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From ‘how to’ to ‘why bother?’: Michael Strassfeld writes a new guide to being Jewish
(JTA) — “What the son wishes to forget the grandson wishes to remember.” That’s known as Hansen’s Law, named for the historian Marcus Lee Hansen, who observed that while the children of immigrants tend to run away from their ethnicity in order to join the mainstream, the third generation often wants to learn the “old ways” of their grandparents.
In 1973, “The Jewish Catalog” turned Hansen’s Law into a “do-it-yourself kit” for young Jews who wanted to practice the traditions of their grandparents but weren’t exactly sure how. Imagine “The Joy of Cooking,” but instead of recipes the guide to Jewish living had friendly instructions for hosting Shabbat, building a sukkah and taking part in Jewish rituals from birth to death. Co-edited by Michael Strassfeld, Sharon Strassfeld and the late Richard Siegel, it went on to sell 300,000 copies and remains in print today.
Fifty years later, Rabbi Michael Strassfeld has written a new book that he calls a “bookend” to “The Jewish Catalog.” If the first book is a Jewish “how to,” the latest asks, he says, “why bother?” “Judaism Disrupted: A Spiritual Manifesto for the 21st Century” asserts that an open society and egalitarian ethics leave most Jews skeptical of the rituals and beliefs of Jewish tradition. In the face of this resistance, he argues that the purpose of Judaism is not obedience to Torah and its rituals for their own sake or mere “continuity,” but to “encourage and remind us to strive to live a life of compassion, loving relationships, and devotion to our ideals.”
Strassfeld, 73, grew up in an Orthodox home in Boston and got his master’s degree in Jewish studies at Brandeis University. Coming to doubt the “faith claims” of Orthodoxy, he became a regular at nearby Havurat Shalom, an “intentional community” that pioneered the havurah movement’s liberal, hands-on approach to traditional practice. He earned rabbinical ordination from the Reconstructionist Rabbinical College when he was 41 and went on to serve as the rabbi of Congregation Ansche Chesed on the Upper West Side and later the Society for the Advancement of Judaism, the Manhattan flagship of Reconstructionist Judaism.
“To be disrupted is to experience a break with the past and simultaneously reconnect in a new way to that past,” writes Strassfeld, who retired from the pulpit in 2015. This week, we spoke about why people might find Jewish ritual empty, how he thinks Jewish practices can enrich their lives and how Passover — which begins Wednesday night — could be the key to unlocking the central idea of Judaism.
Our conversation was edited for length and clarity.
Jewish Telegraphic Agency: I wanted to start with the 50th anniversary of the “Jewish Catalog.” What connects the new book with the work you did back then on the “Catalog,” which was a do-it-yourself guide for Jews who were trying to reclaim the stuff they either did or didn’t learn in Hebrew school?
Michael Strassfeld: I see them as bookends. Basically, I keep on writing the same book over and over again. [Laughs] Except no, I’m different and the world is different. I’m always trying to make Judaism accessible to people. In the “Catalog” I was providing the resources on how to live a Jewish life when the resources weren’t easily accessible.
The new book is less about “how to” than “why bother?” That’s the challenge. I think a lot of people take pride in being Jewish, but it’s a small part of their identity because it doesn’t feel relevant. I want to say to people like that that Judaism is about living a life with meaning and purpose. It’s not about doing what I call the “Jewishly Jewish” things, like keeping kosher and going to synagogue. Judaism is wisdom and practices to live life with meaning and purpose. The purpose of Judaism isn’t to be a good Jew, despite all the surveys that give you 10 points for, you know, lighting Shabbat candles. It’s about being a good person.
So that brings up your relationship to the commandments and mitzvot, the traditional acts and behaviors that an Orthodox Jew or a committed Conservative Jew feels commanded to do, from prayer to keeping kosher to observing the Sabbath and the holidays. They might argue that doing these things is what makes you Jewish, but you’re arguing something different. If someone doesn’t feel bound by these obligations, why do them at all?
