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Which side are you on: Jewish American or American Jew?
(JTA) — Earlier this month the New York Times convened what it called a “focus group of Jewish Americans.” I was struck briefly by that phrase — Jewish Americans — in part because the Times, like the Jewish Telegraphic Agency, tends to prefer “American Jews.”
It’s seemingly a distinction without a difference, although I know others might disagree. There is an argument that “American Jew” smacks of disloyalty, describing a Jew who happens to be American. “Jewish American,” according to this thinking, flips the script: an American who happens to be Jewish.
If pressed, I’d say I prefer “American Jew.” The noun “Jew” sounds, to my ear anyway, more direct and more assertive than the tentative adjective “Jewish.” It’s also consistent with the way JTA essentializes “Jew” in its coverage, as in British Jew, French Jew, LGBT Jew or Jew of color.
I wouldn’t have given further thought to the subject if not for a webinar last week given by Arnold Eisen, the chancellor emeritus at the Jewish Theological Seminary. In “Jewish-American, American-Jew: The Complexities and Joys of Living a Hyphenated Identity,” Eisen discussed how a debate over language is really about how Jews navigate between competing identities.
“What does the ‘American’ signify to us?” he asked. “What does the ‘Jewish’ signify and what is the nature of the relationship between the two? Is it a synthesis? Is it a tension, or a contradiction, or is it a blurring of the boundaries such that you can’t tell where one ends and the other begins?”
Questions like these, it turns out, have been asked since Jews and other immigrants first began flooding Ellis Island. Teddy Roosevelt complained in 1915 that “there is no room in this country for hyphenated Americans.” Woodrow Wilson liked to say that “any man who carries a hyphen about with him carries a dagger that he is ready to plunge into the vitals of the Republic.” The two presidents were frankly freaked out about what we now call multiculturalism, convinced that America couldn’t survive a wave of immigrants with dual loyalties.
The two presidents lost the argument, and for much of the 20th century “hyphenated American” was shorthand for successful acculturation. While immigration hardliners continue to question the loyalty of minorities who claim more than one identity, and Donald Trump played with the politics of loyalty in remarks about Mexicans, Muslims and Jews, ethnic pride is as American as, well, St. Patrick’s Day. “I am the proud daughter of Indian immigrants,” former South Carolina Gov. Nikki Haley said in announcing her run for the Republican presidential nomination this month.
For Jews, however, the hyphen became what philosophy professor Berel Lang called “a weighty symbol of the divided life of Diaspora Jewry.” Jewishness isn’t a distant country with quaint customs, but a religion and a portable identity that lives uneasily alongside your nationality. In a 2005 essay, Lang argued that on either side of the hyphen were “vying traditions or allegiances,” with the Jew constantly confronted with a choice between the American side, or assimilation, and the Jewish side, or remaining distinct.
Eisen calls this the “question of Jewish difference.” Eisen grew up in an observant Jewish family in Philadelphia, and understood from an early age that his family was different from their Vietnamese-, Italian-, Ukrainian- and African-American neighbors. On the other hand, they were all the same — that is, American — because they were all hyphenated. “Being parallel to all these other differences, gave me my place in the city and in the country,” he said.
In college he studied the Jewish heavy hitters who were less sanguine about the integration of American and Jewish identities. Eisen calls Rabbi Mordecai Kaplan, the renegade theologian at JTS, “the thinker who really made this question uppermost for American Jews.” Kaplan wrote in 1934 that Jewishness could only survive as a “subordinate civilization” in the United States, and that the “Jew in America will be first and foremost an American, and only secondarily a Jew.”
Kaplan’s prescription was a maximum effort on the part of Jews to “save the otherness of Jewish life” – not just through synagogue, but through a Jewish “civilization” expressed in social relationships, leisure activities and a traditional moral and ethical code.
Of course, Kaplan also understood that there was another way to protect Jewish distinctiveness: move to Israel.
A poster issued by the National Industrial Conservation Movement in 1917 warns that the American war effort might be harmed by a “hyphen of disloyalty,” suggesting immigrants with ties to their homelands were working to aid the enemy. (Prints and Photographs Division, Library of Congress)
The political scientist Charles Liebman, in “The Ambivalent American Jew” (1973), argued that Jews in the United States were torn between surviving as a distinct ethnic group and integrating into the larger society.
