COLLOQUY ON YIDDISH CULTURE
3-5 May 1995, Lithuanian Seimas, VILNIUS
Doc. 7489 Addendum
13 February 1996
Rapporteur: Mr ZINGERIS, Lithuania, European Democratic Group
PROCEEDINGS
Contents
SUMMARY
— Working session on language and literature
— Working session on art and architecture
— Working session on Yiddish institutions
WRITTEN CONTRIBUTIONS
— Vilna, poem by Moshe Koulbak
— A thousand years of Yiddish in the European arena, Dovid Katz
— Yiddish literature in its European context, Dov-Ber Kerler
— Yiddish under Soviet rule, Gennady Estraikh
— Jewish folk art in the European cultural heritage, Aleksander Kantsedikas
— Artists of the Vilnius Ghetto, Roza Bieliauskiene and Ilona Krutulyte
— The architecture of Lithuania's synagogues, Marija Rupeikiene
— Proposals for institutional co-operation, Julius Schoeps
— The educational Golden Age of the Yiddish language in inter-war Poland, Henri Minczeles
— Information paper on Yiddish radio from Paris, Thérèse Liberman-Jasmin
SUMMARY
On the afternoon of 2 May participants made a visit to the Jewish Ghetto in Vilnius ending with a reception in the French Embassy. In the evening they were given dinner in the Lietuvos Jeruzalé Restaurant. Yiddish music was played by Jakob Magid (Vilnius) and Yelda Rebling (Berlin).
On the morning of 3 May there was a wreath-laying ceremony at the memorials in the Paneriai forest at which the Kaddish was sung by Cantor Levin (London). There was another wreath-laying ceremony at the January 13th Memorial at the Lithuanian Seimas.
[* An asterisk denotes papers or contributions reproduced in extenso].
The Session took place in the presence of Mr Algirdas Brazauskas, President of the Republic of Lithuania.
Mr Ceslovas Jursenas, Speaker of the Seimas, welcomed participants. Lithuania had long been hospitable to foreigners. Jews had lived there since the Crusades and had contributed to the cultural development of the country, most particularly in the golden age of the rabbis in the 17th-18th centuries and the main Yiddish period between the two world wars. He hoped that the bad feelings created by the treatment of Jews during the Second World War had been appeased by the Supreme Council's Declaration of May 1990 and the words of apology addressed by President Brazauskas to Israel. He believed that the humanistic nature of the present colloquy went in the same direction.
Sir Russell Johnston spoke as Vice-Chairman of the Committee on Culture and Education and apologised for Mrs Fischer, Chairperson of the Committee, who was seriously unwell and for this reason unable to attend. He paid tribute to the persistent enthusiasm of Mr Zingeris in the arrangements for the colloquy and the many associated events, such as the moving ceremonies at the Paneriai memorials from which participants had just come.
The Council of Europe had been set up in 1949 to cultivate the rich cultural diversity of Europe and to match political pluralism with tolerance, poetry, literature and humour. Yiddish culture was part of this; it was a confident culture that persisted in the face of the horrors suffered; but it was now very much a minority culture and thinly scattered throughout the world. There was sympathy for Yiddish culture, but the task of the colloquy was to identify proposals for practical action to secure its future survival.
Mr Lluis Maria de Puig spoke as Vice President of the Assembly and presented the greetings of President Martinez, who had been the Committee's rapporteur at the earlier colloquy on Sephardi Jewish culture in Toledo in April 1987. The present colloquy was concentrating on the Ashkenazi side of Jewish culture and reflected the opening up of the Council of Europe to central and eastern Europe. The colloquy also fitted appropriately with the 50th anniversary of the end of the Second World War, the memory of the holocaust, and the current action plan of the Council of Europe against racism, xenophobia, anti-semitism and intolerance. As President Martinez had recalled on the opening of the youth campaign: "No pasaron - never again".
He was himself from Girona, a city which had had such a significant Jewish population to have been known in the Middle Ages as the "Mother of Israel". The pogrom of 1342 in which this population had been wiped out still remained in local memories to the extent that the city recently had awarded all Sephardi Jews double nationality by way of historical reparation. The present colloquy was a similar gesture as it aimed at giving back to Yiddish culture its place in European culture.