I don’t have the faith or beliefs that underlie such an attitude [of obligation]. Halacha, or Jewish law, is not in reality law. It’s really unlike American law where you know that if you’re violating it, you could be prosecuted. What I’m trying to do in the book is reframe rituals as an awareness practice, that is, bringing awareness to various aspects of our lives. So it could be paying attention to food, or cultivating attitudes of gratitude, or generosity, or satisfaction. My broad understanding of the festival cycle, for example, is that you can focus on those attitudes all year long, but the festivals provide a period of time once in the year to really focus on, in the case of Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur, for example, saying sorry and repairing relationships.
In “Judaism Disrupted: A Spiritual Manifesto for the 21st Century,” Michael Strassfeld argues that the challenge of each generation’s Jews is to create the Judaism that is needed in their time. (Ben Yehuda Press)
Passover is coming. Probably no holiday asks its practitioners to do so much stuff in preparation, from cleaning the house of every trace of unleavened food to hosting, in many homes, two different catered seminars on Jewish history. Describe how Passover cultivates awareness, especially of the idea of freedom, which plays an important part thematically in your boo
The Sefat Emet [a 19th-century Hasidic master] says Torah is all about one thing: freedom. But there’s a variety of obstacles in the way. There are temptations. There’s the inner issues that you struggle with, and the bad things that are out of your control. The Sefat Emet says the 613 commandments are 613 etzot, or advice, that teach us how to live a life of freedom. The focus of Passover is trying to free yourself from the chains of the things that hold you back from being the person that you could be, not getting caught up in materiality or envy, free from unnecessary anxieties — all these things that distract us or keep us from being who we could be.
The Passover seder is one of the great rituals of Judaism. We’re trying to do a very ambitious thing by saying, not, like, “let’s remember when our ancestors were freed from Egypt,” but rather that we were slaves in Egypt and we went free. And at the seder we actually ingest that. We experience the bitterness by eating maror, the bitter herb. We experience the freedom by drinking wine. We don’t want it just to be an intellectual exercise.
Unfortunately the seder has become rote. But Passover is about this huge theme of freedom that is central to Judaism.
I think some people bristle against ritual because they find it empty. But you’re saying there’s another way to approach rituals which is to think of them as tools or instruments that can help you focus on core principles — you actually list 11 — which include finding holiness everywhere, caring for the planet and engaging in social justice, to name a few. But that invites the criticism, which I think was also leveled at the “Catalog,” that Judaism shouldn’t be instrumental, because if you treat it as a means to an end that’s self-serving and individualistic.
Certainly rituals are tools, but tools in the best sense of the word. They help us pay attention to things in our lives and things in the world that need repair. And people use them not to get ahead in the world, but because they want to be a somewhat better person. I talk a lot these days about having a brief morning practice, and in the book I write about the mezuzah. For most Jews it’s become wallpaper, but what if you take the moment that you leave in the morning, and there’s a transition from home to the outside and to work perhaps, and take a moment at the doorpost to spiritually frame your day? What are the major principles that you want to keep in your mind when you know you’re gonna be stuck in traffic or a difficult meeting?
And a lot of traditional rituals are instrumental. Saying a blessing before you eat is a gratitude practice.
But why do I need a particular Jewish ritual or practice to help me feel gratitude or order my day? Aren’t there other traditions I can use to accomplish the same things?
Anybody who is a pluralist, which I am, knows that the Jewish way is not the only way. If I grew up in India or Indonesia and my parents were locals I probably wouldn’t be a rabbi and writing these books.
But a partial answer to your question is that Judaism is one of the oldest wisdom traditions in the world, and that there has been a 3,000-year conversation by the Jewish people about what it means to live in this tradition and to live in the world. And so I think there’s a lot of wisdom there.
So much in Jewish tradition says boundaries are good, and that it’s important to draw distinctions between what’s Jewish behavior and what’s not Jewish behavior, between the holy and the mundane, and that making those distinctions is a value in itself. But you argue strongly in an early chapter that that kind of binary thinking is not Judaism as you see it.
Underlying the book is the notion that Rabbinic Judaism carried the Jewish people for 2,000 years or so. But we’re living in a very different context, and the binaries, the dualities — too often they lead to hierarchy, so that, for example, men matter more than women in Jewish life. And we’ve tried to change that. We are living in an open society where we want to be more inclusive, not less inclusive. We don’t want to live in ghettos. Now, the ultra-Orthodox say, “No, we realize the danger of trying to live like that. We don’t think there’s anything of value in that modern world. And it’s all to be rejected.” And it would be foolish not to admit that in this very open world the Jews, as a minority, could kind of disappear. But I think that Judaism has so much value and wisdom and practices to offer to people that Judaism will continue to be part of the fabric of this world — the way, for example, we have given Shabbat as a concept to the world.
