22 minute read
LIFESTYLES
The Wandering Jew My Personal Yetzias Mitzrayim
By Hershel Lieber
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Our May 1979 trip to the Soviet Union began with purely touristic intentions but culminated as a mission on behalf of our struggling brethren behind the Iron Curtain. We were truly inspired by the community of refuseniks and dissidents who were in various stages of reclaiming their Jewish identities. We were privileged to connect with them and to offer them our empathy and much needed encouragement. What we did not expect, though, was that this trip would be the beginning of a change of direction in our own lives. Nor did we foresee the subsequent trips that we would make to that part of the world time and time again. In September 1979, I was asked by Rabbis Hershel Bronstein and Yakov Pollak of the organization Al Tidom to go to Warsaw, Poland, to be the chazzan for the yomim noraim there. I have previously written about my experiences during the Warsaw phase of this journey. In addition, they asked me to travel to the U.S.S.R., namely Moscow, Leningrad and Kiev, to undertake several missions in each city. The sensation of intrigue and the excitement of an adventure overrode any thoughts of danger and fear, so I readily accepted.
I traveled alone and was away from home for over two weeks. I spent Rosh Hashana in Warsaw which was on Shabbos and Sunday that year. I scheduled myself to leave for Moscow on Monday, Tzom Gedalya, so I could be in Kiev for Shabbos Shuva. I planned to return to Warsaw on Sunday, erev Yom Kippur. Mensch tracht ober Gott lacht, Man makes plans, but Hashem laughs.
Meeting with Refuseniks
My arrival at Sheremetyevo Airport in Moscow presented my first challenge. I had taken along my tallis and tefillin, a siddur, a selichos, and a Gemara for my personal use. I also brought along a gift for R’ Eliyahu Essas, the leader and teacher of the fledgling baal teshuva movement in the Soviet Union: the new Hebrew sefer “HaChassidut” by Yitzchok Alfasi, written about the history of chassidus with short biographies of the Rebbes. I also took along dozens of Jewish calendars, which we received in the mail from many organizations, to distribute to Yidden on my trip.
When my suitcase was opened up for inspection, all these objects, written in a foreign language, were the subject of intense scrutiny. The clerk called his supervisor who sternly forbade me from taking in any written matter. My tallis and tefillin were all he would allow me to bring in. I spoke to them forcefully, but politely, that as a religious person I needed these books for prayer and study and that they should be more accommodating to my requirements. It took quite awhile until they agreed to let me enter with these items. The exception was the dozens of calendars which they rightfully questioned why I would need more than one. The most surprising items that they missed finding were the three Ezras Torah shul calendars which had a treasure trove of information and halachos about cyclical events throughout the Jewish year. These large calendars came in cardboard tubes which I put into the sleeves of the raincoat that I was wearing. I could not bend my arms while they were talking to me and worried that they would slip out. Baruch Hashem, they were not detected. That experience was somewhat unnerving, but I survived.
By the time I arrived at the National Hotel across Red Square half a day was gone. My passport had to be left by the hotel desk to be registered with the police, which usually took about 12 hours. I needed it immediately so I could to go to the Polish Embassy and get a new visa to re-enter Poland for Yom Kippur. The clerk, a reserved, polite woman, obliged my request and
Breaking the Tzom Gedalya fast with Rabbi Sholem BerKowalski in Moscow
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Left photo: R' Eliyahu Essas holding my gifts. a sefer on chassidut and the Yiddish Algemeiner Journal (note the headline about the petira of the Satmar Rebbe) The Rachlenko family with Boris Zitlonok (right) who just returned after five years in a gulag in Siberia
with a whisper informed me that she was Jewish. She told me that her mother’s yahrtzeit was that day and asked me what she could do about it. I told her to light a candle at home and that I would say kaddish in shul that afternoon. She handed me a note with her mother’s name on it and thanked me profusely. I immediately went to the Polish Embassy and to my delight had a visa stamped into my passport within fifteen minutes.
