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Orthodox pilgrimage to the grave of Kabbalah rabbi buried in Istanbul picks up after COVID slump
ISTANBUL (JTA) — Dozens of Orthodox Jews gathered on a hill overlooking the Bosphorus Strait.
Above them, guarding the hilltop, stood a Turkish military base, and below sat the swanky Istanbul neighborhood of Ortaköy. Dominating the view was the 15th of July Martyrs Bridge, which connects Europe and Asia. On the Asian side of the Strait loomed the massive Çamlica Mosque.
None of those sites were of interest to the crowd, however. The hill also contains one of Istanbul’s main Jewish cemeteries, and those gathered — who came from Turkey, the United States and Israel — were there to pay their respects on the yahrzeit, or death anniversary, of Rabbi Naphtali HaKohen Katz, an influential and prolific 17th-century rabbi who was devoted to Jewish mysticism.
Pilgrimages like this one, made by Orthodox groups of varying sizes to the grave sites of similarly revered Jewish figures across Europe, are far from uncommon and have spawned a cottage travel industry. Among the largest and most publicized is the annual pilgrimage to Uman, Ukraine, which brings tens of thousands to the grave of Rabbi Nachman of Breslov each Rosh Hashanah (not on the anniversary of his death). Another involves the grave of Rabbi Elimelech Weisbaum, an early Hasidic leader, in Lizhensk, Poland, in the early spring.
(David I. Klein)
Yitzhak Friedman, a Hasidic Jew from Lakewood, New Jersey, who is currently studying in Israel, told the Jewish Telegraphic Agency that he and a few friends used the opportunity of Katz’s yahrzeit to rationalize a short trip to Istanbul.
“It was cheap tickets, we heard a lot of great things, so I had a nice jump over for two days,” he said.
Another group of Orthodox women from Israel said they had planned their trip similarly to coincide with the “hilulah” — using the Hebrew word for such a pilgrimage.
Though the pilgrimage to Uman has become a rowdy days-long affair, during which the influx of Orthodox Jews rent out most of the small city’s available apartments and hotel rooms, other pilgrimages, such as the one to Katz’s grave, have a more quiet and introspective atmosphere. The crowd on Tuesday took breaks from praying to eat at the cemetery’s synagogue, passing around whiskey and snacks.
Friedman said that he has made several similar journeys in the past year alone, including to Dynow, Poland, to the grave of Reb Tzvi Elimelech, another early Hasidic leader. He also spent more than 30 hours traveling to war-torn Ukraine to spend Rosh Hashanah in Uman, a practice that was strongly discouraged by both Israeli and Ukrainian rabbinic leaders this year.
The Jewish cemetery where Katz is buried offers a hilltop view of the city. (David I. Klein)
Friedman said he had heard that a visit to Katz’s grave had helped people with various things, from finding “the right match” to having kids have kids to being cured from a sickness. He asked simply for “happiness” in his prayers.
He also attributed some of the effects of the grave to the fact that it is visited less than the one in Uman.
“It’s known that a tzaddik that very few people come to, his powers are much bigger,” Friedman said.
Another of the pilgrims, a Hasidic man from the Doroger sect in Bnei Brak, Israel, explained that he was a distant descendent of Katz, and that, though he was coming for the first time, he came to accompany his father who had been making the trip for 50 years.
Katz was born in 1649, in what is today Ostrovo, Ukraine, and at the age of 14 he was captured and sold into slavery by Tatars, a Turkic muslim group in Crimea and other parts of Southern Ukraine. But he escaped years later and returned to Ostrovo to become the community’s rabbi, later transferring to Posen in modern-day Poland, where he became a scholar of Kabbalistic literature.
But his struggles would not end with the Tatars. Later in life, Katz was called to Frankfurt, in today’s Germany, to serve the community there. When a fire broke out in the city in 1711, he was accused of using kabbalistic charms to stop it from being extinguished by natural means and imprisoned by the local leadership.
Upon his release, he fled to Prague — where he quarreled with another Kabbalah teacher devoted to Shabbetai Zevi, a false messiah — and later Wroclaw.
