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How a Catholic university amassed a treasure trove of Jewish artifacts from the Bronx
(New York Jewish Week) – A Catholic university may be the unlikeliest place for what may be the largest depository dedicated to the Jewish history of the Bronx.
But at Fordham University — the private, Jesuit institution in the Bronx — decades worth of archival documents and artifacts from the local Jewish community have found a home, thanks to its Jewish studies department.
For the last three years, Fordham has been collecting and cataloging items that detail a once-thriving Jewish community in the Bronx: yearbooks full of Jewish last names, Bar Mitzvah invitations, phonebooks full of Jewish-owned businesses — all the simple transactions that define an era in history.
The archive at Fordham is one of the only physical collections of everyday material from Jewish residents of the borough, according to Magda Teter, the chair of the Center for Jewish Studies at the university, who spearheaded the project.
“It’s not only preserving a piece of New York Jewish history, but also a way of life,” Teter told the New York Jewish Week. “Bringing this voice to the dominant Christian identity of Fordham and teaching about Jews [as a minority] within the dominant cultures is very important.”
A song and dance book in the Fordham University collection features the lyrics for “Hatikvah” and “For He’s a Jolly Good Fellow,” and a “Jewish dictionary.” (Julia Gergely)
During the first half of the twentieth century, Jewish life thrived in the Bronx. There were 260 registered synagogues in 1940, and the borough produced some of the biggest Jewish names in show business, fashion, literature and more: designer Ralph Lauren, politician Bella Abzug, novelist E.L. Doctorow, filmmaker Stanley Kubrick, Miss America Bess Myerson, Nobel Prize-winning chemist Robert Lefkowitz.
At the community’s peak in 1930, the Bronx was approximately 49% Jewish, according to the borough’s official historian, Lloyd Ultan. South of Tremont Avenue, the number reached 80%. Most of the Jewish Bronx was of Eastern European descent; many were first generation Americans whose parents had immigrated and lived on the Lower East Side, but who could now afford to live in less cramped neighborhoods with more trees and wider streets.
Though there is a strong Jewish community in the neighborhood of Riverdale, most of the Jewish community moved out of the Bronx for the suburbs after World War II when mortgages for white would-be homeowners were being subsidized by the government and Blacks and Latinos were steered to Bronx neighborhoods they couldn’t afford or that the city had chosen to neglect. The Jewish population of the Bronx dropped from 650,000 in 1948 to 45,000 in 2003. Many of the synagogues have been converted for other uses, and the physical legacy of the Jewish community there has begun to erode over time, making an archive all the more necessary.
While Teter was always interested in collecting items from the Jewish Bronx, the archive got an unexpected boost from a member of the public. In the spring of 2020, at the height of the pandemic, Fordham hosted a virtual event, “Remnants: Photographs of the Jewish Bronx,” which featured evidence of the area’s faded Jewish history gathered by writer and photographer Julian Voloj. (Voloj is the husband of the New York Jewish Week’s managing editor, Lisa Keys.)
An invitation for the bar mitzvah of Freddie Rothberg, which took place on Oct. 6, 1951 at Beth Hamedrash Hagadol. (Julia Gergely)
In the audience was Ellen Meshnick, who had grown up in New York and now lives in Georgia. Inspired, she offered Fordham a trove of material her parents, Frank and Martha Meshnick, had kept throughout their lives in the Bronx. The boxes included donated yearbooks from Morris High School and Walton High School, songbooks, bar mitzvah invitations, a marriage certificate, receipts for a flower delivery — even a document from the hospital from when she was born — mostly from the 1930s through the 1960s.
The donation significantly bolstered what materials Fordham already had on hand, which included less personal but still unique items like matchbooks from kosher restaurants. Now, Teter is growing the archive through other private donations and occasionally by purchasing materials online — personal family archives, books about Bronx Jewish history, songsheets and the like.
The marriage certificate, or ketubah, recognizing the marriage between Frank Meshnick and Martha Farber on Aug. 23, 1942. The certificate was part of an archive donated to Fordham University by the couple’s daughter Ellen. (Julia Gergely)
“They may not be the most beautiful things, but we are interested in what people actually used and lived with,” Teter said.
