THE CHASSID WHO RESURRECTED AUSCHWITZ

62 years ago, a special shul was founded in Shikkun Dalet in Beer Sheva for Holocaust survivors. It was named in memory of the K’doshei Auschwitz, may Hashem avenge their blood. * Like many other shuls, the shul went into decline over the years and nearly closed until R’ Moshe Dickstein, a child of Holocaust survivors, decided to revive the place. * His son, Mendy, interviewed his father about the story of the shul that, over the years, has become a major draw in the community.

“Ima, where is Abba?”

“Abba got up early and went to Auschwitz.”

“Why so early?”

“He went to set up the air conditioners for Shabbos, so it will be cool tonight and pleasant tomorrow morning.”

“Fine. When he returns, tell him ‘Shabbat shalom.’”

“‘Shabbat shalom’ to you too and regards to everyone.”

This phone conversation sounds fantastical and totally disconnected from reality, but in one house, my parents’ house in Beer Sheva, it is commonplace.

“Auschwitz” is the name of the shul in which we have been davening for three decades. Its full name is, “Beis HaKnesses Zichron K’doshei Auschwitz – Beer Sheva.” To the best of our knowledge, and according to research that we did, it is the only shul in the world that is named for the holy ones who were killed al kiddush Hashem in the largest of all extermination camps built by the Nazis, may their names be erased.

HOW THE SHUL WAS FOUNDED

The shul to memorialize those who were killed in Auschwitz was founded in 5717 by Holocaust survivors of the Auschwitz concentration camp in Poland. Most of the founders were Hungarian Jews, as were most of the survivors of the camp. The reason for this is that the Hungarian Jews were only sent to Auschwitz in the last year of the war. By this point, most of the Jews who were brought to Auschwitz from other countries were no longer alive.

One of the founders of the shul actually did come from Poland. Supernaturally, he survived the camp for five long years, starting from the liquidation of the ghetto in his town in the first year of the war until the liberation of the camp by the Red Army. This Jew, a figure from my childhood, R’ Tzvi Yitzchok ben Avigdor, suffered immensely throughout his lifetime, but merited long life.

It’s fascinating to note that the one who initiated the idea of the shul was R’ Meir Kot, who was the deputy manager of the Amidar company (Israel’s national housing concern) in the south of Eretz Yisroel. Kot was born in Teveria and did not experience the Holocaust, but he was touched by the suffering of the survivors who came to Eretz Yisroel and made great efforts to take care of them and to even found a shul to memorialize their loved ones and friends who were murdered in that killing factory.

In his position, he was responsible to provide housing for residents in Beer Sheva. In those early years, Beer Sheva was a small, forsaken place, far from the center of the country. Beer Sheva had only begun taking its first steps in being built up as a major city in Eretz Yisroel.

The new immigrants, many of them Holocaust survivors, were given housing in the north of the city (Shikkun Dalet). Kot did not only concern himself with taking care of their physical housing, but also worked to locate a plot of land to build a shul. Wisely and sensitively, he made sure to house all the shomrei Shabbos survivors who wanted access to a shul, on the street where the shul was located or on nearby streets, to make it easy for them to come and pray there.

After several years of planning and building, the shul was finally opened in 5717 and was dedicated to the memories of those who perished in Auschwitz. Many of the survivors who became regular congregants had long forgotten how to cry, but at the chanukas ha’bayis ceremony, they burst into tears when they saw a memorial to the more than one million and one hundred thousand Jews who were murdered in a camp that was part of their lives. Needless to say, the feelings of personal commitment to the shul was infused in them and continued throughout their lives. They did, in fact, put their money and energy into beautifying this house of Hashem, dedicated to the memories of their holy brethren.

AT THE LAST MOMENT

My father, R’ Moshe Dickstein, arrived in Beer Sheva in 5740, on shlichus. The only mikva in the city that was open on weekday mornings was near the shul. It was only natural for the handful of Lubavitchers who lived in the city at the time (including: Rabbi Avrohom Cohen z”l, Rabbi Yechezkel Sofer, and Rabbi Tanchum Boroshansky) to make this shul their own on the weekdays.

The gabbaim and older men welcomed the young men and even acceded to their special requests as Lubavitchers. Life went on until the first Chabad shul in the city was opened and then that became the shul they attended.

My father’s connection with the shul intensified in 5749, Shnas HaBinyan, the year that the Rebbe told Anash to try and buy or build houses. My parents obeyed this request and after nine years of renting, they bought a house in Shikkun Dalet, the neighborhood of the Auschwitz shul. The shul became our steady place to daven, on Shabbos and Yom Tov too.

Our young family, in a place of older people whose children were already grown and had moved away, breathed new life into the shul. Since the shul did not yet daven nusach Chabad, we were honored every week with the singing of “An’im Z’miros.”