In past years, as many as 300 people at a time have visited the Istanbul cemetery. (David I. Klein)
After a life filled with struggle in Europe, Katz tried to emigrate to the holy land but only made it as far as Constantinople, where he died in 1718, and was buried by the local Jewish community in the Ortaköy Cemetery.
Ever since, the grave has been a site of pilgrimage, explained Rabbi Mendy Chitrik, an Istanbul rabbi affiliated with the Hasidic Chabad-Lubavitch movement — and another distant descendent of Katz’s — who helped in the restoration of the grave in 2005.
“Throughout the ages some great rabbis have allegedly made the pilgrimage,” Chitrik said, including the Baal Shem Tov — the founder of the Hasidic Judaism — Rabbi Nachman of Breslov and others.
“I have accompanied great rabbis who came anonymously to pray at his grave,” Chitrik added. “Some fly in for a day on private jets and leave.”
While some people come throughout the year, the most popular time to come is Katz’s yahrzeit, the 24th of Tevet on the Hebrew calendar. In past years, as many as 300 people came for the occasion, said Albert Elvaşvili, the president of the Ortaköy Jewish community which manages the cemetery.
However, he noted that attendance often rises and falls with the changes in Israeli-Turkish relations, much like general Israeli tourism to Turkey, which reached an all time high this year.
The biggest slump came during the COVID-19 pandemic, with only a handful of pilgrims coming the last two years. Now it seems that the tradition is once more back in force, with several buses of pilgrims from different countries and sects coming throughout the day.
“As relations with Israel and the Jewish people are coming to a better place, I believe there will be many more people coming in, and as Turkey becomes much more attractive for the Jewish and religious traveler, there will be many more opportunities for people to come,” Chitrik said. “Not just to the kever [grave] of Naphtali Katz on the 24th of Tevet, but to Rabbi Chaim Palachi in Izmir, on the 19th of Shevat, next month, and Rabbi Yehudah Rozanes, on the 26th of Nisan, and many other rabbis who are buried here in the important cemeteries of Turkey.”
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Massive fire breaks out at kosher supermarket in London’s Golders Green
(JTA) — A huge fire broke out Tuesday morning at the Kosher Kingdom supermarket in Golders Green, London’s heavily Orthodox Jewish neighborhood. Firefighters were still working to put out the blaze six hours later.
Metropolitan Police posted on X that officers were called to the scene on Golders Green Road around 7 a.m. by the London Fire Brigade. “Officers responded and are at the scene assisting firefighters with road closures and evacuations,” said police.
London Fire Brigade Assistant Commissioner Craig Carter provided an update on the scene at 12:30 p.m., saying that 15 engines and around 100 firefighters “have been tackling the fire at its height, which has affected a ground floor shop and a storage area to the rear, which has partially collapsed.”
He noted that the flats above were not affected but residents were evacuated as a precaution.
“Our specialist Fire Investigators, in conjunction with the Metropolitan Police Service, have worked at pace to establish that the circumstances of the fire are not believed to be suspicious and investigations on the cause and origin of the fire are ongoing,” Carter added.
The news that Kosher Kingdom did not appear to be deliberately targeted comes as a relief to Jewish residents, who have been on edge for months amid a string of attacks. The blaze broke out in the same area where four Hatzola ambulances were torched in March, two Jewish men were stabbed in April and a Jewish man said he was attacked for speaking Hebrew this month.
Rochel Cohen, who lives near the supermarket, is among those whose street has been cordoned off. Her first thought was the incident was another antisemitic attack, she told JTA in a phone interview.
Cohen said she looked out the window around 7 a.m. and saw “just huge plumes of black smoke and we heard all the sirens. And the police have roped off all our roads again.”
That “again,” Cohen said, was because it was the third time in two months that her family had witnessed “crime scenes in our neighborhood.”
“The ambulance fire was just on the next street from us and the stabbing situation was 100 meters down the road from us,” she said.