According to Eisen, Liebman believed that “Jews who make ‘Jewish’ the adjective and ‘American’ the noun tend to fall on the integration side of the hyphen. And Jews who make ‘Jew’ the noun and ‘American’ the adjective tend to fall on the survival side of the hyphen.”
Eisen, a professor of Jewish thought at JTS, noted that the challenge of the hyphen was felt by rabbis on opposite ends of the theological spectrum. He cited Eugene Borowitz, the influential Reform rabbi, who suggested in 1973 that Jews in the United States “are actually more Jewish on the inside than they pretend to be on the outside. In other words, we’re so worried about what Liebman called integration into America that we hide our distinctiveness.” Rabbi Joseph Soloveitchik, the leading Modern Orthodox thinker of his generation, despaired that the United States presented its Jews with an unresolvable conflict between the person of faith and the person of secular culture.
When I read the texts Eisen shared, I see 20th-century Jewish men who doubted Jews who could be fully at home in America and at home with themselves as Jews (let alone as Jews who weren’t straight or white — which would demand a few more hyphens). They couldn’t imagine a rich Jewishness that didn’t exist as a counterculture, the way Cynthia Ozick wondered what it would be like to “think as a Jew” in a non-Jewish language like English.
They couldn’t picture the hyphen as a plus sign, which pulled the words “Jewish” and “American” together.
Recent trends support the skeptics. Look at Judaism’s Conservative movement, whose rabbis are trained at JTS, and which has long tried to reconcile Jewish literacy and observance with the American mainstream. It’s shrinking, losing market share and followers both to Reform – where the American side of the hyphen is ascendant — and to Orthodoxy, where Jewish otherness is booming in places like Brooklyn and Lakewood, New Jersey. And the Jewish “nones” — those opting out of religion, synagogue and active engagement in Jewish institutions and affairs — are among the fastest-growing segments of American Jewish life.
Eisen appears more optimistic about a hyphenated Jewish identity, although he insists that it takes work to cultivate the Jewish side. “I don’t think there’s anything at stake necessarily on which side of the hyphen you put the Jewish on,” he said. “But if you don’t go out of your way to put added weight on the Jewish in the natural course of events, as Kaplan said correctly 100 years ago, the American will win.”
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The post Which side are you on: Jewish American or American Jew? appeared first on Jewish Telegraphic Agency.
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‘I didn’t want to let go of her; I loved her to death’
They buried Lisa Fliegel this week. Vital organs were not included because the 65 year-old trauma therapist had decided that her final act of tikun olam was to donate them and keep several people alive. For Fliegel, a dual citizen of the U.S. and Israel, tikun olam was a lifelong mission. And so, now in Florida a man breathes with Fliegel’s lungs. Fliegel’s liver is keeping a woman in California alive. The two kidneys went to two different states. Fliegel even donated her tissue, an act that has the potential of healing more than 75 others.
That is all the eulogy you need for Lisa Fliegel but two rabbis, her childhood friends, stood in the rain at a Massachusetts cemetery and choked back tears. Dozens of mourners walked in and sat beneath a canopy just before the rain started falling.
Fliegel’s work as a trauma therapist included stints counseling the victims of the Boston Marathon bombing, combatants in Northern Ireland and most recently, the survivors of the massacre in Israel on Oct. 7.
“How could one person be such a blessing to so many people in so many places at so many different times?” Rabbi Elana Kanter of the New Shul in Scottsdale, AZ asked the mourners.
Kanter and Fliegel attended the Solomon Schechter day school in Newton, MA together. Rabbi Kanter recalled how when Fliegel was in third grade, she mediated a dispute between a couple of her classmates by getting them to sign a treaty pledging not to fight any more. Laughter broke the sobs of a drizzly afternoon.
Kanter’s brother Raphael, rabbi emeritus at Tifereth Israel Congregation in New Bedford, MA, said it was possible that Fliegel was one of the lamed vavniks, the 36 righteous individuals that, according to the Talmud, exist in every generation and sustain the world. Do we, then, have a new tzadik in our midst? It was, Kanter said, the first time in all his years as a rabbi that he ever suggested someone was worthy of the designation.
