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Wild pitch: How an Israeli kibbutznik became a Cincinnati Reds pitching coach
KIBBUTZ GEZER, Israel (JTA) — Bill James, the influential baseball writer, historian and statistician, once described the great Yankee first baseman Don Mattingly in only four words: “100% ballplayer, 0% bulls—.”
The same can be said of Alon Leichman, by all accounts the first athlete born and raised in Israel to make it to the major leagues, having just been named assistant pitching coach of the Cincinnati Reds.
Under manager David Bell, Leichman will help instruct the team’s pitchers — including Chase Anderson, Luis Cessa, Fernando Cruz, Alexis Díaz and Hunter Greene — on mechanics, pitch selection, preparation, concentration and execution.
His journey has been unlikely, verging on preposterous: How could someone from Israel, where baseball is barely an afterthought, step out of the wheat fields of a kibbutz to the highest level of baseball in the world?
The 33-year-old Leichman is the product of Kibbutz Gezer, the youngest child born to two idealists who grew up in Zionist youth groups and helped found this kibbutz in central Israel in the 1970s together with other Anglo — that is, English-speaking — Zionists.
But David, Alon’s father, couldn’t leave it all behind in Queens, New York. He was a baseball fan, a big baseball fan — “I always knew that if, God forbid, there’s a fire in my house, I know where my baseball glove is” — and one day, he and his fellow kibbutz residents had an idea: Why don’t we cut off a slice of the wheat crop and construct a regulation-sized field in the southwest corner of the kibbutz, where we can all go play when we get off work?
That was 1983, and there wasn’t a single baseball or softball field in all of Israel So David, who was in charge of construction on the kibbutz (Alon’s mother, Miri, is the kibbutz rabbi), built his field of dreams, just 450 yards from his front door and in the shadow of the 4,000-year-old archaeological site that gives Gezer its name.
And that’s where Alon Leichman grew up, first brought to the field by his father for the 1989 Maccabiah Games, five weeks after Alon was born on May 29.
“I never related to that field as the place my dad built,” Leichman said. “It was a field that was on the kibbutz. Growing up, everyone around me played — my older brother played, and all my friends, a little older than me, played.
David Leichman, left, stands behind the backstop at the baseball field he helped build at Kibbutz Gezer in Israel, where his son Alon, right, learned the game that has brought him to the major leagues. (Elli Wohlgelernter)
“I remember — I was 4, in gan [pre-kindergarten], and I would walk to the baseball field and practice. I vividly remember being in the gan and going to practice. But baseball on the kibbutz is just something that I grew into. Everyone did it; I was not special, just another kid who played. I happened to love it a lot.”
So he played and played and got better and better. By age 10, he was on the team representing Israel at a tournament in the Netherlands. But baseball in Israel back then was in its infancy, and there was not enough money to pay for the team to travel. So Leichman had to work extra hours to get the kibbutz to fly him over.
Not that he wasn’t used to working — like all kibbutz members, he was already contributing by third grade. But now he had to put in extra hours, picking olives or milking cows, to make the extra money.
“I liked milking cows,” he recalled. “Sometimes it’s hard work, but I got more of a kick out of it than hitting an olive tree” to shake loose the olives.
Leichman remembers well that tournament in Holland, the first time he wore the Israeli uniform representing his country abroad.
“It was really cool,” he recalled. “A sense of pride. That’s the first time I think I felt like: ‘You’re not just Alon, you’re not just representing the kibbutz anymore — you’re representing a whole country.’
“I knew back then that Israel was not on the best terms [with] the world. So it was something that I was aware of: that part of our job of playing baseball is also making sure that these guys get to know Israelis other than what they hear on the news and show them that, you know, we’re good people.”
The 5’-8” right-hander kept playing, kept improving and kept representing Israel at tournaments. He played in the one-season Israel Baseball League in 2007 as the second-youngest player, served in the Israeli army from 2007 to 2010, and then headed to the states to play college ball at two schools, Cypress College and the University of California, San Diego.