With time, my father became the life and spirit of the shul and the gabbaim acceded to his various requests, like having a farbrengen on Yud-Tes Kislev, participation in a hakafos parade on Simchas Torah with a group of Chabad Chassidim, having a Seudas Moshiach at the end of Pesach, and more.

One of my father’s requests was to make the luchos over the aron kodesh square. These were luchos expertly carved into the wood, but the tops were rounded. After my father spoke with the rav of the shul at the time, Rabbi Yitzchok Vieder, and with the rosh ha’kahal, R’ Meir Kot, they agreed and had a separation made between the actual luchos and the rounded half circles on top, so the luchos themselves remained square.

Now and then, he was asked to give a shiur or a drasha before the Torah reading or during the third Shabbos meal. On these occasions, he conveyed ideas from the Rebbe’s sichos, and every shiur or drasha ended with a practical directive.

The years passed, and the people grew older. Some passed away, and others moved to live near their children or entered old age homes. The shul, which in its heyday had hundreds of members, continued to decline. The three morning minyanim had consolidated into one minyan. There were no minyanim for Mincha and Maariv and eventually, even the Shacharis minyan stopped.

The direction was obvious; the shul would be closed. It reached the point that on Shabbos morning and afternoon the gabbai had to go outside and ask passersby to come in and complete the minyan. This made those who still came look for other places to daven.

At that time, the rabbi of the shul retired and moved out of the city. The head gabbai, R’ Simcha Gantz, passed away and the shul was nearly ready to fade out of existence.

The rosh ha’kahal saw his life’s project waning and decided to ask the Chabad member to take responsibility for restoring the shul. After several meetings, my father accepted responsibility for the shul. This included, aside from running minyanim on Shabbos, also being the chazan, reading the Torah, saying a drasha, and even arranging the kiddush after davening and the third Shabbos meal, as is customary. Finances were also his responsibility which included paying for electricity, various repairs, replacing the lighting and the air conditioning, etc.

“At first, it was very hard,” said my father. “Even the veterans of the shul who had deep personal feelings for the shul, had quite despaired of it and went to daven elsewhere. But then the sense of responsibility that every Chabad Chassid has kicked in, along with the fact that I myself am a child of a Holocaust survivor. I decided that this shul would not close, come what may!”

GROWING UP IN THE HOME OF SURVIVORS

There is no question that the atmosphere that my father grew up in affected him deeply as far as his decision to go to battle for the continued operation of this unique shul.

My father was born in Tel Aviv to traditional parents who were Mizrachi. His father, my grandfather, Shlomo Dickstein, was a Holocaust survivor who was born in Lutsk, Poland (now part of Ukraine). Three of his brothers moved to Eretz Yisroel as pioneers before the war began and were saved. Out of the rest of the family who remained in Lutsk, he was the only survivor. His parents, brothers, and nephews were all murdered.

At first, he survived in the ghetto, but then he was sent to Majdanek where he was given the horrific job of transporting bodies to the crematoria. At a certain point, he was able to escape to the forest and he joined the partisans there.

At the end of the war, he returned to his house in Lutsk to see what had remained of his house, his community, and his town, but he was caught by the communists and suspected of being a German spy. He was sent to Siberia to do forced labor. It was first in 1950 that he was freed thanks to agreements that were signed between Poland and Russia. Not long after that, he moved to Eretz Yisroel.

Throughout the years, he was unwilling to relate what he saw and experienced. He opened up a small crack during the Eichmann trial. It was only years later, during the Demjanjuk court case, that he opened up completely and related everything that happened to him during those years.

Not surprisingly, the memory of the Holocaust in the home that my father grew up in was very strong. “The memories and atmosphere greatly affected me, which is why I took on the burden,” he said, about his role in saving the shul.

THEY FELT AT HOME

Back during those years that my father committed to the shul, the local university expanded after opening a medical school, with the Soroka medical school serving the students both for their schooling and internship/residency. This brought many religious students to Beer Sheva to study medicine. They rented places in the student lodgings not far from the shul.

Word got around among the students that there is an Ashkenazi shul (the neighborhood is full of flourishing Sefardic shuls) that welcomes everyone and treats them with respect, and that is how the congregation began to grow in a big way. Even those congregants who had already left came back to daven when they saw that the shul was experiencing a renewal and the services were operating in an orderly fashion.

People felt at home in the shul. Their connection to the shul was special. Whoever wanted an aliya to the Torah got one, and without being asked to pay. The warm feeling, as well as answers to questions in halacha and in daily life, made each congregant an ambassador for the shul to bring more friends. The little minyan that had almost closed had expanded to dozens of people.

