The Diary of Yitzhak Lamdan

Interpretive Summary – Tuesday night, January 4, 1916, Hubyn Pershyi

Yitzhak set aside a new poem he finished to capture in his diary the existential thoughts that influenced his poem about the mystery of life. He quotes from Ecclesiastes about the futility of life and then expands on that idea. What purpose is there to life and life’s efforts when death lies in wait? A human being is no better than an animal, he writes. Both end up in the ground decomposing. In fact, an animal’s life is better than a humans, because animals don’t think about or fear death until the very end. What is the purpose of human endeavors, Yitzhak wonders. In thinking this way, Yitzhak echoes earlier thoughts he wrote about in the summer of 1914 even before the War started (see July 19, 1914). One generation follows another and on their graves other lives will dance.” The mystery of life is difficult to crack and Yitzhak wonders why such an insignificant person as himself tries to ponder it when such deep thinkers have tried before him.

In this vein, the poem he just finished focused on the stages of a man’s life. Given the nature of life, Yitzhak concludes that the days of childhood and youth are the best period. Those days “there was nothing bad, no despair, no doubt, and also no death, only goodness, innocence and faith and radiance without end…” But then adolescence arrives with disappointments, futile love, and impulses that must be controlled. Adolescence is followed by the yoke of adulthood when the focus turns to labor and worrying about food and money. Then old age arrives, when the fire of life fades and death is around the corner.

“There is only one remedy for this, one lap in which to hide oneself from these dark thoughts, and that is – the religious feeling,” Yitzhak concludes. One must turn one’s face upward, Yitzhak writes quoting Isaiah and a saying of the writer and thinker, Hillel Zeitlin, though Yitzhak acknowledges he still has a long way to go to attain a true level of devotion, what is called teshuvah (return to God) in religious language.

Interpretive Summary – Wednesday night, January 5th, 1916, Hubyn Pershyi

In this short diary entry, the third day in a row he has written, Yitzhak is deeply grieving separation from his family and feels tortured by the terrible dark thoughts that churn through his mind. He ends with a prayer to God asking for help to endure and to let the family be restored and see each other at peace again. Yitzhak newfound religious intensity is evident here in this direct prayer to God.

Interpretive Summary – Friday (Erev Shabbat), January 7, 1916, Hubyn Pershyi

It is Friday afternoon before the Sabbath begins. Yitzhak berates himself for leaving the home of Yehezkel Burshtak and heading early to the home of Shlomo Burshtak where he sleeps. Normally, he explains, he eats the Friday evening Sabbath meal with Yehezkel’s family and then makes his way to the home of Shlomo. But this Friday, it is extremely muddy, dark and cold and “impossible to walk at night with galoshes.” Yitzhak decides to leave for Shlomo’s home while it is still day light and eat the Sabbath meal there. He prefers staying at Shlomo’s home because those who stay with Yehezkel go to sleep early. Since Sabbath rules forbid a Jew from lighting or extinguishing fire, a gentile woman comes early to the household on Friday night and extinguishes the candelabra. With no light in the dead of winter, Yitzhak can’t read and write and must go to bed early. He lies awake a long time, tortured by his thoughts. At Shlomo’s home, by contrast, they do not go to bed early and Yitzhak can stay awake reading and writing later. For these reasons, Yitzhak headed to Shlomo’s home that day.

After arriving at Shlomo’s home, however, Yitzhak second guesses himself, afraid he insulted Yehezel’s family by leaving before the Sabbath meal. And he feels everyone at Shlomo’s home eyeing him angrily, he thinks, for having come early. Yitzhak’s can’t find his place here. “When I come here, I am sorry I left there. I go there, and it seems to me that it is better here.” One suspects that Yitzhak is projecting the feelings of displeasure onto the Burshtak brothers and their families, and he evidently doesn’t feel comfortable voicing his fears or emotions to learn what they are really feeling. As a guest for an extended time in their homes, and dependent on their good will, it is clear that Yitzhak feels like he is walking on eggshells and doesn’t share his feelings except in his diary.

