Features
Mud: Shtetl to Shoah
By DAVID TOPPER A Note to the reader: I will preface this story with a remark about me. I often write stories and poems using the pseudonym Dee Artea (pronounced D R T, my monogram) when writing in a female voice. But this is the first time I have put Dee into a story.
I’m trying to decide what to do with the document that you’re reading. You’ll see shortly, I’m sure, what I’m talking about – that is, if you read on.
I don’t know what to do. I’m stymied. And it’s all because of this new assistant I hired. Dee Artea, who refuses to tell me anything about her past. Not where she’s from, her family, nor even the origin of her name. Nothing. Beyond her being Jewish, I don’t know anything about her.
Well, to be precise, I didn’t hire her, and I guess calling her an assistant is not quite right either – since we’re living together. So, I can’t really fire her, can I?
Which is why – or, at least, one reason why – I’m stymied.
Plus, it just occurred to me that you may agree with her point of view – and then, so-to-speak, take her side on this matter. Well, so be it. Still, what to do?
Many readers will agree with me. My point-of-view, I’m sure. Yes. I am.
There you go. That’s my friend Dee, butting in and making her point. Forcefully, I would say. What should I do about her, short of putting a password on my computer?
In the meantime, I need to bring in some back-story.
It all started when Dee saw my heart-rending book of Roman Vishniac’s photographs of Jews living in the Pale of Settlement in the 1930s. … Wait, before that: I wanted to write something for the local Jewish paper about the pogroms of the late 19th & early 20th centuries as precursors to the Shoah. … No, that’s not it, either. … I need to go … further back. Yes, here goes.
I first met Dee, who was out of a job. I think she got fired for insubordination and th—
That’s what my boss called it. Actually, I was just correcting his mistakes. Proofreading and such.
Okay, anyway, we met one warm day this past spring when I was sitting on a bench in the English flower garden in Assiniboine Park, reading a book. As she walked by, she noticed that I was reading a book of stories by Sholem Aleichem, so she sat down beside me and started a conversation. She immediately told me that Sholem Aleichem (meaning “peace to you”) was the pseudonym of Solomon Rabinowitz, born in the Ukraine in 1859 and one of the most famous Yiddish writers of fictional stories of shtetl life; but, having witnessed a vicious pogrom in 1905, he emigrated, and eventually settled in New York City for the rest of his life – all of which I already knew (well, maybe not the exact dates).
It was quickly clear that Dee was bright, Jewish, and knew a lot about some of the same things that fascinate me in Jewish culture and history. We “hit it off” as they say. Indeed, it was uncanny how much we thought alike – well, at least, on most things. When we parted and decided to meet on this same bench the next day, I thought to myself: bashert.
That’s a very strong statement, I’d say. Don’t you think?
Yes, indeed.
Well, clearly, I liked her. But I must say that I wasn’t attracted to her. She was friendly and all, but not physically appealing. To be honest, she looks a lot like me – which isn’t a compliment, since I’m a man. We are moreover about the same height, complexion, and body weight. There’s nothing particularly feminine about her physique and manners. Nonetheless, over time (really the short time we’ve been together) I’ve moved beyond these external matters, as we’ve become closer, a lot closer, as intellectual – and I might even say, as spiritual – mates.
Despite looking alike, we have different personalities. I’m the rational, level-headed guy, calm (at least, externally so) under pressure. Whereas Dee is passionate, compulsive, and readily shows her emotions. Of course, there is nothing unusual about this classic male/female dichotomy. Cliché? Well, so be it.
You know, there’s a reason for all of this, eh?
In subsequent meetings – initially in the park, then later in my home – I showed her my writings and told her about my research and plans for an essay on the 19th & 20th century pogroms, as portending the Shoah. She was very knowledgeable on this topic, and diligently read over the draft of my essay, correcting my mistakes as she went along. Her proofreading I found very helpful and not at all intimidating. Her changes to my original draft made it a much better essay. And I’m thankful to her for it.
As you should be.
Once she moved in with me, she had access to all my books. Quickly she read all the stories I have by Sholem Aleichem, which was the catalyst of our relationship, as you know. Next came Roman Vishniac’s book, mentioned before. Specifically, it’s called A Vanished World, published in 1983, with 180 photographs of life in the shtetls in Eastern Europe between 1935 and 1938.
Either Dee found it, or I pointed it out to her – but, in either case, she read the book and devoured it. She could not stop speaking about it for days – yes, days. She was that obsessed with it.
Yes, and I’m still obsessed because these pictures are almost too painful to look at. They break my heart. They should break yours too.
Yes, I agree. And it occurs to me that this is a good time to bring in some more back-story. Here goes. Roman Vishniac (1897–1990) was born in Russia and grew up in Moscow. In 1918 the family moved to Berlin (ironically because of the rise of anti-Semitism in revolutionary Russia). Hence it was from Germany, although sponsored by – namely, paid for – by the JDC (American Jewish Joint Distribution Committee), that Vishniac made several trips into Eastern Europe to photograph Jewish life. He frequently used a hidden camera to capture everyday life in the world of the shtetl (Yiddish, for “little town”), as immortalised, as was said, in the stories of Sholem Aleichem.
Since his trips took place in the years 1935-1938, the title of his book, A Vanished World, had a doubly tragic meaning: that the world of the shtetls was gone, but so were the lives of the people in the photographs, almost all of whom most likely perished by coldblooded murder. Vishniac himself narrowly avoided being another victim of the Shoah, but luckily ended up in 1940 as a refugee in the USA – alive, yet penniless, trying to make a living by taking pictures of people in and around New York City.