A deep connection to Israel
Fliegel bought a plane ticket to Israel three hours after news of the Hamas attack broke. She went at the urging of old friends in the Zionist youth movement Hashomer Hatzair. Fliegel arrived on Oct. 22 in Eilat where she was embedded with evacuees from the kibbutzim and small towns in the Gaza Envelope. She teamed up with two Israeli social workers in a hotel occupied by residents of the Nir Oz kibbutz.
Her clinical supervisor during the months she spent in Eilat was David Senesh, an expat Israeli psychotherapist based in Berlin. He happens to be the nephew of Hannah Senesh, the Jewish heroine who was captured, tortured and executed trying to rescue Jews in Nazi-occupied Hungary. Senesh called Fliegel’s work in the aftermath of Oct. 7 “committed and courageous.”
“Her ability to extend herself as a person and therapist to the full range of human experience, beyond formal political and cultural divides, taught me how to maintain helpful relations amidst havoc and confusion,” he wrote.
Fliegel had a long and deep connection to Israel. She left her home in Massachusetts at the age of 17 to make aliyah. After serving in the Israeli Defense Force, she spent 20 years living at Kibbutz Ketura in southern Israel.
Lisa Fliegel was a Zionist and a defender of Palestinian rights. Her rachmonis for the Palestinians seems to have stemmed from what she once described as her own “boatload of trauma.” Fliegel lost her mother when she was just 12 and her older sister Dina, a social worker and union activist, succumbed to leukemia. Social work was the family business. Both of Fliegel’s parents were social workers. Her mother had a major impact on welfare reform in Massachusetts. Her father helped people uprooted by urban renewal projects. Their labors now ceased, three social workers and a trauma therapist rest together in the B’nai Abraham Cemetery in Beverly, MA.
The mourners were not all Jews. Two of Fliegel’s former colleagues from the Louis D. Brown Peace Institute were there. The center serves families impacted by murder and other traumas. Demaris Ortiz worked with Fliegel for four years, sometimes spending a year or two with her on a single case, advocating for the survivors of homicide victims.
“Lisa uplifted us. She taught me so much,” Ortiz told me over the phone before breaking into tears. “She became my family. She didn’t judge people. She adopted people.”
‘Things will be better’
Hank Rosenfeld did not make it to the funeral. The Santa Monica-based author met Fliegel 30-plus years ago in the Catskills. They’ve been on again and off again over the years but Rosenfeld said she was his bashert. He had been helping Fliegel with her memoir Bulletproof Therapist for several years. Fliegel flew to California to work with him on a first-person account of her run-ins with the Hilltop Youth, the group of extremist West Bank settlers who have carried out killings, arson, vandalism and theft of livestock in Palestinian villages.
Fliegel arrived in San Diego last week to stay with Rosenfeld at his mother’s house there. They spent about four hours together before she collapsed in the bedroom. At the hospital tests revealed she had suffered a brain hemorrhage. A neurologist, Rosenfeld told me, was in tears. Fliegel was kept alive until recipients for her organs could be found.
On Sunday, Lisa Fliegel was wheeled past medical personnel holding candles on her way to an operating room where organs would be removed. The walk of honor, as its known, had a soundtrack: Hank Rosenfeld played a recording of David Broza accompanied by a children’s choir singing “Things Will Be Better.” Then he recited a brief Leonard Cohen poem that had fallen out of Fliegel’s notebook.
“I held her hand. I didn’t want to let go of her,” said Rosenfeld. “I loved her to death.”
The post ‘I didn’t want to let go of her; I loved her to death’ appeared first on The Forward.
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Why France celebrated a Jewish avenger of Ukrainian pogroms
Some 81 years ago this month, a person in Warsaw would have enjoyed the odd spectacle of a mob of Jews surrounding France’s Polish embassy, wildly proclaiming the greatness of the French Republic. The occasion: Jews everywhere were celebrating France because, after a sensational eight-day trial (which even made the front page of The New York Times), a jury of 12 petit-bourgeois Parisians had astonishingly acquitted the Ukrainian-born Jewish immigrant and anarchist Sholom Schwartzbard of the charge of murder for shooting to death former Ukrainian president Symon Petliura in the middle of the Latin Quarter, an act the accused fully acknowledged committing.
Schwartzbard had declared to the police (who in turn informed the press) that he had killed Petliura to avenge the slaughter of tens of thousands of Jews in the 1919 Ukrainian pogroms. The massacres had been perpetrated by armies fighting in the civil war that erupted after the Russian Revolution — among them troops of the short-lived Ukrainian National Republic, which Petliura headed. (To this day, historians debate the extent of Petliura’s responsibility for the pogroms.)
