| Len's uncle
Judah is expelled from the Yeshiva
About the Yeshiva, I may have forgotten to mention a few things. When I left the Yeshiva, it’s because they found a Hebrew book in my suitcase. They were starting to look—one of the magdifim was a very strict person. He was not liked by the boys.
He found HaTzefira, a daily Hebrew newspaper that was... at that time, there were two Hebrew newspapers in Russia, The HaZeman—HaZeman means “The Time” or “The Season.” And one was called HaTsefira. HaTsefira means a “Morning Star.”
The editor of HaTsefira was Nahum Sokolov. Won’t hurt anyone, especially a Jewish person, to look up the name Nahum Sokolov, and find out who he was.
I was telling here that in the Yeshiva, they told me they were looking for forbidden literature, and they said they found the haTsefira. Ah, I was reading already a secular newspaper. A horrible thing. Worst of all was that a picture of Sarah Bernhardt and her name—there was a story about Sarah Bernhardt. I was called in to the rabbi, to the chief of the Yeshiva.
He says, “Sit down.” I was a young boy. I sat down. He says, “Well, I was told that you were a very good student here.”
I said, “Thank you very much.”
He said, “How did you turn to become—all overnight you became a goy?”
I said, “What is meant by becoming a goy? I went to shul this morning to daven together with everybody.”
“No, no, you are drifting away from Jewish life. You’re embracing” he says, “a foreign mother that isn’t yours.” That is an expression from the Bible, and he told me that I was reading the HaTsefira. He says, “Well, since you are a good student, we’ll forgive you the first time. Next time we find something you’ll have to leave the Yeshiva.”
Well, they found a book next time. Well, I was called to him again. He said, “You have to leave the Yeshiva.”
It was a book of poetry by Chaim Nachman Bialik, to this day considered the greatest modern Hebrew poet.
I said, “That’s all right.” I said, “I’m going to leave.”
He said, “No, not only leave the Yeshiva. You have to leave town.”
I said, “What do you mean, I have to leave town?” I said, “Rabbi, the town does not belong to you. The town is everybody’s. ...[Inaudible] stay in town”
“No,” he said, “you cannot, because you’ll poison the rest of the students, a good number anyway. The boys of your age you will poison.” He said, “So you’d better leave town.”
I said, “I will leave town on one condition, that you give me a letter of recommendation.”
So immediately he wrote out a few words and he gave it to me, and I looked it over and I didn’t like it. There were hints in that letter that they should be careful. So I said, “I’m not going to take this letter. Just a few words to say that I was a good student, and that you recommend me to any Yeshiva,” which he did.
And I took this letter, and I went to Babroisk. That’s when I went to the other Yeshiva.
I am reminded here that I forgot to mention my age when I left that Yeshiva. I was about 12 years old. I was a very young kid, but I was quite grown at that time. I don’t believe I have grown since that time.
Judah means that he did not grow in height. He was very short, about 5' 4"
I went to another Yeshiva. I did quite well at the other Yeshiva, too. I continued for some time, and another one.
Then I left and I went to study secular work, and my mother didn’t know for a time that I wasn’t at a Yeshiva. I used to send a letter to my friends—to one of my friends in the town where the Yeshiva was, and he would put it into an envelope and send it to my mother. So she saw that it was coming from that town, and she didn’t know for some time, until I told her. I wrote her how happy I was, and what I was doing, and so on and so forth.
She had to make peace with it, because I came home. I had a short jacket on, and my payes were cut, and I looked like a real sport, a young man. But my mother understood it, and she never differed with me a great deal. She only pleaded with me to remain a good Jew. And I think I am.
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