“How terrible for children exiled from their father’s table,” he writes quoting a midrash from the Babylonian Talmud (Berakhot 3a) he has cited before. The original context refers to God, the Father, and the exiled children of Israel following the destruction of the Temple. Before for the War, Yitzhak thought of exile as living outside the Land of Israel. Now, during the War and his displacement, he thinks of exile from his home and family.

Yitzhak has been working on a poem about such feelings of exile since mid-October when he first mentioned the poem “In a Foreign Country.” Here he quotes a few additional lines from this poem which has not survived. The lines mourn the loss of his home and wonder if the loss is forever.

Interpretive Summary – Wednesday night, January 12, 1916, Hubyn Pershyi

This week brought comforting news from Yitzhak’s hometown as well as news of a close friend from Mlynov who had also been displaced and now was now staying in nearby in Berestechko. In addition, Yitzhak had a chance meeting with a former acquaintance who was passing through town. Why all of these heart-felt events happened in a single week is not clear, though perhaps there was more movement on the roads bringing new people by Hubyn where Yitzhak was living. The excitement of the week prompted Yitzhak to wonder hopefully whether these were positive signs that peace will arrive soon.

The news from Mlynov, Yitzhak's hometown, arrived via a military official who was stationed in Mlynov and was apparently passing through Hubyn. Yitzhak does not indicate how he met the official or whether they had a lengthy conversation. However, Yitzhak learned from the official that his home had not been destroyed as Yitzhak had feared. The news thoroughly warmed his heart though the moment was short-lived.

In addition to the news about his home, Yitzhak learned that Yermeyahu Maisler, a close friend and kindred spirit of his, was in Berestechko, which was only 31 km (19 mi) from Hubyn. The discovery came about when Yitzhak was chatting with one of the men from Berestechko who was staying overnight in Hubyn. The man indicated that a displaced young man and his brother from Mlynov were staying with him in Berestechko. As the man described the pair, Yitzhak realized that the brother was his close friend Yermeyahu. Yitzhak aches to get together with him but for reasons that are not clear here he concludes that it is impossible to travel to see him. He holds out hope that perhaps he will be able to exchange letters with him.

As if those two momentous moments were not enough, Yitzhak bumped into another acquaintance who was passing through town. The encounter occurred when Yitzhak was teaching the young girl Nehama at the Bortnik home when a wagon passed by the window. The other daughter, Zahava Bortnik (the young woman who was earlier Yitzhak’s love interest) saw the wagon through the window and commented that the wagon driver was Jewish. Intrigued, Yitzhak went to speak to the man and when he got close, he immediately recognized that the man dressed as a coachman was his acquaintance, Shimon Berger, an interesting young man who studied in the Yiddish yeshiva, whom Yitzhak met in Dubna at one point. Berger was on his way to Lutsk and didn’t have time to chat with Yitzhak for long, but he promised to return that way and spend a few hours with him catching up.

By the time Yitzhak sat down and wrote this diary entry on Wednesday night, his anguish and gloom had returned. Bad rumors arrived concerning the Jews in Baranivka, the place where his parents and siblings were. What those rumors were Yitzhak does not say. “God of Mercy,” he prays, “Give us and them strength to bear all of it safely! Put an end to this terrible destruction!”

Interpretive Summary – Saturday night, January 22, 1916, Hubyn [Pershyi]

For ten days, Yitzhak didn’t write in his diary, an atypical lapse in his normal pattern. The reason becomes evident now that he is finally writing again. He has been experiencing what today might be called “emotional paralysis.” His depression is making it impossible for him to do anything at night when he usually writes and reads. During the day he is busy teaching and he apparently is still functional enough to complete that obligation. In recent days, at night, after work, he can’t get himself to do anything. Yitzhak doesn’t have the technical psychological language in Hebrew to describe his emotional state, but his writing ability powerfully makes evident that he is suffering from a significant depression. He describes the experience as “indolence” or “laziness” caused by grief and sorrow. But he is certainly not lazy and clear means some form of emotional inertia that he can’t overcome. Since leaving Mlynov, he has written frequently about sorrow and grief, especially about his separation from his parents but also from his home. But his depression seems worse than it has been in the past, even during what were more trying circumstances, and this is one of the few periods he was unable to write poetry or make entries in his diary.