You know, he once took a series of pictures of Einstein.
I know.
Ah, of course, you would know that. Oh, and did you know that there is a crater on the planet Mercury named Sholem Aleichem?
Yes.
As I suspected.
As mentioned, many of Vishniac’s pictures were taken in the Pale of Settlement in Eastern Europe. This was a clearly marked area, roughly comprising Lithuania, Ukraine, Belarus, and parts of western Russia and eastern Poland (including Warsaw). It was the creation of Imperial Russia under Catherine the Great and was controlled by the Russian army. Recall, for example, that the Jews in 16th century Venice were segregated or quarantined into what was called for the first time a “ghetto.” Well, I would call the Pale of Settlement that began around the late 18th century, a ghetto writ large. Except for Jews with specific professions, businesses, or other situations (such as Vishniac’s father, when they lived in Moscow), all Jews were forbidden to live or even to just be anywhere outside the Pale (such as in Russia proper) – a rule that was strictly enforced until 1914, around the start of the First World War.
Since Vishniac grew up in Moscow, he had a childhood that was fundamentally isolated from Jewish culture.
Yes, that’s true. Thus, those years in the Pale were his first exposure to shtetl life. Incidentally, to be accurate, the area over which Vishniac roved in those years 1935-1938 encompassed more than the Pale. It also covered other parts of Eastern Europe, such as Austrian Galicia, the Kingdom of Romania, and the Kingdom of Hungary – for they too had shtetls scattered throughout their lands.
Nonetheless, having so many Jews concentrated in such small areas between the east and the west, made them (crudely put) sitting ducks. Or, switching metaphors, the Jewish shtetls were islands in a sea of Christianity, prone to occasional violent storms or even hurricanes of hostility, often resulting in the loss of life. This was true, first with the series of pogroms out of Imperial Russia in the 19th and early 20th centuries in the Pale of Settlement; then, later, as armies criss-crossed Eastern Europe during and between the two World Wars. Whether it was the German army moving east, or the Russian army moving west – it didn’t matter. With the breakdown of the rule of law, murder became ordinary: gentile neighbours just walked in and killed Jewish neighbours, confiscating their homes, belongings, and land. The lawlessness often led not only to brutality, where Jews could be slaughtered where they lived, but also to sadistic acts of humiliation, torture, and rape – before being butchered. Then there were the mass executions where men, women, and children were marched into nearby forests or open fields or over ravines or along riverbanks by German army units, often accompanied by local militia (collaborators), and shot point blank – the bodies then dumped into mass graves or allowed to float down rivers to a grave in the sea.
Do you know what happened in Latvia under German occupation?
Sadly, I do. In German-occupied Latvia, a blue bus of commandoes (Germans and locals) traveled the countryside for six months (July – December 1941) killing the Jews of the towns and villages, murdering over 22,000 innocent children, women, and men – one-third of the population of Jews in Latvia. They went on to assist in other killings, so that the entire Jewish population of Latvia – minus a few survivors – died in the Shoah. These Nazi mobile killing units, roaming throughout Eastern Europe, slaughtered more than one-million Jews – often wiping out entire communities. Such extreme, excessive, meaningless, malicious, senseless, and unprovoked cruelty – is unique in history.
Importantly, today sites of these past atrocities are being excavated in Eastern Europe, as this mass murder is finally, painstakingly, and painfully exposing its gruesome tale.
Yes, finally. Historian Timothy Snyder has called these the European “killing fields.” Let me put it in perspective this way. Probably the common mental image of the Shoah for most of us is that of emaciated prisoners in a concentration camp, such as Auschwitz. However – and this is not commonly known – in fact, more Jews died in these killing fields than in all the camps combined. It’s what has been called “the other Holocaust.”
As you know, I too have read Snyder’s book. I agree with him when he says that “the crime of the Holocaust was unprecedented in that it was the only such attempt to remove an entire people from the planet by way of mass murder.” Indeed, he calls it “the single most murderous outburst in human history.” You know, I sometimes have trouble sleeping at night, knowing so many died in vain, while I’m living peacefully in my bubble in Winnipeg.
Yes, Dee, me too, as you know.
But back to life in the shtetls throughout Europe because there’s more I want to say, starting with another topic that deeply haunts me.
Ah yes, the other Vishniac book.
This other book is titled Children of a Vanished World, published in 1999 (after Roman died) and it is edited by Mara Vishniac Kohn (Roman Vishniac’s daughter, who chose the pictures from her father’s massive oeuvre) and Miriam Hartman Flacks (a Yiddish scholar). The text is in Yiddish (with English translations), plus some poems and music. The main motivating force of the book (for me, at least) is the imagery: 70 black & white photographs, exclusively of children, making it another “Vishniac book” that tugs deeply at the reader’s emotions. So many child Shoah victims: 1.5 million, who perished in the madness of hate – epitomized in these 70 or so innocent faces.
So difficult to look at these pictures and not imagine how, in addition to their already hard lives in the shtetls, they were destined to experience a horrific fate.
To me, the photographs reveal how the life of many shtetl dwellers was, in itself, miserable.
Yes, life in the shtetl was much worse than most of us realize. Actually, it’s there in Sholem Aleichem’s stories, if you look closely.
True, although there were also wealthy Jews here and there. Rich merchants, for example, usually living in large cities, such as Warsaw, Cracow, or Lviv. Perhaps epitomized by the Rothschilds in Paris.