There was however a fly in the ointment. Since these were students, they did not remain for long in the city. They also left for home in between semesters. These periods were difficult and once again, the shul had to seek people for a minyan and there were even t’fillos without ten men.

“To solve this problem,” said my father, “I asked the students with young families, who already had their first baby, and for whom traveling for Shabbos and vacation was a bit harder, to stay for Shabbos in Beer Sheva and to come eat in our home. That would save them the bother.

“Some of the couples loved the idea and it accomplished two things: the minyan remained stable and these students were brought closer to the spirit of Chabad. During the meals in our house they listened to ideas from the Rebbe’s sichos, learned Chassidic niggunim, and connected to the special Chassidishe atmosphere in our house. That way, when we celebrated a Chabad event in the shul or when a Chabad niggun was sung during the davening, they were able to join in and help with the singing.”

MY SHUL

Nice relationships developed with these young families which continued even after they completed their studies and moved away. For example, one of the students who had a close relationship with the Dickstein family is Mr. Adir Naaman. During his stay in Beer Sheva he was an active and involved member of the shul. This caring is apparently in his blood for in the last municipal elections he contended and won, despite his young age.

Today he serves as the head of the Shafir Regional Council. For the purposes of this article we asked him to describe his connection with the shul and he, despite being busy working on weaving together coalition agreements, was happy to share with us:

“I came to the shul upon the recommendation of a friend. When I went there for the first time, I did not see what my friend was so excited about. I saw an old shul with ancient characters that felt like time stopped in the sixties.

“But there was one person who was totally shlichus oriented – Moshe Dickstein. He received an assignment from the Lubavitcher Rebbe at the beginning of the eighties to be a shliach in Beer Sheva. Moshe is sort of a multi-generation personality and is able to serve as a bridge to the young people, who began attending the shul in droves and which delighted the older generation. From an ancient synagogue, he turned it into a shul with a young spirit.

“Time passed and I left the city, but something in me remains there.”

A special couple who gave another push to the shul are Ariel and Aviya Rosenthal, both of whom are now shluchim of the Rebbe to Beit Berl College and the Wingate Institute. When they lived here, Rabbi Rosenthal became an integral part of the shul and started a weekly Chassidus shiur with Rabbi Yair Calev. This was in addition to the other, regular shiurim. The young couple also helped spread awareness of the shul to the students who came to the city in later years and did not know about the shul. They helped turn the shul into a place of Torah and Chassidic influence for the entire surrounding area.

R’ Alon Nevo has provided a lot of help to the shul. He came to Beer Sheva for a limited amount of time because of the Lebanon War and ended up staying on permanently. He helps with anything and everything pertaining to the regular upkeep and orderly operation of the shul.

As mentioned, a group of students began coalescing around the shul and they actively participated in life at the shul. They even initiated events and family simchas. It reached a point where, in one year, the old building had a wedding, a bris and a pidyon ha’ben, all of them of families that had become involved with the shul and felt part of the community.

The students did not just make do with using the shul; when the only kosher Torah lost some of its luster, they got busy having a new Torah written. They divided the Torah into parshiyos and asked their friends to buy a parsha that is personally meaningful to them, such as their bar mitzva parsha or a parsha that is read near the time of the passing of a dear one, etc. Not long afterward, the shul had a grand hachnasas Seifer Torah.

Every so often, there is a drop in the number of congregants, like when students finish their schooling and return to where they came from. Again, the shul goes through lean times until it fills up again with new and fresh members.

SECRETS OF SUCCESS

Other shuls in the area were eventually neglected and closed. Likewise, there are many shuls in the world that have ceased functioning. When I asked my father what kept this shul going despite being eulogized several times, he divided his answer into a few parts:

‘First, warm personal treatment toward each one, regardless of his spiritual state, outward appearance and way of dress. Also, we stand firmly on the principles of halacha, but in a nice way. For example, one Friday night, a student who likes a certain singer went to daven at the amud and he began davening in the style of that singer. The students happily joined in, but we also heard singing from the women’s section. I immediately stopped the singing and asked the women to sing softly and participate by clapping.

“Second, we never sold mitzvos, but instead gave honors to whoever asked for an aliya, pesicha, etc., with a smile and love. Likewise, we never forced Chabad practices on people who came to daven; we just provided a personal example and explained when questions were asked.

“The greatest victory over the murderers and their accomplices in World War II was not expressed through military victory or physical bravery, but in a spiritual way, with the commitment to idealize the spiritual over the physical. I have no doubt that this shul that has been operating for 62 years, with all the t’fillos, shiurim, and related activities l’ilui nishmas and to memorialize those who were killed in Auschwitz, had an effect and the spirit of those spiritually victorious survivors did not allow it to be closed and it lives and is active forever.”