Mr Vytautas Landsbergis had led the Lithuanian Reform Movement "Sajudis" from its creation in 1988 to the restoration of Lithuania's independence in 1990. Lithuania was now reviving its history and culture which included that of the Jews who had contributed to the economic and cultural life of the country. The "Litvacs" (Lithuanian Jews) were also a special part of the Jewish nation. Museums had to be established, cemeteries restored, Nazi war criminals pursued and the people informed. The present colloquy should help to prevent a second holocaust - the disappearance of this Yiddish heritage.
Mr Emanuelis Zingeris, Rapporteur for the Committee on Culture and Education, had planned the colloquy as a sequel to that held by the Committee in Toledo and as a means of marking the 50th anniversary of the end of the Second World War. This had virtually exterminated the Yiddish population of Vilnius. He was one of the few survivors. He recalled his father's library in which most authors from Turgenev to Jack London were represented in Yiddish. It was not a religious culture but a sort of international statehood. The Third Reich had wished to cut the link it represented between European cultures. He was glad however to have been able to involve experts from so many countries in the preparations of the colloquy.
The battle between Yiddish and Hebrew as the official language of the state of Israel was now over. He was particularly glad to be able to read a message of goodwill to the colloquy from Mr Shevach Weiss, Speaker of the Knesset:
"I am pleased to send my greetings to this important conference dedicated to the preservation of the Yiddish language.
The Diaspora has bestowed upon us two additional national languages, Yiddish and Ladin. The languages evolved into an important part of our national heritage, our literature and our daily existence. They are basic elements of the Jewish people and those who preserve them are doing good work."
Mr Daniel Tarschys, Secretary General of the Council of Europe, felt it was appropriate, on the occasion of the commemoration of the Second World War, to remember not only the Jews who had died but also their culture and traditions. Vilnius had been a centre of Yiddish culture in the interwar period, a culture made up of Germanic, Slav and Hebrew elements and the vehicle for much of European culture.
He recalled the Council of Europe's interest in Jewish culture from the Toledo symposium of 1987 to the Istanbul seminar of January 1995 marking the 500th anniversary of the reception in Turkey of the Jews expelled from Spain. Lithuania had also shown tolerance to the Jews when others had not.
He had personally followed closely the accession of the Baltic states to the Council of Europe and welcomed the commitment of Lithuania to human rights and European unity. He thanked the Seimas for hosting the present colloquy and Mr Zingeris for organising it.
B. WORKING SESSION ON LANGUAGE AND LITERATURE
Dr Dovid Katz spoke to a paper on "A thousand years of Yiddish in the European arena" (*). He described the stages by which Yiddish had developed as a synthesis of national languages into an international minority language. It was the traditional vernacular of Ashkenazi Jewry, a civilisation to which Einstein, Freud and Chagall had belonged. Its primary readers were originally the women (as those who learned Hebrew and Aramaic were mainly men). But it was also a literary language and one of learned theological discourse. Its main flourishing came in the interwar period when it was based in Warsaw, Vilna and Kiev (with Berlin, Paris and London as satellites). In this period an academic institute was set up in Vilna (YIVO - Yidischer visnshaftlekher institut); this moved to New York in 1940.
As a language Yiddish perished in the holocaust along with the majority of its speakers (some 6 million). It was spoken by children only now in Hasidic communities. Interest in Yiddish had however been revived by the award of the Nobel Prize for literature to Isaac Bashevis Singer in 1978 and there were now many Jewish and non-Jewish enthusiasts for the language. If Yiddish could not hope to retrieve its pre-war status, the Council of Europe should help ensure it survived as a minority language and literature. For academic continuity ten European scholarships would suffice.