Prior to the fire department’s update, speculation spread on social media that the fire was electrical, potentially caused by faulty freezers. London has seen an unprecedented heatwave over the last several days, with temperatures soaring over 90 degrees.
Cohen said two of her family members previously worked at Kosher Kingdom. They believed from the outset that there was an electrical fire in the freezers “because it’s exactly from the roof footage that we saw where those freezers are located,” she said.
Nonetheless, another incident in the neighborhood has left her shaken. “It’s just a bit of a nightmare, really,” she said. “It’s all these incidents adding up, and it makes it quite scary, this climate of fear we’re currently in. It’s really oppressive.”
Cohen said she has been traveling to jury service the last several weeks about 10 miles from Golders Green in Wood Green, which has a higher than average crime rate.
“I actually felt safer there than I do walking the street here in Golders Green because I’m constantly turning around, checking what’s going on,” she said. “It’s not a nice feeling.”
This article originally appeared on JTA.org.
The post Massive fire breaks out at kosher supermarket in London’s Golders Green appeared first on The Forward.
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Reading a Pakistani author’s 30-year-old novel helped me understand my parents’ views on intermarriage
When I was a kid, I was haunted by the threat of my parents rejecting me if I married a non-Jew. Raised on Disney movies and song lyrics about soulmates, I spent almost every moment of high school anticipating the pain of falling in love with a non-Jew and having to choose between him and my family. If I chose him, the estrangement could bode poorly for married life. But if I married a Jewish man, I’d always worry that if he had not been Jewish, our love would not have overcome our religious differences, and therefore was not that strong to begin with.
The psychic burden began to lift only when I went to college at Hunter in New York City and made friends from other minority groups. I bonded with them over our parents’ desire that we marry someone from the same religion or ethnicity. I had always felt like my parents’ demand constituted bigotry against non-Jews, and I was surprised when my non-Jewish friends were more sympathetic to their stance than I was.
In college, I took a class on the history of modern India and learned about the Pakistani author Bapsi Sidhwa, but I didn’t read her until this year. Sidhwa, who died in 2024, grew up in Lahore’s Parsi community — a group of Zoroastrians who trace their roots to pre-Islamic Iran. Even though her books are mostly more than 30 years old, they still feel relevant, and they remind me of my own Iranian Jewish community.
Sidhwa’s 1993 coming-of-age novel An American Brat centers on Feroza, a Parsi girl from Lahore. Feroza’s parents send her to the U.S. to expand her horizons because they think the local culture is making her too conservative. But they wind up being disappointed when her horizons expand too much.
Feroza’s whole extended family goes into a tailspin when she sends word home that she wants to marry a Jewish man named David. She met him when she responded to an ad he placed in the college newspaper about selling his car. The two bond over their families’ shared emphases on religion and education. David’s family’s Shabbat candles recall the significance of fire within Zoroastrianism. But if Feroza marries a non-Zoroastrian, she will be excommunicated from the Parsi community. As Feroza’s mom Zareen prepares to fly to America to intervene, extended family members urge her to stand her ground no matter how nice David is and no matter how big a “tantrum” Feroza throws — but they also advise her not be too harsh either, so as not to push Feroza away.
The reader never learns what objections, if any, David’s Reform Jewish parents might have to his interfaith marriage; over Shabbat dinner, prior to the proposal, they are reserved but polite. Meanwhile, Zareen’s good-cop bad-cop routine is familiar, quaint and pathetic. She lists eligible Parsi bachelors (the Zoroastrian equivalent of ‘nice Jewish boys’) with promising careers and “worthy mothers.” She tries killing with kindness: “You’re too precious. We’re not going to throw you away on the first riffraff that comes your way.” She even tells Feroza cautionary tales about women who married “nons” (Zoroastrian equivalent of goyim) and wound up feeling disconnected from their heritage. These methods all fail, and the book comes to a sobering end when Zareen calls David’s bluff and demands the couple have a huge traditional wedding, scaring him off and exposing the limits of his supposedly liberal values.
