Review Essay: "The Shochet: A Memoir of Jewish Life in Ukraine and Crimea" by Pinkhes-Dov Goldenshteyn, presented and translated by Michoel Rotenfeld.

Reviewed by Rabbi Moshe Maimon, Jackson, NJ

The Shochet, an autobiographical memoir, translated here for the first time into English, provides a compelling and poignant glimpse into the tumultuous world of Eastern-European Jewish history during the late 19th and early 20th centuries.

As anyone with a penchant for history knows, memoir literature is an extremely potent tool for acquiring a familiarity for the social-emotional parts of the story that transcend what can be neatly graphed, time-lined or mapped. A good memoir adds an intimate human dimension that enriches the story immeasurably. One can read up on the early history of the United States and amass a great deal of factual data, but it is books like The Autobiography of Benjamin Franklin that recreate in the reader’s mind the feeling of walking down a Pennsylvania street in Colonial America.

With regard to Eastern-European Jewish history, a good number of important memoirs, biographies and autobiographies enhance our understanding of the events of these times. One shining example is the celebrated memoir of Yechezkel Kotik (1847-1921), a native Lithuanian whose life spanned the last half of the nineteenth century and the first quarter of the twentieth. This work has been heralded for its insider portrayal of the polish-Lithuanian shtetl and its vivid eyewitness accounts of the horrors of the Cantonist decrees and the vagaries of serfdom in Czarist Russia.

The Shochet, a lively memoir penned in Yiddish by Pinkhes-Dov Goldenshteyn (1848-1930), covers exactly the same time period, but from a distance of 1000 kilometers and a completely different social milieu. Much like Kotik’s memoir, Goldenshtein's narrative, set against the backdrop of Tiraspol, Ukraine, offers a captivating window into the life and culture of the impoverished Jewish masses inhabiting the Ukrainian countryside. Through the eyes of Pinye-Ber, or Berel, as the memoirist is affectionately known in his childhood, readers are transported into a world marked by hardship and suffering but uplifted by the triumph of the spirit.

Goldenshtein's storytelling has a poignant quality, evoking fascination, sadness and empathy for the personal travails of the protagonist, while illuminating the broader socio-economic struggles of the time. The hardship and suffering foisted on our ancestors in ‘a land that was not theirs’ is mirrored throughout this narrative, hitting a nerve in any reader familiar with this epoch. The comment of our sages that “the daughters of Israel are beautiful, but poverty makes them unprepossessing” (Nedarim 66a) has unfortunately proven true of the collective spirit of the Jewish exile.

To the extent that "sweet mercy is nobility's true badge," the petty callousness that marks many of the poor communities we encounter in this gripping narrative must be understood, if not excused, as the inevitable scars of centuries of harsh oppression.

The author’s life journey unfolded against the backdrop of one of the most harrowing periods of East European Jewish history, a time when the anti-Semitic Czar’s Cantonist decrees produced the tragic plague of Jewish khappers (kidnappers) who would prey on orphans like Pinye-Ber. At one point in his youth, eluding the Czar’s soldiers and their henchmen became the focus of Berel’s life, forcing him to flee from town to town to elude the khappers.

A further fallout of this tragic epoch that was to befall the unfortunate victims of the Cantonist decree was the pariah like status that was conferred on those soldiers who made it through the long term of service and managed to return to the Jewish communities of their youth. One such unlucky individual, Itchye der soldat (the soldier), was to become the father-in-law of our protagonist through an unwilling match foisted on him unawares. Despite the promise of a dowry rarely offered to an orphan, Berel could not come to grips with the fact that a person of his pedigree was to be wed to the daughter of an uncouth lower-class former soldier. That the promise was never kept only added to a long list of unfortunate circumstances that Pinye-Ber was forced to navigate on the bumpy voyage of his youth.

