Before the Second World War, Częstochowa’s Jewish community was thriving — nearly 40,000 people, about one-third of the city’s population. They played a central role in the city’s commerce, industry, and culture. Today, fewer than 100 remain.
The World Society of Częstochowa Jews and Their Descendants works to preserve this history. One of their recent projects was translating a rare 1936 Jewish newspaper from Częstochowa — a fragile time capsule of life before the German invasion.
Częstochowa, in southern Poland, is perhaps best known for the Pauline Monastery of Jasna Góra, home to the Black Madonna painting and a major pilgrimage site. But for my father, Abram Enzel, the city holds far more personal memories. When Germany invaded Poland in September 1939, Częstochowa’s Jews were forced into a ghetto and later deported to the Treblinka death camp. About 5,200 survived by working in HASAG, a forced labor camp on the city’s outskirts. My father was one of them.
The World Society believes only five issues of the 1936 newspaper were ever printed. The first, published on June 21 — more than three years before the war — contained a lead article that spoke of growing unease:
So, it turns out that in the length and breadth of Poland, Jews have no one who understands them, who would sympathise with them, who would be able to respect their people and citizens. Our “indigenous hosts” who, at a time when they themselves were oppressed under a foreign yoke, confessed their fraternal feelings to us and assured us of a future paradise and an oasis of justice in a liberated Poland – have completely forgotten about the past. Currently, they don’t want us, they don’t like us, they cannot stand us.
Reading these words today, I’m reminded that Jewish life in Poland was fragile long before the war — something my father knew all too well.