In court, Schwartzbard’s attorneys managed to turn the tables, and effectively put Petliura on trial. The defense successfully argued that Schwartzbard should not be held guilty of murder, because Petliura was responsible for the pogroms, which claimed the lives of 15 of Schwartzbard’s relatives. A French law review of the day described the argument on Schwartzbard’s behalf as yet another crime-of-passion defense.
This defense worked because France rallied to Schwartzbard’s cause, in an outpouring of pro-Jewish, anti-pogrom sentiment. Seventeen months passed between Petliura’s assassination on May 25, 1926 ,and Schwartzbard’s trial, which ran from October 18 through October 26, 1927, and all that time France’s newspapers mainly kept up sympathetic coverage, with the notable exception of right-wing stalwarts Le Figaro and l’Action Française. The country’s most respected intellectuals flocked en masse to the Schwartzbard camp, publicly endorsing the justice of his deed.
Today, that national outburst of pro-Jewish sentiment would likely strike most American Jews as surprising and somewhat unbelievable, sandwiched as it was between France’s notorious antisemitic episodes — the Dreyfus trial over 30 years before and the Vichy government’s deportations of Jews to German concentration camps 15 years later. What is more, in recent years, Jews have been reminded of this ugly history by high-visibility anti-Jewish violence coming from France’s Muslim youths — often poor, disaffected and furious about the Palestinian-Israeli conflict. The frequency of violence probably peaked in 2004, but the 2006 kidnapping-torture-murder of a 23-year-old French Jew, Ilan Halimi, left more American Jews than ever convinced that France is an antisemitic country.
How is it, then, that the world saw such an upswell of philosemitism in France around the Schwartzbard case? Was this an aberration, merely a time-out from prejudice?
Actually, things were going well for Jews in general in France in the 1920s. So much so that one American Jewish tourist, fresh off the ship from Europe, declared to the Forward newspaper, “There is no antisemitism in France.”
Those were halcyon days partly because the country was relatively prosperous, which tends to enhance tolerance. France had near-full employment and the economy and the wages of workingmen were growing. During the 1927 trial, the French were enjoying a particularly strong sense of well-being because the return to power of Prime Minister Raymond Poincaré in July 1926 had brought an end to years of financial crises and stabilized the franc, which had been ruined by war.
At the same time, Jews had become curiously chic. A circle of Jewish literary lions came of age and sold their books to a wide audience. These included books about Jews and Judaism, such as Edmond Fleg’s (né Flegenheimer) “Why I Am a Jew.” Best-selling writer Albert Londres, a gentile, spent months visiting the world’s Jewish communities in order to write “Le Juif errant est arrivé” (“The Wandering Jew Has Arrived”).
In addition, it was crucial to the trial that the terrible war of 1914 to 1918 remained the foremost fact in French consciousness through the 1920s. All of France had pulled together for the war effort, making taboo antisemitism and other forms of prejudice. And Schwartzbard himself was emblematic of the French cause in the war — no one could miss the Croix de Guerre he wore to court, which had been awarded him when he was wounded in battle after volunteering to fight for France (as had 36,000 other Jewish immigrants).
Even the staunchly right-wing and hitherto antisemitic newspaper La Liberté ran a front-page editorial calling for Schwartzbard to be acquitted — as a noble soldier who had fought for France. Whereas, as the defense never missed an opportunity to remind the court, Petliura had allied his army with Germany in 1918.
Paradoxically, the Dreyfus Affair deserves major credit for Schwartzbard’s acquittal. First of all, it recruited intellectuals into a leadership role in civic affairs and institutionalized them as a lobby that Schwartzbard’s lawyer, Henry Torrès, was able to activate for Schwartzbard in a massive public relations campaign. They included the likes of the writer Joseph Kessel (perhaps best known today for his novel “Belle de jour”) and future prime minister Léon Blum (one of the five French Jews who, over the course of the country’s history, have served as its head of government, a record unmatched outside of Israel).
Perhaps more important, the years of Dreyfusard activism institutionalized, for many in France, the notion that antisemitism was a distinct evil that there was an absolute duty to oppose — everywhere, all the time. Therefore, when Schwartzbard came along, they had to stand up against pogroms. (The defense, remember, had already converted the trial into a trial of pogroms, not of a man.)