Teter said that while the American Jewish Historical Society in Manhattan does collect the types of quotidian and personal items that American Jews kept with them in the last few centuries, they don’t have much that uniquely focuses on Jewish life in the Bronx.
The entire collection is part of a greater effort by Teter, the Jewish studies department and the librarians at Fordham to increase awareness about Judaism and Jewish people. “I will not hide that I think it’s an important way to fight antisemitism — to teach Jewish history and Jewish culture in all its colors and in all its experiences,” she said. “It enriches the students’ appreciation and understanding of Jewish life beyond how Jews are usually portrayed.”
The Jewish studies department at Fordham is relatively new: The college began offering a Jewish studies minor in 2016, and opened the department in 2017. At the time, the highlight of the library’s archives was the Rosenblatt Holocaust collection, which was funded by an alumnus. Since 1992, the library has amassed over 11,000 titles, videos and artifacts on the Holocaust, according to librarian Linda Loschiavo.
When Teter arrived, Loschiavo worked with her to bring in historical Passover haggadahs from all over the world. Fordham now possesses two Italian haggadahs from the 1660s, as well as Jewish artifacts from unexpected places, like playbills from Jewish Bollywood.
Last month the university opened the Henry S. Miller Judaica Research Room on the fourth floor of the campus’ main library — named for Fordham’s first Jewish student, who graduated in 1968. Miller, a leader of a financial restructuring firm, is now a trustee of the college.
Fordham President Tania Tetlow described herself jokingly as “a wannabe Jew” at the room’s unveiling. “I’ve understood how deeply intertwined Judaism and Catholicism are,” she said, “and the connections we have of the deep intellectualism of both faiths, of the desire to study text and the interpretation of text going back for thousands of years, of the love of ritual — and the central place of food and guilt!”
The former Jacob Schiff Center on Valentine Avenue. (Julian Voloj)
“At the moment, we envision that the research room will be a space for exhibitions that would foster the curatorial skills of our students and that will bring Jewish art and artists to campus,” Teter said. “We would now be able to display their art and combine the exhibitions with some items from the Judaica collection.”
The research room is currently displaying Voloj’s Bronx photographs, along with some of the recently acquired local archival materials, curated by sophomore Reyna Stovall, who is interning in Fordham’s Jewish studies department this semester.
“It is really, really rewarding,” said Stovall, who is Jewish. Stovall became involved in the Jewish studies department because of her interest in Holocaust studies, but as she began her internship, she was excited to work on the archives cataloging the once thriving Jewish history of the Bronx.
The yearbook photo of Frank Meshnick (bottom right), who graduated from Morris High School in Morrisania in 1931. (Julia Gergely)
“It’s pretty amazing that they have the collection to begin with,” she added. “It really shows Fordham’s commitment to diversity and inclusivity that they’re willing to take on this massive collection of Judaica, even though that’s not the religion that the school was founded on.”
Teter estimates there are about 300 Jews among the school’s 15,000 undergrads. As a result, the Center for Jewish Studies and the research room offers students from all backgrounds the opportunity to learn more about Judaism — as well as marginalized communities in general, and connect their stories to their own lives.
“Our identity grew to showcase Jewish studies at the intersection and in conversation with other fields and areas of study,” Teter explained.
The Center’s goal, she added, is “to make students, faculty and the public realize that studying Jews is not just for Jews, and that they can learn so much about the areas of their own concern and interest by studying Jews.”
“Something magical happens when you give students the opportunity to work with historical artifacts, and really touch history,” Teter said. “That’s what I think inspired the director of the library to devote that space to that kind of research and to that kind of student experience.”
—
The post How a Catholic university amassed a treasure trove of Jewish artifacts from the Bronx appeared first on Jewish Telegraphic Agency.
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The Yiddish theaters and elevated trains are long gone, but the spirit of the Bowery lives on
The oak rolltop desk I write on was once the reception station at the Crystal Hotel on the Bowery. Back in the 1930s, a man could rent a single bed, clean sheets and a foot locker in a large barracks-style room at the Crystal for less than a dollar a night; some lived there until the hotel closed in the late 1960s.
