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Kyiv Jews celebrate their 2nd wartime Purim with renewed resolve and optimism
KYIV (JTA) — In a historic building in the most industrial part of Podil, the hipster district of Kyiv that once was the heart of the Jewish trading community, a senior and passionate Esther seduces a much younger Ahasuerus. She flirts with the handsome king to the raucous giggling of the audience, which breaks into applause when the Purim shpiel comes to an end.
A year and a few days into Russia’s full-scale invasion of Ukraine, Jews in Kyiv and the rest of the country have celebrated Purim in precarious economic and emotional circumstances, under the continued threat of Russian attacks. Still, many of them are in much better spirits than in 2022, when the Jewish holiday of joy found Ukrainian Jews in a frantic state of worry and uncertainty about their immediate future.
“A year ago you could see the fear in people’s eyes; now they are very proud because Ukraine has resisted, and Jews are fully involved in the cause,” Rabbi Irina Gritsevskaya told the Jewish Telegraphic Agency during the movement’s Purim celebration in Podil. She is an Israeli rabbi who is the executive director of the Masorti movement-affiliated Schechter Institutes and periodically travels to Ukraine to serve the country’s Masorti communities. Masorti Judaism is similar to the Conservative movement in the United States.
“Last year it was very, very hard, because people were in shock, afraid, and they didn’t know what to do,” said Ariel Markowitz, Kyiv’s most senior rabbi from the Chabad-Lubavitch Orthodox movement, which held its own Purim celebration Monday night. “But now we know that we have a strong army, that we have a chance, and many people have actually returned to Kyiv.”
Rabbi Ariel Markowitz of Chabad Kyiv reads from the Megillah during his community’s Purim celebration, March 6, 2023. (Courtesy Markowitz)
The year-old war has shaken up Ukraine’s Jewish community, with members leaving the country or moving within it to avoid Russian shelling and its effects.
“Everyone has pretty much made a decision on whether to stay or to leave and we are reorganizing our community,” said Gritsevskaya.
Although at least 14,000 Ukrainians have moved to Israel since Russia’s all-out invasion started, and many more thousands have found refuge in Germany and other European countries, Gritsevskaya wants to focus on those who stayed. Estimates of the Jewish population in Ukraine ranged before the war from just under 50,000 to up to 400,000, depending on who counted.
One of the people who left the country was the former Masorti rabbi in Ukraine, Reuven Stamov, who moved with his family to Israel. Currently, the Masorti movement — whose Ukrainian following Grivtseskaya estimates in the thousands — does not have a rabbi permanently in the country. But the community keeps active in Kyiv and other cities, such as Kharkiv in the east, Odessa in the south and Chernivtsi in the southwest, thanks to activists, volunteers and rabbinical students, plus the visits by Gritsevskaya, who first returned for Purim last year.
“Community life has never been so important,” she said.
Gritsevskaya pointed to the difference that having access to material help, connections and emotional and spiritual support makes for those who arrive in new cities from places in the south or the east occupied by Russia or close to the front.
She acknowledged that some Jewish organizations have ceased their operations in Ukraine and stressed the need of strengthening the work of those who are committed to remain, so Jewish life in Ukraine could be as “diverse” as before and people “have options” to choose the way they practice their Judaism.
Among the Ukrainian Jews that decided to stay is the director of the MILI Foundation, the entity that organizes the Masorti community in Ukraine. Maksym Melnikov moved to Kyiv from his native Donetsk in 2014 after Russian-backed separatist militias declared the independence of part of the region and war broke out in Eastern Ukraine.
Rabbi Irina Gritsevskaya poses with community members of the Masorti community in Kyiv, March 6, 2023. (Marcel Gascón Barberá)
“I came when they started to occupy our land in Ukraine,” Melnikov told the Jewish Telegraphic Agency at the Masorti Purim celebration in Kyiv, just before taking the stage to help Gritsevskaya read the Purim Megillah. “Almost a decade later, war came after me to Kyiv, and I don’t want to move this time, I’m staying.”