You know, in the first 11 chapters of the Torah, there are no Jews. So clearly, Jews and Judaism are not essential for the world to exist. And that’s a good, humbling message.
OK, but one could argue that while Jews aren’t necessary for the world to exist, Judaism is necessary for Jews to exist. And you write in your book, “If the Jewish people is to be a people, we need to have a commonly held tradition.” I think the pushback to the kind of openness and permeability you describe is that Jews can be so open and so permeable that they just fall through the holes.
It certainly is a possibility. And it’s also a possibility that the only Jews who will be around will be ultra-Orthodox Jews.
But if Judaism can only survive by being separatist, then I question whether it’s really worthwhile. That becomes a distorted vision of Judaism, and withdrawing is not what it’s meant to be. I think we’re meant to be in the world.
Your book is called “Judaism Disrupted.” What is disruptive about the Judaism that you’re proposing?
I meant it in two ways. First, Judaism is being disrupted by this very different world we’re living in. The contents of the ocean we swim in is very different than in the Middle Ages. But I’m also using it to say that Judaism is meant to disrupt our lives in a positive way, which is to say, “Wake up, pay attention.” You are here to live a life of meaning and purpose, and to continue as co-creators with God of the universe. You’re here to make the world better, to be kind and compassionate to people, to work on yourself. In my mind it is a shofar, “Wake up, sleepers, from your sleep!” “Judaism Disrupted” says you have to pay attention to issues like food, and justice, and teshuva [repentance].
You were ordained as a Reconstructionist rabbi. Do you think your book falls neatly into any of our current denominational categories?
[Reconstructionist founder] Rabbi Mordecai Kaplan’s notion of Judaism as an evolving religious civilization is the one that I feel closest to. But I feel that the denominational structure isn’t particularly useful anymore. There’s basically two categories, Orthodox and the various kinds of liberal Judaism, within a spectrum. The modern world is so fundamentally different in its relationship to Jews and Judaism that what we’re seeing is a variety of attempts to figure out how to respond. And that will then become the Judaism for the next millennium. It’s time for a lot of experimentation. I think that’s required and out of that will come a new “Minhag America,” to use Isaac Mayer Wise’s phrase for the emerging custom of American Jews [Wise was a Reform rabbi in the late 19th century]. And we don’t need to have everybody doing it one way. As long as people feel committed to Judaism, the Jewish tradition, even if they’re doing it very differently than the Jews of the past, they will be writing themselves into the conversation.
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Mamdani’s first Jewish Heritage event reveals a narrowed circle
The Jewish American Heritage Month reception at Gracie Mansion, the mayor’s official residence on the Upper East Side, on Monday evening felt unlike any before it. It was not simply because the host, Zohran Mamdani, is New York City’s first Muslim mayor or because the Shavuot-themed menu was dairy. It was that the annual gathering came amid one of the most strained relationships between a mayor and much of New York’s Jewish establishment in recent memory.
Even the setting reflected the changed atmosphere. Previous receptions under former mayors had spilled into a large tent in the mansion’s garden overlooking the East River, with buffet tables lined with kosher food, bars stocked with liquor and wine, live music and packed crowds of rabbis, communal leaders, elected officials and supporters mingling late into the evening. The longstanding traditional events became demonstrations of the close alliance with mainstream Jewish organizations and pro-Israel activists, who formed a key part of their political base.
This year’s gathering was different. The event was moved indoors to Gracie Mansion’s smaller blue reception room. The crowd of 150 people was served by waiters quietly circulating through the room with small dairy dishes in honor of Shavuot: miniature cheesecakes, halved cheese blintzes, cheese bourekas served with a touch of charif on the side, potato knishes, chocolate mousse, salad cups and cheese-ball skewers. The drink selection was limited to Herzog wine from California and water.
There was no music at all — not even a cappella — despite the easing of traditional restrictions during the final days of the Omer before Shavuot.
