The Great Golem of Warsaw by treacherous

TEAM: Sentinels

SECTOR: LOWTOWN

KIT CLASS: Avatar

It all began in 1940, Poland at the height of the Great War. The Third Reich had split our land into three parts. Two protectorates: one annexed to Russia and another for the German controlled government. The last part was the Reich territory. I grew up in the German controlled protectorate: A Jewish township in Warsaw. Ech, actually, they decreed it a Ghetto. It was the largest of these areas in the German controlled lands. That word…Ghetto… it was meant to disgrace us. Nevertheless, they could never discourage our Jewish spirit.

Nearly 40% of the population lived here. In German controlled Warsaw, we felt like trapped rats and in a way we were. Starvation and disease were like a brother and sister to us. No work to be found. The majority who survived did this through illegal smuggling. Underground schools and learning facilities kept our traditions strong. My people, the Jewish people were a strong folk. We would not lose our culture to these tyrants. These bubkes'. It was horrible situates, but during this time it was all we had.

I remember in November, the German's closed us in from the outside world by building a wall with armed guards. It was at this time that we knew our time was near. Inside the barrier, Jews were killed, Hung and beaten right on the streets. If you were out too late, did not have the proper paper work or just looking at the wrong German the wrong way, it could mean death.

We heard that the Germans were looking for ways to mass murder our people. They felt that face-to-face killings were too brutal for their men" that it would make them into psychopaths. Can you imagine? They were worried for the psychological well being of their men. Many were spreading rumors of certain containment camps being turned to death camps. Places such as Auschwitz, Treblinka and Chelmno. Many considered this just to be rumors. However, few took these reports very seriously. I was one of these citizens.

Personality: Acch! Listen to me sounding like my father. Let me back up. My name is Gideon - Gideon Greyberg. I grew up here in Warsaw. I am a Rabbi. Actually, I am a descendent of a long line of Rabbi. It's a tradition passed to every able boy in my family. My mother died giving birth to me and the invasion later killed my father. As you can imagine, I have grown bitter towards German occupation. We all have. The death of my father didn't help matters for me.

My father was a victim of heavy air attacks and artillery bombardment. He was just reading, when rubble rained from a nearby collapsing building. It crushed our home. He was the last of my family in Warsaw, but I never left. He was a great man-respected and sought out throughout the Jewish community. His knowledge of Jewish law was unprecedented. I am not half the man he was. He always told me life was a one-way street. Looking back, I wished I were a painter, so I could've drawn myself going in that right direction. It took him many years to reel me in from roughhousing. He would later force me into “that right direction”. The public still looks up to me. Mostly because of my size, I think. 6'2 and 230 pounds. My father always said I am “like a golem”. Hulking and slow. Looking back, that is quite ironic, but more to that later.

With my father's death, many of his devout followers sought teachings elsewhere. A lot of the residents did not believe I had his wisdom. They were probably right. Regardless, I had my share of followers. After German occupation, it would be them that would seek me during the war. It would be this group that would give me the strength to do the things necessary to defend my home and heritage.

As German treatment of the Jewish worsened; talks of rebellion spread throughout the ghettos. Resistance against the tyrannical reign of the Third Reich was spoken in hushed tone. I was amongst these gossipers. Maybe it was my size or maybe it was my lack of understanding that my father possessed, but I was always more of a fighter than a scholar. I wanted to go to war against the Germans. Without parental guidance and now a young adult myself, I could act of my own free will. When the people talked, I listened. My father would've disapproved. Despite this, I assembled a small gathering of strong Jewish men that would meet every few days in the nether of the Great Synagogue of Warsaw.

We were men of all professions. We were tailors, bakers, smugglers and a Rabbi. We were the Jewish people-10 strong. We were proud and we would defend our home with our life. Together, we discussed multiple ways to strike back at the SS and Gestapo forces. We knew the city well and we knew it better than the Germans. Our main problem however, was the lack of participation from other Jewish. Maybe it was too early for them to see their true fates or maybe it was just lack of nourishment, but the people were not yet ready to fight for their freedom. Also, we lacked any armament. The Germans kept a close eye on their own supplies. They seemed never to slip. What good were we without weapons to fight? Picks and axes meant nothing to the heavy weaponry of the SS. We were at a loss.

