ושמרתם את כל המצוה אשר אנכי מצוך היום למען תחזקו ובאתם וירשתם את הארץ ... (יא-ח)
It is well-known that Soviet Jews, through no fault of their own, were denied even the most basic Jewish knowledge. With the Bolshevik Revolution of 1917, Jewish schools were shut down. Jewish seforim and books were destroyed and ritual objects destroyed. Germany tried to wipe out the Jews, while the Soviets tried to wipe out Judaism.
There was one man who gave body and soul to sustain the Torah under the nose of the extremist, anti-Semitic Bolsheviks. His name was R’ Yehoshua Horodner zt”l and he defied the Soviets throughout the 1920’s, even into the 1930’s. The legendary Chofetz Chaim zt”l called R’ Yehoshua an “Eved Hashem” - a true “servant of Hashem.”
R’ Yaakov Kaminetzky zt”l once related the following story: In the city of Minsk, under Soviet rule, Rav Horodner maintained a yeshivah. He taught Torah and learned with students under tremendous duress. How did he manage to do what no other rabbi or teacher, no matter how wealthy, clever, connected, or committed, managed to do in the former Soviet Union? Well, he had a trick of sorts, similar to the Jews in the times of the Chashmonaim. Rav Horodner would stand outside his yeshivah in Minsk and pretend to be washing the windows or sweeping up. All the while, he was singing a tune. If anyone he suspected of being a Soviet agent approached or appeared suspicious, he quickly changed his tune - a signal to the students to flee via the back windows and disperse.
One day, in 1933, he was summoned to Moscow by the NKVD, the infamous precursor to the KGB. He was not told in advance what this “meeting” was about but it was fair to say that when someone got “called in” by the NKVD, it was not for a pleasant social visit. R’ Yehoshua did not appear nervous - he knew better than anyone, that it was all up to Hashem.
When he arrived, he was made to wait in a cold anteroom for several hours, to work up his terror. Many a suspect, would lose his will to defy the Soviets in that dreary anteroom. After many long hours, he was suddenly summoned to another room. There, the chief officer called him into another even more private room and said to him, “Rabbi, I have known about your activities for a long time, and we have a file on you this big.” He spread his hands far apart and took out a bulging file to prove it. R’ Yehoshua glanced at the file - it was truly huge and intimidating.
Without warning, the officer suddenly changed his cold and official tone. “Rabbi Horodner, do you remember Chaikeh the widow from the Brisk railroad-station area?” Rabbi Horodner said he did not. He had lived in many places and knew people from all over, that it was difficult for him to keep track of them all.
“Well, I am her son. Yes, I am a Jew like you. You would bring us clothing, shoes, and food from time to time. I recall that one evening, the night before Passover, we did not have enough food and my mother came to your house after you had already distributed everything you collected for the poor. You took a utensil of pure silver out of your closet and gave it to her to sell for buying holiday provisions. We most likely would have starved if not for you,” said the officer.
Now, he looked at R’ Yehoshua with a sense of Jewish mercy. “Out of respect and gratitude, I will destroy this file, but you must cease your activities of propagating religion because in half-a-year I will be promoted and will not be in a position to protect you from my successor. The best advice is for you to try to leave the country before I leave my post.”
Six months later, Rabbi Horodner successfully left the USSR and arrived in the Holy Land, having received his exit papers through another Soviet officer whose needy family he had sustained before the revolution at great self-sacrifice. However, upon his move, it signaled the end of the yeshivah in Minsk. The voice of Torah in that great city where it had not lapsed for generations, was silenced. It took an unbending integrity, a love of Hashem, which drove His servant, R’ Yehoshua Horodner, to put his body and welfare at risk to sustain this holy community longer than any other person, and any other Jewish community, under Soviet rule. (Adapted from The Unexpected Road, by Rabbi Hillel Goldberg)
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