The Kimberley Plan

In 1939, Isaac Nachman Steinberg—lawyer, ex-Bolshevik, former comrade of Vladimir Lenin—arrived in Perth, Western Australia. His objective: to establish a homeland and safe haven for thousands of Jewish refugees in The Kimberley, in Australia’s far north-west.

Steinberg was the founder of the Freeland League and a proponent of territorialism, a political movement that sought to establish semi-autonomous Jewish colonies outside of Israel. An Orthodox, bearded, teetotaling Yiddishist with a fiery temper and passion for Jewish education, Steinberg charmed the Australian political establishment and undertook a long, grueling journey through The Kimberley, surveying the land for its economic and cultural potential.

The scheme gained serious momentum, but was ultimately nixed by Prime Minister John Curtin, who could not "entertain the proposal for a group settlement of the exclusive type contemplated by the Freeland League." Curtin was not the only one who regarded Steinberg as a dreamer. The Jewish community saw him similarly, but after his death in 1957, German-Jewish philosopher Erich Fromm lauded Steinberg as a realist who "could visualize a flower when he saw a seed... To have faith of [his] kind means to have courage."

Is Tuches in the Dictionary?

The word "tuches" does not appear anywhere in Uriel Weinreich's Modern English-Yiddish, Yiddish-English Dictionary (1968). Even though Weinreich's is one of the most beloved and relied-upon Yiddish-English dictionaries around, the revered linguist was perhaps overly focused on "correct" Yiddish – no dirty words, no casual idioms and no daytshmerish (a derogatory terms for a style of Yiddish that borrowed heavily – and some said, pompously – from high German).

So when Drs. Solon Beinfeld and Harry Bochner got together to edit the forthcoming Comprehensive Yiddish-English Dictonary, it was not just so they could include words like "tuches" – though, let's face it, insults and dirty words are among the juiciest aspects of that (and any) language – but also so that Yiddish students, researchers, scholars and the Yiddish-curious would have access to a broader and more expansive vocabulary than is currently available. Back in the day, many of the words that found their way into Yiddish literature were more colloquial than proper, and this dictionary doesn’t just know that; it celebrates it.

The dictionary (the featured subject of a recent National Yiddish Book Center podcast) boasts 37,000 words to Weinreich’s approximately 24,000. It is clearly laid out, user-friendly, and will be fully accessible online. Tell your bubbe!

How We Freed Soviet Jewry

Twenty-five years ago, a rally of 250,000 people changed the fate of Jews worldwide. An oral history.

Twenty-five years ago, an estimated quarter of a million Americans, most of them Jews, flooded the Mall in Washington, D.C., to demand freedom for the refuseniks—Jews living inside the Soviet Union who were denied permission to leave the country. The Dec. 6, 1987, rally was planned for the day before a historic summit meeting at the White House between President Ronald Reagan and leader of the Soviet Union, Mikhail Gorbachev. The demonstration was the brainchild of Natan Sharansky, the most famous of all the refuseniks, who spent nine years in a Moscow prison on charges of being an American spy until his release and emigration to Israel in February 1986. It capped more than 15 years of organized efforts to assist Jews living under Communist rule—and became the largest protest on behalf of a Jewish cause ever in the United States.

Perhaps most impressively, it mobilized the American Jewish community—young and old, secular and religious, liberal and conservative—behind a single cause to a degree that had never been seen before, and has not been seen since.

This is a history of the march as told by people who were there and who helped make it happen. They include Jack Lew, President Obama’s chief of staff; Fred Zeidman, one of Mitt Romney’s key Jewish advisers; and Sharansky, who went on to found the Israeli political party Yisrael B’Aliyah, which eventually merged with Likud. All agree the Dec. 6 rally was a landmark event in modern Jewish history.

Natan Sharansky (former refusenik, now Jewish Agency chairman): It was Elie Wiesel who at some meeting with students, maybe even before my release, said that it would be good to have a march on Washington. And we didn’t know yet when, but at some moment we knew Gorbachev had to come to Washington. So, when I came in May of 1986 for the first time to America, Ed Koch had a reception for Jewish leaders at Gracie Mansion, and I said, “When Gorbachev comes, let’s have 400,000 American Jews come to Washington, in order to remind him that there are 400,000 Soviet Jews.” Everybody smiled and was happy, but it wasn’t taken too seriously.

Rabbi Haskel Lookstein (leader of Congregation Kehilath Jeshurun in Manhattan and principal of the Ramaz School): Natan told me about his plan months and months in advance. I was initially skeptical he could pull it off—getting 250,000 people to come to Washington is really a huge, huge effort. But he was really determined to do it.