Remember Shalom Aleichem’s story “If I were Rothschild?” An amusing little story where he dreams about what he would do with all that money, starting with paying for his Sabbath meal, then further helping his family, friends, others, and then all the Jews of the world. In fact, with all that money he could end all wars. But then he realizes that the source of all this trouble is money itself, and so he eliminates money altogether.
And so, he ends by asking: How will I now provide for the Sabbath? – thus coming full circle. Which brings me back to the lowly life of most Jews, especially in the Pale and other shtetls, which was economically bleak, with many living in poverty. Women worked almost exclusively in the home, of course. Men were primarily tailors, artisans, shopkeepers, carpenters, cobblers, push-cart peddlers, and tax collectors – as such they often interacted with their non-Jewish neighbours in the village and sometime at weekly fairs. Few Jews farmed because (with some exceptions) Jews were not permitted to own land. When they did own land, what was allotted was often of poor quality for growing crops. Overall, therefore, they were forced to live in the shtetls, where the buildings were shabby wooden structures, and the streets were unpaved.
Yes, and unpaved roads turn to mud when it rains. Mud, mud, lots of mud. Allow me to quote from a landmark book on shtetl life: “In the summer the dust piles in thick layers, which the rain changes to mud so deep that wagon wheels stick fast and must be pried loose by the sweating driver, with the assistance of helpful bystanders. …When the mud gets too bad, boards are put down over the black slush so that people can cross the street.”
Yes Dee. And because of the extensive poverty, Jewish organizations within the shtetls set up a social welfare system, with free medical treatment for the poor. According to some historical statistics, no shtetl in the Pale had fewer than about 15% of Jews receiving tzedakah (charity or relief). Some sources say the number was even as high as over 30%.
There is nothing to romanticize about in such a life. Believe me. A life steeped in mud.
Agreed. Nonetheless, and against these grave odds, the Yiddish-speaking culture flourished. Valuing education and intellectual proclivity, most males were literate (unlike many of their gentile neighbours, such as the peasants).
Here’s a line from a story by Sholem Aleichem: “Earlier in the day the ice had begun to melt, and the snow had turned into waist-high mud.”
The modern Yeshiva system developed too; here students learned Hebrew under a melamed (teacher), of course Hebrew being the alphabet of Yiddish. Showing Jewish fortitude and resilience, they were able to make a life out of the bleak world of the shtetl.
“Joseph the Righteous took my hand and we leaped across the mud. Night was drawing closer and closer, and the mud became deep and deeper. I imagined I had wings, I was being wafted in the air.”
For them the “shtetl” was not the place: it was the people. And the “home” was not the house: it was the family.
“I was plodding through the mud alongside Methuselah, … who pulled his legs from the mud.”
Such dogged spirit produced Sholem Aleichem, whose most well-known creation was Tevye the Dairyman.
“Well, from all the good luck, nothing is left, but nothing, nothing but mud.”
From his stories of Tevye came the Broadway musical and film Fiddler on the Roof. One of the highlights of Fiddler is the scene showing a pogrom, which disrupts the otherwise joy of a wedding scene.
“They slogged through the clay mud and seated themselves on a log.”
As depicted in the play and film, however, this pogrom is mild as far as pogroms go; it’s more like a nasty act of vandalism.
No wonder Philip Roth called Fiddler “Shtetl Kitsch.” And Cynthia Ozick said it was an “emptied-out, prettified romantic vulgarization” of literary master Sholem Aleichem’s Yiddish tales.
One of the first series of pogroms took place in Odessa in 1821, where 14 Jews were killed.
“Around here the mud is so deep that it took the wagon all night to pull through the town.”
But in the late 19th century and into the 20th century it got worse. A series of about 200 pogroms took place from 1881-1884 in the Pale. Thousands of Jewish homes were destroyed. At least 40 Jews were killed and there are reports of 100s of rapes. The next wave was 1903-1906 and much bloodier with over 2000 Jews killed.
“For a time, it even looked as if I might spend Passover axle-deep in mud.”
Thus, from the 1880s to about 1914, over 2 million Jews emigrated out of Russia ending up primarily in the UK, USA, & Canada. I’m sure many readers are where they are today because their forefathers and foremothers came over in one of those human waves.
“She admits that she’s a tinderbox. When a bad mood hits her, she’ll throw mud at anyone.”
Sounds like you, Dee. You, the passionate one.
“We greeted and shook hands, with me knee-deep in the mud.”
But this is enough, already. Stop it. Yes, Sholem Aleichem called attention to the role of mud in shtetl life. So Dee, you’ve made your point.
Time to end this tale. … Now!
And, Dee, you know what? Despite my original misgivings about your insufferable intrusions in my story – I’ve decided to keep them where they are, for they force me to acknowledge the hardship of the Jews in the shtetls. Considering that this culminated in the Shoah, I see them as appropriate for such a terrible tale that is often difficult even to fathom.
From mud in the shtetl to mud in the mass graves – mud has become for me both a reality and a metaphor for all the pain and sorrow of our people in Europe before the rebirth of Israel.
Albert Einstein was mentioned by Dee, and so I’ve added this, to give some levity to what is otherwise grim and depressing.
As mentioned before, when Vishniac was a new immigrant in New York he earned a living by photographing people. One day he traveled to Princeton, New Jersey, where Einstein lived. Vishniac falsely told the guard at the Institute where Einstein worked that they had known each other in Germany, and thus gained access to Einstein’s office. Einstein was sympathetic to a fellow Jew, a refugee too, and thus allowed Vishniac to take pictures of him while he was working in his office that day doing mainly mathematical calculations, either on paper at a desk or on several blackboards on the walls. Among the many famous portraits of Einstein is one by Vishniac, which you will find on the Wikipedia website for “Vishniac.” I must say, however, that I question the assertion there, that it was Albert’s favourite portrait of himself.