Mamdani’s Jewish commissioners, deputy mayors and aides circulated through the room, greeting attendees. But absent were prominent Jewish figures in city government and politics, including Police Commissioner Jessica Tisch, Comptroller Mark Levine, Manhattan Borough President Brad Hoylman-Sigal and most of the local elected officials. The only Jewish elected officials in attendance were Councilmembers Harvey Epstein and Lincoln Restler, and former comptroller and now congressional candidate Brad Lander.
The crowd itself reflected the Jewish coalition emerging around Mamdani’s mayoralty: anti-Zionist activists aligned with groups such as Jews For Racial & Economic Justice and Jewish Voice for Peace; liberal Jewish leaders affiliated with New York Jewish Agenda, who have sharply criticized Mamdani on Israel and antisemitism issues while continuing to engage with the administration, and those aligned with pro-peace organizations; and Hasidic leaders from the Satmar community in Williamsburg, who religiously oppose Zionism and have long shaped their relationship with municipal government around local priorities such as housing, education and nonprofit funding.
Mamdani was introduced by Phylisa Wisdom, executive director of the Office to Combat Antisemitism, who also serves as the unofficial director for Jewish affairs. Rabbi Irwin Kula, president of the National Jewish Center for Learning and Leadership, delivered the invocation, and Jake Levin, manager of the Mayor’s Office of Mass Engagement, served as emcee.
The mayor offered some greetings, describing the preparations for Shavuot across the city, the teaching of Jewish values and his administration’s effort to combat rising antisemitism. “Jewish New Yorkers have worked to cultivate a city that is safe and open to all,” Mamdani said. “You should be accorded the same security and the same peace of mind.”
He then honored Ruth Messinger, the trailblazing Jewish political leader who in 1997 became the first and only woman to win the Democratic nomination for New York City mayor and went on to lead American Jewish World Service. Messinger backed Mamdani in the mayoral race last year. Guests were then privately ushered in to take photos with Mamdani.
Mamdani’s coalition
The reception came just days after Mamdani reignited tensions with many Jewish communities by posting a Nakba Day video produced by his City Hall media team commemorating the displacement of Palestinians during Israel’s founding in 1948. That was followed by what was perceived as a delayed and balanced response to pro-Palestinian protesters descending on a heavily Jewish Brooklyn neighborhood where a synagogue hosted a real estate sale that included West Bank properties.
The Nakba video angered many Jewish New Yorkers who already viewed Mamdani’s sharp criticism of Israel and embrace of Palestinian activism as dismissive of Jewish fears over rising antisemitism. Despite the backlash, there was little indication that Mamdani intends to moderate the political identity that brought him to power. Mamdani defended the video Monday morning when pressed about the civic purpose of using official city resources to mark Nakba Day, saying that acknowledging Palestinian suffering does not negate Jewish suffering or Israel’s history. He also declared that his “door is always open” to Jewish leaders despite the backlash.
But on Monday, a notable array of prominent Jewish leaders did not walk in — or were not invited.
Among those absent were leaders of the Jewish Community Relations Council, the Conference of Presidents, UJA Federation of New York, Board of Rabbis, Anti-Defamation League, American Jewish Committee, the Reform movement, Met Council, Orthodox Union, Agudath Israel of America and Chabad-Lubavitch. Devorah Halberstam and Yaacov Behrman, leaders affiliated with Lubavitch in Crown Heights who recently appeared with Mamdani, did attend.
Some Jewish communal leaders absent from the Gracie Mansion reception have embraced a strategy of total opposition to Mamdani, viewing engagement with him as legitimizing a mayor they see as hostile to Zionism. Other organizations that are dependent on city grants or ongoing access to the municipal government have continued engaging with City Hall even while publicly criticizing the mayor’s rhetoric on Israel and antisemitism.
But that has become increasingly harder for them. The UJA Federation of New York, which hosted Mamdani for a mayoral candidate forum last year, said its leadership did not attend because it was “being hosted by a mayor who denies a core pillar of our heritage — the State of Israel as the homeland of the Jewish people.”
Rabbi Joseph Potasnik, executive vice president of the New York Board of Rabbis, who was among 19 Jewish leaders on Mamdani’s transition team, told the New York Post he declined an invitation to join.