Sharansky: In the summer of 1987 it was already clear to me that in a few months, Gorbachev will come and nothing had happened. Morris Abram, who was the head of the Conference of Presidents [of Major American Jewish Organizations], said to me, “Natan, we cannot guarantee hundreds of thousands of Jews, so let’s do what is possible. We will bring 100 senators to the steps of the Capitol and they will declare to Gorbachev, ‘Let our people go,’ and that will be very powerful.” I said, 100 senators is great, but Gorbachev knows very well that’s just politics. I wanted expression, mass expression. Then my friend Avi Weiss, who was the head of the Student Struggle for Soviet Jewry, he says, “Natan, you cannot trust the establishment, so I tell you what we will do, we will bring 100 rabbis and we will chain ourselves to the gates and we will be arrested, and that will be something real.” So, it was between 100 senators and 100 rabbis.

Gordon Zacks (former adviser to George H.W. Bush): Natan and I were in constant contact. He came to me to get counsel on how to proceed. I finally told him it was never going to happen through the establishment organizations, and that it if was going to happen at the magnitude he wanted it to, he was going to have to be the guy who went around to college campuses to create the energy and excitement he needed. And that’s what he did.

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May All Your Hanukkahs Be White

At first glance “ ’Twas the Night Before Hanukkah” looks like a novelty album. On the cover two smiling women in 1950s garb exchange presents by a fir tree topped with a Star of David while a demure girl lights a menorah. It seems to promise a kitschy collection of comic tunes along the lines of Adam Sandler’s “Hanukkah Song.”

But the people behind this double album — four Jewish record collectors who form the nonprofit Idelsohn Society for Musical Preservation — say they are deadly serious about the subject. They have compiled an eclectic set of songs that not only highlight the history of Hanukkah in the United States but also explore the influence of Jewish songwriters and singers on America’s Christmas canon.

“For us it’s the one Christmas album you can listen to without having to atone at Yom Kippur for playing it,” Roger Bennett, one of the producers, said.

The set, released on Tuesday, is full of cross-cultural curiosities: the gentile folk singer Woody Guthrie singing “Hanukkah Dance” and the tenor Richard Tucker (who was also a cantor) belting out “O Little Town of Bethlehem.”

It started out as a project to tell the story of Hanukkah’s rise in the United States from a minor holiday in the 1870s to a Jewish counterweight to Christmas in the postwar years, what Mr. Bennett calls “a holiday on steroids.” But as the society members dug through old recordings, they began to think the albums should also address Christmas music by Jews.

“We kept finding artists that either did Hanukkah recordings and Christmas recordings, or Jewish artists that never did Hanukkah recordings at all, but left us Christmas recordings, like Barbra Streisand,” said David Katznelson, a San Francisco record producer who is one of the society’s members. “Yentl herself, and it’s a Christmas recording!”

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Festival of Candles

Celebrating Hanukkah—and my grandfather’s birthday—whether behind drawn curtains in Lithuania or openly in Canada

My grandfather, Yakov Milner, was born in November or December of 1915 in the Latvian town of Baltinava, at the edge of the Eastern Front. He claimed as his earliest memory the rumble and menace of artillery. The rest of his childhood memories were almost uniformly idyllic. Until the onset of the next war, he lived in a kind of a Yiddish fairy tale—a sweet, remarkably peaceful interlude between calamities. His father was a respected merchant who owned a general store and a boot-making workshop where Jews and Latvians cobbled amiably together. Family, community, and Jewish tradition ordered daily life. To the east and to the west the type was being set for a death sentence, but in Baltinava my grandfather went to synagogue, attended festive weddings, and observed the holidays. So deeply was he a product of this fading world that he, like others of his generation, only knew his birthday according to the Hebrew calendar. And although his passport arbitrarily gave as his birthday the 20th of August, we always celebrated the occasion on the proper date, varyingly in November or December, on the eighth day of Hanukkah.

I was born on June 2, 1973, in what had by then become the Soviet Socialist Republic of Latvia. If my birthday coincided with a Jewish holiday, I do not know it. The Communist revolution had obviated Jewish religion and replaced it with the teachings of Lenin and Marx. Any attempt to uphold Jewish tradition was considered subversive and so most Jews relinquished the traditions and aspired instead to be model Soviet citizens. Ostensibly, my family was also composed of model Soviet citizens—university graduates, esteemed professionals, even a few Party members—but during Jewish holidays we gathered at my grandparents’ house, drew the curtains, and engaged in subversive activities. The main provocateur was my grandfather, whose commitment to Judaism never wavered. For Rosh Hashanah, Yom Kippur, Purim, and Passover, the curtains were drawn and the family gathered. And, every year, on the eighth day of Hanukkah, my grandmother fried potato latkes, the curtains were drawn again, and we celebrated my grandfather’s birthday. I was a child at the time, kindergarten-aged, and for everyone’s protection—lest I disclose the dark family secret—the nature and significance of these gatherings were never explained to me. Instead I was told that we were marking my grandfather’s birthday. Thus, to my childhood mind, my grandfather was singularly blessed with four or five birthdays each year.

