TISHREI BEHIND THE IRON CURTAIN

We spoke with four Chazan sisters: Mrs. Devorah Greenberg, Mrs. Chaya Scheiner, Mrs. Batya Cohen, and Mrs. Esther Scheinberger, who go back in time to those dark days behind the Iron Curtain.

GIVING BIRTH ON YOM TOV

What do you remember about the Tishrei yomim tovim back in Russia?

Mrs. Cohen tells this story:

One year, on Yom Kippur, in the middle of the davening which took place in our home, my sister Bas-Sheva Mishulovin a”h, felt she was about to give birth. To call an ambulance was dangerous because our secret minyan could be discovered, but there was no other vehicle available. My brother-in-law, Moshe Scheiner, followed the example of the Alter Rebbe and came to the rescue. He took off his tallis and kittel, went outside and a few minutes later he returned with a truck that he got somehow. He took her swiftly to the hospital.

That year, we celebrated two brissin in the big sukka that we built in our yard. Both nephews were named for the Rebbe Rayatz: Yosef Yitzchok Mishulovin, today a shliach in West Bloomfield, Michigan, and Yosef Yitzchok Greenberg, shliach in Alaska.”

“That year, 5725, I gave birth on 8 Tishrei and the bris was the first day of Sukkos,” affirmed Mrs. Greenberg. “I fasted Yom Kippur night and in the morning some family members came to visit me and said that according to halacha, a woman who gives birth is exempt from fasting for three days after the birth. At that time, new mothers stayed in the hospital for a week, so I was released on Yom Tov. The problem arose in that I did not want to sign on Yom Tov, but without signing I would not be allowed to leave. What would I do for the bris? Boruch Hashem, the doctor knew me and she signed for me.

“We left the hospital and brought the newborn in a carriage since you can carry on Yom Tov. We thought how wonderful that it was Yom Tov and not Shabbos, for how would we have taken him to the bris on Shabbos if we couldn’t carry? The sandak at the bris was my brother-in-law, R’ Yisroel Friedman. He lived a two hour walk away in Perlovka. He came on foot, of course, accompanied by his sons, and afterward he walked home. With two days of Yom Tov he couldn’t just wait until that night and take the train home.

IN-HOME SUKKA

Was it difficult to obtain the dalet minim?

Mrs. Greenberg:

“Sukkos 5707/1946, our first year in Moscow, my father, R’ Aharon Chazan a”h, heard about a family in the area who had dalet minim. He walked two hours in order to say the bracha, but that was not unusual. Other Jews did the same. What was special was that he took the dalet minim with him back home so my grandmother Rochel, my mother Nechama Leah, and we girls could say the bracha too!

“He came home after walking four hours, ate something, and then went back to return the dalet minim because the family would need it the next day. That Yom Tov he walked eight hours. It’s important to stress that there were no boys or men at home. He did it for the women and girls!”

Mrs. Scheiner:

“In later years, it was easier to obtain the dalet minim because the Israeli embassy would bring some esrogim from Eretz Yisroel to Rav Levin, the rav of Moscow, and R’ Levin would give one to my father. We were able to obtain the other minim ourselves.”

How were you able to have a sukka under the noses of the KGB?

“When we lived in Bolshevo, before the entrance to the house there was a sort of foyer that served as a buffer for the cold,” recalled Mrs. Scheinberger. “This room had many windows so it was freezing, but it had one important advantage. Part of the roof came off. On Sukkos, we would raise the roof and put on s’chach and this way, nobody saw our sukka. But even before we moved to Bolshevo, wherever we lived my father always built a sukka. He set an example for us, not to forgo observing the Torah even under difficult conditions.”

“Obtaining s’chach wasn’t simple,” added Mrs. Scheiner. “One year, my husband went to a desolate area where reeds grew. It was a marshy place but he took the risk and cut reeds. He nearly drowned in one of the mud-holes but he continued his work with mesirus nefesh.”