What started as a full-fledged insurrection, turned into a get-together of bickering men. This group used to look to me for leadership, later I became just another voice. Bemused one night, I sought refuge in the bowels of the Synagogue. Wanting to get away from the quarreling, I went into the old library looking for answers. I stayed up all night looking for secrets of what past Rabbi had done in similar situations. I studied over multiple books regarding Jewish law, war and even ways of peace. Nothing seemed to fit what I needed. I wanted rebellion. I wanted knowledge of fighting one against many. What made me think I would find this in a synagogue was beyond me.

That's when I finally found it. Sealed away and labeled forbidden in Hebrew. Breaking a rusty lock, I came across a discovery that would change my life forever. A book…and in that book was a word. The word was golem. I never fully knew the meaning of this word my father used to call me. I knew it was slang for clumsy or sluggish, but although my father could be hard, he would never refer to me in such a way. No. In this ancient, dusty book I found; the word meant, “The unshaped form”.

I was immediately fascinated. As a Rabbi, I couldn't deny the coincidence. There was fate involved here. It spoke of the golem being the definitive representation of the wise and holy Rabbi. It spoke of various prominent Rabbis throughout the middle Ages that used a brainless, man-like hunk shaped from clay to serve them. Only the most powerful of Rabbi could call upon this mass. With special conjuring, the entity could carry out simple manual labors or even be used to defend against attackers manifold. It was the perfect weapon. This thing could strike fear in the enemy and no man had to be hurt. I read further. Some writings even spoke of transferring your or another's soul into the construction. I had to have it.

This golem would solve all the problems of Warsaw. All my problems. My status would be rectified. My devotees would expand. My father would be proud. Why they would hide away such a wonderful piece of history was beyond me, I thought. This was my chance to win back Warsaw for the Jewish.

Following our daytime meetings, I would sneak down to the old library. The Gestapo policed the territory at night, so I had to be very careful to stay hidden. While there, I would read and carry out various tasks specific to building this golem. According to legend, the construct was made of clay. The archaic books told step-by-step how to fashion life from the soil. Daily, I would gather clay from nearby water banks. Like the story of Adam, I shaped this thing into my own likeness…yet larger…much larger. For the task ahead of it; my golem needed girth. Next, I hardened the clay through an old Hebrew incantation. This was my first actual mystic ritual and I was nervous. I was completely shocked as the clay man hardened before my eyes. Nothing could steal my pride that night. What I had created was nothing short of a miracle. Finally in the fifth day, it lay there before me…completed. My huge lifeless redeemer; soon it would rise.

On the Sabbath day we did not meet. We never met on this day, so I intended to finish my work on the sixth. I anticipated making it rise on this day, so the last ritual needed to be performed. The text said to write the word “emet” on the forehead of the being. Emet meant reality. Next, it spoke of reciting a precise combination of Hebrew letters and words, which would produce consciousness in the comatose being. For hours I tried this unproductively. My faith began to wane slightly. Ill thought began to get the best of me. “I could never be the man my father was. Who was I fooling? I will never be able to help my people. I am just a useless oaf pretending to be a Rabbi.” I thought. I sulked like this until near daylight until suddenly an incredible crashing sound occurred.

Hurrying upstairs to the main sanctuary; my heart was not prepared for what I saw. Before me were nine men standing with guns to their heads. Tailors, bakers and smugglers; our nine man rebellion was captured and I made ten. It felt as if my heart fell from my body as they grabbed me by my collar and put me with the group. We were marched in chains to the center of town in a single file with me in the lead.

Midway in the town courtyard stood a large structure the Nazis had built for hangings. They meant to make examples of us. It seemed like the entirety of the Jewish population was on the streets. Women cried. Some shirked. Others met our gazes with proud indignation. Anger swelled within me. A Madness I cannot describe began to boil inside me. As I looked at that crowd, I saw my history, my future and my culture dying with me. I saw my father in the crowd. “What have I done? This can't be the end.” I contemplated. I felt the noose tighten around my neck. I felt the tug of the rope by the Gestapo officer. I saw my comrades receiving their own nooses following mine. Suddenly, I felt the floor quiver beneath me.

Bracha

Shabbat Meshugass

Noodge them a little.

Gay Avek Nazi Schmucks!

Ferblunjit, No More!

Emet