I like to think of myself as a 3rd generation citizen of the Bowery. For 65 years, my grandfather and father worked on the Bowery, manufacturing store fixtures in the building that was once the Crystal Hotel and before that a Vaudeville theater named Miner’s. I remember the signs on the wall that warned against spitting and smoking in bed. Even as I live and work elsewhere, I feel connected to the place.
I love to walk the mile-or-so stretch in lower Manhattan from Chatham Square, where the oldest thoroughfare in New York City begins, to its northern reach on East 4th Street at Cooper Square. And I love the layers of history so visible on its streetscape. First a Lenape Indian pathway and then a popular route for Dutch farmers, the Bowery (from bouwerijs, the Dutch word for farms) hosted later waves of businesses, breweries, bars, theaters, artists’ lofts, lodging houses for people with nowhere else to go and social service agencies to help them; today, there are even some bespoke shops and a Chabad.
While the Bowery has had a reputation as “Skid Row” or “Devil’s Mile” — the title of an engaging exhibit now at The New Museum through Jan. 31, 2027 — for me, it’s alive with stories. It’s a wide avenue where the pace is quick, the energy is high and the architecture is wildly varied, highlighting one of the widest views of the sky in this city.
On a sunny fall day, light bounces off the glass storefronts and the metal restaurant equipment being unloaded onto the sidewalk. The street’s Honey Locust and London Plane trees are lovely but sparse, so there’s no leafy canopy blocking the view. Most seats along the stretch north of Delancey are BYO: Several men face the sunlight, sitting outside buildings in a cluster of abandoned office chairs, crates and a beat-up recliner.
The light wasn’t always this brilliant: From 1878 to 1956, the Third Avenue Elevated train cast the sidewalks and street into shadow, as seen in the celebrated photographer Weegee’s stark image in the New Museum exhibition, “Under the Third Avenue El, 1943-45.”
The exhibition provides a beautifully detailed overview of 400 years of Bowery history, culture and tumult, with early maps, paintings, playbills, contemporary sculpture, photographs by Harvey Wang from the book Flophouse: Life on the Bowery, and a 19th century fire vehicle that hasn’t been seen on the Bowery since 1840. The royal blue, gold-trimmed “Lady Washington Engine Co. No. 40, Hand Pumper Fire Engine,” with painted classical scenes on the front and back was used by a volunteer fire brigade who, despite their elegant carriage, were known as a brutal street gang.
The Bowery was the city’s first entertainment district, with serious theater in the early 19th century and later on melodrama, magic shows, tap dancing (born on the Bowery), minstrel shows and Yiddish, Chinese and Italian theaters. A host of performers known as human curiosities filled the stages of dime museums. Peter Stuyvesant, George Washington and Abraham Lincoln all showed up on the Bowery, as did P.T. Barnum, who started his career selling “quack medicines and bear grease” at a dry goods store at 101 Bowery.
The site of the New Museum was once the London Theatre, which later became the Lipzen Theatre and Gabel’s Theatre, which staged Yiddish productions. And, a few blocks south is the footprint of the theater in my family’s history, Miner’s Bowery Theatre, established in 1878. Harry Miner was a former police officer, firefighter and pharmacist, who first owned the London Theatre before renovating this one. He helped launch the career of Eddie Cantor; Al Jolson sang and W.C. Fields juggled here. Miner also pioneered Amateur Night — and the “hook,” a wooden cane used to yank lesser performers off the stage. In 1929, the theater burned down.
I came across a photograph online of the top of the Crystal Hotel’s Art Deco façade. I reached out to the person who posted the image and met Kunihide Nakajima, a 3rd generation Japanese master sushi chef who also loves Bowery history. His gorgeous namesake restaurant, Nakaji, opened on the site of the 1826 Bowery Theatre, which later became the Thalia and a home to Yiddish theater. That building burned down six times, was rebuilt 5 times, but was completely destroyed, also in 1929.
“All you have to do is look up,” Nakajima says. “History is still there.”
I had to look twice at a photo in the exhibition that’s part of Martha Rosler’s installation of text and images from the 1970s to see the signage from my father’s business reflected back in the window of a cash register store across the Bowery.