Perhaps the emotional inertia was triggered by the recent news that his friend Yermeyahu Maisler was nearby in Boremel. After such a long period with no contact with anyone he knew in his former life, the presence of Yermeyahu so close may have burst open a dam of Yitzhak's feelings. During the past week, he in fact wrote to Yermeyahu and sent the letter via a shochet (a Jewish ritual slaughterer) from Boremel who was passing through Hubyn. Yitzhak is not certain Yermeyahu is still there, but he hopes that he will receive a reply and they will be able to exchange letters.

The thought of his close friend nearby may have also been what triggered Yitzhak to think about his first love interest, a girl he knew in his “native land” in his small hometown of Mlynov. Her name is Devorah and he describes her as “the ember of my ancient love” and as his “first love.” Unlike his infatuation with Z.B., which he wrote about earlier, and suspected were not genuine real feelings of love, the feelings for Devorah must be true love because “vain love is not able to survive such a long time” and can’t be reignited after being extinguished.

Interpretive Summary – Sunday night, January 23, 1916, Hubyn Pershyi

Last night, Yitzhak wrote about his first true love, a girl from his hometown, named Devorah. The thought of this “first love” triggers Yitzhak’s shame again over his attraction and what he now regards as infatuation to the young woman Z. B. who was a student of his in Hubyn. He can’t forgive himself for the sin of believing he was in love with her. To even bring the subject up again is embarrassing. He wishes to tear out the pages that recount his attraction for Z. B. but by doing so he would have to destroy other very personal and important thoughts about his family. They are his “Holy of Holies” and are too precious to destroy.

February 1916

Interpretive Summary – Tuesday night, February 1, 1916, Hubyn Pershyi

Yitzhak’s loneliness is intensifying and no wonder. His acquaintance, Shimon Berger, who passed through Hubyn earlier (see Jan. 12, 1916) has not returned to visit as he promised. And the letter Yitzhak sent to Yermeyahu Maisler via the slaughterer from Boremel didn’t reach his friend, leaving Yitzhak uncertain if his close friend is or was really actually there.

During the past week, Yitzhak mentions writing and almost finishing a first draft of a “prose poem” about his religious feelings that have been growing stronger and which are uprooting his “angry prayers” to God from his heart. Yitzhak distinguishes the prose poem from another “lyrical” poem on which he is slowly continuing to work. He is most likely is referring to the poem “In a Foreign Country,” which he has mentioned working on in several earlier entries, though he doesn’t name it here. He has quoted a few lines from that poem previously (see Nov. 2, Dec. 11, and Dec. 18, 1915). Here he describes the content of this lyrical poem as “drawn from my present life in a foreign country and from my difficult state of mind being torn from my parents, after the home (lit. nest) of our native land was destroyed and the wandering here like a lamb that strays from the flock.” Yitzhak doesn’t mention this poem again in his diary and he never published a poem called “In A Foreign Land.” It seems plausible, as the editor of the Hebrew edition suggests, that “the effort to find the poem’s essence consumes eight years before it ultimately results in the writing of the poem, Masada.” If this is so, the beginning of Yitzhak’s famous poem began while he was a displaced person, living in exile from his home, Mlynov, not long after he reached Hubyn Pershyi.

After commenting on the poem in process, Yitzhak shifts gears and describes his general state of mind. One has the sense that he is both talking about his creative process as well as his general emotional turbulence, the two being of course linked. Yitzhak feels that he hasnt yet have solidified his “essential” adult self, apart perhaps from his commitment to Zionism and nationalism. He compares himself to a boiling cooking pot in which ingredients are moving up and down in the broth, this way and that. “What seemed to me yesterday to be a necessary thing, or suitable and fitting for my situation – appears to me the following day to be stupid, unsuitable and inappropriate, and thus it goes round about. All the feelings still boil inside me without order and the essence can’t be felt among them in general...”

By way of example, Yitzhak points to the whiplash in his feelings for the young woman, Z. B. Over the last month, he wrote with embarrassment and shame about his earlier diary entries expressing his attraction to Z. B. But now, in this entry, he is again experiencing those feelings of attraction and no longer criticizing himself for what he previously described as his “moral mistake,” or “sin.” Instead, he acknowledges his feelings of attraction and the growing closeness again, this time accepting them as the natural impulses of youth, even knowing that his feelings may change again. .”]. In the end I am young and, despite the ravages of time, youthful feelings still bubble inside me. I know that it is possible this is only temporary, and afterwards, another feeling, the brightest of all, may attack me...