Zoroastrians, like Jews, are a small group. In 2022, an Associated Press article estimated the worldwide Zoroastrian population, which at its peak numbered in the millions, was now around 125,000. Lahore’s Parsi community had all of 11 members as of a 2023 Facebook post.
Reading literature from other cultures, just like having friends from other cultures, can teach us about our own. As I read Zareen’s efforts to talk Feroza out of the engagement, it was somehow easier for me to understand than if they were Jewish like me. The author’s empathy makes Zareen’s mom an especially interesting character, like a Zoroastrian Tevye, torn between family pressures and the feminist values that inspired her to send Feroza to the U.S. in the first place.
Students at Hunter have a reputation for being super liberal, but they also have surprising points of departure from what most people would consider liberal. When I told classmates that I struggled with my parents’ insistence that I marry a Jew, I sensed bad energy in the room, as if they were judging me for disrespecting my parents in front of them. Some seemed to think it’s only natural for a person to marry someone who belongs to the same religion or ethnicity. Part of me was disturbed to see that this brand of separatism was so fashionable — but I also felt relieved, like they’d given me permission to appease my parents.
Feroza heals from her breakup with David partly by remembering that no matter the religion of the person she marries, her religion will always be part of her. As for myself, I don’t know what my future holds. But whatever does happen, it will be something that also happened to countless women before me — not only Jewish women but people of all different races and creeds. It is comforting to remember that as your life is playing out, there are people all over the world and across time living out much the same story as you are.
The post Reading a Pakistani author’s 30-year-old novel helped me understand my parents’ views on intermarriage appeared first on The Forward.
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Newly discovered details about Soviet Jewry between 1945 and 1953
די יאָרן צװישן 1945 און 1953, פֿון דעם סוף פֿון דער צװײטער װעלט־מלחמה ביז יאָסיף סטאַלינס טױט, זײַנען געװען די צײַט פֿון נסיונות פֿאַר סאָװעטישע ייִדן. דער דאָזיקער תּקופֿה איז געװידמעט דאָס בוך „דאָס לעבן נאָך דער מלחמה: האָפֿענונגען און שרעק“ פֿון דער היסטאָריקערין אַנאַ שטערנשיס פֿונעם טאָראָנטער אוניװערסיטעט. דאָס איז דער פֿערטער באַנד אין דער אַכט־בענדיקן געשיכטע פֿון ייִדן אין סאָװעטן־פֿאַרבאַנד אונטער דער רעדאַקציע פֿון די היסטאָריקער גענאַדי עסטרײַך און דוד ענגעל פֿון ניו־יאָרקער אוניװערסיטעט.
העכער װי צװײ מיט אַ האַלב מיליאָן ייִדן זײַנען דערמאָרדעט געװאָרן אױפֿן שטח פֿונעם סאָװעטן־פֿאַרבאַנד אין די גרענעצן פֿון 1941, וואָס נעמט אויך אַרײַן די געגנטן פֿון פּױלן, ליטע, לעטלאַנד, עסטלאַנד און רומעניע, װאָס זײַנען אַנעקסירט געװאָרן אין 1939 און 1940.
בערך צװײ מיט אַ האַלב מיליאָן ייִדן האָבן איבערגעלעבט דעם חורבן אין סאָװעטן־פֿאַרבאַנד. זײ האָבן זיך געפֿונען מחוץ די אָקופּירטע טעריטאָריעס אָדער געדינט אין דער רױטער אַרמײ. אַרום 100,000 ייִדן זײַנען געבליבן לעבן אױף די אָקופּירטע שטחים, דער עיקר אין די געטאָס פֿון טראַנסניסטריע אין דרום־אוקראַיִנע און מאָלדאָװע, װאָס זײַנען געװען אונטער דער רומענישער אָקופּאַציע.
