Skip to: Content
Skip to: Site Navigation
Skip to: Search

The Indiana Jones of rabbis

For scribe Rabbi Menachem Youlus, Torah restoration can be a dangerous cloak-and-dagger business.

By Cathryn J. PrinceCorrespondent of The Christian Science Monitor / May 16, 2007

Wheaton, Md.

With quill in hand, Rabbi Menachem Youlus scrutinizes his latest treasure – a centuries-old Torah, stabbed and burned by Nazis during World War II. Many of the onyx-colored Hebrew letters of the scroll are so damaged they now appear to float like rafts on a sea of tea-colored parchment.

Skip to next paragraph

The Torah scribe will painstakingly retrace the letters – 300,000 of them – reapplying the ink six times on each letter to preserve the original penmanship.

It's a quietly tense job he performs. A single mistake on the battered but sacred scroll could render the entire Torah pasul, or unfit. His labors in the sanctuary of his workroom might be considered the easy part of Rabbi Youlus's specialty of Torah restoration. But before he can restore, he must locate and unearth the scrolls. And therein lies the very unlikely cloak-and-dagger lifestyle of the unassuming, sparkling-eyed man with the deft fingers of a surgeon.

Thousands of Torahs lie buried or hidden wherever Jews have been persecuted – from Eastern Europe to the former Soviet Union. Many other Torahs have found their way into hostile hands – such as Baghdad's Saddam Hussein-era National Museum.

Part Indiana Jones and part Sherlock Holmes, scribe Youlus travels the world following leads on sacred scrolls, brokering secret deals for them, smuggling them in ingenious fashion across hostile borders, and even digging in the earth for them. In arranging an interview for this article, the scholar-sleuth had to cut the call short because he was due to meet an ex-KGB general at Exit 11 on the Jersey Turnpike. The former Soviet spy hoped to cut a deal for hundreds of Torahs; to prove he had the Torahs, he mailed Youlus a piece of parchment torn from one of them.

"The Torah is different from other artifacts. Seventy years from now we will not see a Holocaust survivor," says Youlus. "Having these Torahs will make it more real for people than just reading about the Holocaust; the Torah is tangible."


Youlus embarked on his mission more than 20 years ago. One Friday night, a car struck his father and brother-in-law as they were walking to synagogue. They weren't expected to live. The young rabbi prayed. He promised to devote the first year of his marriage to the Torah if they survived. Today the pair work alongside Youlus.

The time came to fulfill his vow. After studying in Israel, Youlus completed his training in Leningrad, Russia. Today the rabbi – who speaks Polish, Hungarian, Russian, and Yiddish, plus a dollop of Spanish – works with antiquities departments worldwide. He has rescued 523 Torahs, many of which come from places the Holocaust completely obliterated. Often a town's sole survivor is the Torah.

That's how his current project – the Nazi-damaged, 228-year-old scroll – found its way into his workshop at the Jewish Book Store of Greater Washington (D.C.). The Torah comes from Breznice, Czechoslovakia, where 200 Jews once lived. When the Third Reich thundered into town, only 30 remained. The Nazis confiscated all Jewish property and dispatched the Torahs to Prague to be displayed as relics of an extinct people. Unlike Breznice's Jews, the Torahs survived.

A generation later and a continent away, Adam and Monica Chusid, of Westport, Conn. lost their 13-month-old daughter, Rebecca, in 1994. Gripped with sorrow, the Chusids yearned to heal.

"We searched to find something that would honor her memory and link her memory with our other children," said Mr. Chusid, father of Hannah, now 16, and Rebecca's twin, Jenna, now 13.

Chusid hoped to save a Holocaust era scroll. Through the London-based Westminster Synagogue, Chusid located the Breznice scroll, which he was able to get put on permanent loan to The Conservative Synagogue in Westport. It will remain in Maryland until Youlus finishes repairing the Nazi damage. It keeps company with scores of Torahs, stacked floor to ceiling, awaiting the ministrations of the scribe.