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Jewish marriage rites are robust. Now a rabbi is innovating rituals for Jews who divorce.
(J. The Jewish News of Northern California via JTA) — For Lyssa Jaye, throwing the wood chips into the Tuolumne River felt in many ways familiar to the tashlich ritual performed on Rosh Hashanah. But rather than casting off her sins, she was tossing away feelings: shame, resentment, anger.
They were the emotions that had taken residence inside Jaye since her divorce eight years ago, along with a sense of failure. And she had come to a Jewish retreat to rid herself of them.
“I’ve been carrying around these feelings for years now,” Jaye said. “I have a completely different life now, and I needed to let them go.”
Jaye was taking part in Divorce & Discovery: A Jewish Healing Retreat, the first-ever gathering in a series conceived by Rabbi Deborah Newbrun as part of her training, held this month at Camp Tawonga in the Bay Area.
One of the requirements at the Pluralistic Rabbinical Seminary, where Newbrun was ordained last year in the first graduating class, “was that each of us had to do an innovation, or something that didn’t exist before,” she said.
Newbrun, who directed Camp Tawonga for more than two decades, has been recognized for innovative programming for such achievements as initiating Tawonga’s LGBT family camp and founding its wilderness department. She even won a prestigious 2018 Covenant Award for Jewish educators. But as she started thinking about how to fulfill the seminary requirement, her first thought was, “I don’t have any ideas left in me.”
Then she began reflecting back on her divorce years earlier. She remembered how she had approached numerous rabbis and colleagues in search of Jewish support around the grief she felt. And how they all came up empty-handed.
That’s when she realized: “I can put together something meaningful and helpful for people going through divorce.”
From the moment participants arrived at Camp Tawonga near Yosemite, they knew this would be no ordinary Jewish retreat. At the opening event, all of the facilitators, several clergy members and a therapist shared their own divorce stories, “to set the standard and normalize vulnerability, transparent sharing and establish that we all know what it’s like to have a marriage end,” Newbrun said.
Most participants were from the Bay Area, with a handful from farther afield. They were in different life stages, from those in their 30s dealing with custody battles over young children, to empty nesters in their 60s. Some had separated from their partners years ago, while others had gone their separate ways more recently. Some split amicably; a good many did not. But all had come up against a lack of Jewish resources or support when navigating this major life passage.
Rabbi Deborah Newbrun, the founder of Divorce and Discovery at the recent weekend. (Photo/Margot Yecies)
Jaye said she left no stone unturned in seeking out support, an experience Newbrun said she heard echoed by many participants. Jaye attended a retreat at a local meditation center. She read self-help books. She joined a support group for divorcees. She went to therapy.
And while they all helped in different ways, none was specifically Jewish.
“I knew I needed some kind of spiritual way forward,” she said. “I needed to do this in my own language, with my own people.”
Even though the retreat came nearly a decade years after Jaye’s divorce, “it was profound. It felt like coming home, and that this is what I needed all along. This model could be extremely powerful. The rituals we did could be taught in rabbinical schools or to Jewish educators so it’s not just ‘sign this get and goodbye,’” she said, referring to the Jewish divorce document.
Rather than create new rituals, Newbrun and her facilitators took familiar Jewish rituals and retooled them.
The tashlich ritual, led by Newbrun and Maggid Jhos Singer, had a call-and-response portion, and participants also could call out what they personally wanted to cast off. “One person ‘tashliched’ their wedding ring into the river and felt it was such a perfect place to let it go!” said Newbrun.
An optional immersion in the Tuolumne River followed. Jaye, who years ago went to the mikvah alone, with only the attendant there for support, said there was no comparison with how much more healing it felt performing the ritual in community.
A session on sitting shiva for one’s marriage, led by Rabbi Sue Reinhold, allowed participants to share and mourn the loss of what they missed most about being married. That resonated for Robyn Lieberman, who does not attend synagogue services but went to every session at the retreat on innovating Jewish rituals.
“I did need to mourn what I’m losing,” said Lieberman, who had been married to an Israeli. “We had a very public, open house around Jewish religion, and a constant Israeli identity, which fulfilled my Jewish needs.”