דער חורבן האָט שטאַרק געענדערט דעם קולטורעל־סאָציאַלן פּראָפֿיל פֿון סאָװעטישן ייִדנטום, שרײַבט שטערנשיס. די ייִנגערע, מער אַסימילירטע, געבילדעטע און מאָבילע מענטשן האָבן געהאַט בעסערע אױסזיכטן אױף אױסצומײַדן דעם טױט. די פּראָסטע שטעטלדיקע בעל־מלאכות, פּױערים און עלטערע ייִדן האָבן אָפֿט מאָל ניט געהאַט קײן מעגלעכקײטן צו אַנטלױפֿן פֿון די דײַטשן.
נאָך דער מלחמה האָבן אַ סך ייִדן ניט געװאָלט זיך אומקערן איז די שטעטלעך פֿון אוקראַיִנע און בעלאַרוס, װאָס האָבן זײ דערמאָנט אָן זײערע דערמאָרדעטע קרובֿים און שכנים. האָבן זיי זיך געפּרוּװט באַזעצן אין גרױסע שטעט, אַזעלכע װי קיִעװ, מינסק, מאָסקװע אָדער לענינגראַד.
כּדי צו האָבן אַ װױנרעכט אין אַ גרױסער שטאָט האָט מען געמוזט האָבן אַן אַרבעט און אַ דירה. דער מצבֿ אין קיִעװ איז געװען באַזונדערס שװער. די שטאָט איז געװען אין חורבֿות, און די געבליבענע װױנונגען זײַנען בעת דער דײַטשישער אָקופּאַציע פֿאַרנומען געװאָרן דורך אָרטיקע אוקראַיִנער.
זײ האָבן פֿײַנט געהאַט ייִדן, װאָס האָבן זיך אומגעקערט פֿון דער עװאַקואַציע אין סיביר אָדער צענטראַל־אַזיע און האָבן איצט געװאָלט צוריק באַקומען זײערע דירות מיט האָב־און־גוטס. דאָס האָט געשאַפֿן שפּאַנונג צװישן ייִדן און אוקראַיִנער און אַרויסגערופֿן אַנטיסעמיטישע געפֿילן.
דאָס רובֿ היסטאָרישע פֿאָרשונגען װעגן סאָװעטישע ייִדן פֿאָקוסירן זיך אױף דער פּאָליטיק און קולטור. שטערנשיס ברענגט אַרײַן נײַע היסטאָרישע מקורים, װאָס עד־היום זײַנען לרובֿ פֿאַרבליבן מחוץ דעם אַקאַדעמישן אינטערעס.
אין משך פֿון העכער װי 20 יאָר פֿאָרש-אַרבעט האָט זי אָנגעזאַמלט הונדערטער בעל־פּהיִקע גבֿית־עדותן װעגן דעם אַמאָליקן ייִדישן לעבן אין סאָװעטן־פֿאַרבאַנד. זײ לאָזן הערן שטימען פֿון מענער און פֿרױען פֿון פֿאַרשײדענע סאָציאַלע שיכטן, פֿון פּראָסטע אַרבעטער ביז הױך־אָנגעשטעלטע פֿיגורן.
עס איז כּדאַי דאָ אָפּצומערקן, אַז אײן װיכטיקער אַספּעקט פֿון דער סאָװעטישער ייִדישער דערפֿאַרונג פֿאַרבלײַבט נאָך אַלץ ניט דערפֿאָרשט. אַ היפּשע צאָל ייִדן זײַנען געװען פֿאַרטאָן אין דער אַזױ־גערופֿענער „שאָטן־װירטשאַפֿט“. זײ האָבן געפֿירט קלײנע געשעפֿטן, װאָס זײַנען פֿאָרמעל געװען מלוכישע אָבער פֿאַקטיש זײַנען זײ געװען פּריװאַטע.
פּריװאַטע אונטערנעמונגען זײַנען געװען פֿאַרװערט אין סאָװעטן־פֿאַרבאַנד, אָבער אין דער צײַט פֿון עקאָנאָמישע צרות האָט די מלוכה געקוקט אױף זײ דורך די פֿינגער. אַזאַ מין אַרבעט האָט געלאָזט פֿרומע ייִדן אָפּהיטן שבת און יום־טובֿים. דװקא זײ זײַנען געװען די הױפּט־שטיצער פֿון שילן און פּריװאַטע מנינים.
