Risking lives for the education of others
Jews in Communist Russia risk their lives to ensure Jewish continuity.
by Rabbi Zushe Greenberg
Last month, my grandmother Leah Chazan passed away in Israel at the age of 82.
I remember her as a woman who allowed and encouraged my grandfather Rabbi Aaron Chazan to undertake a challenge that placed his life in danger.
My grandparents lived in Russia in the darkest time of Jewish history. During World War II, they fled from the advancing German front to a city in Southern Russia called Tashkent.
Upon arriving there, they met a group of Chabad Chasidim who had organized underground Jewish schools to ensure Jewish continuity. The schools were held in secret because, at that time, teaching Judaism was illegal. Punishment was many years in Siberian prisons, or labor camps.
As a result of the harsh laws, and severe penalties which were meted out unmercifully, Jewish education came to a complete halt, and the majority of the Jewish children had no idea what the word "Jew" meant.
In Tashkent, like in many other communities in Russia, the Chabad families risked their lives to run secret schools. They knew it was the only way to ensure Jewish continuity.
In the winter of 1944, a Chasidic Rabbi approached my grandfather, Rabbi Aaron Chazan, may he be well. He asked him for his help in arranging new schools.
The Rabbi said, " Our children already receive a good Jewish education, but who will take care of the rest of the Jewish children in the community ? We must make sure that the Jewish nation doesn't lose them!
We are looking for a person like you to be in charge of this risky and dangerous undertaking," he appealed. " We will provide the funds for all the expenses. You must make sure everything runs smoothly without the authorities suspecting."
My grandmother Leah, of blessed memory, knew very well that if he would be caught, she would be left alone to raise her young children. Nevertheless, she urged him to meet the challenge and offered her full cooperation in any area needed.
The hardest task was convincing parents to allow their children to attend the secret schools. He would start by visiting the parents at night. He explained that, in memory of his parents, he took it upon himself to teach the Alef Bet to Jewish children.
He would sit before the children and draw the first few letters of the alphabet in a notebook. In a short time, the children learned to read the letters. In a few days they could read a few complete words.
My grandfather would then tell the parents that they could broaden their child's Jewish knowledge in a special secret school that had been formed.
Many parents refused, as it was dangerous to withhold children from the Soviet schools and teach them "religious propaganda" . This was tantamount to counterrevolutionary activity or spying.
My grandparents hard efforts resulted in four makeshift classrooms with twenty children each, located in four separate corners of the city.
The teacher and the children knew full well that teaching and learning in these schools were strictly forbidden and they performed drills to prepare for unwanted government officials.
One winter day, a clever fourteen year old boy spotted officials heading for their building. The class sprung into action. In a flash, the text books disappeared to secret hiding place. The boys dragged a withered pine tree from the corner.
When the officials walked into the room , they saw the student pushing a white bearded man (the teacher) to the tree mocking, " Look! We found an Old Man Frost ! " ( In the former Soviet Union, New Year's Eve was celebrated with a decorated pine tree, gifts, and an "Old Man Frost" similar to Santa Claus.)
"Shame on you !" the officials reproved them. " Do you have nothing to do but torture an old man ! Leave him alone !" This time they were lucky, The officials left them alone. The danger was ever present, but Jewish education continued.
As I reflect on this story, I recall a famous saying of the Lubavitcher Rebbe, of righteous memory. " It is imperative for every person to spend a half hour every day thinking about the Jewish education of children, and to do everything in his power, and beyond his power, to inspire the children to follow the path along which they are being guided."
I believe that my grandparents lived this thought each day. Today, as the school year begins, and the education of our children has been arranged, perhaps it's time to think about the education of other Jewish children -and it's not even forbidden or dangerous!