Before I left New York, I had made plans to meet Rabbi Sholem Ber Kowalsky of the Young Israel of Hillcrest in Queens, who, too, was on a mission in Moscow during that week. He did not show up at our meeting place at Lenin’s Tomb, near the Kremlin, so I headed to the Choral Synagogue on Arkhipova Street. There I met many of the people I got to know from my first trip to Moscow as well as Rabbi Kowalsky, who said he was too weak from fasting to go out to meet me. I joined a shiur given by Rabbi Avrohom Miller, who remained in Russia under the harsh communist regime true to the mesora of his great mentor the Chofetz Chaim. After davening Mincha and Maariv, I joined Rabbi Kowalsky in his room at the massive Rossiya Hotel where his wife prepared a delicious supper to break our fast.
The next day was jampacked with activity. I got up at 6am and was running around until 4:30pm when I had to return to the hotel and rush to the airport for my flight to Leningrad. Arriving at the shul for Shacharis, I
compiled a list of items that the community desperately needed, including gidden and retzuos for tefillin. I also met some young people including one who was learning hilchos shechita.
From shul I took a taxi and went to the apartment of R’ Eliyahu Essas who greeted me warmly and was touched by my gift of the sefer on chassidus. We spent hours talking, and he asked me for help him by sending tashmishei kedusha and kosher food to his talmidim, who numbered over 100 people. In fact, some of his students were now teaching the next group of beginners. This baal teshuva movement was growing, in spite of constantly being harassed and threatened by the police. When we parted, we both felt simultaneous pangs of joy and sadness.
Next, I visited with the Rachlenko family and renowned dissident Bo-
ris Zitlonok, who just returned from five years in Siberia. He spoke about the plight of the famed refuseniks Ida Nudel, Vladimir Kislik and Vladimir Slepak. He asked that they not be forgotten and that their cause be promoted.
When I returned to the hotel, I looked for the young woman receptionist to inform her that I said kaddish for her mother. I was shocked when I was told that she did not work there anymore. She was evidently noticed when she gave me a note and was immediately dismissed from her job. The KGB at its ruthless best!
My trip to Leningrad was from Tuesday evening until Wednesday evening, a mere 24 hours. There, between meeting people in shul and taking a long informative walk with R’ Tzodik Rifkin, I was apprised of the current situation of the Jews. I was given a directive to report back in America of the difficulties that they are subjected to. I still had a sliver of time to visit the Museum of Religion and Atheism on Nevsky Prospekt, which equally maligned all religions including Judaism. Then I had to rush back to the Hotel Astoria for my baggage and depart for the last leg of this trip, Kiev.
Arrested by the KGB
My mission to the Kiev Jewish community was very different than my visits in Moscow and Leningrad. In order to understand what I was trying to accomplish, a little bit of history is in order.
From the late 1960s and onward, many Jews developed a pride in their nationality, and some began connecting to their religion. This started after the Six Day War with its miraculous Israeli victory. Concurrently, many Jews started applying for exit visas to leave the Soviet Union. The Russian government allowed some to leave while many others were denied permission. These refuseniks were persecuted, and some were even sent to Siberian labor camps as a punishment for propositioning to leave. Protesting was not a possibility and contact with foreigners was suppressed. The refuseniks were constantly under the watchful eyes of the KGB. Yet, once a year, thousands of Jews gathered to express their solidarity with Jews worldwide by dancing and singing Hebrew songs and thereby encouraging each other in their struggle. This was done on Simchas Torah in front of Choral Synagogues in Moscow and Leningrad. The police force,
The Choral Synagogue in Kiev as well as the KGB, was also there but they did not interfere with the revelry, as these events were covered by Western TV and media. They stationed themselves in the background, photographing and taking notes of the attendees for future reference. Nevertheless, this annual event may have influenced the Soviet government to allow for more emigration.
As noted, this event took place only in Moscow and Leningrad. Kiev, which was home to the third largest Jewish population at the time, was very quiet on Simchas Torah. No gatherings, no singing, no dancing, and, in a sense, complacency with the status quo. My mission was to meet with one of the leaders of the refusenik community, Rotshteyn, and encourage him to organize a Simchas Torah gathering at the synagogue. This message was given over to me by Rabbi Pollak to relay to Rotshteyn. At the time I was not aware, and I was rightfully not told, from whom this message originated. Later on, when I returned home, Rabbi Pollak told me that it came from none other than Menachem Begin.