Indeed, the Dreyfusards transfigured the fight against antisemitism into a fight to defend the Republic — and Republicanism. The fight became symbolically enshrined in the official Republican creed when the ashes of leading Dreyfusard and “J’accuse” author Emile Zola were laid to rest in the Panthéon in 1908. Thus, at the very end of Schwartzbard’s trial, Torrès could successfully implore the jury, “You are today, gentlemen, responsible for the prestige of our nation and the thousands of human lives that will depend on the verdict of France.”
France’s Dreyfusard legacy is not dead. True, there are still antisemites in France — including a representation of right-wing French Catholics, along with the angry Muslims. But France also deserves credit for tolerance. France’s Jews are well-integrated into the fabric of French society, and for all the news of anti-Jewish attacks, there are also considerable well-springs of good will, rooted in the very essence of the French Republican tradition. In 1791, the French revolutionaries made their country the first in Europe to grant equal rights and the franchise to its Jewish population. Indeed, among the reasons that many French Jews returned after World War II and that many Jews still love France today is that they know that the best of human impulses can be found there, and not only the worst.
Deborah Waroff is a New York-based writer. She is completing a biography of Sholom Schwartzbard.
The post Why France celebrated a Jewish avenger of Ukrainian pogroms appeared first on The Forward.
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Yiddish Glory resounds in China and Korea
די שאַפֿער פֿונעם מוזיקאַלישן פּראָיעקט „ייִדיש גלאָרי‟ — דער מוזיקער פּסוי קאָראָלענקאָ און די ייִדיש־פֿאָרשערין אַנאַ שטערנשיס — האָבן לעצטנס זיך אומגעקערט פֿון זייערע ערשטע אַזיאַטישע גאַסטראָלן איבער כינע און דרום־קאָרעע.
צום ערשטן מאָל האָט אַ ברייטער עולם אין אָט די לענדער דערהערט אַ גאַנצע ריי חורבן־לידער אויף ייִדיש, אַרײַנגערעכנט גאָר זעלטענע, וועלכע זענען אין קיין אַלבאָם נאָך נישט אַרײַן: למשל, די קופּלעטן „אַדאָלף היטלער – ברוינער המן‟. אין אַן אַנדער ליד ברענגט מען אַ קאַטיושע היטלערן פֿאַר אַ כּלה.
אַנאַ שטערנשיס האָט בעת אַ שמועס מיט מיר דערקלערט, אַז דער פּראָיעקט „ייִדיש גלאָרי‟ נעמט אַרום גאָר אַ סך לידער, בערך 260–300 פֿון משה בערעגאָווסקיס ריזיקן אַרכיוו, געזאַמלט בשעת דער צווייטער וועלט־מלחמה אָדער באַלד נאָך איר סוף. בלויז אַ קליינעם טייל פֿון די דאָזיקע אוצרות האָט מען שוין וווּנדערלעך אויסגעשפּילט אין זייער ערשטן אַלבאָם „די פֿאַרלוירענע לידער פֿון דער צווייטער וועלט־מלחמה‟, וועלכער איז אַרויס אין 2018 און נאָמינירט געוואָרן פֿאַר אַ „גראַמי־פּרעמיע‟ (די אָנגעזעענע פּריזן פֿאַר מוזיק), און אינעם צווייטן אַלבאָם, „די פֿאַרשוויגענע לידער‟, וואָס איז אַרויס אין מאַרץ 2026.
בסך־הכּל, זענען זיי בשותּפֿות אויפֿגעטראָטן מיט זעקס לעקציע־קאָנצערטן: פֿאַר יעדן ליד, וואָס קאָראָלענקאָ האָט אויסגעזונגען, זיך באַגלייטנדיק אויף דער פּיאַנע, האָט שטערנשיס דאָס ליד דערקלערט אויף ענגליש. דער עולם האָט אויך געקענט לייענען די איבערזעצונגען פֿון די לידער אויף אַן עקראַן. אַחוץ דעם, האָט די פּראָפֿעסאָרין אויפֿגעטראָטן מיט צוויי אייגענע רעפֿעראַטן.