Rabbi Jennie Chabon of Congregation B’nai Tikvah in Walnut Creek reflected on how much time she has spent with couples preparing for their wedding day, both in premarital counseling and in planning the event, and on how many marriage-related topics are covered in rabbinical school.
“And when it comes to divorce? Nothing,” Chabon said. “We’re all out here on our own trying to figure out how to wander through it.”
She was tasked with creating a havdalah ceremony with a divorce theme, in which she reimagined the wine, spices and flame typically used to mark a division between Shabbat and the rest of the week.
“There’s a fire that burns within each of us, and that flame doesn’t go out,” said Chabon, 47. “When you’re married for a long time, your identity, energy and spirit is so woven into that of another.” Her ritual was meant to affirm that “you are on fire just as you are, and you’re a blessing as an individual in the world. You don’t need a partnership or family to be whole.”
Even the Shabbat Torah service was on theme.
Rabbi Jennie Chabon reads from the Torah during a service at the Divorce and Discovery retreat. (Photo/Margot Yecies)
Rather than focusing on Noah’s emergence from the ark after the flood, Chabon spoke about a lesser-known section of the week’s Torah portion, in which Noah builds a fire and offers a sacrifice to God. But if the entire earth was drenched from the flood, Chabon asked, what did he burn?
“The answer is he must have burned the ark,” Chabon said in recalling her talk at the retreat. “What does that mean for people going through this incredibly painful and tender time in their lives, when what was once a safe container and secure and protected them, they have to burn it down in order to start life anew?
“This is a perfect rebirth metaphor. But what’s being birthed is a new self and a new identity in the world as a single person,” Chabon said. “You have to release and let go of what was to make room for the blessing for who you’re going to become.”
At a ritual “hackathon” workshop presented by Newbrun, participants suggested standing during Kaddish at synagogue to mourn their marriages, and offering their children a Friday night blessing that they are whole whether they are at either parent’s home.
Not all of the sessions centered on Jewish ritual. In a session on the Japanese art of kintsugi, or mending broken pottery, attendees made vessels whose cracks they fixed with putty, symbolizing that beauty can be found in imperfection. Many danced in a Saturday-night silent disco.
Everyone was assigned to a small group, or havurah, that they met with daily, so they could establish deeper connections within the larger cohort.
“To have gone through some of these practices was very meaningful to me,” said Lieberman. “It’s not like I put a seal on my marriage and wrapped it up in a bow and put it behind me, but it was a nice catharsis for completing a transition that I’ve been very thoughtful about.”
Newbrun aims to recreate the retreat in communities around the country. Both Jaye and Lieberman said they found value in being in community with people “who get it,” without the judgment they often face.
“I was a little skeptical that all I’d have in common with people was that we were Jewish and divorced, and that that wouldn’t be enough for me to form a relationship,” said Lieberman. “But having the willingness to talk about it and explore it did open up a lot of very vulnerable conversations. The expert facilitation really made us think about the fact that divorce is not about your paper [certificate], it’s about reexamining the direction of your life and who you want to be.”
A version of this piece originally ran in J. The Jewish News of Northern California, and is reprinted with permission.
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The post Jewish marriage rites are robust. Now a rabbi is innovating rituals for Jews who divorce. appeared first on Jewish Telegraphic Agency.
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A last-ditch effort to dismantle Israeli democracy
As Israelis prepare for what may be the most consequential election in the country’s history on Oct. 27, Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu’s coalition has launched an extraordinary legislative blitz before the Knesset’s coming summer recess, which begins at the end of this week. Already the coalition has passed a pair of laws legitimizing Haredi draft evasion; the plan also includes a series of bills weakening democratic oversight.
Viewed individually, these initiatives appear to be about technical legal questions that might appear arcane to anyone not steeped in Israeli constitutional law. Viewed together, they’re clearly a coordinated attempt to weaken nearly every independent institution capable of restraining executive power.