Since 2014, many of Melnikov’s friends and acquaintances from Donetsk have moved to Kyiv. While Russia’s full-scale invasion has pushed many Jews from Kyiv to move westwards or leave the country, the western city’s communities have received a new infusion of people from the eastern cities more affected by the war.
“Communities are changing constantly countrywide, and we are trying to reach out to those who arrive, both to help them start a new life and to build our community stronger,” said Grivtsevskaya.
She said the Masorti community in Chernivtsi has experienced a notable revival. Situated near the border with Romania, Chernivtsi is one of the few Ukrainian provincial capitals that has not been bombed by Russia, and thousands have moved there. “They have received another family and are very strong right now,” she said about the once-dwindling community in this historical Jewish center, where she hosted a Purim celebration after making her way into Ukraine in March 2022.
The massive uprooting of entire Jewish communities has been experienced keenly by Chabad, which has the largest Jewish presence in the country, with hundreds of emissaries serving Jewish communities in dozens of cities.
“We’ve seen a huge increase in those who come looking for help,” Markowitz told JTA hours before the start of Purim at Chabad’s community center in Kyiv. Many of them, he said, had come from Mariupol, a city bombed into submission by Russia at the beginning of the war.
Scenes of the Purim shpiel at the Masorti community in Kyiv, March 6, 2023. (Marcel Gascón Barberá)
Chabad is one of several organizations providing aid to Ukrainian Jews, including support in obtaining food, medical care and generators that keep power flowing amid widespread outages.
The rise of the demand for these services is not only driven by refugees, but by families and individuals who have lost their source of income due to the economic disruptions caused by the invasion.
“There is inflation, there are less jobs, a lot of companies closed and people lost their jobs or are unable to help their family members,” Markowitz said.
Besides the demographic and economic shake-ups, the war has brought changes in the way Jews relate to their Ukrainian identity. Perhaps the most striking has been a rapid shift away from speaking Russian, the first language of many Ukrainian Jews until recently.
“Even I started learning and speaking Ukrainian and you can definitely see how a new sense of national identity is being born,” Maria Karadin, a Russia-born Israeli who moved to Ukraine with her husband in 2005, said at the Masorti Purim event.
Maiia Malkova is 15 years old and one of the most active young members of the Masorti community in Kyiv.
“Last year I didn’t even think about Purim so much because I was so frightened,” she said while wearing a necklace with a tryzub, the trident that symbolizes Ukrainian statehood and independence. “But we kind of got accustomed to this situation. And it is great to be able to celebrate Purim again.”
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Tidbits: Yiddish activist in Sweden receives royal medal
Tidbits is a Forverts feature of easy news briefs in Yiddish that you can listen to or read, or both! If you read the article and don’t know a word, just click on it and the translation appears. Listen to the report here:
סוסאַנע שנײַדערמאַן־ריץ, די אָנגעזעענע ייִדיש־אַקטיוויסטקע אין שוועדן און די פּרעזידענטקע פֿונעם שוועדישן צווײַג פֿון דער אַלוועלטלעכער ציוניסטישער פֿרויען־אָרגאַניזאַציע „וויזאָ“ — וועט באַקומען איינע פֿון שוועדנס העכסטע קיניגלעכע אויסצייכענונגען, „דעם קעניגס מעדאַל“, דעם 9טן סעפּטעמבער, אינעם קיניגלעכן פּאַלאַץ אין שטאָקהאָלם.
לויט דער אָפֿיציעלער באַשרײַבונג ווערט שנײַדערמאַן־ריץ אָנערקענט פֿאַר איר „ממשותדיקן בײַשטײַער צו דער מינאָריטעט־שפּראַך, ייִדיש.“ שוין צענדליקער יאָרן וואָס שנײַדערמאַן־ריץ קעמפֿט לטובֿת דעם אָפּהיטן די ייִדישע קולטור אין שוועדן.
