This article by Morris Gevirtz (pictured at top right) is an account of an imaginary din Torah, using names of actual people in Volchin, subtitled A din-Torah beween Mordechai son of Chaya-Roza and Khvedor Polishuk from behind the mountain.
In his introduction Morris Gevirtz dedicates this imaginary din Torah to the victims of the Holocaust in Volchin and Wysokie, as:
[a] headstone for Volchiners where the Holocast ended in a mass grave between Volchin and Kotera, and a monument for the community of Wysokie of whom more than 100 were buried in a mass grave in the middle of town, and the rest met their death in the gas chambers of Treblinka, Elul 1942.
Morris Gevirtz weeps over the fate of the murdered and cries out to heavens – a cry cutting through the air and reverberating above the earth.
The figure of Mordechai, son of Chaya-Roza, materializes before him,
bare-foot floating in the air, with the appearance he used to wear on Yom Kippur in the synagogue, white long kittel¸ his hands raised to heaven.
Morris Gevirtz implores the holy souls of the communities of Wysokie Litewskie and Volchin, to listen to their shliakh tzibur, Mordechai, son of Chaya Roza:
I have acted in the high court in heaven to call to din Torah our neighbor of many years, Khvedor the town elder, with his folks, among whom we and our parents lived hundreds of years, to present our arguments and claims. Let him alone bring forth the verdict.
Mordechai addresses his non-Jewish neighbor, Khvedor:
Khvedor, son of Pavel and Marusya, grandson of Christian God-fearing and believers, our neighbors, why did you not hide at least one of a family of us so that they would rebuild our destroyed shtetls? Why did you not show your Christian self-sacrifice to find a shelter for our helpless unprotected people and watched with indifference how these hunted people are annihilated”? “Why did you corroborate, by keeping silent, with our Nazi murderers?”
“is this the sum up of your 2000 years of belonging to Christendom, that did not stop preaching that we are all children of one God and that heaven request is always to side with the poor, weak and wronged?
He refers to the story of R’ Khananya, who was tortured to death by the Romans. As the story goes, a pagan executioner could not stand the fact that the Romans lengthened the Rabbi’s torture and helped him die quickly. He then threw himself into the fire with R’ Khanaya to die with him.
Even the pagan had more humanity than the Christian murderers. In this Holocaust we lost 6 million such Khananyas but how many soft hearted executioners did you produce?
The Jews supported their non-Jewish neighbors, but kindnesses over a long period were not returned:
Is this how you repay us? When you had it bad, the Tzar authorities oppressed you, held you in darkness and restriction and you groaned under the difficult yoke, we sent you our daughters, the Sofia Perovskayas, Manye Vilvushevitches, Hesse Hoffmans, to your folks - to teach, to care for you, to heal you and encourage you. Also we sent our sons to you – the Gershonis, the Zundelevitches, the Libermans and Hirsh Lekerts. In return you sent to us your rascal youths and rogues to exterminate us totally so no one would remain alive!
In a year of bad season in the fields, you knew that you could come to Yoel’ke son of Aba, to lend you some rubles for a cow, some seeds for sowing. You could come to Zelig Shuster for some boots and pay with new crops. When you felt heavy-hearted you could come to Sara, Moshe Dubivavier’s daughter and without paying – on credit – and wash down your sorrows in a drink. You could go to Israel Kremer and get – on credit - salt, oil, matches and tar and other items. And warm hearted neighbors sympathized with you and cheered you up and brought you all kinds of things for your household. The doors of Henokh Garbarnik were open for you, to serve you: to comb your lamb skins to make furs for you and your wives; to press oil from flax seeds for you, and provide you with oil whether you had or did not have money to pay for the job. And how did you thank us?” Your silence was an assent to our annihilation.
When times were better...
who could make clothes and shoes for you? Our Meir and Shmulie – tailors and their associates, sewing for you sermanges[?] and furs. And Ester Chana with her hired seamstresses dressed up your wives and daughters with Rashid-colored trousers and coats, for which, quite often, you did not pay cash but paid later with a handful of beans and barley – two scores eggs, and once in a while – a sack of potatoes from which you had more than plenty.
The Jews of the town were good neighbors: We were not jealous of you and never encroached on your property. On the contrary, when there was a dispute between a Jew and a Christian, the Christian preferred to bring his case to din Torah before the Rabbi, and if the Rabbi could not reach a compromise, he judged in favor of the Christian
...and with what did you pay us back? – your barns are big and full; your fields and meadows stretch beyond one’s range of view. Also the forests around you are wide and long so suitable for us to hide, big enough so that the enemy’s eyes would not see us hiding. “ but you did not let us hide. “what did you aim at?”
...you could at least save our babies, holding them as yours – that was not so difficult – keeping them until the storm is over. You did not have enough heart and courage.
Devout Christians, our neighbors for generations. If you feared to save me, my wife my son and daughters, why didn’t you at least save my grandson who has just been born so that at least one reminder of my shtetl, of my family, of my community. Why? Why? Why?”
Morris Gevirtz's imaginary din Torah ended:
However, now, Mordechai’s voice trailed off. And then his figure faded…