Two decades ago, when I last reported on the Bowery for The New York Times, I walked around with my father, who was treated with much respect as the street’s elder statesman. Then, grand performances at the Amato Opera House were still being staged. The Amato family closed what was billed as the world’s smallest opera house in 2009. The Neoclassical building, originally a cigar factory and then a mission for the homeless, is now a Japanese restaurant with a mezuzah on its door and luxury apartments.
A few blocks north on the corner of Bowery and 1st Street, I couldn’t resist trying a blend of coffee called Marky Ramone’s Bowery Beat, a nod to the neighborhood’s punk history, at Adios Amigos – named for the Ramones’ breakup album. Sipping the robust coffee on a stool at the window, I looked out at the Bowery, much as I enjoyed doing when I was a child in the window of my father’s shop. I used to wave at the passersby back then; this time, I just watched a carnival of dog walkers carrying drinks more likely to be iced matcha than Wild Irish Rose (the favored drink of the Crystal Hotel crowd). I watched people pushing baby carriages or laundry carts filled with belongings, bicyclists, tourists with large shopping bags, a man inching forward trying to get his mismatched shoe back on, a woman with long gray hair pushing a walker, wearing the most colorful jacket I’ve ever seen.
At 202 Bowery, the Plato Gallery is hosting Shuto Okayasu’s solo exhibition of urban scenes. The exhibition’s title, “Impermanence,” seems fitting for this street. The New York-based Japanese artist cites the Buddhist concept that life is changing, constantly, and beauty can be found in fleeing moments.
The post The Yiddish theaters and elevated trains are long gone, but the spirit of the Bowery lives on appeared first on The Forward.
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Israel’s messy election result: Five scenarios for what could happen next
Israel’s election has produced a messy result: Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu’s governing bloc has suffered a major defeat, losing perhaps 11 seats compared with its victory in 2022. Yet the country could still end up with Netanyahu as prime minister. Or a broad unity government that preserves part of the existing order. Or a repeat election.
According to near-final results, Netanyahu and his allies have won just 53 seats in the 120-member Knesset, down from the 64 that gave them a comfortable majority four years ago. The opposition has secured 67 seats, one of the strongest showings for the anti-Netanyahu camp in decades. You might think this would be interpreted as a decisive rejection of the incumbent government and a mandate for political change – yet things are not exactly so.
The complication is that the opposition’s seats include 19 held by Arab parties, whose dramatic electoral gains appear to have been driven by a surge in turnout among Israel’s Arab citizens. The Jewish-led opposition parties together hold just 48 seats, leaving them well short of the 61 needed for a parliamentary majority. And several of their leaders have promised to avoid a coalition with the Arab parties.
That pledge was always difficult to reconcile with Israel’s electoral math – as well as with the promise of equality in its Declaration of Independence. Indeed, the moderate camp has for decades depended on Arab votes for a parliamentary majority, even when Arab parties remained formally outside the governing coalition. The promises in this round were designed to reassure Jewish voters moving away from Netanyahu’s right-wing bloc, many of whom distrust the Arab parties on security, Palestinian nationalism and the Israeli-Palestinian conflict.
Now opposition leaders may have to choose between their principal campaign objective – removing Netanyahu, which the country needs desperately – and a secondary promise that should never have been made.
Further complicating the picture are Likud allegations of fraud – expected standard operating procedure – which on Thursday received a boost by reports of an investigation that Qatar might have bribed Israeli Arabs to vote.
A major wild card is President Trump, who seems determined to save Netanyahu and may pressure the main opposition leader, Gadi Eisenkot, to acquiesce. No one should be surprised if Trump engineers another Iran war – or, conversely, promises peace plans with the Palestinians and Saudi Arabia – to scramble the Israeli equation in ways that might help his fellow right-wing populist.
There are several possible routes to a government, each involving concessions and risks.
1. An opposition government supported by the Arab parties
The most direct path would be for Eisenkot to accept the parliamentary support of the Arab parties and form a government backed by the 67 lawmakers elected in opposition to Netanyahu’s bloc. This could involve bringing Ra’am, the pragmatic Islamist party led by Mansour Abbas that joined the governing coalition in 2021, into the government, and perhaps relying on outside support from the Joint Arab List, which is less Zionist-friendly.
The latter arrangement would allow the Jewish-led opposition to control the cabinet while giving Arab parties considerable influence without requiring them to assume responsibility for policies they oppose.