The reception suggested that Mamdani is continuing to cultivate a smaller alternative Jewish coalition, separate from the traditional pro-Israel communal establishment and rooted more in progressive activism and pragmatic community relationships. Mamdani recently appointed Rabbi Miriam Grossman, a JVP activist, as his faith liaison. To his critics, however, the evening underscored how narrow that coalition remains within the broader Jewish community of New York City.
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The Israeli song that almost won Eurovision was about far more than the breakup of a love affair
Noam Bettan, Israel’s Eurovision candidate who took second place in the competition, sang in three languages, and chose to start his performance in Hebrew. Meanwhile, the winner — from Bulgaria — sang entirely in English.
In all the news coverage of Eurovision, the tradition of Jewish multilingualism — and Bettan’s moving pride in his languages — was left out. But it’s an important part of Bettan’s family history, and it’s also a repeating theme of Jewish history.
Bettan’s parents immigrated to Israel from Grenoble, France, and before that, the Bettans lived in Algeria. Noam Bettan was born in Israel and grew up in Ra’anana, which is home to many English speakers.
As a child, he found it difficult to connect with members of his own family, because he was the only one who was born in Israel. He was also the only one who spoke Hebrew as a mother tongue, he told Israel’s Walla in 2021.
“Michelle,” the song Bettan sang in competition, is a rare trilingual song. It starts in Hebrew, the language in which Bettan feels most at home. Then it moves to French, the language of Bettan’s parents; his French is impeccable, and it was a nod to the importance of non-English languages in a contest that often favors English.
Last year’s winner, Austria’s JJ, performed “Wasted Love” entirely in English. When Israel won Eurovision in 2018 with Neta Barzilai’s “Toy,” the performance was also entirely in English.
When Bettan reached the third language of his song, English, which he likely heard in Ra’anana’s streets growing up, he mentioned walking through the Tel Aviv neighborhood of Florentin. His English was fine, but not as strong as his French.
He then moved back to Hebrew, and visibly moved at the end of his own performance, with tears in his eyes, ended with Am Yisrael Chai — “the people of Israel live.”
To what extent do Bettan’s language skills represent Israel?
More than 80% of Israelis speak more than one language; around 85% have some English proficiency, because English is mandatory in schools. Two percent of Israelis speak French as a mother tongue.
About 1 in 5 Israelis speak fluent Russian. Ten percent of Israeli Jews understand some Arabic but only 2.6% can read and understand Arabic-language media, according to a 2018 study by Sikkuy, an NGO which promotes equality between Israeli Jews and Arabs. Meanwhile, 53% of Israeli Arabs rated their Hebrew “good” or “very good,” according to Israel’s Central Bureau of Statistics. An estimated 250,000 Israelis speak Yiddish, and around 140,000 speak Amharic.
In the controversy over this year’s Eurovision, in which Spain, the Netherlands, Ireland, Slovenia and Iceland, all quit to protest Israel’s inclusion, some online commentators claimed that Bettan was singing about more than a breakup with a woman named “Michelle.” They thought he was singing to Europe, including the countries that walked out because he was on stage.
Mitpalel alayich, sh’tizki le’ehov—“I pray over you, that you will be privileged to love,” he sang. Bein dim’aa l’dimaa, yesh mi sh’yishma. “Between one tear and another tear, there will be someone who hears….”
Some believed that he was singing about the complex Jewish relationship with the European continent, the site of the greatest slaughter in Jewish history, now seeing a resurgence of antisemitism. He was singing, in French, telling Europe — nicknamed “Michelle” — that he was leaving.
But then, at the end, he sang in Hebrew that he hoped something good would happen to us.
That’s the mindset of many Jews right now, who no longer feel welcome in their prior homes — whether that’s a city, a country, or a profession. That pain may have morphed into an award-winning, trilingual song heard by millions, transliterated into English here, which might be about a girl — or, perhaps, about an entire people.
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A Yiddish chorus in Sao Paulo, Brazil finds its voice again
אין סאַאָ־פּאַולאָ, דער גרעסטער שטאָט אין בראַזיל, האָט דער אײנציקער כאָר אין לאַנד װאָס זינגט אױסשליסלעך אױף ייִדיש, אַרױסגעגעבן אַן אַלבאָם װאָס קלינגט סײַ טיף פֿאַרװאָרצלט אין טראַדיציע, סײַ באַנײַעריש. דער אַלבאָם הייסט „שמשׂ“ (אַרויסגערעדט „שאַמעס“).