I also wish to point out that throughout the 1930s and into the 1940s, Einstein, using his celebrity status, worked tirelessly writing letters and such, to get Jews out of Nazi Europe – and was successful in many cases.
Since Fiddler on the Roof was mentioned above, here are a few comments on it, considering the theme of this story.
First, Fiddler was preceded by the Yiddish movie Tevya by Maurice Schwartz in 1939, a symbolic year, with the start of the Second World War. Although once thought to be lost, a print of the film was discovered in 1978, and it is now in the US National film Registry by the Library of Congress. In black & white, with English subtitles, Tevya is worth watching for historical reasons, but otherwise it also romanticizes the lives of the Russian Jews. Indeed, it ends, not with a pogrom, but a mere eviction of Tevya and his family from the village they were born into. Incidentally, there were also some earlier theatre productions based on the life of “Tevya the Dairyman.”
As for Fiddler – music by , by , and book by Jose – it was first a stage musical in 1964. The title comes from a painting by Marc Chagall (who made a harrowing escape from the Germans by being smuggled out of Nazi-occupied France in May 1941), and as such, the set and scenery of the stage productions mostly reflected the brightly coloured palette of his paintings. The 1971 film, in colour, was probably grittier and more realistic than most of the stage productions. Nonetheless, after watching it again, I must say that it lacks the necessary mud. There’s lots of dirt, well-packed dirt, and the occasional dust – but no mud. Not until the very end, when all the villagers are leaving Russia in the winter, with a layer of snow on the ground; and, at one point, a wagon gets temporarily stuck in a (muddy?) rut, but it’s immediately pushed out – a brief moment, a fraction of a second. That’s it.
Here’s a short, Annotated Bibliography.
- Sholom Aleichem, Favorite Tales of Sholom Aleichem, trans. by Julius & Frances Butwin (New York: Avenel Books, 1983). Note: most sources spell his first name as Sholem. This book contains 55 story stories. Of course, the quotes about mud are clearly Yiddish exaggerations – but, in having done so, they speak of the true misery of shtetl life.
- Wendy Lower, The Ravine: A Family, A Photograph, A Holocaust Massacre Revealed (Boston: Houghton Mifflin Harcourt, 2021). This is an extraordinary work of historical research. But it’s an extremely painful book to read, for it takes the reader through the details of a specific murder of a woman and a child in the Holocaust. Now, multiply that horror by millions. This book is in the Winnipeg Library system.
- Timothy Snyder, Black Earth: The Holocaust as History and Warning (New York: Tim Duggan Books, 2015). This too is a painful-to-read chronicle of the “other Holocaust” in Eastern Europe, which at the time was the heartland of world Jewry. Multiple copies are in the Winnipeg Library system.
- Roman Vishniac, A Vanished World (New York: Farrar, Straus, & Giroux, 1983). Out of print. Many of the pictures are mesmerizing. I treasure my copy.
- Mara Vishniac Kohn and Miriam Hartman Flacks (editors), Children of a Vanished World (Berkeley: Univ. of California, 1999). There is a copy of this book in the Winnipeg Library system. As said: it’s heartbreaking to look at these pictures of children – and to contemplate their fate.
- The archives of Vishniac’s estate were deposited in 2018 in the Magnes Collection of Jewish Art & Life in the Library of the University of California, at Berkeley. For the scholars – or future scholars – out there.
- Mark Zborowski & Elizabeth Herzog, Life is with People: The Culture of the Shtetl (New York: Schocken, 1952). 1995 reprint. This is the “landmark” book mentioned in the story. The quotation is from page 61.
Features
The Dream of Zion: Judah Halevi’s Quest
By DAVID R. TOPPER Today the term Zionism is debased by otherwise liberal-thinking former-friends of Jews and Israel. This is a fact. Nonetheless, I don’t wish to pursue present-day politics and debates on the issues around this fact. Except to point out that the former-friends’ error stems from a lack of knowledge of the history of the region – by just focusing on recent events.
Accordingly, I wish to put Zionism into a deeper historical perspective by recalling that, ever since the Roman destruction of the Second Temple in 70 CE, the idea of returning to Zion was fundamental to the Jews of the Diaspora. Being indigenous to that region of the Middle East – hence going back thousands of years – Jews continued having a presence there – even after the Temple was razed.
Moreover, and in particular, my aim is to recall the story of one the major Zionists in Jewish history – Judah Halevi.
But perhaps it is best to start with this brief factoid. The Hebrew word צִיּוֹן (pronounced Tzee-yohn) has no unique meaning – ranging across fortress, desert, or monument – with its origin still being debated by scholars. One common use is for Mount Zion, a hill in Jerusalem. Close by is Mount Moriah, where King Solomon built the first Temple. In time, the term Zion came to be used for both hills together, and eventually for all of Jerusalem. Thus, the term Zionism refers to the idea of the exiled Jews (the Diaspora) returning to their indigenous homeland, centred at Jerusalem. Surely this was what Halevi believed, even though the word itself was not coined until 1890.
Judah Halevi (also Yahuda ha-Levi) was born in 1075 (alt 1080) probably in Toledo, Spain. This was during the so-called Golden Age of Jewish Culture there. The Jews in Islamic Spain were relatively free – unlike the Jews of central Europe, who suffered under the despotic rule of feudal lords. Highly educated, Judah became a physician, philosopher, mathematician, and poet. Today it is his poetry that has designated him as the greatest Hebrew poet. He died in 1141, probably at the age of 66.