איין לעקציע־קאָנצערט איז פֿאָרגעקומען אינעם קאָרעיִש־ישׂראלדיקן ביבלישן אינסטיטוט – אַ קריסטלעכע געזעלשאַפֿט, וואָס געפֿינט זיך אין דער שטאָט פּאַדזשו לעבן סעול. דער פֿאַרזאַמלטער עולם, ווי שטערנשיס האָט איבערגעגעבן, איז כּמעט דורכאויס באַשטאַנען פֿון פּאַסטאָרן. די קאָרעער האָט באַזונדערט גערירט די טעמע פֿון צעריסענע משפּחות, ווײַל בײַ אַ סך פֿון זיי זענען קרובֿים געבליבן אָפּגעריסן אין אַן אַנדער לאַנד – צפֿון־קאָרעע.
אינעם שאַנכײַער אינטערנאַציאָנאַלן אוניווערסיטעט זענען שטערנשיס און קאָרעלענקאָ אויפֿגעטראָטן מיט צוויי לעקציע־קאָנצערטן: וועגן די ייִדישע לידער פֿון געטאָ און וועגן הומאָר – אויפֿן סמך פֿונעם זעלבן אַרכיוו „ייִדיש גלאָרי‟. אַזאַ טעמע איז באַזונדערס שווער צו דערקלערן אַן עולם, וואָס פֿאַרשטייט נישט קיין ייִדיש און ווייסט נישט, אַז אַפֿילו אין די ערגסטע צײַטן פֿון רציחה און טויט, האָבן ייִדן ווײַטער געפֿונען כּוח זיך צו וויצלען אָדער נאָך מער – געשעפּט כּוחות און האָפֿענונגען פֿונעם הומאָר.
נאָך איין לעקציע־קאָנצערט איז פֿאָרגעקומען אינעם שאַנכײַער מוזיי פֿון ייִדישע פּליטים, געווימדעט די לעבנס פֿון בערך 23 טויזנט ייִדן, וועלכע האָבן זיך געראַטעוועט פֿון די נאַציס אין שאַנכײַ.
אינעם כינעזישן אוניווערסיטעט פֿון האָנג־קאָנג איז פֿאָרגעקומען נאָך אַ קאָנצערט און דערנאָך האָט אַנאַ שטערנשיס אַליין דורכגעפֿירט אַ סעמינאַר וועגן מוזיק און גוואַלד, ווי אויך אַ לעקציע אינעם האָנג־קאָנגער ייִדישן קהילה־צענטער. אַחרון אַחרון חבֿיבֿ, זענען שטערנשיס און קאָראָלענקאָ אויפֿגעטראָטן אין ביידזשין; דאָס איז געווען אַ בשותּפֿותדיקע אונטערנעמונג פֿון דער שטאָטישער ייִדישער קהילה און סטודענטן פֿונעם פּעקינער אוניערסיטעט.
שטערנשיס האָט באַמערקט, אַז די כינעזער האָט באַזונדערס פֿאַרחידושט דער פֿאַקט, וואָס משה בערעגאָווסקי איז פֿאַרמישפּט געוואָרן אויף 10 יאָר סטאַלינס לאַגערן בלויז פֿאַרן זאַמלען פֿאָלקסלידער. פֿאַרשטייט זיך, זענען געווען אַ סך פֿראַגעס וועגן דער ייִדישע מוזיקאַלישער טראַדיציע און אירע וואָרצלען. „צי זענט איר אַליין ייִדן?‟ האָט מען זיי כּסדר געפֿרעגט.
דאָס איז נישט קיין איבעריקע קשיא. הײַנט טרעפֿן זיך אין כינע מענטשן, וועלכע שטודירן ייִדיש, נישט האָבנדיק קיין ייִדישע וואָרצלען. אין 2015 האָט דער פֿאָרווערטס דערציילט וועגן דער יונגער כינעזישער סטודענטקע יאַנג מענג, וועלכע האָט צום ערשטן מאָל איבערגעזעצט אַ קלאַסיש כינעזיש ליד אויף ייִדיש. שפּעטער, מיט עטלעכע יאָר צוריק, האָט זי געפֿירט ייִדיש־לימודים אינעם פּעקינער אוניווערסיטעט, און איצט פֿירט זי אָן מיטן קורס „די ייִדישע ציוויליזאַציע‟. פּונקט זי, צוזאַמען מיט דער אָרטיקער ייִדישער קהילה־פֿירערין ראָבערטאַ ליפּסאָן, האָט אָרגאַניזירט דעם אויפֿטריט פֿון קאָראָלענקאָ און שטערנשיס אין ביידזשין.