That includes the civil service and the office of the attorney general, as well as independent regulators and the mechanism by which the greatest governmental failure in Israeli history, the Oct. 7 massacre, will eventually be investigated.
The legislative package is, in other words, a constitutional project meant to entrench elected autocracy.
The comparison many Israelis now invoke is Turkey, where President Recep Tayyip Erdoğan did not abolish elections. Instead, he gradually weakened the institutions capable of constraining executive power while maintaining democratic forms. Today Turkey ranks 163rd out of 180 countries in the Reporters Without Borders World Press Freedom Index.
Critics don’t fear that Israel will become Turkey overnight. But they understand that democracies can erode incrementally through legal mechanisms enacted by elected governments.
The Basic Law: Torah Study
The cornerstone of the legislative effort recognizes long-term Torah study as a meaningful service to the state and the Jewish people. This is critical for entrenching the support of the Haredi community for Netanyahu; without them, he has no hope of a majority.
It was passed into law late Monday, despite wall-to-wall opposition by parties not in Netanyahu’s coalition.
Few Jewish Israelis dispute the historic importance of Torah study. Critics object instead to the law’s practical purpose, which is to provide constitutional protection for the continued exemption of huge numbers of Haredi yeshiva students from military service, making future judicial intervention far more difficult.
The law also aims to ensure such students will receive the same amount of financial support as military veterans.
In nearly three years of war, reservists have repeatedly returned to the front — sometimes for hundreds of days a year — while tens of thousands of Haredi youth have remained exempt. In that context, it’s no surprise that the vast majority of Israelis oppose the exemptions. Only about a fifth support them — just slightly more than the country’s Haredi population.
A linked proposal blocking arrests of Haredi draft evaders passed Tuesday, again in the face of massive mobilization by the opposition and howls of protest from chiefs of the security establishment. Israel Defense Forces chief Lt. Gen. Eyal Zamir warned that the move would encourage evasion and, in a rare direct rebuke to the government, said it was “clearly and unequivocally inconsistent with the IDF’s needs.”
The government’s argument is that criminal law cannot resolve a social dispute decades in the making. But the practical consequence is to create two classes of citizens: those who face legal consequences for refusing military service, and those who do not. During the Israeli military’s gravest manpower crisis in generations, that distinction is both morally and constitutionally corrosive.
Weakening legal safeguards
Another proposal would split the Attorney General’s dual function as legal adviser to the government and chief public prosecutor.
Supporters note that several democracies separate those roles. But Israel’s institutional structure is unusual, and that the Attorney General has long served as one of the principal safeguards against executive abuse. This office, critics contend, is essential in a country that has no constitution, no bicameral parliament, no federal structure, and no legislators beholden to voters directly instead of party leadership.
Weakening that office becomes especially troubling when the sitting prime minister remains on trial.
At the same time, the coalition has advanced legislation that would weaken legal advisers to cabinet ministers. Right now, those advisers must answer primarily to professional legal standards. The coalition wants them to become substantially more accountable to the ministers themselves — transforming lawyers whose job is to prevent unlawful government action into political employees expected to facilitate it.
All these bills are related to Netanyahu’s wider effort to weaken Israel’s judiciary in 2023, which sparked a spasm of protests that ended only with the Oct. 7 Hamas invasion and massacre. If Netanyahu wins another term in office in October, expect the most contentious parts of that overhaul to be revived, including a massive politicization of judicial appointments, and an “override” allowing parliament to overrule judicial decisions.
The Oct. 7 inquiry
Also related to the judicial overhaul — although it may not appear to be — is the inquiry over Israel’s security and intelligence failures on Oct. 7.
Rather than establishing the traditional independent state commission chaired by a retired Supreme Court justice, the coalition has promoted a political alternative — which is part and parcel of its efforts to undermine the Supreme Court by painting it as a tool of the liberal opposition.
Under the government’s proposal, which last week passed the first of three required readings, the inquiry would be made up equally by coalition and opposition supporters, but controlled by the coalition. That is meant to sound fair, but it politicizes the procedure by definition, and guarantees that findings would be disputed.