Dr Dov-Ber Kerler spoke on "Yiddish literature in its European context" (*). Yiddish literature had started in the 11th century; a grammar survived from 1282 but the oldest remaining literary work was dated 1382. Emphasis had originally been placed on preserving the holy Jewish writings rather than the vernacular. From 1660 to 1862 Yiddish literature had spread by the selling of books, mainly printed in Amsterdam, on the doorstep by Jews in Germany. The Hasidic movement had played a central role in its extension into eastern Europe. It was difficult to distinguish folk-lore and literature. From 1864 to 1917 new aesthetic forms were developed and new genres (theatre, satire, opera). There was then the period of translations into Yiddish.
This Yiddish literature had been rediscovered in the 1960s and was now being taught and researched in certain universities in Europe, North America and Japan. The synthesis that Yiddish offered with various national cultures attracted interest. Its survival should be supported.
Sir Keith Speed asked how many people regularly used Yiddish, as a secondary if not primary language.
Dr Kerler estimated that some 3 million could still read Yiddish, compared to 11 to 13 million before the Second World War. Dr Katz pointed out that statistics were difficult as the Hasidim applied the Biblical prohibition against counting people. The Hasidic community spoke Yiddish and was demographically strong; but he could give no figure. There were also several thousand non-Jewish Yiddish enthusiasts.
Ms Thérèse Liberman-Jasmin gave details of the radio programmes put out in Yiddish from Paris by the non-governmental association RCJ (Die Yiddishes emissiess fun Radio Com'Judaïques FM) following renewal of interest in Yiddish in 1978 (*). There were also weekly and monthly publications. She estimated the Yiddish-speaking population in Paris at around 50,000.
Dr Günther Müller asked whether the centre for Yiddish was in Brooklyn USA or Europe and whence documentation could be obtained.
Dr Kerler believed that attention should be focused on Yiddish in Europe (rather than in Israel or the USA) as Yiddish came from Europe and should in the first place be able to survive in Europe.
Dr Katz was uneasy on this issue.
Mr Ulrich Irmer asked if the continuation of academic studies in Yiddish was not so much the problem as its survival as a living language spoken by children. He also wondered if the struggle between Yiddish and Hebrew was completely over.
Dr Katz believed Yiddish to be academically healthy in Europe in Germany, the Netherlands and the UK. There had been a crisis in spoken Yiddish in the 1980s; to avoid the language being relegated to the status of Sanskrit, publication policy in Oxford had changed from books in English about Yiddish to prose and poetry in Yiddish.
Even if Yiddish no longer held out any pretensions as the language of the state of Israel, it was considerably prejudiced by the fact that Israel only funded education in Hebrew in day-schools in Europe. He hoped that Israel would accept and support the introduction of Yiddish as an option in these schools when it was requested and not opposed.
Mr de Puig saw three possible positions for minority languages: full use (including media, education and the courts), colloquial use (family), academic. Where should Yiddish be placed and did it have any national claims?
Dr Katz replied that Yiddish was only fully used by the Hasidim, it was in colloquial use by a dying generation spread throughout Europe, it was studied in universities.
To a question from Mrs Leni Robert about the proportion of women involved in Yiddish culture, Dr Katz pointed out that Yiddish culture from the 16th to 19th century had largely been developed on the female side as only the men studied Hebrew and Aramaic.
Sir Russell Johnston regretted that Mr Gennady Estraikh was unable to attend the colloquy and present his paper on "Yiddish under Soviet rule" (*).
C. WORKING SESSION ON ART AND ARCHITECTURE
Prof Dr Aleksander Kantsedikas presented with slides his paper on "Jewish folk art in the European cultural heritage" (*). Was there such a thing as Jewish art? This was a double problem. In strict religious terms, the pictorial representation of living creatures was forbidden by scripture. In practice Jewish artisans worked within their local artistic traditions.
Was there such a thing as Yiddish art? Clearly the term was related in the first place to the language, but he felt that it could also apply to the culture and folk art of European Jewry. Much of this art was related to Jewish ritual - and he gave several examples (Torah Arks, pointers etc). But many Jewish craftsmen also performed non-Jewish commissions.
Rather than concentrating on the concept of Jewish national art (which was the current policy of the Hebrew University of Jerusalem), it was important to encourage study of Jewish art as an organic component of the culture of the various countries of Europe. This applied to museums and university courses.