Interpretive Summary – Sunday night, February 6, 1916, Hubyn Pershyi

Yitzhak, to his own amazement, is experiencing attraction again for Z. B. He knows how fickle he has been on this topic. After writing originally about his attraction to her, he felt ashamed because he was certain this was not true love and he felt that he should tear out the pages of the diary describing his attraction. But now he again feels “strong love” towards her, and her “fair looks caress” him. She is very nice to him and he is becoming more certain that the feelings are mutual, especially due to an interaction he had with her recently during one of their conversation.

Yitzhak told ZB about a poem he wrote called “Meeting,” though he did not reveal initially that the poem was about her. Nonetheless, she implored him to share it with her. At first Yitzhak rebuffed her request but after her persistence, he decided to hint about the contents and see what her reaction would be. He wrote to her, probably in notes while teaching her or afterwards, asking whether she would still be interested if she knew the poem was about her. When she answered affirmatively, Yitzhak promised to show her the poem.

The next day he had second thoughts as he continued to think about her request. When Z. B. continued to press him and he eventually gave in. He decided that he would first write up a note to accompany the poem, one that would describe the context and influence under which the poem was written.

He was in process of drafting that note as he wrote this current diary entry. He wonders, at the end, what he is doing. How can he be engaging in such flirtations at a time when there is so much sadness? But for the first time in his diary, Yitzhak takes a compassionate approach to himself and acknowledges that “that precisely because of all this I don’t need to allow the sadness and grief to eat my heart entirely…” Unfortunately, neither the poem nor the accompanying note survived. We also don’t yet know whether Yitzhak gave Z. B. the poem and what her reaction was.

Interpretive Summary – Sunday night, February 13, 1916, Hubyn Pershyi

Yitzhak hasn’t written in his diary since last Sunday and the apparent cause of the hiatus is that during the week he was staying at the home of Yehezkel Burshtak. Yehezkel’s wife, Devorah, was traveling thus freeing up room in the home during this time, and Yehezkel too was absent most days. Unfortunately, Yitzhak doesn’t find the home conducive for writing either his poetry or in his diary, though he doesn’t explain why. This is curious since he has stayed in Yehezkel’s home previously and on other occasions stayed up writing after everyone went to sleep (see Nov. 15, 1915). Perhaps the absence of everyone from the home made him lonely or didn’t justify lighting a lamp for his reading and writing.

Meanwhile, Yitzhak nonchalantly reports that sometime during the week he did end up giving Z. B. his poem about her, along with the accompanying note he wrote. He received a positive response from her and “and in general our relationship is getting much closer in recent days.” That in one sentence is all Yitzhak has to say about this momentous experience of sharing his feelings with her, one that he has been building up to for months.

Yitzhak admits that the burgeoning relationship sometimes “gives me internal satisfaction, and sometimes it causes me some hidden sadness, and pinching grief…” Today was one of those days when everything troubled his heart. His existential language describing his feelings is quite beautiful here and is reminiscent of some of the entries he wrote back in Mlynov before he was displaced from home:

I am convinced by confusion that rules me internally that I am lost among the various strange streets and paths, and I can’t find my way. I am lost among the riddles and different interpretations and am entangled up in them very much and I am so very tired, and in my eyes everything is uninteresting and unimpressive, including love and everything, a respite – I desire. But in this I don’t find rest...

Besides these existential feelings of being lost, Yitzhak continues to struggle with guilt that he is experiencing something positive, though he doesn’t use that psychological term. “How dare I speak about love?” he asks at a terrible time like this when the world is drowning in a sea of blood and when he is the lone person of all the hardest hit survivors who has been torn from his family. He is apparently exaggerating here, though he may be the only person in Hubyn (besides his brother) who has been displaced from his hometown and family.

He acknowledges finally that given his emotional state and his difficult situation, his feeling of love is understandable, “a bit of escape,” “a bit legitimate,” even if he must beg forgiveness, for having such feelings, and even though the other feelings are of greater intensity.