In his first appearance at Cypress, his elbow blew out, and he needed what’s known as “Tommy John surgery” to repair a torn ulnar ligament inside the elbow. Then he got hurt again and had a second Tommy John surgery. But when he got hurt a third time, and the doctor said he needed to go under the knife yet again, Leichman knew that his hopes for a professional playing career were over.
But not before proving to himself that he had what it takes.
“I know I was good in Israel. I knew that. But I had no idea how I would fare coming to the States. I thought I could fare [well] there, but I really never knew because I had never faced those types of hitters. And then, in my first game, I did really well for two and a third innings, four strikeouts. No one got on. It was 1-2-3, 1-2-3, and then I got the first guy out in the ninth. And on a one-two fastball, my elbow popped. So it was like, ‘Okay, I can do this here.’”
His love for the game never left him, and Leichman grew into an insightful and intuitive coach. His expertise and aptitude were self-evident.
Various jerseys from Alon Leichman’s baseball career are displayed on the wall of his family’s home at Kibbutz Gezer, Israel. (Elli Wohlgelernter)
“Alon will be a big-league coach one day,” pitcher and teammate Alex Katz said three years ago. “It’s hard to get a coaching job in affiliate ball without professional experience, let alone non-affiliated experience. But he’s just one of the most intelligent baseball minds I’ve ever been around. And he’s young.”
Leichman said his strength is “helping guys get better. Communicating with them. Being able to relate to them. Getting on their level. Simplifying it for them. And being creative and finding ways to throw more strikes.”
Despite the surgeries, Leichman could still pitch, if he did it sparingly. He joined Israel’s World Baseball Classic teams of 2012, 2016 and 2017 as a player or coach; pitched for the European Baseball Championship team in 2019; threw in the Olympic qualifying tournaments in 2019; and hurled one perfect inning against Team USA at the Olympics in 2021 in Tokyo. Along the way, he also earned a black belt in jujitsu.
But coaching was his future, and after being given a chance in 2017 to instruct in the Seattle Mariners farm system, Leichman kept moving up, from Single A to Double AA to Triple AAA, before being grabbed by the Reds to join their major league staff this season.
His father is overwhelmed. “It’s unbelievable,” David Leichman said. “I’m still shaking and crying to myself about how wonderful this has been. It’s really amazing.”
Alon is no less shell-shocked, having agreed to sign a contract with the Reds on the same day the New York Mets asked to interview him about a potential job.
“It’s not really sinking in yet, to be honest,” he said while in Israel recently to visit his family on Gezer. “But it’s definitely a dream come true, something I’ve been dreaming about since I’m a little kid. Obviously, I wanted to be there as a player, but once I got hurt and realized that playing was not an option anymore, I started pursuing coaching. I wanted to do it at the highest level. The dream remained; it just took a different route. But it’s still as exciting.”
Leichman is still undecided on whether to join Team Israel’s coaching staff in Florida for the WBC in March before heading back to Goodyear, Arizona, to rejoin the Reds in spring training. But this product of the wheat fields of Gezer won’t ever forget from where he’s come: His uniform numeral, 29, is a constant reminder. It’s his laundry tag number at the kibbutz.
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The post Wild pitch: How an Israeli kibbutznik became a Cincinnati Reds pitching coach appeared first on Jewish Telegraphic Agency.
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Rock legend Steven Van Zandt’s new gig: Holocaust education
(JTA) — Steven Van Zandt is worried about the Jews.
“There is that pre-Holocaust vibe,” the Rock and Roll Hall of Famer told the Jewish Telegraphic Agency recently about what he sees on social media, where he is a prolific user. “They spread lies around year after year after year, and if you say something often enough, people start to believe it.
“And that’s what happened that led to the Holocaust in the first place, and that’s what’s going on now.”
For a man equally beloved for his longtime work with Bruce Springsteen in the E Street Band and his role as Silvio on HBO’s “The Sopranos,” such a detour might seem unusual. But Van Zandt is looking to make his own mark in the world of Holocaust education, via his education initiative TeachRock, which since 2013 has provided K-12 lesson plans on a range of subjects built around popular music.
