One of the noblemen asked them in Latin, “Who are you and what are you doing here?” They told him their whole story, how they had purposed to go up to the Holy Land and had been overtaken by winter and had made camp there until the winter should be over and the cold should pass. The noblemen began to ask them what they had seen along the way and what was the news of the day and who were the rulers that governed those lands, and the pilgrims answered all their questions in such detail that the noblemen were struck by their cleverness and eloquence. So enchanted were they that they forgot the game and gave up the hunt and began to urge them to come with them and to live with them, arguing that winter is very hard in that land, that many people fall sick from the great cold, that not everyone is built to bear it, and that these Rhinelanders would certainly never survive a winter in the forest. The pilgrims saw that the noblemen’s counsel was right. They agreed to go and live with them until the end of the winter season; then, with winter gone and the snow cleared, they would reassemble and set out on the road again. Each nobleman took with him an individual or a family and brought them home, treating them with every courtesy. The pilgrims stayed with the noblemen throughout the winter.
The noblemen who had taken the Jews into their homes enjoyed prosperity in whatever they did. They realized that their success was due to the Jews. Each one began to worry and fret: “What shall I do when the Jews leave us? They will certainly take their blessing with them, or the blessing will go away of its own accord.” They began to urge them to stay, saying, “The whole land is yours; make your home wherever you like. If you want to engage in commerce in the land, better yet, for no one here knows anything about commerce.” Some of the pilgrims paid no attention to them and wanted to be on their way; but others let themselves be won over by the noblemen, for they were weary, and many were sick and fearful of the rigors of the road. And because they were not of one mind, even those who wanted to go did not, for they were but few, and the roads were presumed too dangerous to be traversed by any but a large band.
In the meanwhile, the Days of Awe returned. The entire band gathered in a certain place for communal prayer, and there they remained until after Sukkot. They did the same the following year and for several years thereafter: throughout the year each one would live in his own place by his nobleman, and on the Days of Awe and the three festivals they would assemble to observe the holidays by holding prayers, reading Scripture, and performing all the other statutory observances.
One year, at Simhat Torah, when they were all in good spirits because of the joy of the Torah and the great feast that they had made to celebrate its completion, one of them said with a sigh: “Now we are content, for we are together, worshiping as a community and reading the Torah; but what about tomorrow and the next day and the next? Winter is here, and again we shall go without the reading of the Torah and without communal prayer.” They thought about it and began to discuss what to do. To leave where they were and go to the Land of Israel was out of the question; for by now they had acquired property in the land and built houses and were in favor with the nobility. As for the women, some were pregnant, some were nursing, some were worn out and weak. And the elders were even older than before, so that traveling would have been hard on them. But to stay where they were, without Torah or communal prayer, was certainly not acceptable as a permanent arrangement. It would have been better if they had not given in to the noblemen and had gone their way right after the snow had cleared and were now settled before the Lord in Jerusalem; but having yielded and not made the pilgrimage, they now had to take active steps to enable themselves to perform all the rites of God that we are commanded to perform. After much discussion, they agreed unanimously to establish a permanent house of prayer and to hold services on every weekday when the Torah is read, and of course on the Sabbath and New Moon and Hanukkah and Purim. Whoever was able to attend the services would attend, and whoever was not able on account of illness or some other impediment would try to have someone attend in his stead. The building in which they had been holding services on the festivals they designated as the synagogue.
When word reached the local nobleman, it so pleased him that he gave them the building and everything in it as an outright and perpetual gift. Before he died, he ordered his sons to treat the Jews with benevolence, for God had granted him prosperity on account of the Jews, and from the Jews had come whatever he was leaving them.
They turned the building into a synagogue, and there they would come to pray on all the days when the Torah is read, including especially the Sabbaths and festivals and other days of distinction. Occasionally they would hold communal prayer even on days when the Torah is not read; for if someone happened to be in the vicinity, he would say, “I think I’ll go and see if enough Jews happen to be there to hold services, so that I can hear Barekhu and Kedushah. Thus, with one coming from one way and one coming from another, they would come together and hold a service. The place came to be a favorite, for whoever was hungry for the word of the Lord or whoever yearned to see his fellow Jews would turn to it. And whoever could afford to do so built himself a house nearby, so that, living near the place of prayer, he would be able to participate in communal prayer.
Little by little the entire place came to be settled by Jews. They built themselves a ritual bath and whatever else a community needs. Whenever they needed a rabbi to answer a ritual question, or a teacher for their children, or tsitsit, or to have their tefillin examined, they would turn to that place. Even the noblemen and their retainers would come there for advice or business, knowing that they would find Jews there. The place acquired a reputation; people began to come from far and wide on the days of their festivals, both to see and to be seen. Noblemen and noblewomen came, too, riding on their horses. Then the local nobleman built himself a stone house; eventually he built a castle up on the mountain facing the Strypa, a great castle befitting one of the great princes of the land. This castle was for many years the defense and refuge of the lord of the town and his retainers, until the Tartars attacked it, and, on defeating him, compelled him to destroy it. The ruins are there to this day.
That is how Buczacz began. Formerly it was not called Buczacz but Biczacz, and at the very first it was called something very like.
As to the name and its meaning, there are many opinions and conjectures, some of which, though plausible, remain conjectures nonetheless. I am setting aside the ifs and maybes and writing only the truth as it actually is.
Eventually the holy community of Buczacz was joined by a number of Jews from other places, especially from Germany. Disaster had overtaken the people of God, the holy community of Worms, Mayence, Speyer, and other distinguished communities in Germany, because of the filthy infidels whose arrogance moved them to go up to the Holy Land to fight the king of Ishmael and to conquer the land. Wherever they encountered Jews along the way they murdered them, killing them in cruel and unusual ways. Many of the people of God valiantly sanctified His Name; they were killed and slaughtered as martyrs to the unity of God’s terrible, unique Name. Most of the communities in the land of Germany were destroyed; the few survivors wandered from one nation to another until they reached the lands of the Slavs, and of them, some reached our town. In our town they dwelt in safety and in peace. On minor ritual matters they consulted their own sages, and on major ritual matters they consulted our sages in Germany until from among the townspeople emerged some great and authoritative masters of the Torah who illuminated the world with their learning. Now they were completely supplied with religious wisdom and knowledge of God. They were secure in their wealth and dignity, their piety and righteousness, until, struck by divine justice, they nearly all perished in God’s rage through the persecution of Chmielnicki’s thugs.