Berel is a plucky lad, blessed with the gift of resilience in the face of seemingly insurmountable odds. Orphaned first by his mother and then by his father at a very tender age, and the youngest of a large group of siblings (all of whom died relatively young), he is forced to learn survival skills at a very tender age. Due to the family’s grinding poverty, Berel seeks subsistence by shuttling between distant relatives for his room and board. At times, he finds himself living with strangers posing as family members who agree to keep him in exchange for his work.    

Berel's trajectory from a vulnerable orphan to a useful lackey, thanks to the intervention of well-meaning relatives, reflects the harsh pragmatism that characterized life for many Eastern European Jews during this period. His family members felt that the guarantee of at least one reliable meal a day was worth breaking the family apart and sending their little orphaned brother to live with a complete stranger—now professing to be his “uncle”—on the estate of a Poritz, far from a Jewish community, where he earned his keep by assisting with the operation of the mill.

Berel’s pluck and wit propel him to seek a better lot in life. Despite all odds, he manages to escape his lowly status as a penniless orphan, and to climb the social ladder by scraping together the necessary means to train as a shochet, thereby earning himself a place in a society and an assured, if meager, source of income.

Along the way, we are introduced to some of the most important Chassidic masters of the era, such as the Lyever Rebbe, Rabbi Dov-Berenyu Friedman, as well as the Tzemach Tzedek of Lubavitch. The rare audiences our author was privileged to enjoy with these celebrated personages and the time he spent in their respective courts were meticulously documented. As a result, this memoir has long been considered a rich biographical resource with regard to these illustrious personalities.

The memoir is further enhanced with a masterful introduction by the author which provides a great overview of the genre in general and the specific contributions of this volume in particular. Of further distinction, the notes throughout the volume are an invaluable historical resource all on their own. Each and every village, city and town is identified (with as much information as can typically be gleaned from dusty historical archives and censuses), events and dates are verified, and a great many obscure phrases and monikers are patiently explained.   

One example: When seforim (Torah books) are referred to as siddurim (prayerbooks), we are told that this was a common usage in the locale of our author. On a personal level, I was glad to learn this because I had witnessed this practice among some older-eastern European relatives and wasn’t quite sure what to make of it.

Similarly, careful attention is paid to untangling the confusing method employed throughout the memoir of identifying individuals alternatively by their profession, place of birth, or the first name of an immediate forbearer (surnames were not in vogue in the Jewish Ukraine of our period). In this vein, each time we encounter an individual with the moniker “der blinder” (the blind), we are informed that during this era, persons who were blind in one eye would also be called der blinder. [If I may be allowed a quibble, I would suggest that the nickname rather refers to those who were vision impaired to the point of legal blindness, and in the absence of eyeglasses were technically, if not clinically, blind.]

The book, in its current volume, covering the early portion of the author’s life, primarily focuses on the hardships and travails experienced by Berel in his youth in Ukraine. The sequel, yet unpublished in this series, purports to deal with subsequent stations on his journey through Moslem Crimea, and, eventually, Mandatory Palestine. Judging by the present sample, our memoirist’s attention to detail and honest straightforward reporting style, we might expect that the next volume will also produce some rather interesting and highly resourceful material.

Furthermore, the author's expressed intention to showcase God's special providence becomes a promising thread that may also be explored in subsequent volumes. While this volume lays bare young Berel’s struggles, it also sets the stage for the author’s exploration of Divine intervention in his later tribulations. I eagerly await the coming installments.

In conclusion, The Shochet stands as a valuable addition to the corpus of Eastern-European Jewish memoir literature, offering readers an intimate and eye-opening view of the author’s life and the unique situation of Eastern European Jewish communities of this time period.

Rotenfeld's translation expertly captures the author’s skillful storytelling, further enriching it with elucidations and notes. This renders the memoir a compelling and insightful exploration of a bygone era that resonates deeply with readers.

The Shochet translator, Michoel Rotenfeld, is associate director of libraries for Touro University.

Purchase The Shochet (Touro University Press, September 26, 2023, 418 pages) on Amazon or directly from the publisher.