A film "Disappearing Yiddish" was shown at this point. It depicted life in the Jewish Ghetto of Vilnius in 1939 and included interviews with survivors about Yiddish language and culture in pre-war Lithuania. The soundtrack was entirely in Yiddish. Those interviewed were Chackl Lemchen (b 1905) on the Yiddish cultural property stolen by the Rosenberg Group; Bluma Katz (b 1912) on Yiddish literature in pre-war Vilnius; Jakob Bunka (b 1917) on Yiddish in the provinces and Jakob Josade (b 1910) on the contribution of Yiddish to Europe.
Mrs Roza Bieliauskiene next read a paper on "Artists of the Vilnius Ghetto" (*). This gave details of the many Jewish artists who had lived and died in the Ghetto.
Ms Julia Weiner illustrated with slides her paper "From realism to modernism: the influence of Yiddish culture on Jewish artists (1870-1939)" (*). Between 1881 and 1914 some 2.75 million Jews moved from Eastern Europe to the West, some 125,000 of them settling in the East End of London where the Ben Uri Art Society was set up at the end of this period by a Lithuanian Jew, Lazar Berson, with the aim of bringing Jewish art to the mainly Yiddish speaking immigrant working classes. The art was largely non academic and inspired by the Jewish folk heritage.
Mrs Marija Rupeikiene read her paper on "The architecture of Lithuania's synagogues" (*). References to synagogues could be traced from the 16th century (Trakai); 17th century building regulations stipulated that they be less conspicuous than Christian places of worship); they were often parts of complexes of buildings and served many purposes. No inventory had been made of the early wooden structures and most of the 18th-19th century synagogues could only be studied from old photographs and drawings (the oldest of these being the Grand Synagogues of Vilnius, finally demolished in 1955-57). In general, the external architecture followed the changing traditions and forms of local architecture, whereas separate details and the interior reflected the oriental nature of the building (cult use, division into sections for the men and women etc) and decorative elements characteristic of Jewish art. Of the fraction of synagogues that had survived, only two were at present in use (in Vilnius and Kaunas).
Mr de Puig asked whether there were still Yiddish artists and whether there was a difference between Yiddish and Sephardi art.
Dr Kantsedikas replied that much Jewish art was related to ritual and reproduced established folk-art traditions (for example in textiles or silver-work). This was also the case of the art related to other religions, as for example in the Christian Catholic or Orthodox Churches.
Modern Jewish artists such as Grisha Bruskin were entirely inspired by the Hasidic tradition. Non-Jewish artists in Lithuania such as the Russian Nemokin had also been influenced by Jewish art and even painted Jewish themes. The interaction of Jewish artists and the native traditions of where they worked was a complex subject. It had to be illustrated on a country by country basis. He believed that Jewish art should be seen as an integral part of the art of each country and not separated as something that belonged only to the Jewish nation. The Council of Europe should promote this approach and encourage coordination between the various Jewish institutions.
Within the Jewish community there was also much interaction. Dr Katz had mentioned Yiddish manuscripts with Sephardi illustrations; an 18th century Belarus synagogue had decorations derived from one in Worms. There was little to distinguish Sephardi and Ashkenazi artistic traditions.
Ms Weiner suggested that a definition of Yiddish art might be found in the themes depicted and relationship to the Hasidic tradition. Book illustrations were often in a style that could be recognised as Yiddish.
D. WORKING SESSION ON YIDDISH INSTITUTIONS
Mr Mark Zingeris asked where Dr Kantsedikas believed the centre that he had proposed for coordinating Jewish institutions in Europe should best be based.
Dr Kantsedikas noted that the Jewish heritage was largely known and accessible in the West but hardly at all in central and eastern Europe. The appropriate location of such a centre was a place on the borderline with central and eastern Europe and with a good image for Jewish understanding. Vilnius would be ideal. As YIVO had been moved away to New York another institution had to be set up with a younger generation of experts.
Mr de Puig regretted the absence of Prof Dr Julius Schoeps, whose paper "Proposals for institutional co-operation" (*) would be taken up in Mr Zingeris' subsequent report.