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Lilith, Temptress of the Ancients

You've probably heard of Lilith: namesake of the women’s music festival and of the Jewish feminist magazine, but did you know that the feminist heroine was plucked straight from the ancient world? And that the Lilith of the ancients made an unlikely candidate for such a figurehead?

The earliest Jewish references to Lilith portray her as a demon--in the Song of the Sage, one of the Dead Sea Scrolls, she appears—among demons, howlers, and desert bandits—in a list of creatures that God protects against. She's mentioned three times in the Talmud, each with a startlingly vivid description. Most memorably, in Niddah 24b, Rabbi Judah says that if a stillborn or aborted fetus bears traces of wings, Lilith must have played a hand in the conception. Other ancient Babylonian and Jewish references portray her as a demon or half-demon, with long hair and bestial features: a figure not so rife for adulation.

But—presumably unbeknownst to its writers—the Alphabet of Ben Sira, an 8th-10th century work of Jewish folklore, lays the groundwork for feminist reclamation. In the story, God creates Lilith as a companion for Adam, meant to be his equal. "I will not lie beneath you, but only on top," she proclaims. Adam rebukes her: "You are fit to be in the bottom, while I am to be superior." In reply, Lilith utters aloud the name of God and flies away. A thousand years later, in 1972, feminist theologian Judith Plaskow published "The Coming of Lilith," a rewriting of the midrash. The rest is feminist history.

How the Church Turned Jews into Moneylenders

Ever wonder how Jews became synonymous with usury? Is it just because they were always "good with money?" Or was it, as Roman Catholic doctrine held, the devil that made them do it?

Actually, it was the Church itself.

By the time Shakespeare introduced Shylock to the theater going world in The Merchant of Venice (1598), medieval Europe had already built up over four centuries of fear, loathing, and scorn for the ubiquitous Jewish moneylender. That so many Jews had careers in money lending was seen as yet more evidence of Jews’ craven nature, and another justification for humiliation, persecution, and in some cases, expulsion.

Lost in the fog of anti-Semitic fervor was the fact that Jews had become Europe’s moneylenders because the Church, in the 12th and 13th centuries, launched an intense and protracted effort to stop Christians from collecting interest from other Christians. The Church’s reading of the anti-usury passages of the bible, however (Deuteronomy 23:20-12), permitted Jews to lend to Christians at interest. Jews, who in Central and Eastern Europe were prohibited from landholding and handicrafts guilds, had an opportunity to make a living. And with the rapid economic expansion taking place throughout northern Europe, especially in France, the robust flow of capital became a necessity, and an opportunity.

The rest, unfortunately, is history.

Up The Down Staircase

In 1923, a 12-year-old Russian girl named Belle Kaufman immigrated with her parents to America and, not knowing a word of English, was enrolled in the first grade. She caught up quickly, and decided that she wanted to become a teacher, too. But Kaufman came from a family of writers—her grandfather was Sholem Aleichem, and her mother, Lyalya, also published widely in the Yiddish press. So when she began teaching at New York City public schools it was natural that she set aside time to write about her experiences.

In 1962, Kaufman—who had adopted the more androgynous  pen name Bel—wrote a warmhearted, satirical portrait of public school life, and submitted it to the Saturday Review of Literature. An editor saw in the short story the germ of a full-length novel. And so, Up the Down Staircase was born. The 1965 novel won immediate acclaim, became a bestseller, and was eventually turned into a movie starring Sandy Dennis.

In a new video, Kaufman, now 101, reminds us that the troubles afflicting today’s public schools are by no means new. "[In Up the Down Staircase] I describe the terrible situation in New York City public schools. The lack of communication, the bureaucracy, the gobbledygook." In Kaufman’s hands, the gobbledygook assumes a poetry all its own.

Blue Jews

There are white Jews, Black Jews, Asian Jews, and Arab Jews – but blue Jews? No, no such thing exists. Which is exactly why artist Siona Benjamin paints them. Blue is the color of water and sky. It belongs everywhere and nowhere, so when Benjamin paints her figures are often blue. If the Jews are blue, one cannot simply assume a race or identity to them, they could be anyone, at any time.