My arrival in Kiev was uneventful. After a good night’s sleep in the Hotel Dnieper I went to the synagogue in the Podol area and presented them with my last Ezras Torah calendar. There were about forty people there for Shacharis and I was given a tour of the dilapidated matzah bakery. When I returned to my room, I called Rotshteyn and made up to come to his apartment at 11am.
I went out on the street and hailed a taxi and gave him the exact address. The drive took about twenty minutes, and as I exited the taxi, I looked around to find where the building’s entrance was. Before I had a chance to think, two men – slim but very mean-looking – grabbed me by my arms and dragged me a half a block to a waiting car. They pushed me into the backseat, all the while barking orders in Russian, which I did not understand. Then they drove off, stopping at a building that had a sign with the word melitz, which means police. There they picked up an English-speaking interpreter who told me that I would have to answer all the questions they will ask.
They started driving and, from what I could make out, we were leaving the city of Kiev. There was complete silence in the car with the exception of one remark made to me by the interpreter. He was sitting next to driver and he turned around and said, facing me, “Do you think your G-d will help you now?”
I answered him confidently, with a deep conviction, “I am sure He will.”
Many things were going through my mind then. I realized that I was in the hands of the KGB which would try to frame me for a crime. I knew I had to get rid of any evidence of criminal activity. The first was the many pamphlets published by Al Tidom that I had in my raincoat pocket. These were on Jewish subjects such as holidays and mitzvos and were written in Russian. Somehow, they escaped being discovered when my suitcase was inspected upon arrival. I was bringing them to Rotshteyn to distribute to his refusenik group. I was sure that the KGB would make me empty my pockets, and I could not claim they were for personal use. There were too many of them on the same subject and they were written in Russian. I had to think fast. The pamphlets were in my left pocket and one of the KGB officers was sitting to my right. Slowly and stealthily I removed the pamphlets and stuffed them between the car seat and the backrest. Baruch Hashem, I managed to get rid of thirty or more pamphlets. I was thinking, jokingly, that they will only discover them when they do bedikas chometz.
The next problem was my master list of names and phone numbers of the people I had contacted. This list I hid in my sock but I was afraid they may ask me to remove my shoes and socks. As I was trying to think of a solution, I realized that we were driving through a wooded area well outside of Kiev.
The car stopped abruptly, and I was ordered out. The driver put on a leather jacket and, somehow, I imagined that he will start to hit me, which did not happen. I was ordered to go to a nearby clearing where there was a large tree stump. As expected, I was first told to empty my pockets, which I did. I only had some coins and my wallet, which they inspected. They asked for my passport, but I told them that the receptionist at the hotel had it. They told me to remove my shoes, which they looked into, but thank G-d they did not ask me to take off my socks.
They then sat me on the tree stump and began questioning me as to why I came the Soviet Union and who sent me. I contended that I came as a tourist to see their beautiful country. They questioned my intended visit with Rotshteyn, which they claimed was against the law. I explained that a friend of mine who was his relative asked me to go and give him regards. When they asked what his name was, I blurted out a friend’s name from my Brooklyn shul, Lipa Wakszall, the first name that came to my mind. They told me that I was intending to go to an area where a crime was committed and was about to meet with a criminal. I told them I had no relation with Rotshteyn at all and had no idea the person was a criminal or that the area was a crime scene. This conversation was repeated a number of times and was getting nowhere. They even wanted me to sign a paper, which I refused.
I still don’t know from where I took the courage to turn the table around and go on the offensive. I started screaming that they have no right to take an innocent tourist and
make these accusations. If Rotshteyn was a criminal, why is he at home? I asked them. I told them that in America criminals are usually put in jail. I admonished them for spoiling my trip. I added that I had booked a city tour of Kiev and that they were holding me up.
At one point, they finally told me to get back into the car and they drove me back to the hotel. All the while, they warned me that I would never be allowed to return to the U.S.S.R. I still insisted that they were punishing me for nothing and that I loved their country and wished to see their country’s great sights in the future.