The principle is simple: A government should not exercise decisive influence over investigations into their own failures. The very purpose of an independent inquiry is to establish facts without interference by political interests. That is what happened in the wake of previous government failures, including the 1973 Yom Kippur War and the 1982 Sabra and Shatila massacre in Lebanon.
This trick comes after years in which Netanyahu insisted that no commission could exist while warfare continued, which raised concerns that this incentivized a forever war. At the same time, the Netanyahu social media machine has promoted the so-called “internal betrayal” conspiracy theory, claiming Israel’s security establishment purposely allowed the massacre in order to harm Netanyahu — a baseless claim that about a third of Israelis now actually believe. This, too, factors into Netanyahu’s culture war. Inciting against the security establishment, set up by Israel’s founding generations to be apolitical, is key to his plan to establish an autocracy.
In the background is the precedent set by the government last week when the cabinet announced that it would refuse to recognize the practical consequences of a binding Supreme Court ruling involving the Second Authority for Television and Radio. The move — again seemingly arcane — created a shocking precedent for future refusals to heed court challenges of all the above reforms and decisions.
That’s the real point of this plan: to set up the coming election as a battle between elected politicians and the court. If the Supreme Court strikes down any of this legislation while Netanyahu remains in power, he will spin their rulings to try and further delegitimize them, and entrench his own rule.
The good news is that Israel’s democratic traditions run deep. During the 2023 protests, millions of Israelis demonstrated that they are prepared to defend liberal democratic institutions with extraordinary persistence. And opposition leaders have vowed to repeal all these laws should they win the October election.
Netanyahu’s coalition has devoted enormous political capital not to rebuilding shattered public confidence, but rather to reshaping the institutions designed to hold them accountable. That is why Israelis must understand that what’s at stake isn’t one or two offputting laws. It’s about nothing less than whether Israel will remain a democracy.
The post A last-ditch effort to dismantle Israeli democracy appeared first on The Forward.
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The past engagement of Yiddish with Communism and its legacy today
דער „אינטערנאַציאָנאַלער אַרבעטער אָרדן“ איז געװען אַ מין יוצא־דופֿן צװישן אַמעריקאַנער עפֿנטלעכע און פּאָליטישע אָרגאַניזאַציעס, צום גרויסן טייל — צוליב זײַן פֿילשפּראַכיקײט. ער האָט געהאַט ניט ווייניקער ווי זעכצן שפּראַך־בראַנזשעס פֿאַר פֿאַרשײדענע אמיגראַנטישע עדות. זײַן הױפּטצװעק איז געװען צו באַזאָרגן אַרבעטער מיט פֿינאַנציעלער פֿאַרזיכערונג און העלפֿן זײ אין זײער קאַמף פֿאַר בירגערלעכע און פּאָליטישע רעכט.
דער אָרדן האָט אויך געהאַט אַ ספּעציעלע בראַנזשע פֿאַר אַפֿריקאַנער אַמעריקאַנער ווײַל דער ענין פֿון ראַסע־יושרדיקײט איז געװען פּונקט אַזױ חשובֿ װי אַלע אַנדערע באַוועגונגען פֿאַר גערעכטיקייט.
די מחברים פֿונעם זאַמלבוך „פֿונעם פֿאָלקספֿראָנט צו דער קאַלטער מלחמה“, רעדאַקטירט פֿון עליסאַ סאַמפּסאָן און ראָבערט זעקער, באַהאַנדלען די טעטיקײט פֿון צוויי בראַנזשעס אינעם „אָרדן“: דער ייִדישער און דער אַפֿריקאַנער־אַמעריקאַנער. דאָס רובֿ פֿאָרשונגען אינעם בוך שעפּן מאַטעריאַל פֿון דער אַרכיװאַלער זאַמלונג בײַם קאָרנעל־אוניװערסיטעט.