They could concentrate initially on domestic priorities, on which they all agree, including restoring democratic institutions, establishing a state commission of inquiry into the Oct. 7 failures, addressing the cost of living, combating crime in Arab communities and reversing controversial authoritarian reforms of Netanyahu’s outgoing government. Additional parliamentary support on individual issues could help reduce dependence on any single faction.
Avigdor Lieberman, the anti-Netanyahu, anti-religious nationalist whose Yisrael Beiteinu party won seven seats, could prove the toughest obstacle. Opposed to a coalition that relies on an Arab safety net, he could potentially demand a turn as prime minister in exchange for his support. Conceivably, some from Netanyahu’s bloc might later join in as well.
2. A unity government under Netanyahu, excluding the far right
A second possibility is a broad national unity government joining Netanyahu’s Likud with most of the Jewish-led opposition while excluding his ultranationalist partners, especially the globally toxic Itamar Ben-Gvir. Such an arrangement would command a substantial parliamentary majority and could be presented as an answer to Israel’s political divisions and security challenges.
Trump, who aggressively endorsed Netanyahu, will probably push for this, and Eisenkot could be receiving some phone calls from the White House.
Netanyahu would argue he should be the prime minister of such a government – or at least go first in a rotation. He’d argue his Likud is still the largest party, but that is actually irrelevant under the Israeli system – only the blocs count.
For Netanyahu, unity would offer an opportunity to shed his most controversial partners while remaining at the helm, claiming national reconciliation.
For Eisenkot and other opposition leaders, the political cost would be enormous. Having campaigned to end Netanyahu’s rule and won a 67-seat majority, they would look weak. They also could find themselves responsible for government decisions that would enrage their supporters, like additional settlements in the West Bank.
3. Defections from the opposition give Netanyahu another majority
A third possibility involves Netanyahu persuading opposition lawmakers to change sides, allowing him to assemble a governing majority despite his bloc’s electoral defeat.
Netanyahu could also attempt to recruit such individual lawmakers through ministerial appointments, policy concessions or promises of political influence. Parliamentary rules governing defections could complicate these efforts, particularly for lawmakers seeking to break away individually. But it is possible. One potential figure is, again, Lieberman, whose Yisrael Beiteinu party has been among Netanyahu’s fiercest opponents. A former defense minister and veteran coalition negotiator, Lieberman holds nationalist positions closer to the traditional right than to the liberal opposition, although his longstanding hostility toward Netanyahu would make any reconciliation dramatic – and he has ruled it out. But he has also ruled out a coalition with the Arabs.
The prospect of major cabinet portfolios, a broader realignment of the right and the avoidance of another election could nevertheless become appealing options.
The broader implication is that Netanyahu could retain power through post-election maneuvering.
4. A unity government under Eisenkot, with Netanyahu in senior ministry
A fourth scenario, albeit unlikely, would flip the odd assumption that Netanyahu must lead a unity-government. Using his leverage in parliament, Eisenkot could become prime minister with Netanyahu accepting a senior cabinet position, perhaps as foreign minister or defense minister. Netanyahu would remain a prominent national figure, potentially representing Israel abroad or overseeing a major policy portfolio, while Eisenkot assumed responsibility for leading the government.
There would, however, be significant legal complications. Netanyahu’s ongoing criminal trial blocks him legally from serving as an ordinary cabinet minister rather than prime minister (which, due to a loophole, is possible). Assigning him a portfolio would require legislation and invite judicial scrutiny.
Another main obstacle: Netanyahu is pathologically fixated on retaining the premiership, and almost no one in Israel thinks he would accept such an arrangement over new elections.
5. Another election
The final possibility is that the parties fail to reach an agreement and Israel returns to the polls.
President Isaac Herzog plays an important procedural role, consulting parliamentary factions and assigning the task of forming a government to a Knesset member. The process could begin next week, and the initial mandate normally lasts 28 days, with a possible 14-day extension. Further procedures allow other candidates to seek a majority before another election becomes necessary.
A prolonged deadlock could leave Netanyahu heading a caretaker government while Israel prepares for another election – which is why he probably would not mind.
