There had been a Jewish community in Lomza for over five hundred years. For most of that time, the modest community survived in relative peace and comfort. But turmoil was never good for the Jews. They were often blamed for anything bad that happened in the world. The assassination of Czar Alexander II was no different. The pogroms that were unleashed in the aftermath left thousands of Jews homeless or dead. The remaining Jewish community now numbered little more than nine thousand. Lomza had vacillated at different periods between being controlled by Poland and by Russia, but in the first decade of the new century, it remained under Russian authority.
David Peled’s grandfather, Aron Pildowsky, had been born in Lomza. He descended from a family that managed to cobble together a living from a piece of farmland that had been in his family for generations. Living outside of town, Aron and his family had little contact with Lomza’s gentile community. However, in the marketplace, interaction with the goyim was unavoidable. Aron always liked going into town because it meant he was making money. There was a lot of action in the town square. He liked the opportunities to gossip with the other farmers and share some beers with the locals.
The Jewish community in Lomza was generally left to itself, and its religious practices were tolerated. Several years earlier the community had succeeded in building the beautiful and grand Great Synagogue. It was constructed at the southeastern corner of the Main Square. The impressive edifice brought great pride to the Jewish community. It gave them a home in a prominent part of town. The village people were pleased for their Jewish neighbors, and the Jewish community seemed as secure and assimilated as they had ever been. Relations were always cordial between Jew and non-Jew. Aron made a fair living from the gentile customers, and he always handed them their produce with a smile.
But eventually Aron’s enthusiasm for the market began to wane. Political upheaval throughout the continent put even small townspeople on edge. More and more, his dealings with customers seemed more contentious. The money that he had been making was beginning to diminish. Aron knew that being Jewish did not do him any favors, but he never suspected that the non-Jews would cease doing business with him. He also never considered that his future would be compromised. That changed one day in the market when his conception of reality began to shift. It was a market day like any other. Aron was prepared to sell his produce, get his money, and return home like any other trip to town. But on that day, an angry-looking man with a Polish flag draped over his shoulders decided that this was his day to rail against what he considered to be the root cause of Poland’s problems. He had placed a crate in the middle of the market and hopped on top of it. Once he had succeeded in attracting a small crowd, he began denouncing Jewish farmers and merchants. He accused Jews of all sorts of things. Nothing out of the ordinary. Typical language explaining how Jews controlled the economy and the markets. Aron could sense that the crowd was swayed by his lies. He had no intention of sticking around to see the results. Quickly and inconspicuously, he gathered up his things, loaded up his wagon, and made his way out of the market. Aron knew that the crowd would go looking for Jews to take out their anger on, and he had no intention of filling that role. But the memory of that day did not fade, and for the first time, he began to recognize that he and his family were no longer safe in their own homes.
There was certainly no shortage of anti-Semitism anywhere in Poland, but outbursts like the one Aron witnessed in the market were rare in Lomza. At least they used to be. But now run-ins between Jews and non-Jews were becoming more of a regular occurrence. The result was usually a Jew on the downside of a significant beating. Aron noticed that more and more Jews were wondering aloud if they had any future in Poland and whether there was anywhere else to go.
One group who felt it had an answer was the Zionist Organization, who favored immigration to Palestine. Aron had never paid any attention to the Zionists in the past, mainly because his family’s experience in Lomza had been adequate.
Aron simply never believed the Zionists’ claims that there was no future for the Jews of Europe. But visions of the man on the crate gave him a reason to start thinking differently. It was true that rumors of pogroms were spreading across the continent. Everyone knew adversity was never good for the Jews.
In shul on Saturday morning a few days later, Aron and his friends discussed the man on the crate. Some of the men were concerned and worried about an uptick in local anti-Semitism. Others said this was nothing more than the usual crackpot looking to blame his problems on someone else. Aron was the most concerned. For a small-town farmer, he had always had a reputation for possessing a cool demeanor and a high business acumen. He didn’t offer his opinions often, but when he did, people listened. Everyone knew that Aron had good relations with the gentile community through his dealings with them in the marketplace. He traveled more frequently out of Lomza than practically any other local Jew. He visited the various centers of commerce to sell his produce. He always knew what was percolating in the broader Jewish world.
“I don’t want the rabbi to hear me because I know how he feels, but I think we should be listening to some of the voices offering new ideas,” remarked Aron in his soft but authoritative manner. He wasn’t explicit, but everyone knew what he meant. There was really only one other idea out there besides the seemingly useless Messianic hope of divine redemption. From time to time, young idealists from the big cities came through Lomza and other small villages with their grand ideas. They talked about a Jewish homeland with its own armed forces, cities, and institutions. These young adolescents, with their matching scout uniforms, looked like little pishers to Aron, but he appreciated their spirit and loved their vision. He just didn’t see it as realistic. They always came to him because of his position in the community. In return he was always respectful but never interested in what they were selling. But since his incident in the market, Aron was starting to think more and more about what a Jewish colony outside of the European tinderbox could mean for his people. And this small crowd of concerned yidden gave him a chance to verbalize his new way of thinking.
After the minyan broke up that Shabbat morning, he approached the men of the shul. They were milling about in the room where the Shabbos meal was held after prayers. While the women were tending to the food and the children were playing outside, he addressed them.
“Gentlemen, for a while I have thought about my business and my future here. The mamzer in the market this week opened my eyes to what I should have already known. I know for generations we have survived here, and we have done especially well in Poland. The goyim don’t love us by any stretch of the imagination, but they do business with us and most of the time they let us alone to live in peace.”
The men listened intently as Aron spoke because they respected him. They were mostly uneducated beyond Jewish law and lacked any understanding of the world beyond their farms, their marketplace, and their shul. The one thing they did know though was that they were Jewish, and that many people did not like them. And so they listened to Aron. And they knew he was right. But these were not the most ambitious men. They had no vision. They could not dream of leaving Poland. At least, they couldn’t dream of it before it was too late.
As the men of the shul were still huddled around him, he continued, “In the past my family cared only about their own future, their own businesses. But I have made a decision. For the first time there is now actually another place for Jews to go. I have a cousin who has already joined the Zionists, and he is now living on a kibbutz somewhere near the Sea of Galilee. I have chosen—”
The men were stunned. Before he even said it, they knew that he was leaving. They saw their friend telling them that he was giving up on their Jewish community. From that moment on, his passionate articulation of the Zionist case was lost on the men of the Jewish community. They weren’t prepared to leave with him. They knew times might be tough, but they figured things would get better soon. Aron was the only man in Lomza who recognized that a Jew had no future in this godforsaken place but might have a future somewhere else.