דער אָרדן איז געגרינדט געוואָרן אין 1930. נאָך דער פּאָליטישער שפּאַלטונג אינעם ייִדישן „אַרבעטער רינג“, האָבן אַרום 500 מיטגלידער פֿאַרלאָזט די אָרגאַניזאַציע און געשאַפֿן אַן אײגענע פּאָליטישע גרופּע, באַקאַנט ווי „די לינקע“. די דאָזיקע גרופּע איז געװאָרן די ייִדישע בראַנזשע אינעם נײַעם „אינטערנאַציאָנאַלן אַרבעטער אָרדן“.
פֿון סאַמע אָנהײב איז דער אָרדן געװען נאָענט פֿאַרבונדן מיט דער אַמעריקאַנער קאָמוניסטישער פּאַרטײ, און די פּאָליטישע ליניע פֿון דער דאָזיקער פּאַרטײ איז דיקטירט געװאָרן פֿונעם קאָמוניסטישן אינטערנאַציאָנאַל אין מאָסקװע.
אין די 1930ער יאָרן האָט סטאַלין בדעה געהאַט צו שאַפֿן אַ ברײטן פֿאָלקספֿראָנט (פּאָפּולערן פֿראָנט), װאָס זאָל אַרײַננעמען כּלערלײ פּראָגרעסיװע אָבער ניט אױסגעשפּראָכן קאָמוניסטישע קולטורעלע, עפֿנטלעכע און פּראָפֿעסיאָנעלע אָרגאַניזאַציעס, כּלומרשט ניט קײן קאָמוניסטישע, אָבער סימפּאַטעטישע פֿאַרן סאָװעטן פֿאַרבאַנד.
דער אָרדן איז געװען אַזאַ מין אָרגאַניזאַציע. ער האָט צוגעצױגן מאַסן אַרבעטער, דער עיקר אימיגראַנטן, צוליב צוטריטלעכע פֿאַרזיכערונגען און פֿאַרשײדענע אַקטיװיטעטן אױף זײערע שפּראַכן.
לרובֿ זײַנען די מיטגלידער ניט געװען קײן קאָמוניסטן און האָבן געהאַט אַ קנאַפּן אינטערעס אין דער קאָמוניסטישער אידעאָלאָגיע, הגם די אָנפֿירער פֿונעם אָרדן, אַזעלכע װי משה אָלגין, זײַנען טאַקע יאָ געװען פּאַרטײ־מיטגלידער.
דערבײַ האָט די אַמעריקאַנער קאָמוניסטישע פּאַרטײ ניט געװאָלט שאַפֿן אַן אײַנדרוק, אַז זי איז אַן אָרגאַניזאַציע פֿון אימיגראַנטן. דערפֿאַר האָט די פּאַרטײ ניט אונטערגעהאַלטן נאָענטע באַציִונגען מיטן אָרדן.
אָפֿיציעל האָט די פּאַרטײ באַװיליקט די קולטורעלע און לינגװיסטישע אַמעריקאַניזאַציע פֿון אימיגראַנטן, בעת דער אָרדן האָט געפֿירט די אַרבעט אױף די שפּראַכן פֿון זײַנע מיטגלידער: ייִדיש, איטאַליעניש, פֿיניש, סלאָװאַקיש, פּױליש און אַנדערע, און דערבײַ אַ ביסל אָפּגעשוואַכט זײער אַסימילאַציע.
די פּראָ־סאָװעטישע פּאָליטיק פֿונעם אָרדן אין די 1930ער יאָרן האָט ניט דערלאָזט זײַנע ייִדישע מיטגלידער מיטאַרבעטן מיט אַנדערע ייִדישע אָרגאַניזאַציעס, בפֿרט ציוניסטישע. דאָס האָט זיך אָבער געביטן בעת דער צװײטער װעלט־מלחמה, שרײַבט סאַמפּסאָן. אַ היפּשע ראָלע האָט דערבײַ געשפּילט דער באַזוך פֿון די אָנפֿירער פֿונעם מאָסקװער ייִדישן אַנטי־פֿאַשיסטישן קאָמיטעט שלמה מיכאָעלס און איציק פֿעפֿער אין אַמעריקע אין 1943. פֿעפֿער האָט ספּעציעל באַזוכט דעם קעמפּ „קינדערלאַנד“.