He is often paired with Maimonides, considered the greatest Jewish thinker, who lived a generation later (born 1135). Both were physicians to the courts of the Caliphs in Spain.
Around the year 1120, probably about age 45, Halevi settled in Seville, married, and had one daughter. Another child also may have died. Much later, his wife died, probably after their daughter grew up and had children. With the loss of his wife, Judah grew restless. The Dream of Zion beckoned.
My heart is in the east, and I in the uttermost west—
How can I find savour in food? How shall it be sweet to me?
How shall I render my vows and my bonds, while yet
Zion lies beneath the fetter of Edom, and I in Arab chains?
A light thing would it seem to me to leave all the good things of Spain—
Seeing how precious in mine eyes to behold the dust of the desolate sanctuary.
This is one of a series of poems on this quest: called today The Songs of Zion, or the Zionides. His ultimate goal was to make aliyah to Jerusalem. To spend his final days there.
Zion! wilt thou not ask if peace be with thy captives
That seek thy peace—that are the remnants of thy flocks?
…
I would choose for my soul to pour itself out within that place
Where the spirit of God was outpoured upon your chosen.
…
I would fall, with my face upon the earth, and take delight
In thy stones and be tender to the dust.
…
Sweet would it be unto my soul to walk naked and barefoot
Upon the desolate ruins where the holiest dwellings were;
In the place of the Ark where it is hidden, and in the place
Of the cherubim which abode in the innermost recesses.
Sometime in 1140 he set out on his pilgrimage to Jerusalem. Taking a small ship through the Mediterranean, his mind was focused on the goal of being in Jerusalem.
Beautiful height! O joy! the whole world’s gladness!
O great King’s city, mountain blest!
My soul is yearning unto thee—is yearning
From the limits of the west.
…
And who shall grant me, on the wings of eagles,
To rise and seek thee through the years,
Until I mingle with the dust beloved,
The waters of my tears?
…
Shall I not to the very stones be tender?
Shall I not kiss them verily?
Shall not the earth upon my lips taste sweeter
Than honey unto me?
He, of course, also wrote poems about the sea voyage.
My God, break not the breakers of the sea,
Nor say Thou to the deep, ’Be dry’–
Until I thank Thy mercies, and I thank
The waves of the sea and the wind of the west;
Let them waft me to the place of the yoke of Thy love,
And bear far from me the Arab yoke.
There often were storms at sea.
Hath the flood come again and made the world a waste
So that one cannot see the face of the dry land,
And no man is there and no beast and no bird?
…
But only water and sky and ark,
And Leviathan making the abyss to boil,
So that one deems the deep to be hoary.
…
And the sea rages and my soul exults—
For the sanctuary of her God, she draws near.
It was a lonely trip. Thus, it’s not surprising to see him remember – and even dwell upon – the family that he left behind; especially, his daughter and her children.
Even so far that I can forsake her that went forth of my loins,
Sister of my soul—and she mine only one—
And I can forget her son, though it pierces my heart,
And I have nothing left but his memory for a symbol—
Fruit of my loins, child of my delight.
Yet, he remained focused on the goal – Zion.
But all this is a light thing when set against Thy love,
Since I may enter Thy gates with thanksgiving,
And sojourn there, and count my heart as
A burnt offering bound upon your altar;
And may make my grave in Thy land,
So that it be there a witness for me.
…
I cry to God with a melting heart and knees that smite together,
While anguish is in all loins,
On a day when the oarsmen are astonished at the deep,
When even the pilots find not their hands.
How shall I be otherwise, since I, on a ship’s deck,
Suspended between waters and heavens,
Am dancing and tossed about? —Yet this is but a light thing,
If I may but hold the festal dance in the midst of thee, O Jerusalem!
…
Truly the secret of my quest is in the hand of the Highest,
Who forms the mountain heights and created the wind.
The sea voyage ended in Alexandra, Egypt on Sept 8, 1140. He was welcomed by the large Jewish community there.
Praise, above all cities, be unto Egypt
Whither came first the word of God.
…
Fate has tossed me into the wilderness of Egypt:
Bid it carry me away and toss me yet again
Until I behold the wilderness of Judah.
Not surprisingly, while in Egypt he recalls Moses, whose name comes up in several poems. Here’s one.
My God, the wonder of Thee is astir from age to age:
And here is the Nile for witness, that Thou hast turned it into blood,
Not by magic …
But by Thy name, by the hand of Moses.
The Jews of Egypt begged him to stay. They must have been quite convincing – or, at least, they kept him occupied with things to do – because, despite his quest for Zion, he remained in Egypt until May 14, 1141, when he finally left – to resume his journey to Zion. (No matter how much I ponder this episode, I remain astonished that he stayed in Egypt over 8 months, especially since he was on the doorstep of Zion. It’s a fact that will ever bother me, and also remind me that no matter how much we may try – we can never really get into another’s mind.)
Can bodies of clay
Be prison-houses
For hearts bound fast
To eagles’ wings—
For a man life weary
Whose whole desire
Is to lay his face
In the chosen dust?
…
To cast Spain from him
And seek shores beyond;
…
To seek forgiveness
At the peaceful graves
Of the ark and the tablets
That are buried there.
It was an auspicious time to be in Palestine. From the fall of 1140 to the summer of 1141 was a period of relative peace and quiet. The land was governed as the Crusader Kingdom of Jerusalem, which encompassed much of what today is the state of Israel. But, of course, Judah was a Jew, and Christian Crusaders had a notorious record of the indiscriminate slaughter of Jews in their wake as they were crossing Europe in their journey to liberate the Holy Land from the Muslims.