דעם אַלבאָם האָט דער „טראַדיציע כאָר“ צוגעגרייט אין דער באָם־רעטיראָ געגנט, װאָס איז אױסגעפֿורעמט געװאָרן דורך נאָכאַנאַנדיקע כװאַליעס אימיגראַנטן פֿון פֿאַרשײדענע לענדער און קהילות. דער דיסק הײבט זיך אָן מיט גרױסע שלאַגערס פֿון ייִדישן רעפּערטואַר און ברײטערט זיך אױס אין אומגעװײנטלעכע ריכטונגען, בתוכם אימפּראָװיזירונג, עלעקטראָנישער מוזיק און באַגעגענישן מיט אַנדערע מוזיקאַלישע טראַדיציעס.
די פּרעמיערע פֿונעם אַלבאָם האָט מען אָפּגעהאַלטן דעם 22סטן אַפּריל אין „פֿאָלקסהױז“, אַ װיכטיקן ייִדישן קולטור־צענטער אין שטאָט, װאָס איז געגרינדעט געװאָרן אין 1946 אין אָנדענק פֿון די קרבנות פֿון חורבן. זינט יענער צײַט אָריענטירט זיך דאָס „פֿאָלקסהױז“ לױט די ייִדישיסטישע און אַנטיפֿאַשיסטישע פּרינציפּן פֿון איקו״ף (דעם „ייִדישן קולטור־פֿאַרבאַנד“), און פֿירט אָן, ביז הײַנט, מיט אַ ייִדישער ביבליאָטעק, קולטורעלע און פּעדאַגאָגישע אַקטיװיטעטן, און מיטן ייִדישן כאָר.
לױט די קוראַטאָרן פֿון אַלבאָם — קאַיאָ־מאָטל לעשער, לאַוראַ װיאַנאַ און זשוליאַ מאָרעלי — פֿונקציאָנירט זײַן טיטל װי אַ שליסל־מעטאַפֿער פֿאַר דעם גאַנצן פּראָיעקט. די 99־יאָריקע דיריגענטקע הוגעטאַ סענדאַטש איז די צענטראַלע פֿלאַם, װאָס װײַזט דעם װעג פֿון דער רײַכער ירושה פֿון דער ייִדישער שפּראַך צו די נײַע דורות זינגערס און ליבהאָבערס פֿון ייִדיש אינעם פֿאָלקסהױז. שוין צענדליקער יאָרן וואָס סענדאַטש פֿירט אָן מיטן כאָר.
דער אַלבאָם, װאָס איז שױן צוטריטלעך אױף „סאַונד־קלאַוד“, װעט סוף מײַ אָנקומען אין „ספּאָטיפֿײַ“, און װעט אױך אַרױסגעגעבן װערן װי אַ װיניל־פּלאַטע אין סעפּטעמבער. ער איז סטרוקטורירט װי אַ פּאַלינדראָם, פּונקט װי דאָס װאָרט „שמשׂ“ אַלײן, און קען װערן אָפּגעשפּילט אין צװײ ריכטונגען, װאָרעם די כּמעט־סימעטרישע זײַטן א׳ און ב׳ שאַפֿן אַ דיאַלאָג צװישן געדעכעניש און נײַע דערפֿינדונגען.
אױף דער ערשטער זײַט פֿונעם אַלבום, טרעט אױף דער כאָר ווי אַ טראַדיציאָנעלערער אַנסאַמבל, מיט נײַע אַראַנזשירונגען פֿון זשאָאַאָ באַריסבע און הוגעטאַ סענדאַטש. דער רעפּערטואַר נעמט אַרײַן סײַ קלאַסיקערס װי די פּאַרטיזאַנער־הימנע „זאָג ניט קײן מאָל“, סײַ פֿאָלקס־ניגונים. דער טרומײטער פֿראַנק לאָנדאָן, צוזאַמען מיטן קלאַרנעטיסט אַלעקס פּאַרק און דעם פּיאַניסט דניאל שאַפֿראַן, מישן צונויף דאָס כאָר־געזאַנג מיטן אינסטרומענטאַלן קלאַנג פֿון כּלי־זמר־מוזיק.