צוליב דער נײַער „אַחדות“־פּאָליטיק איז די ייִדישע בראַנזשע פֿונעם אָרדן אַרײַנגענומען געװאָרן אין דער הױפּטשטראָמיקער „אַמעריקאַנער ייִדישער קאָנפֿערענץ“, װוּ זי האָט מיטגעאַרבעט אַפֿילו מיט די ציוניסטן.
אין 1944 איז די ייִדישע בראַנזשע געװאָרן אַ מין אומאָפּהענגיקע אָרגאַניזאַציע — דער „ייִדישער פֿראַטערנאַלער פֿאָלקס־אָרדן“. דער נײַער אָרדן האָט זיך דערװײַטערט פֿון זײַן קאָמוניסטישן עיזבֿון און זיך אָפּגעגעבן, דער עיקר, מיט ייִדישע ענינים. נאָך 1945 האָבן זײ זיך אָפּגעגעבן מיט דער הילף פֿאַר דער שארית־הפּליטה אין אײראָפּע.
די קאַלטע מלחמה איז געװען אַ טאָפּלטע מפּלה. אין אַמעריקע האָבן זיך אָנגעהױבן רדיפֿות אױף קאָמוניסטן, בעת אינעם סאָװעטן־פֿאַרבאַנד האָט סטאַלין צו נישט געמאַכט די גאַנצע ייִדישע קולטור. סוף־כּל־סוף איז דער אַמעריקאַנער „פֿאָלקס־אָרדן“ ליקװידירט געװאָרן אין 1955.
בילדונג איז געװען אַ װיכטיקער טײל פֿון זייער פּאָליטישער אַרבעט. אין 1926 האָבן די לינקע ייִדישיסטן אין ניו־יאָרק געשאַפֿן דעם „ייִדישן אַרבעטער אוניװערסיטעט“, װאָסער ציל איז געװען צו דערציִען אַ נײַעם דור פּאָליטישע אַקטיװיסטן, װאָס זאָלן זײַן באַהאַװנט סײַ אין דער ייִדישער קולטור און סײַ אין דער מאַרקסיסטישער טעאָריע.
דאָס איז געװען „אײנע פֿון די אַנשטאַלטן אינעם גערעם פֿונעם ברײטערן פּראָיעקט פֿון ייִדישע קאָמוניסטן צו שאַפֿן אַן אײגענע קולטור־װעלט“, שרײַבט דילאַן קאַופֿמאַן־אָבסטלער. צו דעם דאָזיקן פּראָיעקט האָבן געהערט אױך קעמפּ „קינדערלאַנד“, דער װױנונג־קאָאָפּעראַטיװ אין דער בראָנקס — די „אַמאַלגאַמייטעד“ — און די קאָמוניסטישע צײַטונג „מאָרגן־פֿרײַהײט“.
אַלע ייִדישע קאָמוניסטישע פּראָיעקטן, און דער אוניװערסיטעט בתוכם, האָבן געהאַט אַן אינערלעכע סתּירה אין זײער תּוך. פֿון אײן זײַט איז זײער ציל געװען אָפּצוהיטן ייִדיש און די װעלטלעכע ייִדישע קולטור אינעם אַמעריקאַנער „שמעלצטאָפּ“. פֿון דער אַנדערער זײַט האָט מען געגלױבט אינעם אַלװעלטלעכן קאָמוניסטישן אינטערנאַציאָנאַל אָן קײן שום נאַציאָנאַלע גרענעצן.
די דאָזיקע סתּירה האָט גורם געװען שפּאַנונגען אין דער ייִדישער קאָמוניסטישער סבֿיבֿה. אין די 1930ער יאָרן זײַנען זײ נאָך געװען ביכולת צו געפֿינען אַ פּשרה. מען האָט געטענהט, אַז ייִדיש איז געװען דער סאַמע פּאַסיקסטער מיטל צו פֿאַרשפּרײטן קאָמוניסטישע אידעען בײַ די ייִדישע אימיגראַנטן.