Born in Bombay, Benjamin grew up amidst Hindus and Muslims and attended Catholic and Zoroastrian schools. She understands the ability of Jews to blend into their environment. An accomplished artist whose fine brushwork and vivid colors evoke the cultural themes of her native land, the subject of many of her paintings engage the stories of Jewish texts.  One look at her illustrations for the story of the biblical Queen Esther and I find myself considering this familiar tale from an entirely new point of view, how did she not stand out? What makes us able to choose not to see difference?

At this time of year Judaism can seem overly cerebral. Lots of praying, listening, talking and of course the exception to the rule, the eating. But the moment we finish with Yom Kippur we prepare for Sukkot. By contrast to High Holidays, Sukkot is about doing. It celebrates the very physical work of the harvest. It has us building physical structures and taking holy objects in our hands and shaking them about. Even the eating, with the moving in and out, is much more physical.

 And then there is the art. A Sukkah is meant to be decorated. Sure you can just buy a few premade chains or hang apiece of fruit, but you can also take the opportunity to stretch your Jewish thinking and engage with art as text or in creating new art.  There is a tradition of inviting ushpizin,mythical guests from the Jewish past into our Sukkot. Peruse Benjamin’s art online and ask yourself how her depictions of Jewish biblical figures might shape your own take on these potential guests, or inspire you to create your own artistic interpretations and representations. Who might you invite from ancient or even modern Jewish history? What would they look like? How would you depict them?

Those lucky enough to be in Northern California can come hang out with Benjamin and make art at Sukkot Under the Stars. But even if you are not in the area, or not even building a Sukkah, take some time this season to gather some friends, create and consider the possibilities inspired by Siona Benjamin and her blue Jews

Ladino – Language of the Sephardic Jews

Speaking Ladino, or the older Castilian dialect, may indicate possible Jewish ancestry

Ladino, also sometimes known as Judeo-Spanish, Sephardic, Crypto-Jewish, Judezmo, Hakitia, or Spanyol, had its origins in 1492, when Jews were expelled from Spain. Over the centuries, the Spanish of the late 15th century as spoken by those Jews underwent changes as it was influenced by the various languages of the countries to which the Sephardic Jews emigrated.

Ladino meets the criteria of a distinct language, and is not merely a dialect of Spanish. Yet it and Spanish are not so different that speakers of the two can't communicate with each other. There are strong and obvious similarities, just as there are, for example, between Spanish and Portuguese.

The language of the Sephardim

When the 150,000 to 300,000 Jews left Spain, they took with them their languages. They took Hebrew, the language of prayer and study, which was not used at home or in the streets. The language of daily use was Castilian Spanish as it was spoken in the late 15th century. The language that many Jewish exiles took with them as they left Spain in 1492 still coincided with Castilian in many particulars, but had followed its own evolution down from Judeo-Latin, combined with Hebrew, Aramaic, the various peninsula dialects, and Judeo-Arabic over the centuries. In each of its new homes, it acquired elements from the surrounding languages, while preserving its Iberian core. It became a unique expression of Jewish traditions, lifestyle, culture, institutions and beliefs.

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Dr. Seuss Goes to War

Theodore Suess Geisel is best known for the 40-something children's books he wrote and illustrated under his pen name, Dr. Seuss. But he had quite an interesting "adult" career, as well.

From 1941-1943, Seuss was the chief editorial cartoonist for the New York newspaper PM, and during his reign, he drew more than 400 political cartoons. With World War II on his mind, Seuss' cartoons often took on Hitler, the Nazi Party, and anti-Semitism at home and abroad. 

In Dr. Seuss Goes to War, historian Richard H. Minear collects 200 of Seuss' political cartoons from PM. In one  titled "Spreading the Lovely Goebbel's Stuff" (September 18, 1941), a creature labeled as "Lindbergh" is shoveling out trash from the "Nazi Anti-Semite Stink Wagon." 

From January 21, 1942:  a baby Hitler portrayed throwing a bottle of milk at his mother, exclaiming, "I reject milk from Holstein cows as Non-Aryan." From April 1, 1942: a U.S. Nazi dragging Uncle Sam to get a "Great German Manicure" at the hands of an executioner wielding a large ax, labeled "Anti-Semitism."

The cartoons definitely don't have the same childlike charm as, say, Green Eggs and Ham, but plenty classic Seussian details--from skinny birds to tall top hats--show up in the Doctor's very adult cartoons.

How Israelis Celebrate Sukkot

Unlike in America where your home might be the only one in the neighborhood with a sukkah, in some neighborhoods in Israel, EVERYONE has a sukkah.  There are even building regulations to have specially designed terraces to accommodate a sukkah.  Watch this video to see how Israelis celebrate Sukkot.