Titled “Jewish Heritage and the Holocaust: Exploring an Enduring Culture Through Music,” the initiative’s four-day lesson plan, launched this week, includes the onset of antisemitism in prewar Europe, survivor testimony and Jewish values. Anchoring the lessons are rock songs from the likes of KISS, the half-Jewish glam metal band, beloved Jewish folk singer Leonard Cohen and contemporary New York pop band Lawrence, which is fronted by two Jewish siblings.
It’s a departure from the somber tone of most Holocaust education programs, a space that the Jewish community has heavily invested in despite mounting questions about the effectiveness of such lessons in curbing antisemitism. Other contemporary Holocaust learning initiatives have employed video games, artificial intelligence and similarly novel approaches as educators struggle to adapt to a near future without living survivors to share their testimonies.
For Van Zandt, the lessons aren’t just teaching about the Holocaust, but also about highlighting positive Jewish influence in the world of popular culture. He rattled off a list of Jewish artists he admires, including Bob Dylan and the pop songwriting team Lieber and Stoller.
“I have a lot of gratitude for what they have contributed to my life, just in terms of enjoyment,” he said. “Show business doesn’t exist without the Jewish contributions.”
The guitarist founded TeachRock in 2013 alongside other big names from the world of music and the arts, including Springsteen, U2 frontman Bono, Jackson Browne and the director Martin Scorsese. On Thursday, the organization piloted its new Holocaust education lesson plan to 50 high school students at the Florida Holocaust Museum in St. Petersburg, timed to the state’s Holocaust Education Week. Florida’s Holocaust education task force is promoting the material to districts across the state.
“We always want to be educating in a way that feels like you’re not being taught. And I think this captures that,” Michael Igel, a contributing author on the TeachRock lesson plan who also chairs the statewide task force, told JTA.
For Igel, a descendant of survivors, the project fits neatly into his own efforts to bring Holocaust education into unconventional spaces. He’s planning future courses that incorporate food and theater.
“It’s still standards-based Holocaust education. But it’s being delivered to students in these different portals,” he said.
It was through Igel’s promotion of such nontraditional methods that he was approached by a member of TeachRock’s leadership council a year ago. TeachRock had recently been looking to offer lessons on Jewish heritage, and saw an opportunity to broach the subject of the Holocaust through Igel.
A huge E Street Band fan, Igel laughed as he recalled how the council member asked him if he had ever heard of Van Zandt.
The first of the curriculum’s four days opens with students listening to “Rock and Roll All Nite,” the 1975 hit by rock band KISS, before segueing into Jewish life in prewar Europe and the rise of antisemitism.
Igel noted the unique nature of the lesson. “When Gene Simmons with his tongue out is the first thing you see, you’re wondering, ‘What the heck happened to Holocaust education?’” he said.

Gradually the link becomes clear: The lesson explains that KISS frontman Gene Simmons is the son of a Holocaust survivor. Much of the curriculum is built around similar ideas of Jewish survival and resilience, as students are asked to contemplate how Simmons’ family background may have informed his outré stage persona. (Co-founder Paul Stanley is also Jewish.)
Such concepts, he said, help expand the idea of a Holocaust lesson beyond Jews as “victims in a snapshot of time.” In teacher training sessions, educators have responded well to the musical framing and excitedly discussed which songs they would want to pass down to future generations — a positive sign for Igel, who hopes to convince teachers to use the curriculum even outside of the state-mandated Holocaust Education Week lessons.
While Van Zandt, who is not Jewish, doesn’t craft the curriculum himself, he is friends with Simmons and the two have spoken before about wanting to use music to teach Jewish history. Max Weinberg, the E Street Band’s longtime drummer, is also Jewish.
