Yanki Neihoz
Yanki NeihozCourtesy of the photographer

Yanki Neihoz, a resident of Jerusalem, born in Bratislava (Pressburg), Slovakia, is currently sitting at home amid the ongoing coronavirus crisis, unable to go to the “Beit Ariel” synagogue in his neighborhood after it was closed in accordance with Health Ministry regulations.

As a child who grew up in the Holocaust, Neihoz recalled this week how after the war he returned to the village where he had hidden during the Holocaust, and saw the synagogue remaining just as they had left it.

Over the weekend he decided to deviate from his custom and share his thoughts and feelings with his fellow synagogue worshipers in Jerusalem. In the passage he wrote, he talks about what he experienced then and what he is experiencing today but ends with an encouraging message, looking at the big picture across years and generations.

The following is the full letter:

Tears and thoughts

I don’t believe it myself, but my eyes are tearing in the fullest sense of the word, thinking about a small Temple that has been deserted, closed, darkened, where nobody goes.

There is no sound of Rabbi Shraga teaching the daily page of Talmud or a Mishna. You do not hear Motti Neeman reading the Torah, nor the pleasant voice of Rabbi Yisrael greeting the new month or welcoming the holiday. Time has stood still and when we return we will find everything as we left it - prayer books, tallits, Torah books and the curtain over the ark.

But in the meantime, our synagogue is deserted, empty, no worshipers and no speaking. And maybe that's why my eyes tear? When we returned from the Great War to my late grandfather's village, where we were captured by the Tormentor, we found the synagogue as we left it when we had to say goodbye. Nothing was moved, everything remained as it was when we left in a hurry.

The tallits are unfolded, some of the prayer books are still open, the Holy Ark is locked, and the key remains somewhere in Auschwitz in the pocket of the late Rabbi Avraham Shantel - the manager. The only thing that was different from when we left was the people that returned - instead of 100 worshipers, 18 came back, and 2 children that were miraculously saved - my brother, of blessed memory, and me.

The few who returned were not the same people who left. Perhaps this feeling is what makes me cry and bow my head as we sit at home and the small Temple at 5 Hapisgah Street - "Beit Ariel", is empty without the sounds of prayer.

All this is from the past, in reality we have to hold our heads high - we live in our land, we left our sanctuary for our health.

And soon we will return to the beautiful days when we meet for prayers and joyous occasions. And we can only be thankful and remember that we have a wonderful Jewish state.

Shabbat Shalom

And happy holiday

Yanki Neihoz