ספּעציעל אינטערעסאַנט אין שטערנשיסעס בוך זײַנען די באַריכטן װעגן פֿאַרשײדענע פֿאָלק־אַקטיװיטעטן װאָס ייִדן האָבן אָרגאַניזירט אָן קײן שום שטיצה מצד דער מלוכה. מען האָט געזאַמלט געלט צו בױען דענקמעלער אױף די ערטער פֿון מאַסנמאָרד און צו אָרגאַניזירן הזכּרה־צערעמאָניעס.
די ערשטע פּאָר יאָר נאָך דער צווייטער וועלט־מלחמה זײַנען געװען אַ צײַט פֿון גרױסע האָפֿענונגען. נאָכן נצחון איבער דײַטשלאַנד האָט מען געהאָפֿט, אַז די סאָװעטישע מאַכט װעט אָנערקענען די יסורים פֿון ייִדן און װעט זײ העלפֿן װידער אױפֿבױען דאָס ייִדישע לעבן.
די סאַמע אַקטיװסטע קהילות זײַנען געװען אין װילנע און טשערנאָװיץ, די ייִדישע צענטערס, װאָס זײַנען געװאָרן סאָװעטיש ערשט אין 1939 און 1940. אין װילנע האָט מען געשאַפֿן דעם ערשטן חורבן־מוזײ אין דער װעלט און טשערנאָװיץ איז געװאָרן אַ נײַע הײם פֿאַרן קיִעװער ייִדישן טעאַטער.
אָבער דער אױפֿלעב האָט געדױערט בלױז אַ פּאָר יאָר. אַ סך כּלל־טוער (צװישן זײ — דער דיכטער אַבֿרהם סוצקעװער), װאָס פֿאַר דער מלחמה זײַנען געװען פּױלישע אָדער רומענישע בירגער, האָבן באַקומען דערלױבעניש צו פֿאַרלאָזן דעם סאָװעטן־פֿאַרבאַנד אין 1945־1946.
אַרום 1947 האָבן זיך באַװיזן סימנים פֿון ענדערונגען אין דער פּאָליטיק לגבי ייִדן. אײניקע היסטאָריקער פֿאַרבינדן זײ מיטן אָנהײב פֿון דער קאַלטער מלחמה צװישן דעם סאָװעטן־פֿאַרבאַנד און די פֿאַראײניקטע שטאַטן און מיטן אױפֿקום פֿון מדינת־ישׂראל.
שטערנשיס איז מסכּים, אַז דאָס זײַנען געװען װיכטיקע סיבות. אָבער זי האַלט, אַז אַ היפּשע ראָלע האָבן אױך געשפּילט אַנטיסעמיטישע שטימונגען אין דער סאָװעטישער באַפֿעלקערונג. אַנטיסעמיטיזם איז געװען ספּעציעל שטאַרק אין די געגנטן, װאָס זײַנען געװען אונטער דער דײַטשישער אָקופּאַציע. די נאַציסטישע פּראָפּאַגאַנדע האָט געהאַט אַ שטאַרקע השפּעה אױפֿן פּראָסטן פֿאָלק.
אַנטיסעמיטיזם איז געװען פּאָפּולער אױך אין די „הױכע פֿענצטער“ פֿון דער קאָמוניסטישער פּאַרטײ. נאָך דער מלחמה האָט די רעגירונג געהאַט אַ סך שװערע סאָציאַלע און עקאָנאָמישע פּראָבלעמען און האָט זיך גענײטיקט אין דער שטיצע פֿון די מאַסן.
אַן אימאַזש פֿון אַ שׂונא װאָלט געהאָלפֿן אָפּצוציִען דעם אױפֿמערק פֿון די דאָזיקע פּראָבלעמען, פֿאַרסך־הכּלט שטערנשיס. דערצו נאָך האָבן אַ סך ייִדן אַרױסגעװיזן התלהבֿות לגבי מדינת־ישׂראל, און דאָס האָט אַרויסגערופֿט חשד בײַ סטאַלינען.