שנײַדערמאַן־ריץ איז געווען איינע פֿון די פֿירערס בײַם פֿאַרזיכערן אַן אָפֿיציעלע אָנערקענונג פֿון ייִדיש ווי איינע פֿון שוועדנס נאַציאָנאַלע מינאָריטעט־שפּראַכן. צום סוף האָט די קאַמפּאַניע מצליח געווען. ייִדיש האָט באַקומען אַ לעגאַלן סטאַטוס און דערבײַ דערמעגלעכט אַז די רעגירונג זאָל העלפֿן פֿינאַנצירן דאָס אויפֿהאַלטן און אַנטוויקלען די ייִדישע שפּראַך און קולטור.
די אָנערקענונג ווערט באַטראַכט פֿאַר אַ ווענדפּונקט פֿאַר דער ייִדישער קהילה אין שוועדן, בפֿרט איצט ווען די זאָרג וועגן אַנטיסעמיטיזם וואַקסט פֿון טאָג צו טאָג בײַ ייִדן איבער גאַנץ אייראָפּע.
ייִדיש־אַקטיוויסטן זאָגן, אַז די אָפֿיציעלע שטיצע פֿאַר דער שפּראַך העלפֿט אָפּהיטן אַ וויכטיקן טייל פֿון דער ייִדישער קולטור־ירושה און פֿאַרשטאַרקט דעם אָנדענק פֿון ייִדישן לעבן אין שוועדן במשך פֿון דער געשיכטע.
צו זען דעם אַרטיקל אויף ענגליש גיט אַ קוועטש דאָ.
To see this article in English, click here.
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From a Catskills bungalow in 1969, you can almost see astronauts
Crickets chirp as the audience enters The Laura Pels Theatre. Tall grass rims the front of the stage, and home movies from summer resorts in the Catskills are projected on a screen. Mother and son wave hi from a lake, a boy swims laps and bubbies walk past in their swimsuits.
This is the setting of A Walk on the Moon, a new off-Broadway musical written by Pamela Gray and based on the 1999 film of the same name for which she wrote the screenplay. Inspired by Gray’s childhood summers in a “Borscht Belt” bungalow colony, the show depicts the life of a Brooklyn-accented Jewish family against the backdrop of the Apollo 11 moon landing, the Vietnam War and the Woodstock music festival.
The show opens on Pearl Kantrowitz (Talia Suskauer) looking out wistfully as she stands in front of her summer bungalow. Pearl, who became pregnant with her daughter at 16, is struggling with the concept of domestic life amid a decade filled with excitement and chaos. It’s nearing the end of the ‘60s, and she feels as though she had barely experienced it.
In contrast, Pearl’s husband, Marty (Max Chernin), is a TV repairman entirely resistant to change, even when it comes to the bakery where his “blackout” cake comes from. He’s only in the Catskills for the weekend though, leaving Pearl subject to her temptations for the rest of the week. These desires come in the form of Walker Jerome (Sam Gravitte), a hippie “blouse man” who plans to move to California. Before the curtain closes on Act I, Walker and Pearl begin an affair as a man lands on the moon — and are left to deal with the ramifications in the second act of the show.
Pearl’s journey of self-exploration parallels that of her teenage daughter Allison (Sophie Pollono), who is falling in love with Ross (Oscar Williams), a 16-year-old boy who describes himself as “Big Jewish Hendrix.” Allison, who first appears clutching a Joni Mitchell album, is a headstrong girl who speaks out against the state of the world in any way she can — she lambasts her brother’s cap gun and refuses to attend the colony’s 4th of July celebration. Ross is an aspiring musician who, though he admires the counter-culture singers of the time, is nervous to take tangible action of his own.
