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My father liked to observe all these customs and all the prayers. He used to wake up at 5 o’clock in the morning, he washed his hands, his face until half past five. He didn’t drink anything. Then he went to the synagogue. He arrived there at 6 or 7 o’clock. Every day.
Then he came home and had a warm tea. Be it summer or winter. He went to pray even in the evening. People used to go to work during daytime, but he managed somehow even during the Ceausescu era [6] to go on Saturdays to the synagogue instead of going to work.
Afterward, when he remained home alone – my mom had died by then – he used to sit on a chair on the terrace we had in our apartment on the Saint Sava street and read all day long in the prayer book. And he couldn’teven see that wellanymore. I think he knew the prayers by heart, but he skimmed the book anyway.
In an autumn, after my father paralyzed, Morica, a friend of mine and once my Hebrew teacher came along and I asked him: “Pay attention, what is my dad saying? Does he tell it right? Because he tells things by heart in Hebrew.” After the brain congestion these things still remained in his memory.
In his youth, dad used to go to a synagogue called the Tailor’s Synagogue, because of his father, who was a tailor and who went there. When the synagogue was destroyed [3], the number of the Jews shrunk, and all other synagogues were destroyed, he went on the Kahane synagogue on the Stefan cel Mare Street.
This was the only synagogue which remained safe for several years. It was pretty big, with a large yard. They used to organize there the weddings. Eventually this synagogue was destroyed too and they built apartment houses in its place.
My father went to the synagogue till he was 93 years old, barely seeing and almost deaf… I convinced him not to go anymore in the mornings, for it was cold and rainy, and in the evenings I used to walk him to the synagogue and then back home.
Then he came home and had a warm tea. Be it summer or winter. He went to pray even in the evening. People used to go to work during daytime, but he managed somehow even during the Ceausescu era [6] to go on Saturdays to the synagogue instead of going to work.
Afterward, when he remained home alone – my mom had died by then – he used to sit on a chair on the terrace we had in our apartment on the Saint Sava street and read all day long in the prayer book. And he couldn’teven see that wellanymore. I think he knew the prayers by heart, but he skimmed the book anyway.
In an autumn, after my father paralyzed, Morica, a friend of mine and once my Hebrew teacher came along and I asked him: “Pay attention, what is my dad saying? Does he tell it right? Because he tells things by heart in Hebrew.” After the brain congestion these things still remained in his memory.
In his youth, dad used to go to a synagogue called the Tailor’s Synagogue, because of his father, who was a tailor and who went there. When the synagogue was destroyed [3], the number of the Jews shrunk, and all other synagogues were destroyed, he went on the Kahane synagogue on the Stefan cel Mare Street.
This was the only synagogue which remained safe for several years. It was pretty big, with a large yard. They used to organize there the weddings. Eventually this synagogue was destroyed too and they built apartment houses in its place.
My father went to the synagogue till he was 93 years old, barely seeing and almost deaf… I convinced him not to go anymore in the mornings, for it was cold and rainy, and in the evenings I used to walk him to the synagogue and then back home.
Location
Iasi
Romania
Interview
Rosa Kaiserman