When I finally walked into my room, I saw that my suitcase was in complete disarray. Evidently, they had sent someone in to find contraband in my room. Baruch Hashem the pamphlets were buried in the car seat, the Ezras Torah calendars were all distributed, and my master list was safe in my sock. The only thing that was still in that suitcase were photos from a Pesach seder in Moscow which I was asked to bring to Rabbi Bronstein. Again, with mazal they were not discovered.
The shaded streets of Kiev, laden with falling leaves and chestnuts
My Yetzias Mitzrayim
At this point I realized that I had to leave Kiev immediately. I was afraid that the KGB may want to corroborate my story with Rotshteyn. He would deny knowing Lipa Wakszall and that could have serious consequences for me. I went down to the lobby and tried to buy a ticket on any plane that was leaving Kiev to Western Europe on that day. Tomorrow was Friday and I needed to be somewhere before Shabbos – anywhere but there! The only flight leaving that day was a Swissair flight to Zurich. I immediately booked the flight.
I still had a few hours before I had to leave to the airport. I booked a tour of Kiev in keeping with what I told the KGB agent – that I had a city tour scheduled. A woman guide gave me a private tour showing me the highlights of this city. I still remember the chestnut trees that shaded the main thoroughfare with hundreds of chestnuts on the walkways. At one point she took me to see the statue of their hero, Bogdan Chmelnitsky. I told her that although he was a Ukrainian hero, he was responsible for the death and destruction of dozens of Jewish communities and tens of thousands of my people. She quickly ushered me back to
her car and took me to a World War II cemetery and memorial, pointing out the monuments of Jewish generals and personalities. The tour ended on a good note, and I returned to the hotel. Arriving at the airport, I exchanged my rubles for dollars since the law did not allow taking rubles out of the country. I asked the currency exchange if I could keep the small change to buy some soda in the gate
area. Although they told me it was fine, the subsequent customs officer told me I was in violation of the customs law. He then directed me to have my suitcase inspected. This time I was not so lucky, and they discovered the Pesach seder photos. They questioned me as to who the people at the “party” were. I told them that I did not know them and that I just was taking those photos to a family member who lived in the States. They confiscated the photos, took my address, and said they would send them to me once they finished their investigation, which they never did.
Afterwards, they ordered me into a private cubicle with an officer. I had to completely undress as he scrutinized me to see if I was smuggling any contraband. He ordered me to take off my shoes but again refrained from making me pull off my socks. My master list was still safe! I then grasped how much time was spent and that I seemingly would miss my plane. Suddenly, the agent started to rush me to get dressed and they took me by car to the plane which was waiting on the tarmac for takeoff. Sitting on the plane, I took a deep breath but still did not feel safe. I realized that they could make the plane return if they felt something was amiss.
I arrived in Zurich in the evening. I had no idea where to go or whom to call. I just knew that I should be kissing the ground when I disembarked. I had just experienced my own yetzias Mitzrayim.
Footnote: I had written a diary of my journey on sheets of loose-leaf paper throughout my journey. This diary was baruch Hashem not discovered when I left Kiev. I mailed it to Pesi from Zurich hoping I would not lose it or have it confiscated when I returned to Warsaw. Pesi received it before I came home and was shocked and terrified by my harrowing episode with the KGB. I must say that I received a hero’s welcome when I finally arrived home.
Hershel Lieber has been involved in kiruv activities for over 30 years. As a founding member of the Vaad L’Hatzolas Nidchei Yisroel he has traveled with his wife, Pesi, to the Soviet Union during the harsh years of the Communist regimes to advance Yiddishkeit. He has spearheaded a yeshiva in the city of Kishinev that had 12 successful years with many students making Torah their way of life. In Poland, he lectured in the summers at the Ronald S. Lauder Foundation camp for nearly 30 years. He still travels to Warsaw every year – since 1979 – to be the chazzan for Rosh Hashana and Yom Kippur for the Jews there. Together with Pesi, he organized and led trips to Europe on behalf of Gateways and Aish Hatorah for college students finding their paths to Jewish identity. His passion for travel has taken them to many interesting places and afforded them unique experiences. Their open home gave them opportunities to meet and develop relationships with a variety of people. Hershel’s column will appear in The Jewish Home on a bi-weekly basis.
