Basya Tsybukmakher
Chapter X
I shall limit myself to saying that Rabbi Avrohom Broda arrived at the appointed time. He was received in Metz with great honour. A house was built for him, with a separate room for study and his own chair. As far as I know, nothing like this had ever happened in Metz before. Much could be said about his character, learning and good deeds, and above all about how he sat over his scholarly books day and night and taught Torah to the Jews. Everyone knows that he took children who knew almost nothing and turned them into diligent pupils. He was a great Torah scholar.
But our joy soon came to an end. This great scholar agreed to become the rabbi of Frankfurt. However much our leaders urged him to stay in Metz, offering him anything he wished, he did not change his decision.
After his departure, bad times came upon us: some fell ill, while others suffered great financial losses.
Many strong young women died, women of whom nothing bad could be said. Everyone was in mourning. May the L-rd show His mercy and remove His anger from us and from all Israel.
Chapter XI
I cannot fail to tell you of the disaster that struck our community on Shabbat during the festival of Shavuot in the year 5475, in May 1715.
That day, men, women and children were all in the synagogue. The great cantor Yokel, from the Polish town of Rzeszów, had just begun to chant the morning prayer. As soon as he sang, “You, L-rd, in all Your strength and might…,” many of those present suddenly heard cracking and crashing, as though something were breaking above their heads.
The women sitting in the upper gallery thought the ceiling was collapsing. The crashing frightened them, and they rushed towards the exit, thinking only of saving themselves.
Everyone hurried to the staircase. Someone fell, and the others trampled those who had fallen. Within minutes, six women died and more than thirty were injured and maimed, some so severely that surgeons struggled for months to save their lives.
If they had left the synagogue in an orderly manner, no one would have been hurt. Among them was an elderly blind woman who could not run and had to remain in her place. There she sat until “the fury had passed.” Nothing bad happened to her; she returned home safe and sound.
The survivors ran into the street, most of them, alas, with uncovered hair — according to Jewish law, married Jewish women must cover their hair — and in torn clothing.
Afterwards, some told me that they had wanted to escape but did not know how, and had returned to their seats, saying: “If we must die, it is better to die in the synagogue than to be trampled on the stairs!” For more than fifty women were writhing in a mass of human bodies on the steps, all in one heap, where the dead clung to the living.
The men rushed towards them, each trying to rescue the women of his family. But how difficult it was to pull the women apart! Not knowing what had happened, many townspeople hurried to the Judengasse with ladders and axes.
Those sitting in the main synagogue also heard the crash, also thought the roof was falling and began shouting to their women to flee, adding to the general confusion and terror.
You can imagine the grief that seized everyone: six dead women, six young women who, just a minute earlier, had been in the prime of life and in perfect health! L-rd, have mercy on us; do not be angry with us or with all Israel!