בײַ ס׳רובֿ ייִדן איז דער דאָזיקער קלאַפּ געקומען אומדערװאַרט. מער פֿון אַלעמען האָבן געליטן די ייִדישע כּלל־ און קולטור־טוער פֿונעם ייִדישן אַנטיפֿאַשיסטישן קאָמיטעט.
דער אַקטיאָר שלמה מיכאָעלס איז דערמאָרדעט געװאָרן אין אַן אינסצענירטן אױטאָ־אומגליק אין יאַנואַר פֿון 1948. די דיכטער איציק פֿעפֿער, דוד האָפֿשטײן, פּרץ מאַרקיש, לײב קװיטקאָ און דער שרײַבער דוד בערגעלסאָן זײַנען באַשולדיקט געװאָרן אין שפּיאָנאַזש, פֿאַרמישפּט געוואָרן צום טױט און דערשאָסן געוואָרן דעם 12טן אױגוסט 1952
אַרום אײן טױזנט ייִדן זײַנען אַרעסטירט געװאָרן פֿאַר „ייִדישן נאַציאָנאַליזם“ און געשיקט געוואָרן אין די תּפֿיסה־לאַגערן. טױזנטער מענטשן האָבן פֿאַרלױרן זײער אַרבעט־שטעלעס. אַלע ייִדישע אַנשטאַלטן זײַנען פֿאַרמאַכט געװאָרן.
די אַנטיסעמיטישע כװאַליע האָט דערגרײכט דעם שפּיץ אָנהײב 1953. אַ גרופּע חשובֿע דאָקטױרים, ס’רובֿ ייִדן, זײַנען באַשולדיקט געװאָרן אין אָפּסמען אָנפֿירער פֿון דער קאָמוניסטישער פּאַרטײ. אײנצײַטיק זײַנען אַרומגעגאַנגען קלאַנגען, אַז סטאַלין איז אױסן צו דעפּאָרטירן ייִדן קײן סיביר.
אַזאַ אַקציע װאָלט ניט געװען קײן יוצא־דופֿן אין סאָװעטן־פֿאַרבאַנד. צו יענער צײַט האָט סטאַלין שױן געהאַט דעפּאָרטירט עטלעכע עטנישע עדות: די טאָטערן פֿון קרים, די טשעטשענצעס און די אינגושן פֿון קאַװקאַז און נאָך אַנדערע. אָבער היסטאָריקער האָבן ניט געפֿונען קײן דאָקומענטאַלע ראַיות פֿון אַ פּלאַן צו דעפּאָרטירן ייִדן.
אַזױ אָדער אַנדערש זײַנען ייִדן געראַטעװעט געװאָרן פֿון סטאַלינס לעצטער גזירה װײַל ער איז געשטאָרבן דעם 5טן מאַרץ 1953, גלײַך נאָך פּורים. בהדרגה האָט מען אָפּגעשטעלט די אַנטיסעמיטישע פּראָפּאַגאַנדע און באַפֿרײַט די פֿאַרמישפּטע פֿונעם גולאַג. אָבער מען האָט פֿאָרט נישט אָנגעהױבן דרוקן ייִדישע ביכער אין סאָװעטן־פֿאַרבאַנד ביז 1959.
שטערנשיס האָט אָנגעשריבן אַ דראַמאַטישע געשיכטע פֿולגעפּאַקט מיט פּרטים, װאָס לאָזן דעם לײענער זיך אױסמאָלן דאָס טאָג־טעגלעכע לעבן פֿון ייִדן אין סאָװעטן־פֿאַרבאַנד. דערצו נאָך באַקומט דער לײענער אַ גוטן פֿאַרשטאַנד פֿון די ברײטערע פּאָליטישע, עקאָנאָמישע און סאָציאַלע טענדענצן, װאָס האָבן באַװירקט סײַ ייִדן סײַ די גאַנצע סאָװעטישע באַפֿעלקערונג.
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