Dr Henri Minczeles read his paper on "The educational Golden Age of the Yiddish language in inter-war Poland" (*). This concentrated on the secular socialist Jewish movements of the CISHO (Tsentral Yiddische Shul Organizatsie) and the Shulkult centred on Warsaw, Lodz, Bialystok and Wilno (Vilnius). He ended by paying tribute to the work of the YIVO in Vilnius (the Yiddish people's university) in gathering documentation on Yiddish culture.
Mr E Zingeris asked what Europe might do to support Yiddish culture.
Dr Minczeles replied that the Council of Europe should encourage support for private Yiddish initiatives, such as the Medem Library in Paris which collected Yiddish books and archives and taught Yiddish to those interested in learning it. Though Yiddish might not recover its vernacular status, it still had a future as a "language of culture".
Mr E Zingeris thanked those who had attended the colloquy from the surviving Yiddish community of Vilnius. He regretted the recent bomb attack on the Buenos Aires branch of YIVO and would write to the institute in New York to express sympathy at this further echo of the Second World War. He looked forward to bringing out a report to the Assembly on Ashkenazi culture.
Participants expressed their support for a "Declaration of Vilnius" read out by Mr M Zingeris (*).
Mr de Puig, as Vice Chairman of the Committee on Culture and Education, closed the colloquy with thanks to the experts and to Mr E Zingeris. He pointed out that the survival of Yiddish would be greatly advanced if all member states of the Council of Europe, including Lithuania, were to ratify the Charter on regional and minority languages and to support on-going work on minority and cultural rights. As one who had supported recognition of his own Catalan minority of 6 million persons, he hoped that the rather larger, though more disperse, Yiddish community would succeed in surviving.
***
In the evening a concert was given in honour of the colloquy by the Vilnius State Quartet with guest pianist Golda Wainberg (Israel and USA). This included works by Erwin Schulhoff, Moissej Wainberg and the world première of a piece by Osvaldas Balakauskas called "Betsafta" (living together) that was specially composed for the colloquy and the 50th anniversary of the end of the Second World War.
On 4 May participants visited the State Jewish Museum and a special exhibition on the Yiddish book in Lithuanian from the 18th century to 1940.
President of the Republic of Lithuania
Mr Algirdas Brazauskas
Speaker of the Seimas
Mr Ceslovas Juršenas
Head of the Lithuanian Delegation to the Parliamentary Assembly
Mr Algirdas Gricius
Members of the Committee on Culture and Education of the Parliamentary Assembly of the Council of Europe
Sir Russell Johnston (Vice-Chair), UK
Mr Lluis Maria de Puig (Vice-Chair), Spain
Mr Ragnard Arnalds, Iceland
Mr John Attard Montalto, Malta
Mr Jacques Baumel, France
Mr Doros Christodoulides, Greece
Mr Mikko Elo, Finland
Mr Huib Eversdijk, Netherlands
Mrs Elisabeth Fleetwood, Sweden
Mr Gàbor Gellert Kis, Hungary
Mr Ulrich Irmer, Germany
Mr Jaromir Kalus, Czech Republic
Mr Jirí Karas, Czech Republic
Mr Vytautas Landsbergis, Lithuania
Mr Alecsander Malachowski, Poland
Mr Jim Mitchell, Ireland
Mr Ion Mocioi, Romania
Mr Albert Probst, Germany
Mrs Leni Robert, Switzerland
Mr Enrico Serra, Italy