The initiative comes at a moment when the world of popular music, like many other cultural sectors, has become engulfed in controversy over Israel. A recent dustup involved Ed Sheeran and Macklemore, in which Jewish venue owner Robert Kraft pressured Sheeran to drop the rapper from his tour over his onstage pro-Palestinian activism. That prompted many artists to support Macklemore, including Jewish actor Ilana Glazer, who spoke at one of his “Free Palestine” tour stops. Several leading musicians, including Lorde, Paramore and Björk, have also signed pledges to boycott Israel over its conduct in Gaza, while others including Pink and Boy George have taken opposite tracks.
All of this discourages Van Zandt, who famously led an international artist boycott of the South African resort venue Sun City in 1985 to protest Apartheid. The artists now backing the Boycott, Divestment Sanctions movement targeting Israel have cited the Sun City protests as a direct inspiration. (Sun City itself was founded by Sol Kerzner, the son of Jewish Russian immigrants.)
But Van Zandt says the two causes are different.
“Yes, I am known as the boycott king of the world,” he said. “It’s not the same situation. Trying to deny weapons for Israel to defend itself is obscene. It’s ridiculous. It’s terrible.”
He has feuded with Roger Waters, the Pink Floyd co-founder and outspoken pro-Palestinian activist, over BDS.
“I wrote him a very nice, detailed letter saying that it was misconceived, it’s a mistake, it’s not going to accomplish anything,” Van Zandt recalled. “I was very nice to him. Very diplomatic, very respectful. And then he starts just calling me names in the press.” (Waters has directed expletives at Van Zandt and other contemporaries who disagree with him about Israel in interviews.)
Igel, too, is thinking about how TeachRock’s lessons can address contemporary discourse over Israel, a subject that many Holocaust educators often are reluctant to bring up in the classroom even when students press the topic. His curriculum defines what a genocide is — “for a generation that needs to know what that word means, and what it doesn’t mean,” he said.
Following this week’s pilot program, both Igel and Van Zandt hope states beyond Florida will take an interest in their lessons. The rock star has ambitious goals for the initiative: to try to change the national conversation around Jews and Israel that has filled his social media feeds, which he describes as “lies on top of lies.”
“Eventually there’s got to be a national public conversation about this, which is not taking place,” he said. “So eventually it’s going to have to be. At that point, all bets are off.”
This article originally appeared on JTA.org.
The post Rock legend Steven Van Zandt’s new gig: Holocaust education appeared first on The Forward.
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Were Leopold and Loeb inspired by Nietzsche, or Jewish self-loathing?
Any production of Patrick Hamilton’s popular thriller Rope, like any game of Clue, can be reduced to props, setting and culprits.
The central prop is a large chest, containing a freshly-murdered body. The setting can vary: Mayfair in Hamilton’s 1929 original, Manhattan in Alfred Hitchcock’s 1948 screen adaptation starring Jimmy Stewart. The names of the players are sometimes different, but there are always two students in their finely-appointed apartment with the titular murder weapon.
Gordon Greenberg’s new adaptation, now playing off-Broadway at the New Group’s space at St. Clement’s, presents a novel clue as to what prompted the crime: a Christmas tree upstage right. In his take on this “well-made play,” which Greenberg believes has its deficiencies, the central characters, inspired by University of Chicago students Nathan Leopold and Richard Loeb, are once again Jewish, but doing their best to conceal that fact.
Hamilton, who wrote his play shortly after Leopold and Loeb’s conviction, was struck by the men’s alleged lack of motive, beyond a desire to pull off the perfect crime based on their nihilistic misreading of Friedrich Nietzsche’s philosophy. Greenberg doesn’t buy that the killing was dispassionate, and believes a crisis of identity was at play.
“What drew me to it was thinking about what the factors might have been that went into this murder that I personally find hard to believe was just theoretical,” said Greenberg, a director and playwright, who recently revived Joseph Stein and Stephen Schwartz’s The Baker’s Wife off-Broadway. “I don’t think anyone does anything for purely theoretical reasons. We can extrapolate them later, but in the moment we are going on gut impulses and human needs and sexuality and jealousy and all of these fiery emotional poles that make us human.”
