אתה משתמש בדפדפן מיושן. יתכן והאתר הנוכחי יוצג באופן שגוי, כמו כן אתרים אחרים ברשת.
אנא שדרג את הדפדפן או השתמש בדפדפן חילופי.
אנא שדרג את הדפדפן או השתמש בדפדפן חילופי.
חנוכה בשואה
- פותח הנושא ענת אדרת
- פורסם בתאריך
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בגלל שענת ביקשה ממני יפה הנה
קודם כל למי שלא מכיר אותי שמי בשמת ואני מפורום המסע לפולין. בשעות שאני לא בתפוז אני חיילת בצה"ל. את הסיפור הבא מצאתי תוך כדי חיפושים בגוגל,זוהי עדות ממקור ראשון על חנוכה בגטו ורשה. "A Lonely Chanukah Candle in the Ghetto", by Moshe Praeger One of the poets of the Warsaw Ghetto whose experience of Hanukah made a lasting impression, tells the following story: It was the winter of 1943. Only a tiny remnant of the Ghetto remained standing. All of the survivors knew well the fate that awaited them. And that fate was to grab up what you can to survive in the emptying ghetto. All that the Jews had won through hard work and all that they had succeeded in collecting were given to Polish smugglers. They, in return, would supply us with food and other basic supplies. I too tried to get something from the Polish smugglers for the skimpy wages which I earned working outside the Ghetto walls. Every evening I would return to the gates of the ghetto and I would try to make my way to the apartment of the chief smuggler. He lived right next to the entrance to the ghetto. One night I had a crazy idea. I knew the Jewish calendar and remembered that tonight was the first night of Hanukkah. My desire was both very strange and very bold. "Bread rolls?" was the smuggler's deal for the day. Fresh rolls could be had only from the illegal bakery in the Aryan part of Warsaw. "Candles!" I shouted back in his face. A weird request. He didn't exactly understand me, for what had come over this odd Jew who didn't want a chance to relieve his starvation with a fresh roll. Instead, he asks for candles to publicly celebrate the Hanukkah festival, no less. "And what price are you willing to pay for a white candle which is impossible to find anywhere in all of Warsaw? "Not just one candle", I replied. "I need two candles now. And if you can find them for me, I will pay whatever price you demand!" I took a big chance and played my entire hand. The smuggler replied: "I am willing to make you a fair deal. I want to hear what you are willing to give for these candles. Then we will settle." I offered the smuggler a very expensive box of cigarettes which I had acquired with considerable difficulty and at great cost that very day in the Warsaw black market. "Agreed!" shouted the smuggler, overjoyed. "There is just one little condition." I reminded him. "Since tonight is the holiday of Hanukkah, you must be willing to allow me to light my candles in the window of your apartment." "Are you crazy?" the smuggler yelled at me. "Have you forgotten that this is war time, where we are and what is going on here?" "How strange." I said to the smuggler. "I didn't know you were such a coward." I tried to use my most powerful argument. "What can possibly happen to you if I light my Hanukah candles in your window for just a few moments?" The smuggler uttered a curse under his breath but looked at me, understanding how important my demand was. Now things moved very quickly. Amazingly, he produced the candles. And there in the smuggler's apartment, on the edge of the Warsaw ghetto, I fulfilled the mitzvah of lighting the first candle of Hanukkah. The Jewish forced laborers, who were in the area and witnessed the event, were swept up by the emotion of the joyous event. What happened here? The whole thing was over in just a few moments. In a flash, it was over. But everyone who was at that powerful, yet quiet moment, felt the miracle of Hanukkah in all its simplicity. This small flame represented the tenacity and strength of the Jewish spirit. In a shaking voice, I uttered the holy blessings across the ghetto shrouded in darkness and fear. "...to kindle the light of Hanukkah…who has performed miracles for our ancestors in those days... who kept us in life and sustained us until this day." "Amen! amen!, amen!" answered the exhausted ghetto workers. A Hanukkah candle burnt for a moment in a window in the Warsaw ghetto. Moments of strained witness. Moments or hours? Moments as long as hours? Or moments which seemed like eternity?" This is how we lit the first candle of Hanukah during the last winter of the decaying Warsaw ghetto. There was nothing so valuable as that Hanukah candle!