אױף דער צווייטער זײַט, װערן די זעלבע לידער דעמאָנטירט און באַשאַפֿן אױף ס׳נײַ דורך אײַנגעלאַדענע קינסטלערס, װי אַרטאָ לינדסײ, װאָס אימפּראָװיזירט אויפֿן סמך פֿון „זאָג ניט קײן מאָל“; קאַרלאַ באָרעגאַס, װאָס פֿאַרװאַנדלט אַ װיגליד אין אַן עטערישער (ethereal, בלע״ז), קלינגעװדיקער לאַנדשאַפֿט; פּאַולעטע לינדאַסעלװאַ, װאָס מאַכט איבער דאָס ליד „שאַ, שטיל” אין אַ פּולסירנדיקער עלעקטראָנישער שאַפֿונג; און אַװאַ ראָשאַ, װאָס גיט דעם חסידישן ניגון „בים־באַם“ אַ נײַע אינטערפּרעטאַציע.
אַנדערע דיאַספּאָרישע טראַדיציעס קומען אױך אַרײַן אין שפּיל. אַ כאָר פֿון קאָרעאַנער מאַמעס, װאָס איז טעטיק אין באָם־רעטיראָ, זינגט אַ טײל פֿונעם קאָרעאַניש פֿאָלקסליד „דאָס ליד פֿון מײַן מאַמען“, בשעת די אַפֿראָ־בראַזיליאַנער גרופּע פֿון פֿרױען־פּײַקלערס, „אילו אָבאַ דע מין“, באַגלייט דעם ייִדישן שלאַגער „שפּיל זשע מיר אַ לידל“. דער דאָזיקער נוסח פֿון ליד איז באַשאַפֿן געװאָרן אין צוזאַמענאַרבעט מיט דער ישׂראלדיקער קינסטלערין יעל ברתּנא פֿאַר דער פּיעסע „מיר זײַנען דאָ!“, װאָס איז פֿאָרגעשטעלט געװאָרן אין טאַיִב־טעאַטער.
דער פּראָיעקט נעמט אױך אַרײַן אַ נאָטנהעפֿט מיט װערטער אױף ייִדיש, סײַ מיט ייִדישע אותיות, סײַ טראַנסליטערירט, און אױך אױף פּאָרטוגעזיש. די איבערזעצונגען זײַנען געמאַכט געװאָרן דורך דעם סאַאָ־פּאַולער ייִדישיסטישן קאָלעקטיװ „ייִדישע טרופּע“ און דורך דער דיריגענטקע הוגעטאַ סענדאַטש אַלײן. דער מאַטעריאַל װערט באַגלײט אױך פֿון טעקסטן װעגן דעם רעפּערטואַר און דער טראַדיציע פֿון כאָר־געזאַנג אױף דער ייִדישער שפּראַך.
„שמשׂ“ װירקט װי אַ שטילער מאַניפֿעסט. דער טראַדיציע־כאָר, װאָס שטײט אין דער מסורה פֿון ייִדישע כאָרן אין סאַאָ־פּאַולאָ, מיט אַ העכער הונדערט־יאָריקער געשיכטע, װײַזט אױף אַן אַנדער פֿאָרעם פֿון המשכדיקײט, װאָס באַנײַט זיך אין אױסטױש מיט נײַע קאָנטעקסטן, ריטמען און פּאַרטנערס.
אין „פֿאָלקסהױז“ בלײַבט די ייִדישע קולטור אַזױ לעבעדיק, גראָד װײַל זי בײַט זיך כּסדר און שטײט אין ענגער פֿאַרבינדונג מיט אַנדערע שפּראַכן און מינהגים. אַזױ אַרום דינט דער טיטל פֿון אַלבאָם מער װי נאָר אַ מעטאַפֿער. ער באַשרײַבט דעם פּראָיעקט אַלײן׃ אַ פֿלאַם, װאָס טײלט זיך מיט איר פֿײַער מיט אַנדערע, אָן צו פֿאַרלירן דערבײַ איר אײגן ליכט.
[דער אַרטיקל איז רעדאַקטירט געוואָרן מיט דער הילף פֿון גוסטאַװאָ־גרשום עמאָס]
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