אָבער די דאָזיקע סתּירה איז געװאָרן נאָך שאַרפֿער בעת דער צװײטער װעלט־מלחמה, װען די טראַגעדיע פֿונעם ייִדישן חורבן איז געװאָרן װיכטיקער פֿאַר אַמעריקאַנער ייִדן אײדער דער קאָמוניסטישער חלום.
װי אַקטועל איז די דאָזיקע געשיכטע װעגן דעם שידוך צװישן ייִדישקײט און קאָמוניזם פֿאַרן הײַנטיקן פּאָליטישן סדר־היום? אין די 1930ער יאָרן האָבן ייִדישע אימיגראַנטן פֿון מזרח־אײראָפּע לרובֿ געהערט צו דעם אַרבעטער־קלאַס. זײ האָבן נאָך געהאַט זײער שפּראַך, ייִדיש, און פֿאַרמאָגט אַ שטאַרקע עטנישע אידענטיטעט. דערצו האָבן זײ געליטן פֿון אַנטיסעמיטיזם, װאָס איז געװען פֿאַרשפּרײט, דער עיקר, צװישן װײַסע אַמעריקאַנער נאַציאָנאַליסטן. אױף דעם דאָזיקן יסוד האָט מען געקענט בױען אַ ברײטע מאַסן־באַװעגונג, װאָס זאָל פֿאַראײניקן אימיגראַנטן און די אַפֿריקאַנער אַמעריקאַנער.
דער איצטיקער מצבֿ איז אַנדערש. הײַנט געהערן ייִדן אין אַמעריקע לרובֿ צו דעם מיטלשטאַנד, און זײער עטנישער אָפּשטאַם איז אַן ענין פֿאַר נאָסטאַלגישע מעשׂיות. אָבער זײער סאָציאַלער אױפֿקום האָט ניט בטל געמאַכט דעם אַנטיסעמיטיזם.
נאָך מער, הײַנט איז אַנטיסעמיטיזם פֿאַרשפּרײט אי בײַ די רעכטע „מאַגאַ“־נאַצינאַליסטן אי בײַ די ראַדילאַקע לינקע. כּדי צו װערן אַן „אײגענער“ בײַ די לינקע, מוז אַ ייִדישער אַקטיװיסט זיך אָפּלײקענען פֿון ציוניזם און מדינת־ישׂראל.
דאָ קומט צו נוץ די אַלטע ירושה פֿונעם ייִדישיסטישן קאָמוניזם. מען זעט דערין אַ מין אַלטערנאַטיװע ייִדישקײט, װאָס איז אי פּראָגרעסיװ אי אַנטי־ציוניסטיש. אָבער װי אַזױ קען מען מחיה־מתים זײַן די לעבעדיקע ייִדישע סבֿיבֿה פֿון יענער תּקופֿה? אין יענע יאָרן האָבן די ייִדן — ניט געקוקט אױף זייערע טיפֿע פּאָליטישע חילוקי־דעות —פֿאָרט געהאַט אַ וויכטיקע זאַך בשותּפֿות: די אײגענע שפּראַך און קולטור.
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‘The Winter’s Tale’ is one of Shakespeare’s most confounding plays; was it also his most Jewish?
We all know about Shakespeare’s anti-Jewish play. But did he also write a Jewish play? Well, not explicitly or consciously, but The Winter’s Tale, which begins performances July 25 at the Public Theater’s Delacorte Theater in Central Park, appears to be full of Jewish motifs — themes from the Hebrew Bible (filtered through the Christian Bible, of course).
The play is a tale of exile, the abandonment of a child, years in the wilderness, repentance, homecoming and redemption. It is reminiscent at least in part of the stories of Moses in Egypt and the Exodus, as well as Joseph and his brothers.
Daniel Sullivan, the play’s director at the Delacorte, told me over the phone that he thought the biblical connection was an interesting idea — “certainly a possibility,” he said. Sullivan, 86, was less certain whether Shakespeare had explored these biblical themes “knowledgeably or whether it was something he simply shared” with the time. A version of those themes can be found, for example, in the source of the play’s plot, the 1588 tragic pastoral romance novella Pandosto: The Triumph of Time by Robert Greene.
