The halls of the great yeshivos are silent today, but the concrete walls that absorbed so much Torah are still standing. A trip back to the former heartland of the yeshivah world
LOST WORLD Belarus. White Russia. We are able to sense the energy still contained in those structures and witness a new generation sprouting on the ruins of a lost world (Photos: Menachem Kalish)
“Posmishka!” the Ukranian policeman barks as we stand at the border crossing threatening to hand us over to the Belarusian authorities a few meters away.
We just shrug. “Posmishka!” he demands again this time with an English translation — “Smile!” It’s late and we’re tired but if the man asks us to smile then smile it is. When he sees our smiling faces he quickly compares them to the pictures in the documents he’s holding. He hands the passports back offhandedly and mutters in Russian “In the picture he is smiling why does he look so sad now?”
“Belarus.” The lettering on the sign glows in the darkness of the night. White Russia. Birthplace of the litvish Torah world. Where gedolei olam walked where chassidic giants held court. The halls of the great yeshivos once brimming with life are now silent but the concrete walls that absorbed so much Torah are still standing. As we stand in the Belarusian night all the stories about Volozhin and Novhardok and Radin suddenly have a real address.
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