Mrs. Scheinberger adds, “In order to heat the sukka, my father came up with an original idea. He put the kerosene heater in a box that was attached under the table. The little bit of heat could not compete with the brutal Russian cold but it was a little less cold than it was outside.”

Mrs. Cohen recalls, “R’ Zalman Leib Estulin was usually our guest for Sukkos. He would sit in the sukka for many hours, day and night, even when it snowed. When we asked him to come inside, he would always say, ‘It’s a mitzva to sit in the sukka.’ He would use crutches. His foot was injured in the war but he did not want an operation because as a healthy person he would be considered fit for service and would be sent back to the front.”

ONE PRIMUS AND GUESTS

“When we lived in Klyazma,” said Mrs. Scheiner, “we had only one primus on which my grandmother would cook tzimmes, kreplach, soup, fish and even honey cake. Today, in a modern kitchen, with a stove with four or five burners, women have a hard time before yom tov. I don’t understand how my grandmother cooked so much on just one flame! She worked without a counter top on a table with the primus on it, and next to it a bowl of water because we did not even have running water! And we still invited guests under these circumstances.”

She smiled and continued, “When we wanted to buy fish we had to go to Moscow, an hour’s train ride away where there was a store that usually had fish. I said ‘usually’ because in Russia, shortages were routine. We had to stand on line for about two hours and then had the ‘privilege’ of buying two kilograms (5 pounds) of fish. We were a large family and that wasn’t enough so we had to stand on line again for another two hours to buy another two kilos. There wasn’t always fish available by that time but we learned to manage with what we had.”

“We had to buy chickens in the market,” said Mrs. Cohen, “and it wasn’t easy. There weren’t always chickens available and besides, it was expensive. Then we had to go to Perlovka where the shochet lived, a yerei Shamayim. Whenever we came he was bent over a seifer and learning Torah. In later years, my brother-in-law, Moshe Greenberg a”h, learned sh’chita. He would shecht chickens in the shed in our yard.”

COLD OUTSIDE
– WARM INSIDE

Under such conditions were you able to feel the holiday atmosphere?

“Of course,” said Mrs. Scheiner and Mrs. Scheinberger. “From the beginning of Elul we felt the Elul atmosphere. My father was the baal tokeia (one who blew the shofar), the baal koreh (one who read the Torah) and the baal t’filla for Shacharis. He was assisted in the davening by our brothers who inherited his sweet voice. From the beginning of Elul he would sit and review the piyutim and niggunim with them and did not stop until they knew it perfectly. He davened with all his heart, but precision was also important to him. By the end of Elul we girls knew all the tunes perfectly too.

“In general, my father taught all of us from the youngest age to know all aspects of Judaism, like how to kasher chickens, nusach ha’t’filla, Krias ha’Torah, shofar blowing, etc. He was constantly afraid that he would be arrested and at least his children would know how to observe the mitzvos and customs.”

“When we first lived in Bolshevo,” said Mrs. Greenberg, “my father attended a minyan that took place in the house of a Jew nearby, but when the man died, the minyan moved to our house for Shabbos and Yom Tov. So we definitely felt the Yom Tov atmosphere.”

Mrs. Scheinberger added, “People who did not come the rest of the year, came for the t’fillos on Rosh HaShana and Yom Kippur. These were old men who remembered the t’fillos from their father’s homes, and even women who did not know how to daven and read from the siddur felt that during these days they had to come and daven. These were women whose manner of dress indicated that they lived well, but they were lacking spiritually and they came to fill this need during the Yomim Nora’im.

“At that time, the law forbade gatherings and all religious activity was illegal. So a minyan for davening was a double crime. However, boruch Hashem, it never happened that the neighbors tattled to the police.”

Mrs. Greenberg explains, “Our house had an advantage in that it had a yard so the neighbors were not that close and the minyan could take place undisturbed. In addition, the people in the area were upper class. Near us lived a pilot, a director of a factory, etc. They respected my father so they did not tattle on us even though they were aware of the Jewish activities going on in our house.”