קאָראָלענקאָ האָט מיר דערציילט וועגן זײַן נסיעה אויף ייִדיש. ער האָט איבערגעגעבן, אַז דער אינסטיטוט אין פּאַדזשו איז פֿאַקטיש אַ מין פּראָטעסטאַנטישער קלויסטער, וועלכער האָט אויסגעבויט דעם ערשטן און איינציקן חורבן־מוזיי אין קאָרעע. נאָכן קאָנצערט האָט מען זיי געבראַכט אינעם מוזיי פֿון דער קאָרעיִשער מלחמה, וווּ מע האָט זיי געוויזן פֿאָטאָגראַפֿיעס פֿון אַמעריקאַנער ייִדישע סאָלדאַטן.
אין שאַנכײַ האָט זייערע צוויי אונטערנעמונגען אָרגאַניזירט די פּראָפֿעסאָרין אַנרואָ באַאָ, אַ לערערין פֿון ייִדיש־ליטעראַטור. זי פֿירט אַ קורס וועגן מענדעלע, פּרץ, באַשעוויס און בערגעלסאָן. אויף אַלע קאָנצערטן, האָט קאָראָלענקאָ באַמערקט, זענען אַ סך צוהערער געווען כינעזישע סטודענטן, וואָס לערנען זיך ייִדיש. אַ טייל פֿון די כינעזישע ליבהאָבער פֿון ייִדיש האָבן אים געזאָגט אַז מאַאָ האָט שטאַרק ליב געהאַט שלום־עליכמען. ס׳איז טאַקע אמת, אַז אין מאַאָס צײַטן זענען אַ צאָל ווערק זײַנע פּובליקירט געוואָרן אויף כינעזיש — מסתּמא ווײַל שלום־עליכם האָט מיט וואַרעמקייט געשילדערט פּשוטע אָרעמע לײַט.
נאָך אַ טשיקאַוועס: דער קאָנצערט אין ביידזשין האָט זיך געשלאָסן מיטן קאָלעקטיוון זינגען „לאָמיר אַלע אין איינעם‟. דערנאָך האָט איינער אַ קהילה־מיטגליד אָנגעהויבן זינגען דניאל קאַנס ווערסיע פֿונעם ליד „אוי, איר נאַרישע ציוניסטן‟, וואָס שטאַמט אויך פֿון בערעגאָווסקיס אַרכיוו. „נו, האָב איך אַוודאי מיטגעזונגען‟, האָט פּסוי קאָראָלענקאָ געזאָגט.
ער האָט צוגעגעבן, אַז זייערע גאַסטראָלן האָבן אַרויסגערופֿן אַ גרויסן אינטערעס בײַ דער כינעזישער מעדיאַ. אי יאַנג מענגס סטודענטן נאָכן ביידזשינער קאָנצערט, אי די צײַטונג „מינג פּאַאָ‟ האָבן אים געפֿרעגט: וואָס האָט אים מאָטיווירט זיך אויסצולערנען ייִדיש? האָט קאָראָלענקאָ געענטפֿערט, אַז אַ סך סאָוועטישע קינדער־לידער, מיט וועלכע ער איז אויפֿגעוואַקסן ווי אַ קינד, זענען טיף פֿאַרבונדן מיט דער ייִדישער פֿאָלקסמוזיק. ווען אין בערעגאָווסקיס אַרכיוו זענען נישט געווען קיין נאָטן, האָט די סאָוועטישע פּאָפּולערע קולטור באַגײַסטערט אים צו שאַפֿן נײַע ייִדישלעכע מעלאָדיעס.
דאָס איז טאַקע גאָר אַ ברייטע טעמע פֿאַר פֿאָרשונגען און חידושים; למשל, דער באַקאַנטער ייִדישער קאָמפּאָזיטאָר משה ווײַנבערג האָט געשאַפֿן די מוזיק פֿאַר צענדליקער סאָוועטישע קינדער־פֿילמען און אַנימאַציעס. בײַ אַ ריי אַנדערע סאָוועטישע קינדער־קאָמפּאָזיטאָרן איז דאָס מאַמע־לשון אויך געווען ייִדיש.
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