Another election would raise questions about whether the exceptionally high Arab turnout that helped produce the opposition’s majority could be sustained. Arab voter participation has historically fluctuated, and the latest result could represent either a lasting political transformation or a temporary surge driven by the campaign – then suppressed by bitterness over their exclusion.
For the Jewish-led opposition, returning to the polls would risk squandering its electoral achievement while giving Netanyahu another opportunity to reshape the contest around security, national identity and the legitimacy of Arab parliamentary influence.
If I wore Eisenkot’s shoes
If I were Eisenkot, I would give Lieberman whatever is needed to buy his cooperation and form a government with an Arab parliamentary safety net, remove Netanyahu and secure the premiership.
I would immediately pursue broadly popular policies: a state commission of inquiry into Oct. 7, universal conscription including Arab and Haredi national service, a crackdown on Jewish terrorism in the West Bank and organized crime, particularly in Arab communities, and reversal of Netanyahu’s authoritarian reforms.
I would maintain a firm line against Hamas, Hezbollah and Iran, and close the legal loophole allowing criminal defendants to serve as prime minister.
I would do all that in the first month. In the second, I would invite Likud into a unity government on these terms. Competent governance, relief from the threats of global economic sanctions and incumbency could build momentum, making any subsequent election prospects more favorable.
All that would require focus, determination and a bit of courage. As a former military chief, Eisenkot should be up to the task.
Netanyahu would scream bloody murder. Give him a megaphone, recommend a valium, and send him a copy of Israel’s Declaration of Independence, which promises equality to the Arabs.
The opposition’s leaders have a chance to show us whether they are worthy of leadership. Their decision will determine whether the election becomes a turning point in Israeli politics or another chapter in Netanyahu’s remarkable record of political survival.
The post Israel’s messy election result: Five scenarios for what could happen next appeared first on The Forward.
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We Jews have three choices: Separating, assimilating or integrating
אַבֿרהם און שׂרה, טאַטע און מאַמע פֿונעם ייִדישן פֿאָלק, האָבן ביידע געהאַט די זעלבע השקפֿה און שליחות אין לעבן. פֿונדעסטוועגן האָט יעדער איינער פֿון זיי געלייגט דעם טראָפּ אויף אַן אַנדער אַספּעקט פֿונעם לעבן.
אַבֿרהם האָט זיך מער געוואָנדן אַרויסצו, צו דער וועלט בכלל, מיטן ציל אַרײַנצוברענגען אין איר דעם באַוווּסטזײַן וועגן איר באַשעפֿער. שׂרה, פֿון דער צווייטער זײַט, האָט זיך מער קאָנצענטרירט אינעווייניק, זאָרגנדיק פֿאַרן פֿיזישן און גײַסטיקן וווילזײַן פֿון איר זון יצחק — דער איינציקער גליד וואָס האָט געזאָלט ווײַטער פֿירן די טויזנט־יאָריקע קייט וואָס זײַן פֿאָטער האָט אָנגעהויבן.
אַ ייִד וואָס לעבט אין אַ ניט־ייִדישער געזעלשאַפֿט האָט דרײַ מעגלעכקייטן: זיך אָפּצוזינדערן, זיך צו אַסימילירן אָדער זיך צו אינטעגרירן.
דער וואָס פֿילט זיך באַדראָט פֿון דער געזעלשאַפֿט, אָדער פֿילט אַז ער האָט נישט עפּעס באַזונדערס בײַצוטראָגן ווי אַ ייִד, קלײַבט געוויינטלעך אויס צו האַלטן זײַן ייִדישקייט אין שטוב און אין שול, בעת אויף דער גאַס פֿירט ער זיך ווי אַ „נאָרמאַלער“ בירגער. ער האָט ליבער נישט צו פֿאַרעפֿנטלעכן זײַן ייִדישקייט.
דער וואָס זעט גאָרנישט באַזונדערס אין דעם וואָס ער איז אַ ייִד — בפֿרט אויב ער האַלט זיך נישט פֿאַר „רעליגיעז“ — אָדער וויל דאָס פֿאַרבײַטן אויף אַ לעבנסשטייגער, וואָס פּאַסט זיך בעסער צו דער געזעלשאַפֿט אַרום אים, קלײַבט אָפֿט אויס זיך צו אַסימילירן. דאָס הייסט: ער פֿאַרלאָזט זײַן ייִדישע אידענטיטעט כּדי אָנצונעמען אַ וועלטלעכע און מער „אוניווערסאַלע“ אידענטיטעט.
