It happened in 1648. The infamous Hetman Bogdan Chmielnicki led his wild hordes of Cossacks against the Jews and Poles of the Ukraine, and he almost succeeded in exterminating all Jewish communities along the Dnieper River. Barbaric cruelties, surpassing even the Crusaders', were the daily bread of these devils. In Kiev, scores of Jewish men, women and children barely escaped with their lives. They hid in forests and swamps, constantly in fear of sudden death from the long sabres of Chmielnicki's Cossacks. Only at night, under cover of darkness, did these unfortunate fugitives dare to creep out in search of food for their families.
Rabbi Meyer of Shivotov, which was once one of the largest communities near Kiev, was the spiritual leader of this group of refugees. He had lost his wife at the hands of the Cossacks, and his thirteen-year-old son Hershel was his only consolation. Gifted with a beautiful voice, which made its listeners laugh or cry at the will of its master, Hershel assisted his father greatly in keeping up the low spirits of his companions. More than once, his magical songs held them back from surrendering to the merciless hands of the Cossacks or from committing suicide.
Such a large group of people cannot hide for long without rumors of their whereabouts spreading. They were forced to withdraw deeper and deeper into forests and swamps to escape the oncoming hordes of Chmielnicki's Cossacks. Unwittingly, however, they entered the hunting grounds of Chmielnicki's rival, a man of no less cruelty: Booyar, the leader of the Tartars. But there was one story told about this abnormal maniac that threw a somewhat human light upon him. He was the obedient son of an old nomad woman who controlled him with a wink of her eye.
Finding themselves suddenly trapped from the rear, Rabbi Meyer's group of refugees began to say Viduy, the confession of sins and last prayer, in anticipation of death. Coming from the midst of their suppressed cries and prayers, Hershel's voice was suddenly heard saying Kaddish, praising G-d at this last moment while they were facing the naked swords of the Tartars. As if by magic, the tumult died down. The faces of the Jews lit up, and the cruel savagery, the murderous gleam disappeared from the eyes of the Tartars who crowded around their helpless victims. Their raised hands dropped; spellbound, they listened to the boy who, fully aware of the seriousness of the situation, had put all his powerful emotion into his voice.
Booyar looked out of his tent and witnessed this strange scene. Foaming wildly, brandishing his sword, he stormed forward. He was ready to kill his own men for being fooled by the wretched Jews. Coming closer, he saw that Hershel was the cause of his men's unusual conduct. Booyar grasped the boy's hair with his hand and lifted his sword to chop his head off. In midair his arm was caught by the thin but powerful hand of an old woman. Turning around wildly, Booyar was confronted by his mother. "Do not kill these people, son," she said. "They are under my protection. This boy will sing for me until we reach Constantinople. There you can sell him and his people at a high price." After some hesitation, Booyar gave in.
Thus Rabbi Meyer and his people were saved from certain death. They were dragged along for many months, until the Tartars reached Turkey. Many thousands of refugees from Spain and Portugal had come to this country during the reign of Suleiman II and his Jewish adviser, Don Joseph of Naxos. They had built a beautiful synagogue in Constantinople and had organized one of the most powerful congregations of that time.
It was Rosh Hashana when Booyar brought his victims to the market. All the Jews had gathered in the synagogue, which was right near the marketplace. Many non-Jews in the market looked curiously at the wretched figures of these slaves-to-be. But they had little faith in the Jews' ability to do hard work; they preferred the strong and healthy-looking natives brought by ship from afar.
Under the stress of traveling in captivity, Rabbi Meyer and his men had lost track of time. They did not even know that this day was Rosh Hashana. While they were standing in the marketplace, stared at and ridiculed by the idle onlookers, they suddenly heard the sound of the shofar coming from the nearby synagogue. Rabbi Meyer and his people began to cry as Hershel started the "Unesane tokef" prayer. His voice rose above the noise of the market and soared up to the Gates of Mercy.
The crowd of Jews gathered in the big synagogue heard Hershel's prayers. They rushed out into the marketplace, and saw the boy and the poor Jews held for sale by the Tartars. At the command of their rabbi, they hurried home to gather all their valuables and funds. They succeeded in redeeming their brethren. Saved from a terrible fate, Rabbi Meyer and his group joined their liberators in the synagogue. Together they followed Hershel's jubilant voice, thanking G-d for His help at the height of their misery.
From The Reunion, a collection of short stories, by Gershon Kranzler.