As the teenage couple discusses the changing world around them and finds connection over the music of Ross’ guitar, Pearl seeks to regain the teenage years that she lost, experimenting with marijuana, attending Woodstock and attempting to hide her affair from her children and her watchful mother-in-law, Lillian (Andréa Burns).
The moon landing means something different to each character: Allison views it as a U.S. invasion analogous to Vietnam, Walker is inspired by the potential it symbolizes, Ross considers writing a song about it. Though daily life is primarily filled with mah jongg games and visits from the knish man, this tiny colony isn’t immune from the tumultuous time period. Walker discusses his brother who is missing in action and Ross contemplates burning his draft card, singing with Allison about the need for change, lest the “candle in the wind goes out.”
Some plot elements are a tad heavy handed, such as when Pearl buys a tie-dye shirt and sings a song with Marty about it (he finds her shirt too new and different) or the Jewish wives’ discussion and ensuing song about Betty Friedan (“keep your book, cuz we ain’t ready”). The show also glosses over some things, such as how Pearl explains her whereabouts while she’s with Walker and who manages her responsibilities while the two of them are together.
The musical numbers, coupled with dances performed in colorful capris and mod dresses, concern forbidden love, Saturday nights in the Catskills and the momentous nature of the moon landing. While none is particularly groundbreaking, they are well-performed; Suskauer is a vocal standout.
However, these critiques don’t detract from the show’s mission to recreate the Catskills bungalows once prominent in Jewish consciousness. The wives get farputst for dinner; Pearl is said to be “schtupping” the blouse man; the loudspeaker announces that “Shimmy the Pickle Man” is coming to town. The set, a bungalow amidst a sea of trees, creates a nostalgic and intimate ambience supplemented by projected video of the moon landing, protests and napalm bombs.
Catskills colonies are now few, and Woodstock is only a distant memory. For a few hours, though, one can imagine what it’s like to be in the summer of 1969, and Neil Armstrong is about to walk on the moon.
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In Israel’s astonishing new reality, voters expect Netanyahu to try to sabotage elections
Two extraordinary recent developments illustrate how politically unsettled Israel is in advance of elections this year: Supreme Court Justice Noam Solberg, chairman of Israel’s Central Elections Committee, publicly outlined the legal conditions under which elections could possibly be postponed during a national emergency, and former Prime Minister Ehud Barak warned that Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu might try to sabotage elections and have to be physically removed from office.
The fact that such scenarios are now being openly discussed by figures at the center of Israel’s democratic system reveals how close the country’s democracy is to a breakdown — and the country’s character to a fundamental change.
For decades, Israel prided itself on maintaining democratic continuity under impossible conditions. Through wars, terror campaigns, coalition collapses and corruption scandals, there remained an unspoken assumption that elections would occur and governments would leave office when they lost.
Now, for the first time in Israeli history, a substantial portion of the public fears that this assumption no longer stands.
“If Netanyahu tries to sabotage the elections, we will have no choice but to drive him out with sticks and stones,” Barak said, speaking in Hebrew on Israel Radio.
The astonishing thing: no one else on the program was astonished.
The unthinkable, now possible
The atmosphere surrounding the expected election, which must take place before the end of October, has become marked by increasingly apocalyptic rhetoric as Netanyahu faces negative polls. A poll by the Israel Democracy Institute found that 61% of Israelis believe Netanyahu should not run for reelection at all. Another poll found that 63% of Israelis fear for the future of Israeli democracy itself, while 56% said that internal divisions pose a greater threat to Israel than external enemies.
These are extraordinary numbers in a country historically defined by external security fears. Increasingly, many Israelis now believe the gravest threat facing the country is internal democratic collapse.
Justice Solberg’s remarks last week, which took place at a closed academic event and were reported later, added fuel to the fire.
Solberg, who is a conservative and considered politically sympathetic to Netanyahu, outlined six principles that would have to govern any decision to postpone elections, including a clearly defined plan for a return to normal electoral procedures.