Scholars have written about these biblical allusions. But The Winter’s Tale is of course about much more than that. “I’ve always been amazed by it,” Sullivan said. “It’s a play that’s sort of impossible. It’s a difficult piece in terms of both its tragic and comic elements. But it’s also one of the most moving of all of Shakespeare’s plays and one of the most human.”
The play’s first half lurches into utter Shakespearean tragedy, then miraculously changes direction and turns into Shakespearean comedy. Leontes, king of Sicilia, becomes insanely jealous, believing his pregnant wife, Hermione, has been unfaithful with his longtime and childhood friend, the king of Bohemia. He imprisons her, she gives birth in prison, she is tried and collapses in court and it is announced that she has died.
Leontes and Hermione’s young son, Mamillius, dies of grief. Leontes exiles his newborn daughter, who is taken to the kingdom of Bohemia, where she is abandoned and discovered by a shepherd, who raises her as his own. Sixteen years pass before she returns to Sicilia, as the play begins its surprising metamorphosis. Hermione — magically — reappears and there is an (almost) happy denouement.
The opening part of the play is an intensely detailed —especially for the time it was written — example of irrational psychology, of Leontes’ jealousy and delusion — it is, Sullivan said, “very challenging” to direct.
And then, when you think all will be lost, as in King Lear, or Hamlet, or Othello, the playwright reverses the course of his tragic source material. (Things do not end happily for King Pandosto of Pandosto.)
Why does Sullivan think Shakespeare decided to veer away from his play’s, and Pandosto’s, disastrous path? One possibility, he said, is that Shakespeare could see that he could create “a fantastical element in it — that for 16 years Hermione has been hiding somewhere.” (In Pandosto the queen just dies.) “It’s sort of wonderfully out there in terms of a plot device. And I think that Shakespeare gloried in that. It goes from extremely tragic to very charming, and there aren’t a lot of Shakespeare’s plays that are like that,” Sullivan said.
But there’s something else. The play is, after all, a tale of redemption and forgiveness. It’s a late play, written around 1609-1611 — Shakespeare died in 1616 — and, Sullivan said, the play’s late birth perhaps had something to with its theme. “I think whether he knew the end was coming or not, certainly the idea of redemption is sort of the undergirding of this play.”
Even so, the ending is not a completely happy one. Mamillius, the royal family’s son, does not return. “That’s one of the elements of the play that Shakespeare buries a little bit,” Sullivan said.
Could Shakespeare have been thinking of his own young son, Hamnet, who died of the plague at age 11? “I think that’s probably true,” said Sullivan.
Still, Sullivan has managed in a way to bring back the king’s son. “One of the things we do with this,” he said, “is when the character of Time comes out to tell us what’s happened,” that 16 years have passed in the story, “we actually use the character of Mamillius as a sort of angel to tell us.”
Sullivan has been directing professionally for more than a half-century and has helmed more than 30 plays on Broadway. He won the directing Tony Award for David Auburn’s Proof in 2001, and has received seven other Tony nominations. He is also very much a Shakespeare maven. This is his 12th production for Free Shakespeare in the Park.
Directing Shakespeare has long been, and remains, special for Sullivan. “ I just love being around it more than anything else,” he said. “I love getting deeply into it, and researching it as much as I possibly can. I’ve done a lot of the plays more than once, and every time I come back to them they always seem completely different to me. I think about my own life and, in the way that I see things differently than I did 20 years ago, I see these plays differently.”
The Winter’s Tale contains perhaps the most famous stage direction in all of Shakespeare — “Exit, pursued by a bear.” This summer, will the Delacorte, long a home to scene-stealing raccoons, bear witness to a much larger stage creature?
“The one thing I really didn’t want to do was have a man in a bear suit chasing the actor across the stage. It’s just too funny. It’s possible that Shakespeare wanted it to be rather comic. But we find it rather tragic. So we’re doing it in a way that I think will be somewhat surprising. I’m not going to tell you. People will have to come and see.”
Performances of The Winter’s Tale run through Aug. 23 at the Delacorte.
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