Greenberg, who is gay and Jewish, had long been fascinated by the Leopold and Loeb case, wondering what led two well-bred, cerebral Jews to commit a supposedly “motiveless” murder. (In the real crime, notably fictionalized in Meyer Levin’s Compulsion, Nathan Leopold and Richard Loeb killed a 14-year-old boy, Robert Franks; in Rope, they kill a wealthy classmate.)

Hamilton’s play, which Greenberg found to be “antiseptic,” de-Judaized and stripped of queerness, is not concerned with the “why” of the killing.
His murderers, Brandon, described as “tall, finely and athletically built, and blonde” and Granillo, “a Spaniard” with the “shrug of the shoulders characteristic of his race,” are in it for the thrill. They convene a dinner party and serve the meal on the chest containing their victim, certain they won’t be caught.
In Greenberg’s version, set in 1957 Manhattan, Brandon is Garret Stern (Cameron Monahan), a working-class striver who declaims, in a break of the fourth wall, that he “wants to be mistaken for the son of assimilated German Jews, not the shtetl Jews with bent vowels and calloused hands from whom he actually descends.” (As part of the ruse, he’s abandoned his given name of Gary.)
Granillo is now Nate Singer (Corey Fogelmanis), the Yekke scion of a garment district macher who, to his upwardly-mobile mother’s delight, “can almost pass for gentile.” Both are students at Princeton and plan to drop the body back in Jersey after their macabre dinner party.

Like the real Leopold and Loeb, they are also involved sexually and sadomasochistically. Greenberg says he was partially inspired by Tom Kalin’s 1992 film Swoon, which revisited the killers through a queer lens.
Nate’s instilled self-hatred likely feeds into his desire to be dominated by Garret, whose rough upbringing as a Jew in postwar Skokie taught him the utility of violence. (His school principal praised him for breaking a boy’s nose, saying “your people aren’t exactly known for defending themselves.”)
Greenberg, who said that, as an actor he played “every Herb Gardner and Neil Simon play around,” chose to move the action up to the era Lavender Scare and a resurgence of casual, clubby antisemitism following the “chemotherapy of World War II” that briefly put it into remission.
Nate and Garret’s guests, for their post-Christmas shindig, whose centerpiece is a chest containing a corpse, include a polished, pedigreed classmate; a droll Sarah Lawrence student; their closeted professor, who will catch them in the lie; and a Mayflower-descendant judge who happens to be the father of Ronald Kentley, the deceased.
Driving the boys’ motive and cue for passion is Nate’s tormented attraction to Ronald, who he fears might out him and land him on McCarthy’s list. Garret is jealous, but sees an opportunity: In bumping Ronald off, he hopes to take his place as the judge’s surrogate son, gaining entry to the patrician world to which he aspires.
But their guests’ routine macroaggressions show the futility of trying to overcome their backgrounds. The Christmas tree is fooling no one. Greenberg is similarly unconvinced that Leopold and Loeb’s murder was merely a Nietzschean performance, undertaken to prove that morality need not apply to superior intellects.
“No one really knows what was going through their mind, and no one ever will,” Greenberg said of Leopold and Loeb’s crime. “But taking one of these fascinating true crime stories and positing what the humanity is behind it, what’s all the flesh on the bone, is to me the fascination and the fun exercise.”
The post Were Leopold and Loeb inspired by Nietzsche, or Jewish self-loathing? appeared first on The Forward.
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Documentary reveals composer Dmitri Shostakovich’s empathy for the Jews
אין רוסלאַנד איז לעצטנס אַרויס אַ דאָקומענטאַר רעזשיסירט פֿון גריגאָרי אילוגדין, מיטן נאָמען „DSCH: סימפֿאָניע נומער 13‟, וועגן דעם וועלט־באַרימטן קאָמפּאָזיטאָר דמיטרי שאָסטאַקאָוויטש און די ייִדן. כאָטש ער איז נישט געווען קיין ייִד, האָט ער געשאַפֿן מוזיק פֿאַר ייִדישע לידער און געווידמעט זײַן 13טער סימפֿאָניע דעם חורבן פֿון די ייִדן.
