"PURIM"

In our Shtetel we celebrated many holidays.  And while we observed them all very diligently, Purim was the most anticipated, the most looked forward to, and the happiest holiday for our family.

The cold miserable winter was almost over.  Soon Pesach (Passover) would be here, and that meant new clothes, new shoes, sunshine, warmth , and the pleasures of summer.

It also brought a degree of lightheartedness, the freedom to just fool around, to be clowns, and above all else, to enjoy all the the good food associated with the holiday.  The great specialty was the once a year treat, the wonderful tasting Hamantaschen.  These are triangular pastries filled with tasty jams, prunes, and other fruits.  My favorites were those made by my mother, and she filled them with poppy seeds, honey, and other spices.  I could never get enough of them. 

(Editor's note: She brought her recipe to the United States, and I, too, could never get enough of these marvelous unduplicable treats.)

And the income!  We, the children, were delegated to deliver the "m’shlochmones." These were presents, exchanged with our friends, neighbors, and family, on the eve of the holiday.  Several goodies such as bars of candy, baked goods, an orange or two, and some small jars of jam or spicy fruit, were placed on a large plate.  The dish was covered with a white piece of cloth and tied on the bottom.  We delivered these with gusto, and in return we were given some money, as well as some sweets.  The money was very much appreciated.

The scrambling about of kids delivering the gifts from house to house was both a very serious and happy event.  The neighborhood was filled with all the joyous  young people bearing gifts.  The exchange of presents brought unbelievable happiness to both the giver and receiver.

The reading of the story of Ester was the noisiest event in the shtetel, especially so considered by the parents and elders.  All forms of pent up emotions and insults against our non-Jewish neighbors, who as a rule constantly ridiculed and hurt the Jews of our shtetel,  were now  released.  These pent up emotions simply burst out, and we felt that for this time, at least, we were the winners.  It was "mandated" that the older men must indulge in a few alcoholic drinks.

It was the time of the reading of the Megilla – a long narration that did not deal with religion.  It is a very lengthy story of revenge, a favorite Jewish queen, lust, sex, woman’s revolt and scheming, a wise uncle, and the hanging of the Jew’s enemy, Haman, and his sons.  The story goes on and on and on, that is why the word Megilla  ("the whole megilla") is used in the English language.

The Jewish listeners, especially the young listeners, could not have enough of the story.  They had to hear the reading twice; at night, and again in the morning, and the noise was ear shattering whenever the name of the great enemy, Haman, was heard.

Groggers, a hand held ratchet device, was the standard noisemaker.  The participants would spin this clever little machine and drown out the name of the hated enemy.  The ones that did not have groggers used two pieces of wood to strike at each other, or they even used a hammer and a piece of metal to increase the din.

The evening was always the highlight of this delightful day.  After a special, elegant meal, including some light drinking, our family gathered in the large living room around a long table.

At the head of the table sat my grandfather, a large antique silver box in front of him holding money.  At his side was my grandmother; a basket of challah (a white bread) and cakes near her.  The basket also held some Hammantaschen.  The rest of the family sat around the other sides of the table.

This was the time to anticipate guests calling at our home.  The poor strangers who did not receive M’shlochmones would come to visit.

Zaida (Grandfather) gave money, paper or coin.  He knew who deserved, or needed, the most.  He gave with a smile, and with good wishes.  He was happy to be able to share.  My grandmother gave with reservations, and only begrudgingly.  She hardly smiled during this time.

But we all waited for the Purim Shpielers.  These were the impromptu actors who came together at this time of year to entertain, and to put on self prepared plays to make everyone laugh, and often to scandalize their audience.

They made up their faces.  Some wore masks.  Those that were too young glued on beards.  Some of those that had beards tucked them under their chins, and covered them with cloths tied at the top of their heads under their funny hats and caps.   Others with beards waxed their hair heavily, and molded them into long handle bar mustaches.

These little groups came and clowned and made fun of everything and everybody.  We laughed at their impersonations of the rich people in town, of the authorities, even of the host before whom they stood.

Grandpa laughed.  We laughed as the group got their money reward, and their few  minutes of fame.

I can remember that our home was always warm during Purim, and I can still recall the sight of the vapors arising from people coming and going in the winter weather.

A very serious incident occurred one Purim.  I was too young to remember it, but I heard about it many times, as it was repeated throughout the shtetel again and again.

On this particular Purim night, one group of Shpielers got carried away.  Maybe it was that they had too much to drink; some people had served them vodka.  The group, all made up, and wearing funny home made military uniforms covered with "medals",  ribbons, and large buttons, even some small plates made to look like metals, started to improvise their act.  They made fun of the military, the rulers, and the police. 

It was great fun and highly amusing while it lasted, but the next day the whole group was arrested, and charged with sedition, insults to the authorities, and especially to the Tsar.

Sedition meant a lifetime sentence to Siberia, and even worse.  This was a very dangerous situation for the actors.

The Jewish City Fathers, with the Rabbi leading the group, went to see the Chief of Police.  They brought many bottles of vodka, and convinced the Chief that the insults were not directed at the Russians, but indeed, it was against their enemy, the Austrians.

"Why our beloved Tsar has no long beard.  The Austrian/Hungarian Emperor, the despised Frantz Joseph, has a long divided beard, and the fun making was all about him."

The Chief was convinced, and forgave them, but he sternly warned them never to make fun of any authorities in the future.  It was so promised, but, of course, never obeyed.

I miss Purim.

Shebreshin, the "Shtetel " in which these stories take place.
The Bibel home was adjacent to the church in the background.

An organized community existed there from the first half of the 16th century.  The Jews in Shebreshin traded in spices.  In 1583 King Stephen Bathory renewed the rights formerly granted to the Jews there to trade in the villages. In 1597 King Sigismund III Vasa prohibited the Jews from leasing tax collections.   

A magnificent synagogue was built in Renaissance style at the close of the 16th century. 

 It was set on fire in 1939  

The Jews of the town suffered at the time of the Chmielnick massacres in 1648-49.  There were 444 Jews living in Shebreshin in 1765.   After 1815, when Shebrehin was incorporated into Congress  Poland, there were no restrictions on Jewish settlements in the town. The Jewish population was 1,083 (31% of the total) in 1827, 1,605 (38%) in 1857, 2,449 (44%) in 1897, and 2,644 (42%) in 1921. 

 IN 1942 The entire Jewish population was annihilated in a massacre .