Seder Night in the Year of Liberation, 5705 (1945)

By: Yaakov Rosenfeld, Ganzach Kiddush Hashem

Eighty years ago, in those days, the good news of liberation was already beginning to be felt in Europe.

Nisan 5705 was marked by the sweeping victories of the Allies, the summer of 5705 brought with its wings the good news of liberation from the jaws of the Nazis.

The survivors of the horror sat silently on Seder night, and with tears in their eyes, they said, “And He brought us out of there”… He brought us out, but where is the whole family, the whole town, the whole community…

A whole world was destroyed, and the burden of the new generation was placed on the shoulders of the weak survivors.

They could have sunk into despair and weeping, but with devotion they chose life, and at the end of that Seder night, when the melody of Hallel (section of the Seder praising G-d) poured out somewhere in the Valley of Tears, they promised the millions of victims, they promised G-d: “I will not die, for I will live and declare the actions of G-d.”

They decided to build a new world on the ruins of the world that had disappeared, they promised the victims in the land to continue their fight, to continue their heroism, to continue their holiness.

“Those Redeemed by G-d Will Say It” (Psalms 107:2)

It is difficult for us to describe the feelings of the Holocaust survivors on that Seder night when so many of the Jews were still facing hardships and captivity. The Nazis were never able to stop the eternal song of the Jewish People. Even in the years 5700, 5701, 5702, 5703, and 5704 (1940, 1941, 1942, 1943, and 1944), lips, tens of thousands of lips, millions of lips, always whispered the words of the eternal Hagada, out of pain, out of longing for other times, and out of faith and hope for better days.

Passover 5705, exactly 80 years ago, Praga Poland – As described by Rabbi David Kahane z”l

A holy community of survivors of the fire, one from a city and two from a family, began to take shape in Praga (a suburb of Warsaw, birthplace of Rabbi Moshe Mark Prager, founder of Ganzach Kiddush Hashem), which was previously a major Jewish community.

Today, Praga is an integral part of the capital Warsaw, and is home to, among other things, the National Stadium, the Warsaw Zoo, Skaryszew Park, the Polish Vodka Museum, and the Praga Museum.

At that time, although the drums of war were still beating in Europe, Poland had already been liberated, and the remnants of the holy communities around Warsaw chose Praga as their new temporary home, this because, unlike the capital Warsaw, which was almost completely destroyed, Praga was not hit nor suffered significant damage. Thus, the Holocaust survivors lived in a region that was once the glory of Poland, Praga, the residence of world-renowned figures such as the Chemdat Shlomo rabbi and others, and more recently (in the Holocaust era), the renowned rabbi, Rabbi Menachem Ziemba. They sat in Praga and, in sorrow, prepared for the holiday of freedom.

How was this night different from hundreds of Seder nights in Jewish Praga, for generations upon generations? Praga, a major Jewish community from which almost no survivors remained, silently hosted the remnants of the inferno, haunted by horror, for the first kosher holiday in liberated Warsaw. A kosher holiday, almost le’mehadrin (strict level of Jewish law); happy? Almost certainly not.

The activists and rabbis looked for a place to bake matzah, but no bakery existed in huge Warsaw, where before the Holocaust, over three hundred thousand Jews lived.

Finally, a bakery was found in the town of Radzymin, also a major Jewish community, where chassidim and men of action had lived for centuries, and the bakery, surprisingly, still existed, kosher and repaired, as if waiting for Jews to come and redeem it from the yoke.

The town is not far from Warsaw, on the northeast side, and between the world wars there were about 2,200 Jews, about half of its residents, but of them, sadly, only a few remained.

Michel Kosover, the businessman, was the one who discovered the bakery in Radzymin, and when the Jews of Praga came to the place, they discovered to their surprise that miraculously all the utensils needed to bake matzah had been preserved.

The Jews came to the bakery, kashered (made kosher) the utensils and the oven. They worked hard and with G-d’s help they also obtained flour, although flour from the market, but in this time of emergency there was no possibility of making flour from wheat whose production had been watched by a Jew.

This was indeed an emergency. The war in Europe was not yet over, and Warsaw itself was frequently bombed, and the few survivors, walking as still as mourners, made efforts to receive flour from the army headquarters, under the orders of General Korczyc of the General Staff.

The ceremony was conducted by Rabbi David Kahane, and Michel Kosover stood by him to help and assist in kashering the restaurant for Passover, and indeed, as Rabbi Kahane said, this Passover “the Jews had light”… (Esther 8:16).

Eleven Hagadas were the harvest they managed to obtain for a large audience that packed the large hall which had been arranged for the main Seder. In addition to the war survivors, all the Jewish soldiers stationed in Praga and the surrounding area also participated in the Seder, a large number of whom were present. Among the participants were soldiers and officers from the ranks of the Red Army, whose presence at this great religious event was dangerous. Indeed, the rabbis and activists worked hard to prevent a major disaster that could have befallen the Jewish community due to the speeches about redemption and the Land of Israel that were made in public that night.

The Seder was conducted by Rabbi David Kahane, and Cantor H. Rothfeld read the Hagada in a pleasant manner. The atmosphere was peaceful and calm. Despite the differences of opinion among those present, who belonged to different parties and ideologies, a festive atmosphere enveloped the entire audience. The first Seder night after years of hardship and distress.

After the Hagada, everyone burst into festive songs in Hebrew and Yiddish, until the sun was about to rise, when, like the morning stars, the survivors of the horrors dispersed, each to his “home” and place.

In light of this pale description of the improvised Seder night in Praga, in the next article I will publish a little about the glory of Praga in its good days, before it was cut down.