מיט דער אַברעוויאַטור DSCH, וואָס פֿיגורירט אינעם טיטל פֿונעם דאָקומענטאַר, פֿלעגט שאָסטאַקאָוויטש אונטערשרײַבן זײַנע נאָטן. מיינען מיינט עס D. Schostakowitsch. דאָס ווייסן, מסתּמא, אַלע מוזיקער, וועלכע שפּילן זײַנע ווערק. ווייניקער איז אָבער באַקאַנט דעם קאָמפּאָזיטאָרס שײַכות נישט בלויז צו ייִדישע טעמעס אין אַלגעמיין, נאָר דווקא צו ייִדיש. געוויינטלעך זינגט מען אויס זײַנע ייִדישע לידער בלויז אין דער רוסישער איבערזעצונג; אויף דער וועבזײַט „ייִדיש־קולטור‟ קענט איר זיי אויסהערן אויף ייִדיש.
אין פּעטערבורג איז די פּרעמיערע פֿונעם פֿילם פֿאָרגעקומען אינעם קינאָ־טעאַטער „אַווראָראַ‟, וווּ שאָסטאַקאָוויטש האָט אין די 1920ער יאָרן אָנגעהויבן זײַן מוזיקאַלישע קאַריערע ווי אַ יונגער פּיאַניסט, וועלכער האָט אַקאָמפּאָנירט שטומע פֿילמען. דער אַלטער קינאָ־טעאַטער, געעפֿנט אין 1913, האָט דעמאָלט געהייסן „פּיקאַדילי‟.
אין 1961 האָט דער רוסישער דיכטער יעווגעני יעווטושענקאָ אָנגעשריבן זײַן קורצע פּאָעמע „באַבי־יאַר‟ וועגן דעם טרויעריק־באַקאַנטן אָרט אין קיִעוו, וווּ די נאַציס האָבן אומגעבראַכט איבער 100 טויזנט מענטשן, אַרײַנגערעכנט צום ווייניקסטן 33,771 ייִדן. די פּאָעמע הייבט זיך אָן מיט די ווערטער „אויף באַבי־יאָר זײַנען קיין דענקמעלער נישטאָ‟. דאָ ציטיר איך יוסף רובינשטיינס ייִדישע איבערזעצונג, וועלכע איז דערשינען דעם 8טן אָקטאָבער, 1961, אינעם פֿאָרווערטס.
שאָסטאַקאָוויטש, דעמאָלט שוין וועלט־באַרימט, האָט באַשלאָסן צו שאַפֿן אַ סימפֿאָניע מיט אַ באַס־זינגער, אַ באַסן־כאָר און אַן אָרקעסטער, וווּ עס ווערט אויסגעזונגען די דאָזיקע פּאָעמע, און האָט עס פֿאַרענדיקט אין 1962. יעווטושענקאָ האָט ספּעציעל פֿאַר דער סימפֿאָניע אָנגעשריבן נאָך אַ ליד מיטן נאָמען „פּחדים‟. אין דעצעמבער 1962 האָט מען צום ערשטן מאָל אויסגעשפּילט שאָסטאַקאָוויטשעס 13טע סימפֿאָניע אין מאָסקווע, און אין מאַרץ 1963 אין מינסק.
דער פֿילם דערציילט, פֿאַר וואָס שאָסטאַקאָוויטש האָט זיך בײַם אָנהייב אָנגעטראָפֿן אויף גרויסע שוועריקייטן מיט אָט דעם ווערק. לויט דער סאָוועטישער שיטה איז געווען פּאָליטיש אומקאָרעקט צו דערמאָנען די טראַגעדיע פֿון באַבי־יאַר אין שײַכות באַזונדערס צו ייִדן, ווײַל דאָרטן זענען דערמאָרדעט געוואָרן – און, קוואַנטיטאַוו גערעכנט, מער ווי ייִדן – אויך סאָוועטישע געפֿאַנגענע און אַנדערע מענטשן. דערצו, האָט מען פֿאַרשוויגן די ראָלע פֿון די אוקראַיִנישע קאָלאַבאָראַנטן אין דער מאַסן־שחיטה.