Mrs. Cohen tells of an Erev Yom Kippur that she remembers:

“My father was invited to a district educational conference. When he arrived, all the principals in the district were sitting in the room, together with the mayor. They began discussing the big crime of his children not attending school on Shabbos. At the conclusion of the meeting, the mayor warned my father that if he continued this way, they would arrest him and my mother and put the children in Soviet institutions.

“My father raised his voice and shouted, do you want to run an inquisition in Russia, to kidnap children and imprison their parents because of religion?! The assembled were surprised by his powerful response and told him to go home. My father arrived home a few minutes before sunset and barely managed to eat the seuda ha’mafsekes. People had already begun gathering for Kol Nidrei. My father suggested they have the minyan somewhere else, since he was afraid they would come and arrest him that same night. However, due to the late hour, they decided to daven in our house. But the baal t’filla, R’ Chaim Eliezer Gorewitz (who learned in Tomchei T’mimim in Lubavitch), who was supposed to lead the Kol Nidrei, was afraid lest they catch him as the chazan. He asked that someone else take his place. He had what to be afraid of. He had sat in jail for ten years for the crime of learning Torah with children. My brother Yitzchok (today a shliach in Rome) replaced him. He was a young bachur at the time. He led the Kol Nidrei and Maariv and my other brothers helped him sing the piyutim. Boruch Hashem, that Yom Kippur was uneventful.”

Perhaps it wasn’t hard to feel the Days of Awe but how were you able to rejoice on Simchas Torah under those conditions?

“It was always joyous on Simchas Torah,” said Mrs. Cohen. “However, in later years, brothers-in-law (Moshe Greenberg, Moshe Scheiner, and Michoel Mishulovin) came to our house and added Lubavitcher chayus. They would farbreng, drink mashke, say Chassidus, make a somersault … The hakafos took longer, like in a Chabad shul. Jews who were not religious also came. I remember one who did not keep Shabbos due to exigent circumstances but he danced with a Torah with tears in his eyes.”

Mrs. Scheiner adds, “After the hakafos, the people came to our house for kiddush. My grandmother would prepare a feast. I still remember some of the guests, one of them was an intelligent person who worked in photography. He would come every year on Simchas Torah and sing in Yiddish.”

Were you particular about Halacha in your home?

“Of course,” said Mrs. Greenberg. “Even immersing on Erev Yom Kippur. At first, my father and the boys would go to the mikva in Moscow. After a few years, my father was afraid that the mikva in Moscow would be closed, so he built a secret mikva under the floors of our house. The mikva was in the kitchen and the bor was in the living room of my house which was part of my parents’ house. Since the mikva had been prepared for emergency use, we usually did not use it. But Erev Yom Kippur, my father and the boys immersed in it instead of traveling to Moscow. I still remember them heating the water the way they did back then.”

Do you have an interesting story for us to end with?

Mrs. Scheiner: “On Yom Kippur we had guests. One of them was Dr. Solovey, a famous doctor who worked in a hospital in Moscow. Many of Anash were his patients. He was a talmid of the Chofetz Chaim and did not live a full religious life but still learned Rambam and Gemara. Dr. Solovey greatly esteemed my father for his firm stance in fulfilling Torah and mitzvos. On Yom Kippur he stayed in our house the entire time. He would tell of a Chassid who came to him after being sent by the Rebbe. When he wanted to examine him, the Chassid said, ‘The Rebbe did not say you should examine me. He only said I should go to you and I came!’ And the Chassid left without being examined.”

When we read stories about yomim tovim in Russia under communism and we hear about the mivtzaim being done nowadays in Russia, we understand and feel how the Geula is mamash imminent. May we merit to rejoice at the Simchas Beis HaShoeiva in the third Beis HaMikdash this year.