As fate would have it: Judah Halevi never got to test the relative peace of the Crusader Kingdom. How close he came to Jerusalem is unknown. All we know for sure is that he died on the way in 1141– probably in July or August.
The historian in me, therefore, expects me to end this story – right here. Done.
However, recalling all Judah went through, leaving his family, the storms at sea – the many, many Zionist poems, only a fraction of which I have quoted here – the Romantic side of me pleads that I bring up the legend that arose sometime after his death.
The legend says that Judah got as far as approaching the gates of Jerusalem. Then, while reciting his poem Ode to Zion – an Arab ran him through with a sword. In another version he was trampled by an Arab horseman. Hence, in either case, he fulfilled his dream of reaching Zion. But just reaching it. That’s all.
Since I may enter Thy gates with thanksgiving,
And sojourn there, and count my heart as
A burnt offering bound upon Your altar;
And may make my grave in Thy land,
So that it be there a witness for me.
I wish it were so. I do. But, as with most legends – this one probably isn’t true. He may not even have come close to Jerusalem.
In the end – and interestingly enough – Judah’s plight seemed to be echoing what happened to Moses in his yearning to see the Promised Land. It was just a quest. Only an (unfulfilled) quest.
Truly the secret of my quest is in the hand of the Highest,
Who formed the mountain heights and created the wind.
* * *
For English translations of his poems, I used: Selected Poems of Jehudah Halevi, edited by Heinrich Brody, trans. from the Hebrew by Nina Salaman (Philadelphia: The Jewish Publications Society of America, 1974).
The biography that I have is: The Life and Time of Jehudah Halevi, by Rudolf Kayser, trans. from the German by Frank Gaynor (New York: Philosophical Library, 1949). Kayser, incidentally, is a son-in-law (by marriage) of Albert Einstein.
Features
Elizabeth Taylor’s Jewish connection
By HANNON BELL (Special to jewishpostandnews.ca. All photos from Hannon Bell’s personal collection) Elizabeth Taylor’s Jewish connection may not be well known by the general public, but it played a significant role in her personal life, as well as in her film career.
Mike Todd, Eddie Fisher and Liz’s conversion to Judaism
In 1957, Jewish producer and promotor Mike Todd (whose real name was Avrom Goldbogen) was captivated by a then-25-year-old actress, Elizabeth Taylor, who had already had a long film career, shooting to fame with her star role in “National Velvet” when she was only 12.
By the time Taylor met Todd she had already been married twice before – to hotel magnate Nicky Hilton and British actor Michael Wilding.
Todd though, swept Taylor, with his charm and they married in Mexico in February 1957.
The marriage was attended by Taylor’s parents, Francis and Sara, as well as Todd’s best friend, singer Eddie Fisher, along with Fisher’s wife, actress Debbie Reynolds.
Unfortunately, the union (of which Elizabeth Taylor has said that of all her eight marriages, the ones to Todd and Richard Burton were the most meaningful) didn’t last long as Mike Todd was killed in a plane crash only one month after they were married. He was en route to New York from Los Angeles to attend a Friars Club testimonial dinner in his honour when his plane crashed in New Mexico while it was trying to fly through a storm – killing all onboard.
Ironically, Elizabeth was spared as she had a bad cold and was advised against the trip and chose to stay home.
In her bereavement, she sought out Todd’s best friend, Eddie Fisher.
With both of them seeking understanding and love over the loss of his friend and her husband, feelings went from comfort to love for one another.
The tide had turned and the dutiful widow had now become known as a home wrecker, upsetting the boundaries of America’s perfect couple, Eddie Fisher and pert Debbie Reynolds.
Prior to this though, Elizabeth had begun exploring Judaism during her brief marriage to Mike Todd.
To navigate her through this journey of discovery, Elizabeth studied with Rabbi Max Nussbaum.
In 1959, Elizabeth Taylor and Eddie Fisher were married in a civil and a Jewish ceremony – thus cementing her conversion to Judaism. Here is a photo showing Elizabeth with the Katuba (Jewish marriage certificate).
Discussing her long standing dream of conversion and finally realizing it, Taylor said, “It has nothing to do with any marriage plans. This is something I’ve wanted to do for a long time,” she told reporters.
For her conversion Elizabeth adopted the Hebrew name Elisheba Rachel, thus beginning her long devotion to Jewish causes, education and charitable causes.
“Cleopatra”
In perhaps her most famous role, as Cleopatra – in the film of the same name, because of her strong support for Israel, Elizabeth Taylor was not allowed into Egypt in 1962, where the film was scheduled to be partially shot.
As well, Arab nations also banned the showing of any of her films as a result of her conversion to Judaism.
That didn’t matter to Taylor – she could’t have cared less.
Ironically, Egyptians themselves were not able to see the movie about perhaps the most famous Egyptian of all time!
Eventually though, all was forgiven when, in September 1979 – following the signing of a peace accord between Egypt and Israel earlier that year, actress Elizabeth Taylor and 11 Israelis were honoured guests at the Fourth Cairo international Film Festival, which also marked the ending of the cultural boycott of Israel by Egypt.
It was during the festival that Elizabeth Taylor had a sit down with Egyptian President Anwar Sadat – at the presidential rest house in the Suez Canal city of Ismailia.
Devotion to Israel and the Jewish people
In my Elizabeth Taylor collection of over 100 catalogued binders with over 20,000 photos I document many instances of her devotion to Israel and the Jewish people.
