ZEIDE’S CHUMASHIM AND MY SIDDUR

A RARE TREASURE: 
A SIDDUR!

My grandparents’ home attracted us grandchildren not only because of the warmth and pleasantness, but also because there was always something delicious to eat, something we did not have at home. I was also drawn there for something else that nobody knew about, since I did not tell anyone. At my age and because of my personality, I could not express it clearly.

In our house we had a significant amount of s’farim, relatively speaking, that Zeide-Rav collected. I don’t know how many there were, but I greatly desired riffling through them, even though the things I saw and understood were like “a chicken amongst men.” Nevertheless, here and there I gleaned something from them. In contrast, the Siddurim situation in our house was different. We had two or three Siddurim for davening and bentching that were so worn out and torn that it was a pity to pick them up.

Unfortunately, in our childhood we did not have enough understanding and sensitivity to hold on to these precious treasures, Siddurim that generations had prayed from and poured out their hearts and shed so many Jewish tears while reading their words.

The reason for having so few Siddurim was very simple. In those days, and many years before that, it was not possible to buy a new Siddur, Chumash, T’hillim or other s’farim in Soviet Russia. Sadly, I had very little desire to daven or say a bracha out of a Siddur whose pages fell apart in my hands.

I came up with a plan. I knew where there were some big Siddurim that were published with Chassidus from the Alter Rebbe. They were complete, and I began davening from them.

The truth must be said. It was a bit uncomfortable to daven as I did, when it seemed to me that the holy letters of Chassidus in the margins of the Siddur were looking at me sternly and “hearing” how I davened. In addition, Zeide was not pleased by my having “schlepped” the Siddurim with Chassidus, so I had to refrain from the great desire to daven from them.

A PROBLEM OF ARI’NIKES

It was completely different in the home of my Karasik grandparents. I don’t know why but they had two complete Siddurim. In addition, my grandfather Chaim Benzion had s’farim that I had not seen anywhere until then. He had a set of Mikraos G’dolos Chumashim from the best publishers, Rohm of Vilna. They were new and had all the commentaries.

The biggest chiddush to me was that at the end of the set of Chumashim were narrow columns with all the prayers for weekdays and Shabbos. The letters were small but very clear. And at the end of the Chumashim was the entire T’hillim!

Something else that I considered a marvel was that the Nusach was that of the Arizal. I never found this anywhere else.

Zeide Chaim Benzion also had a pocket Siddur that was nearly new in Nusach Ari. He would let a grandchild daven from this Siddur only when the grandchild promised to daven word by word and to take good care of the Siddur as he davened.

I once found an old, torn Chumash that had the weekday and Shabbos davening at the end. My joy was boundless since it was Nusach Ari. There were many torn Chumashim around with the davening at the end, but they weren’t Nusach Ari. Although the letters were tiny, as they were at the back of all Chumashim, the pages were intact, nearly new, and the main thing was – it was Nusach Ari.

I can never forget special moments. By nature, I was choleric and irascible. I felt anguish over things that other children did not care about. For example, I was infuriated over the fact that nearly all the Siddurim in the Chumashim that I saw were not Nusach Ari! Why?

Being a child, I did not reason logically and so I felt a great injustice was perpetrated against us because we were Nusach Ari’nikes. Then, one day, I mustered the courage to ask my father – why didn’t they print more Siddurim with Nusach Ari?

My father smiled and asked whether this bothered me. I probably nodded my head and I remember that my father was very pleased by this. He explained to me that they printed fewer Chumashim with Nusach Ari not because they were opposed to us but because we, Nusach Ari’nikes, were few in number compared to those who were not Nusach Ari’nikes.

ALL MINE

My father apparently “took my pulse” at this point to see whether my anger came from being a Lubavitcher. I remember that I nearly shouted, “No! I am happy and satisfied!” My father smiled once again and said something to the effect: That which is truly true, holy and good is found in very small numbers in the world.

So my joy was double when I found a Chumash with a Nusach Ari Siddur in it. I took out all the pages of the Siddur and began binding them into a thin Siddur. I had never watched a bookbinder, but surely I would be able to bind so few pages together, I figured. My father brought me glue from the shed and my mother got white sheets of paper and some cardboard from somewhere, and after a few days I kissed my Siddur. I had this Siddur all the way through those bitter days of starvation in Samarkand, and there it disappeared.

During my childhood, I did not know what it meant to kiss anything aside from a Torah scroll. In my early childhood I went to shul with my father until they stole it away from us. So kissing my thin Siddur had an especially sweet taste.

At first, it was hard for me to part from my Siddur. I would daven from it three times a day, every day. It seemed to me that I davened better from this Siddur than from other Siddurim. Aside from that, I may have had feelings of “ownership.” After all, this Siddur was the only thing that was “all mine,” my real treasure (my total collection of possessions consisted of a few pieces of scrap metal that I took a fancy to).

Among my possessions was a shirt with a pocket where I could put my Siddur. In the good days, I changed my shirt every week. When it came time to change the shirt with the Siddur in the pocket, I begged my mother to let me wear the shirt for another few days.

My mother wondered why I liked that shirt in particular. I never told her why. I was no small “yesh” (as my father described me) and I did not want her to laugh at me.

With time, my ardent feelings for the Siddur weakened, but I still looked after it like a precious treasure.

THE NEW SIDDUR

Several years later, my uncle, Moshe Chaim Dubrawski, surprised me with an unusual gift – a new, thin Siddur, T’hillas Hashem, of the last printing in Russia. Obviously, this Siddur captivated me completely. The small, thin Siddur gave me a warm feeling every time I took it into my hand. It seemed to possess a certain authenticity that could never fade.

As I said earlier, Zeide Chaim Benzion had a few sets of new Chumashim and each one had the t’fillos in Nusach Ari at the end. I had great pleasure from those Chumashim of his, although I did not dream of removing the t’fillos from them. In one set of Chumashim there were many additions in Yiddish, the wonderful stories from Seifer HaYashar, excerpts of commentaries and nice parables, each of which I gobbled up at every opportunity. My grandfather had much nachas seeing me immersed in these additions to the Chumash.

Zeide also had nine sets of Tanach with many additions. I don’t know where he got such precious Chumashim and sets of Tanach, and until today I don’t know where they disappeared to.