Solberg emphasized that no election should be postponed merely because a crisis exists. Rather, authorities must demonstrate that the emergency has materially impaired the country’s ability to conduct free, equal and genuine elections. He concluded by expressing hope that Israel would never face circumstances requiring such a decision.
The fear that Israel is actually quite close to such a postponement cuts across much of Israeli society. I’ve heard it expressed by secular liberals, military veterans, former intelligence officials, legal scholars, journalists, centrist politicians, and even some conservatives who once supported Netanyahu enthusiastically. What unites them is the growing belief that Netanyahu now considers remaining in power to be an existential necessity — and that his radical base will back him no matter what outrage he attempts.
Yair Golan, former deputy IDF chief and leader of the opposition Democrats Party, has become one of the loudest voices warning that the danger is no longer theoretical. Golan warned publicly that Netanyahu’s camp could “sabotage, falsify, lie and intimidate” in order to remain in power. He also warned against attempts to alter election rules before voting takes place, and announced plans for extensive election monitoring operations to try to help safeguard the vote.
A decade ago, such statements from a senior Israeli political figure would have sounded deranged. Today, many Israelis hear them as sober preparation.
Inventing an emergency
Netanyahu’s current term, after a very close election in 2022, has been calamitous, starting with his hugely unpopular effort to eviscerate the judiciary, then continuing with the Oct. 7 Hamas massacre and a three-year multi-front war with unsatisfying conclusions. Most Israelis believe he extended at least one branch of the conflict, in Gaza, to satisfy ultranationalists in his coalition.
Which means there’s precedent for believing Netanyahu might invent or invite an emergency to further his personal goals.
One possibility is yet another external war, involving a manufactured escalation with Iran or Hezbollah, or in the West Bank, where radical settlers terrorize Palestinians while Israeli authorities look the other way. Another, and the most obvious, would involve a sudden change in the status of the Temple Mount — a goal toward which some far-right members of Netanyahu’s coalition have been agitating — or other combustible religious sites.
Any domestic route Netanyahu might choose would invite a direct confrontation between the executive branch and the judiciary over the legitimacy of democratic procedures themselves.
If the Supreme Court ruled against Netanyahu, many fear the coalition could refuse compliance outright. After all, Netanyahu has spent years seeding the idea that the Supreme Court — and also prosecutors, the attorney general, and the civil service — are liberal fronts which do not necessarily need to be obeyed.
Devaluing democracy
The columnist Ravit Hecht recently argued in Haaretz that significant portions of the coalition no longer merely oppose liberal democracy, but reject democracy itself.
As Netanyahu has increasingly aligned himself with these forces, Hecht wrote, he has adopted “more and more dictatorial characteristics,” leading to “real fear for the purity of the coming election or even that it will be held.”
At the same time, much of the right has mainstreamed conspiracy theories surrounding the Oct. 7 attack and the Gaza war. Because of the Netanyahu machine’s jackhammer agitprop, almost a third of Israelis now believe the “betrayal from within” theory in which Israel’s security services assisted Hamas on Oct. 7 to harm Netanyahu.
Figures such as Likud Knesset member Tally Gotliv have openly accused the Shin Bet, military officers, protest leaders, judges and the attorney general of betrayal or collaboration with Hamas. Instead of being marginalized, such rhetoric increasingly receives tacit acceptance from parts of the governing coalition.
Yediot Ahronot columnist Ben-Dror Yemini compared the phenomenon to the Nazi-era “stab-in-the-back” myth after World War I, which blamed Jews for Germany’s humiliation. Yemini warned that societies consumed by conspiracy theories eventually destroy trust in every institution capable of holding democracy together.
Given this level of agitation, it is fair to view Israel’s coming election as something far more significant than a contest between left and right or rival policy agendas. Increasingly, it looks like a referendum on whether the country remains the democracy it has always claimed — and largely managed — to be.
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