קודם כל למי שלא מכיר אותי שמי בשמת ואני מפורום המסע לפולין. בשעות שאני לא בתפוז אני חיילת בצה"ל. את הסיפור הבא מצאתי תוך כדי חיפושים בגוגל,זוהי עדות ממקור ראשון על חנוכה בגטו ורשה. "A Lonely Chanukah Candle in the Ghetto", by Moshe Praeger One of the poets of the Warsaw Ghetto whose experience of Hanukah made a lasting impression, tells the following story: It was the winter of 1943. Only a tiny remnant of the Ghetto remained standing. All of the survivors knew well the fate that awaited them. And that fate was to grab up what you can to survive in the emptying ghetto. All that the Jews had won through hard work and all that they had succeeded in collecting were given to Polish smugglers. They, in return, would supply us with food and other basic supplies. I too tried to get something from the Polish smugglers for the skimpy wages which I earned working outside the Ghetto walls. Every evening I would return to the gates of the ghetto and I would try to make my way to the apartment of the chief smuggler. He lived right next to the entrance to the ghetto. One night I had a crazy idea. I knew the Jewish calendar and remembered that tonight was the first night of Hanukkah. My desire was both very strange and very bold. "Bread rolls?" was the smuggler's deal for the day. Fresh rolls could be had only from the illegal bakery in the Aryan part of Warsaw. "Candles!" I shouted back in his face. A weird request. He didn't exactly understand me, for what had come over this odd Jew who didn't want a chance to relieve his starvation with a fresh roll. Instead, he asks for candles to publicly celebrate the Hanukkah festival, no less. "And what price are you willing to pay for a white candle which is impossible to find anywhere in all of Warsaw? "Not just one candle", I replied. "I need two candles now. And if you can find them for me, I will pay whatever price you demand!" I took a big chance and played my entire hand. The smuggler replied: "I am willing to make you a fair deal. I want to hear what you are willing to give for these candles. Then we will settle." I offered the smuggler a very expensive box of cigarettes which I had acquired with considerable difficulty and at great cost that very day in the Warsaw black market. "Agreed!" shouted the smuggler, overjoyed. "There is just one little condition." I reminded him. "Since tonight is the holiday of Hanukkah, you must be willing to allow me to light my candles in the window of your apartment." "Are you crazy?" the smuggler yelled at me. "Have you forgotten that this is war time, where we are and what is going on here?" "How strange." I said to the smuggler. "I didn't know you were such a coward." I tried to use my most powerful argument. "What can possibly happen to you if I light my Hanukah candles in your window for just a few moments?" The smuggler uttered a curse under his breath but looked at me, understanding how important my demand was. Now things moved very quickly. Amazingly, he produced the candles. And there in the smuggler's apartment, on the edge of the Warsaw ghetto, I fulfilled the mitzvah of lighting the first candle of Hanukkah. The Jewish forced laborers, who were in the area and witnessed the event, were swept up by the emotion of the joyous event. What happened here? The whole thing was over in just a few moments. In a flash, it was over. But everyone who was at that powerful, yet quiet moment, felt the miracle of Hanukkah in all its simplicity. This small flame represented the tenacity and strength of the Jewish spirit. In a shaking voice, I uttered the holy blessings across the ghetto shrouded in darkness and fear. "...to kindle the light of Hanukkah…who has performed miracles for our ancestors in those days... who kept us in life and sustained us until this day." "Amen! amen!, amen!" answered the exhausted ghetto workers. A Hanukkah candle burnt for a moment in a window in the Warsaw ghetto. Moments of strained witness. Moments or hours? Moments as long as hours? Or moments which seemed like eternity?" This is how we lit the first candle of Hanukah during the last winter of the decaying Warsaw ghetto. There was nothing so valuable as that Hanukah candle!
בני הרשקוביץ
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תודה בשמת
העיתונאי משה פראגר, שהיה אולי הראשון שעסק בתיעוד השואה. ייסד את ``גנזך קידוש השם`` בבני ברק, הארכיון הראשון שעסק בשואה. בארכיון זה יצא לי להיות כמה פעמים, מאוד נחמדים שם ויש הרבה חומר.
העיתונאי משה פראגר, שהיה אולי הראשון שעסק בתיעוד השואה. ייסד את ``גנזך קידוש השם`` בבני ברק, הארכיון הראשון שעסק בשואה. בארכיון זה יצא לי להיות כמה פעמים, מאוד נחמדים שם ויש הרבה חומר.
היי בני
שמעתי משהו על על גנזך קידוש השם,אבל אף פעם לא יצא לי להיות שם ואת האמת דווקא יש משהו שאני די מחפשת לאחרונה ואלה עדויות של אנשים שהתגוררו בעיר רוהטין Rohatyn . בעיר הזו התגוררה משפחתי מצד אימי וידוע לי שלא הרבה ניצלו ורוב הקהילה היהודית נרצחה. יש לי את דפי העד של המשפחה אבל אני מתעניינת בכלליות מה קרה שם
שמעתי משהו על על גנזך קידוש השם,אבל אף פעם לא יצא לי להיות שם ואת האמת דווקא יש משהו שאני די מחפשת לאחרונה ואלה עדויות של אנשים שהתגוררו בעיר רוהטין Rohatyn . בעיר הזו התגוררה משפחתי מצד אימי וידוע לי שלא הרבה ניצלו ורוב הקהילה היהודית נרצחה. יש לי את דפי העד של המשפחה אבל אני מתעניינת בכלליות מה קרה שם
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