In August 1975 Elizabeth Taylor, along with her then husband Richard Burton visited Israel.
A very meaningful moment occurred when Taylor touched the Wailing Wall in silent meditation.
In June of 1976 Elizabeth Taylor was honoured by the American Jewish Congress as an artist and humanitarian for her work in founding The Israeli War Victims Fund after the 1973 Yom Kippur War.
She was presented with her citation by Israeli Ambassador Shimcha Dinitz. Also pictured in a photo at the event is the President of the Congress, Rabbi Arthur Hertzberg.
It was around the same time as that event when she attended a reception where she met with Israeli Prime Minister Menachem Begin at the Waldorf Astoria Hotel in New York.
Begin referred to Elizabeth Taylor as a “good friend.”
Was that on a personal level or as a strong supporter of Israel?
I tend to believe it was the latter.
In 1977 Elizabeth received the Women’s Division of B’nai Brith’s humanitarian award at a special luncheon held by the Antidefamation League at New York’s St. Regis Hotel.
In May of 1979 Elizabeth attended the Israeli Bonds Dinner in New York.
As of 1979, Elizabeth Taylor had visited the State of Israel five times.
Elizabeth Taylor in films that had Jewish connections
“Love is Better Than Ever”
During the making of 1952’s “Love is Better Than Ever,” Elizabeth Taylor had just annulled her first marriage to Hilton Hotel heir Nicky Hilton when she became involved with the Jewish director of the film, Stanley Donen.
Elizabeth’s mother Sara is reported to have been unhappy and objected to the alliance due to the fact that Donen was Jewish.
“Ivanhoe”
In the 1952 film “Ivanhoe,” Elizabeth played the Jewish character Rebecca. One of the themes the film documents is antisemitism among the Normans and Ivanhoe’s friendship with the wealthy Jew Isaac and his daughter Rebecca.
“Victory at Entebbe”
On December 13, 1976, the movie “Victory at Entebbe” was aired on television in the U.S. The movie was based on true events surrounding the hijacking of Air France Flight 139 by Palestinian terrorists. The flight had departed from Tel Aviv and was headed to Paris when hijackers forced it to divert to Entebbe Airport in Uganda.
The story was close to Elizabeth’s heart and she said she participated in her small role as Edra Vilnovsky in “Victory at Entebbe” for the sake of her fellow Jewish people.
In the film she and costar Kirk Douglas played the Jewish parents of a 16-year-old girl held hostage at Entebbe.
An interesting side note worth mentioning is that Kirk Douglas was supposed to be on the same plane as Mike Todd the night it crashed in 1958. Douglas’s wife Anne had a strange premonition Kirk shouldn’t go on that flight. Fortunately for Anne Douglas, she was right.
“Genocide”
“Genocide” was a 1981 film released by the Simon Wiesenthal Centre. Writing in the New York Times, reviewer Janet Maslin noted that “Miss Taylor, whose narration is particularly simple and affecting, reads letters from victims of the Nazis, farewell to friends and loved ones and horrifying accounts by first hand observers.”
A reviewer in Variety commented that “ Genocide gains its greatest force as a film via Elizabeth Taylor’s emotional voice over of personal testimony by witnesses to the Holocaust terrors.
“A moving performance by Taylor conveys in human terms about a sober rendering of mere facts and figures cannot”.
The Krupp Diamond
Here’s another irony to Elizabeth Taylor’s life: In 1968 Richard Burton bought the famous Krupp diamond as a gift for his then-wife, Elizabeth Taylor.
This 33.19 carat stone was owned by Vera Krupp, whose husband was a Nazi munitions magnate.
Taylor described the the acquisition thusly: “I think it fitting and charming that a nice little Jewish girl like me has ended up with the Baron’s rock.”
In closing
Elizabeth Taylor’s love and fierce dedication to Judaism is something to be admired as she put her heart and soul into the many Jewish causes she supported.
When Elizabeth Taylor passed away on March 23, 2011 she was buried as per Jewish ritual.
May her memory be a blessing
About the author:
Throughout his life Hannon Bell has had many interests and passions.
As an actor he has performed on stage, on film, and on radio.
As a singer and songwriter he has written over 26 songs and won two lyric awards from the American Song Festival.
As a model in his younger days he won a TV commercial award at the Modelling Association of America Convention and Competition in NYC. The award was given to him by Christie Brinkley.
But, more than anything Hannon Bell is probably best known as the owner of the world’s largest collection of Elizabeth Taylor memorabilia.
It all started when, as a teenager in 1963, Bell saw the film “Cleopatra.”
HIs passion turned into a lifelong dedication so much so that Bell is considered an expert on all things Elizabeth Taylor.
Having compiled and catalogued Taylor’s life and career in over 100 binders with over 20,000 photos and more, Bell has earned a reputation as not only a huge fan of Elizabeth Taylor, but also an expert on her life and career.
He has been consulted as a source by authors Kitty Kelly and C. David Heymann, both of whom have written biographies of Elizabeth Taylor.
Bell has been mentioned or featured in: People, Look, Scoop, the National Enquirer, Midnight Magazine, Toronto Star, Vancouver Sun, Winnipeg Tribune, Winnipeg Free Press and Winnipeg Sun.
He has written four songs about Elizabeth Taylor and, according to author C. David Heymann, was the inspiration for the naming of Passion Perfume in 1987. In a letter Taylor wrote to Bell in 1975, she asked him to send her two of his custom T Shirts that had on them the inscription: “HANNON’S PASSION – ELIZABETH TAYLOR.”