דער וואָס איז זיכער אין זײַן ייִדישקייט און אין דעם בײַטראָג וואָס ער קען, דווקא פֿון זײַן ייִדישקייט, געבן דער גאַנצער מענטשהייט, דאַרף נישט אַנטלויפֿן און דאַרף זיך אויך נישט אַסימילירן. זײַן ברירה איז זיך צו אינטעגרירן אין דער אַלגעמיינער געזעלשאַפֿט דווקא ווי אַ ייִד, און זי צו באַרײַכערן פֿון זײַן אייגענעם באַזונדערן אָרט.
פֿאַרשטייט זיך, אַז כּדי זיך געזונט צו אינטעגרירן און האָבן אַן השפּעה אויף דער ברייטערער געזעלשאַפֿט, דאַרף מען האָבן שטאַרקייט און קלאָרקייט וועגן דער אייגענער אידענטיטעט, און זײַן שטאָלץ מיט די אחריות וואָס די אידענטיטעט ברענגט מיט זיך.
אַבֿרהם און שׂרה זענען די פּראָוטאָטיפּן פֿון דער דינאַמיק פֿון דער ייִדישער משפּחה דורכויס די דורות. דער מאַן איז דער וואָס באַשעפֿטיקט זיך, קודם־כּל, מיט דער דרויסנדיקער וועלט; די פֿרוי איז די וואָס דערנערט און בויט די אינערלעכע וועלט פֿון דער משפּחה. נאָר דער וואָס האָט געהאַט און האָט נאָך אַלץ אַ שטאַרקע אינערלעכע וועלט קען זיך שטעלן אַנטקעגן דער דרויסנדיקער וועלט און זי באַאײַנפֿלוסן.
פֿון דער אידענטיטעט פֿונעם ייִדישן פֿאָלק, לאָמיר איצט אַריבערגיין צו דער אידענטיטעט פֿונעם ייִדישן לאַנד.
ארץ־ישׂראל: דאָס לאַנד פֿון די ייִדן, אָדער אַ ייִדיש לאַנד?
ארץ־ישׂראל איז דאָס נאַציאָנאַלע ירושה־גוט פֿונעם ייִדישן פֿאָלק. לויט הלכה־אויטאָריטעטן איז יעדער ייִד אויף דער וועלט דער נאַטירלעכער בעל־הבית פֿון לכל־הפּחות אן „אמה על אמה“ — 0.48 קוואַדראַט־מעטער — לאַנד אין ארץ־ישׂראל. דאָס איז אונדזער אייביקע ירושה.
עס זענען דאָ דרײַ שטעט אין ארץ־ישׂראל וועמענס קויפֿן דורך ייִדן איז דאָקומענטירט אין תנ״ך: חבֿרון, שכם און ירושלים. עס וואָלט געדאַרפֿט זײַן מער ווי קלאָר, אַז ס׳איז נישטאָ קיין אָרט פֿאַר אַ מחלוקת וועגן דער היסטאָרישער און לעגאַלער פֿאַרבינדונג צווישן די שטעט און דעם ייִדישן פֿאָלק — וויפֿל עס זאָלן נישט זײַן אַזעלכע וואָס ווילן זיי, חס ושלום, מאַכן „Judenrein“.
אין דער פּרשה חיי שׂרה לייענען מיר ווי אונדזער פֿאָטער אַבֿרהם האָט אָפּגעקויפֿט פֿון עפֿרון החתי די „מערת המכפּלה“ און די אַרומיקע פֿעלדער, מיטן בפֿירושן ציל דאָרט צו באַערדיקן זײַן פֿרוי שׂרה. שפּעטער זענען דאָרט אויך באַערדיקט געוואָרן די אָבֿות יצחק און יעקבֿ, צוזאַמען מיט זייערע פֿרויען רבֿקה און לאה.