די טעמע פֿונעם ייִדן־חורבן האָט מען בכלל אויסגעמיטן, ווײַל מצד דעם אָפֿיציעלן קוקווינקל זענען ייִדן געווען אַ רעלאַטיוו קליינער טייל צווישן די 26 מיליאָן אומגעקומענע סאָוועטישע בירגער. קיין דענקמעלער זענען אין באַבי־יאַר טאַקע נישט געווען ביז 1976, ווען מע האָט אויפֿגעשטעלט אַ מאָנומענט לזכּרון די דערמאָרדעטע „בירגער פֿון דער שטאָט קיִעוו און קריגס־געפֿאַנגענע‟. ערשט אין 1991 האָט זיך דאָרט באַוויזן אַ באַזונדערער ייִדישער דענקמאָל, און נאָך שפּעטער, אין 2016, אַ ציגײַנערישער.
אינעם דאָקומענטאַר ווערט דערמאָנט שאָסטאַקאָוויטשעס שײַכות צו דער ייִדישער שפּראַך. אין 1948, ווען אין סטאַלינס צײַטן האָבן אַ סך ייִדן געליטן פֿון רדיפֿות כּלומרשט צוליב זייער נאַציאָנאַליזם, האָט שאָסטאַקאָוויטש געשאַפֿן זײַן לידער־ציקל (אָפּוס נומער 79) „פֿון דער ייִדישער פֿאָלקס־פּאָעזיע‟, באַגרינדעט אויף יחזקאל דאָברושינס און אַבֿרהם יודיצקיס זאַמלונג „ייִדישע פֿאָלקס־לידער‟ (פֿאַרעפֿנטלעכט אינעם יאָר 1940 אין מאָסקווע).
איר קאָנט זיך באַקענען פּרטימדיק מיטן דאָזיקן ציקל פֿון שאָסטאַקאָוויטשן אויף ייִדיש און ענגליש אויף דער וועבזײַט „ייִדיש־קולטור‟, וועלכע האָט, ווי פֿריִער געזאָגט, אַ געוויסע שײַכות צום נײַעם דאָקומענטאַר. דער גרינדער פֿון דער דאָזיקער וועבזײַט, ד״ר מאַרק זילבערקוויט, איז אויך דער פּראָדוסער פֿונעם פֿילם. אילוגדין, דער רעזשיסאָר, האָט מיך פּערזענלעך פֿאַרבעטן אויף דער פּעטערבורגער פּרעמיערע פֿונעם נײַעם דאָקומענטאַר ווי אַ ייִדיש־שפּראַכיקן זשורנאַליסט. ער האָט מיר איבערגעגעבן, אַז ייִדיש שפּילט פֿאַר אים אויך אַ גרויסע ראָלע און ער האָפֿט ווײַטער צו פּאָפּולאַריזירן ר די שפּראַך.
וואָס שייך דער קאָמפּליצירטער באַציִונג פֿונעם ראַטן־פֿאַרבאַנד צו ייִדישע טעמעס איז כּדאַי צוצוגעבן, אַז אין 1961, דאָס זעלבע יאָר וואָס יעווטושענקאָ האָט אָנגעשריבן „באַבי־יאַר‟, האָט זיך אין מאָסקווע געעפֿנט דער ייִדישער ליטעראַרישער זשורנאַל „סאָוועטיש היימלאַנד‟. דאָרט און אין דער סאָוועטיש־ייִדישער ליטעראַטור בכלל האָט מען יאָ באַהאַנדלט דעם ייִדן־חורבן.
איין וויכטיקע זאַך ווערט נישט דערמאָנט אינעם פֿילם: ווען שאָסטאַקאָוויטש האָט געשריבן זײַן 13טע סימפֿאָניע, מיט וועלכע ייִדישע שרײַבער און דיכטער האָט ער זיך געחבֿרט? דער ענטפֿער וואָלט טאַקע געווען גוט צו וויסן.
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