After working with Heymann on his biography of Taylor, titled “LIZ,” Hemanann sent Hannon a copy of the book with the signed inscription,”to Hannon, who has the finest Elizabeth Taylor collection in the world.”
Features
Previews of this year’s Fringe Festival shows that have some sort of Jewish connection (no matter how tenuous)
By BERNIE BELLAN (originally posted July 12, amended July 14 & 15) As has been our custom for many years now we try to find shows that have either Jewish performers, themes that would have particular appeal for Jewish audiences…or simply shows where someone contacted me and asked for a plug!
This year’s Fringe Festival runs from July 15-26. For show dates and venues go to winnipegfringe.com.
In no particular order here are blurbs about the shows we’ve found that fit our somewhat arbitrary criteria. (By they way, if we’ve omitted a show that should be included in our list there’s plenty of time to get added to this post. Just drop me a line at jewishp@mymts.net.)
One of the Fringe’s perennial favourites, Alli Perlov is back yet again making great fun of a very popular movie – in this case it’s “Toy Story.”
Here’s what the blurb in the progam says about her show:
Adam Schwartz first appeared at the Winnipeg Fringe Festival in 2013 – in a one-man show. Since then, Adam has gone on to appear in – and produce shows featuring other neurodiverse artists in succeeding years. Adam wrote us: “This summer I am shooting my comedy special. This is a project I’ve been working on for 16 years and I believe is the first Canadian autistic comedy special exploring life. It explores issues like early and late diagnosis, support workers as well as accommodation I have received.”
Another veteran performer on the Fringe circuit, Melanie Gall is returning for her 13th season at the Winnipeg Fringe Festival.
Randy Ross is also back this year. Here’s what Randy wrote us: “I’ll be back at the Winnipeg fringe in July with a new show, ‘How Much Can You Change for Someone You Love?’
Winnipegger Nicholas Rice is a veteran of the Winnipeg theatre scene. He has appeared in five Winnipeg Jewish Theatre productions over the years. This year will mark Nicholas’s second time appearing in a Winnipeg Fringe Festival show. His first appearance, two years ago, was in a show also called “A Side of Rice” but, in chatting with Nicholas he told me this new show,”Another Side of Rice,” will be completely different from that first show.
During the show, Nicholas said, he “will tell three different stories” from different parts of his life. The first story will relate an experience he had at Sir John Franklin School (which no longer exits). The second story will be about an experience Nicholas had while teaching in Toronto where, he says, one of his students, upon finding out Nicholas was Jewish, told him that he “would burn in hell.”
The third story will also be set in Toronto. The show will last 70 minutes, Nicholas added.
Rudi stands outside his father’s study in Paraguay, struggling to find the courage to go in. It’s been seven years since he left after uncovering the truth: that his father was a doctor at Auschwitz.
Haunted by a past he didn’t create but can’t escape, Rudi is forced to grapple with the legacy of his father’s crimes and search for a way to live with the weight of inherited guilt. Another tour-de-force script from acclaimed Canadian playwright Hannah Moscovitch, whose powerful and provocative work continues to captivate audiences worldwide.
On July 15 we received an email from someone by the name of Jillian Birdie Burke. Here’s part of what Burdie wrote: “My name is Birdie Burke, I am a Jewish artist and I’m one of the producers and performers of A Kid Napping, a new comedy is coming to the Winnipeg, Saskatoon, and Victoria Fringe Festivals this summer – from the same duo who brought you last year’s award-winning BRAIN.
“ Kid Napping follows two well-meaning but wildly incompetent ex-convicts whose kidnapping plan goes spectacularly wrong when they accidentally find themselves caring for a room full of kindergarteners.
“As part of the production, we’re also donating proceeds from our sales to local children’s organizations in each city we visit.
“For Winnipeg we’ll be focusing on Rossbrook Kids and the Rainbow Resources team.”
Okay – now here is where we start to get away from previewing Jewish performers, but I’ll explain in each case why I’ve included a particular show.
Safe Sex is a collection of three one-act plays written by Harvey Fierstein who is Jewish, but had said that “although he does not believe in God, he prays three or four times each day.”
“As one of the first openly gay celebrities in the United States, Fierstein helped turn gay and lesbian life into a viable subject for contemporary drama.”
Now, since Harvey Fierstein grew up in New York – a very Jewish city, when we were contacted by someone by the name of Charlie Hume who said he was an actor and producer with a company called Starr Street Productions – based in New York City, we had to ask him whether there was any Jewish connection?
Charlie replied: “Perhaps unfortunately, the show is written and performed by Catholics. I would say that our company’s greatest connection to Judaism is that we all studied together at The Lee Strasberg Theater and Film Institute. Lee Strasberg- if you’re not familiar- was a legendary Jewish acting coach who was instrumental in revolutionizing theater and the performing arts in New York City and beyond. We walk in the footsteps of Lee and many other Jewish cultural leaders, who have long been among the most steadfast supporters of the arts in America.”
Well, that’s good enough for me. Here’s a description of their play:
Finally – and this one really is a stretch – three days ago we were speaking to Reverend Don James, who is the National Development Director at Bridges for Peace (an organization that has close ties to our Jewish community) when Don happened to mention that his daughter, Hilary, is producing a Fringe show that has something to do with a Fleetwood Mac record album. (Apparently Don had never heard of “Rumors” because he didn’t know what the name of the album was. Oy!)
So I said to Don: “Have your daugher contact me and I’ll give her a blurb.” Well, she hasn’t contacted me yet, but I’m giving her a blurb – whether she wants one or not!