דאָס אַלץ איז דאָקומענטירט אין דער תּורה — אַ דאָקומענט וואָס ווערט באַטראַכט ווי היסטאָריש לעגיטים דורך מער ווי 50 פּראָצענט פֿון דער הײַנטיקער וועלט־באַפֿעלקערונג.
כאָטש אַראַבער קענען טענהן אַז זיי שטאַמען אויך פֿון אַבֿרהם דורך זײַן זון ישמעאל און האָבן דעריבער אַ לעגיטימע תּבֿיעה אויף די דאָזיקע לענדער, איז דאָס אַ טעותדיקע טענה צוליב צוויי סיבות.
ערשטנס, זענען די אַראַבער וואָס וווינען הײַנט אין ארץ־ישׂראל נישט די אָפּשטאַמיקע פֿון ישמעאל, נאָר זענען אַריבערגעפֿירט געוואָרן אין אַנדערע געגנטן דורך דעם אַסירישן קעניג און שׂונא פֿון די ייִדן, סנחריבֿ.
צווייטנס, אַפֿילו ווען מיר וואָלטן אָנגענומען אַז זיי זענען בני ישמעאל, קומט זיי דערפֿאַר נאָך נישט ארץ־ישׂראל, ווײַל ישמעאל איז געווען דער זון פֿון שׂרהס דינסט הגר. אַבֿרהם האָט אים געגעבן זײַן ירושה נאָך בײַם לעבן און אים אַוועקגעשיקט ווײַט פֿון ארץ כּנען.
ארץ־ישׂראל איז נישט בלויז דאָס לאַנד פֿון די ייִדן; עס איז אַ ייִדיש לאַנד.
אייגנטום איז אַ צופֿעליקער און ענדערלעכער מצבֿ: הײַנט האָב איך עס, מאָרגן האָסטו עס. עס איז נישטאָ קיין מהותדיקער חילוק אין מײַן אויטאָ פֿון איידער איך האָב עס דיר פֿאַרקויפֿט ביז נאָך דעם וואָס עס איז געוואָרן דײַן אייגנטום; פֿריִער איז עס געווען מײַנס, און איצט איז עס דײַנס.
מיט ארץ־ישׂראל איז אָבער אַנדערש. דאָס לאַנד איז באַשאַפֿן געוואָרן פֿאַרן ייִדישן פֿאָלק, כּדי דאָס פֿאָלק זאָל קענען אויספֿירן זײַן תּכלית: אַנטפּלעקן דעם אויבערשטנס אָנוועזנהייט אין דעם פֿיזישן וועלט אויפֿן בעסטן אופֿן, און פֿון דאָרט, ווי דאָס האַרץ, אַרויספּאָמפּען אָט די אָנערקענונג און באַגײַסטערונג אין דער גאַנצער וועלט.
נישט אומזיסט רופֿט די גאַנצע וועלט דאָס לאַנד „דאָס הייליקע לאַנד“. דערמיט דערקענט מען, אַז אַפֿילו די ערד גופֿא פֿון ארץ־ישׂראל איז הייליק.
אין אַנדערע ווערטער: די פֿאַרבינדונג צווישן ארץ־ישׂראל און עם־ישׂראל איז נישט בלויז היסטאָריש אָדער צופֿעליק. זי איז מהותדיק און נשמהדיק. דאָס לאַנד און דאָס פֿאָלק טיילן אַ שליחות וואָס דער אויבערשטער האָט זיי געגעבן, און די פֿולע אויספֿירונג פֿון דער שליחות איז אָפּהענגיק פֿון ביידע.
ווען מיר קעמפֿן פֿאַר אונדזער לאַנד, טראַכטן מיר נישט בלויז פֿאַר אונדזערט וועגן, נאָר אויך לטובֿת אונדזערע שׂונאים. אויך פֿאַר זיי איז עס צום גוטן, אַז זיי זאָלן לאָזן דעם ייִדישן פֿאָלק אויספֿירן זײַן שליחות אין זײַן לאַנד, בשעת זיי קענען בשלום אויספֿירן זייער שליחות אין דעם לאַנד וואָס געהערט צו זיי.
ווען דער דאָזיקער פּונקט וועט זײַן קלאָר בײַ אונדז, וועט אונדז זײַן גרינגער זי קלאָר צו מאַכן אויך פֿאַר אַנדערע.
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