom she lived heard the screaming and came in to see what happened. When she heard what was going on, she yelled at her, “Paula, how are you talking to this man? His blood is pouring from his heart!”
She calmed down and said, “Listen, tonight, at twelve o’clock, be at the train station where we will meet the train director and arrange things with him. If we arrange it, we go; if not, I will go alone.”
Having no choice, I agreed and immediately returned to where the Chassidim met to quickly get everyone ready for the possibility of traveling that night. It all depended on the influence of the train director.
The train was supposed to leave at four in the morning and I had to arrange things and be ready at the station by twelve. I told the Chassidim the latest developments and asked how could I go there at twelve when I didn’t even have ID papers? In those days, it was very dangerous to go out on the street without ID. The government suspected that many people wanted to escape. R’ Leibel Mochkin tossed me his ID and said, “Take it, go with this.”
I arranged with the members of the committee that they would send a car to all the families to inform them to be ready and if necessary, to bring them all quickly to the train station in the middle of the night.
Close to midnight I left for the train in order to meet Paula. I met her standing and talking with the train director. Berel Krolevetser was with me; he was supposed to be the contact person if the need arose.
I joined them. The train director walked in the center with Paula to his right and me on his left. She had a bag on her shoulder with the money she had brought with her. We started walking and as we spoke I quickly removed the bundles of bills from the bag and pushed them into his pocket. I added one bundle and another one until he suddenly stopped and said, “Yes, we are going tonight.”
That was a signal that the money he had received was enough.
As soon as I got the okay from him for the trip, I motioned to Berel who was standing at a distance that we had the okay. He ran to alert all the families to come to the train. All seventy families were to be ready within two hours with all their bundles.
I also hurried to the meeting house to make the final arrangements. I pleaded with R’ Mendel, “Come with us because there won’t be more trains; this is the last one.” But he refused and said resolutely, “Until the last Jew goes, I’m not going.”
At four in the morning all seventy families were waiting with their children and belongings in a certain spot, two kilometers from the train station, a dark and desolate place, far from the peering eyes of the KGB. At the appointed time, the train arrived and we all got on board a special car that was designated for us.
Two hours later we arrived at the border where we all had to get off to be checked. In those two hours we managed to divide all the passengers into families with each one receiving a new, fake name. Each parent taught and reviewed with his children (real and fictitious) their new names.
At the border, the soldiers examined the documents one by one. They asked the children, “What’s your name boy?” Each one answered with his new Polish name. The soldiers winked at one another and smilingly said, “Ah, each one remembers his name.”
There was tremendous tension and great fear but it was all worthwhile just to escape from there. It was also very cold and in the middle of the night all was dark. But after we crossed the border it was so warm…
We arrived in Cracow, Poland early in the morning and entered one of the houses where we spent a few days. We knew that the danger had not passed yet and if we were caught, we would be sent back to Russia. We had to leave quickly and move on.
From Cracow we traveled to Prague, Czechoslovakia and arrived on Shabbos morning. The members of the Bricha organization who helped us said we had to continue further into Austria, but we knew that the danger was over and it wasn’t a matter of danger to life for which we should travel on Shabbos. The Bricha members began pressuring us to go but we stood firm.
One of the group leaders suddenly jumped in and said, “I will stay with them and bring them over the border to Austria.” That was a Shabbos of repose, of our Geula. As soon as Shabbos was over, with three stars in the sky, the leader said, “Chevra, we need to leave right away.” Indeed, we immediately set out to cross the border to Austria.
When we arrived at the border, Austrian soldiers arrested us. The leader who accompanied us jumped from the car and shouted, “Shalosh seudos bim-bam, shalosh seudos bim-bam.” Apparently, this was the signal, for the soldiers nodded and allowed us to cross the border.
We spent about a year in Austria and lived in a refugee camp that was established by the Americans. At a later point I arrived in France where I spent another year. In Paris I worked at doing piecework but was not successful, and we were supported by money for refugee children provided by the French government and with help from the Americans.
While in France, I wrote to the Rebbe Rayatz that I was sick of wandering in galus and wanted to make aliya. I received a response in which the Rebbe approved of the idea.
In 5709 I made aliya on the ship Keidma and we arrived on the shores of Eretz Yisroel a few days before Pesach. We were brought to the absorption camp in Pardes Chana and we formed a committee that appointed R’ Zalman Feldman, R’ Isaac Karasik and myself, and together with Aguch we started to look for a good place for Chassidim who had just made aliya to live, in collaboration with the Jewish Agency.
Before very long we founded Safraya (now Kfar Chabad) and we moved there to settle and to make the desolation bloom, but that is a story in itself.
SURPRISE SANDAK
R’ Zalman related:
As I said, my father was also a mohel. When I was around sixteen, I once came home from yeshiva and my father said, “Zalman, today you will go with me to a bris and you will be the sandak.”
We went together to the home of the baby. It was a very large private house with dozens of rooms. I had never seen such a beautiful house in my life. It was probably the home of a high government official, a sworn communist. We entered one of the rooms and then an old woman came in with a baby. I held the baby and my father quickly performed the bris. After he finished bandaging up the baby, he gave him a Jewish name and we left.
I know that my father did many other brissin with tremendous mesirus nefesh, in great danger, but since I was in yeshiva most of the time, far from home, that was the only time I witnessed my father’s mesirus nefesh.