Sir Keith Speed, United Kingdom
Mr Emanuelis Zingeris, Lithuania
Special Guest Delegations to the Parliamentary Assembly of the Council of Europe
Mr Yuri Matochkin, Russia
Ms Nina Polikarpova, Russia
Secretary General of the Council of Europe
Mr Daniel Tarchys
Clerk of the Parliamentary Assembly of the Council of Europe
Mr Heiner Klebes
Experts:
Mrs Roza Bieliauskiene, Chief Curator, State Jewish Museum of Lithuania
Mr Gennady Estraikh, Centre for Yiddish Studies, Oxford University — 13, Lake Street, GB - Oxford OX1 4RN
Dr Aleksander Kantsedikas, Centre for Jewish Art, Hebrew University of Jerusalem — Mount Scopus, 91905 Jerusalem, Israel
Prof. Dr. Dovid Katz, Centre for Yiddish Studies, Oxford University — 13, Lake Street, GB - Oxford OX1 4RN
Dr Dov-Ber Kerler, Centre for Yiddish Studies, Oxford University
Mrs Thérèse Liberman-Jasmin, Réalisatrice des émissions de Yiddish sur Radio Com'Judaïque, 27bis, rue Charles de Gaulle, Paris — 95130 Le Plessis Bouchard
Mr Henri Minczeles, Journalist and writer — 33, rue St Ambroise, 75001 Paris
Mrs Maria Rupeikiene, Senior Scientist, Monument Preservation Department, State Jewish Museum Lithuania
Prof. Dr. Julius Schoeps, Director, Moses Mendelssohn Centre for European Jewish Studies, Postdam University — Rembrandtstr. 27, D - 14 467 Potsdam
Ms Julia Weiner, Curator, Ben Uri Society — 21 Dean Street, GB - London W1V 6NE
Members of the Lithuaniand Parliament - Seimas, Gedimino 53, Vilnius
Mr. Vytautas Buinevièius
Ms. Romualda Hofertiene
Mr. Povilas Jakuèionis
Mr. Vladimir Jarmolenko
Mr. Justinas Karosas
Mr. Jonas Kubilius
Mr. Albinas Lozuraitis
Mr. Algirdas Pocius
Mr. Pranciškus Tupikas
Lithuanian Ministries
Mr. Rokas Bernotas, Head, West European Division of the Ministry of Foreign Affairs of Lithuania, J.Tumo-Vaiþganto 2, Vilnius
Mr. Viktoras Liutkus, Ministry of Culture of Lithuania, J.Basanaviciaus 5, Vilnius
Lithuanian Embassies
Mr Phillipe de Suremain, Ambassador of France
Mr Justo Mullor Garcia, Apostolic Nuncio
Mr Dan Nielsen, Ambassador of Denmark
Mr Stellan Ottosson, Ambassador of Sweden
Mr A. Schmidt, German Embassy
Mr Franco Tempesta, Ambassador of Italy
Mr Heinrich Walter, Ambassador of Germany
Press
Mr Günther Müller, former member the Parliamentary Assembly, journalist — D - 94 424 Arnstorf
Mlle Dapkiene, Lituanian Radio, Konarskio 49, Vilnius
M. Aleksandras Matonis, News Reporter, Lituanian Television, Konarskio 49, Vilnius
M. Mikhail Mirski, Journaliste, Grybo 23/18-29, Vilnius
M. Edvardas Tuskenis, Journaliste, Rudninkø 16-10, Vilnius
Mlle Danute Vabalaite, Chief Advisor, Seimas Information Analysis Department, Gedimino 53, Vilnius
M. Saliamonas Vaintraubas, Journaliste, ELTA-DPA, Taikos 167-8, Vilnius
M. Rimantas Vanagas, Journaliste, Pašilaièiø 18-74, Vilnius
Lithuanian public
M. E. Aleksandravicius, Vytautas Magnus University, Putvinskio 66-2, Kaunas
M. S. Alperavicius, Chairman, Lithuanian Jewish Community, Donelaicio 16-7, Vilnius
Mlle Aprijaskyte-Valdštcniene, Teacher of English, Vingrio 11-6, Vilnius
Mlle D. Bakaniene, Council of Lithaunia Minor, Jakšto 9-203, Vilnius
M. Osvaldas Balakauskas, Composer, Traidenio 34-9, Vilnius
Mlle Masha Bogina, Lithuanian State Jewish Museum, Antakalnio 65-59, Vilnius
M. Borisas Borisovas, Composer, Traidenio 34-10, Vilnius
Mlle E. Bramson-Alperiene, Head, Judaics Section, National Library, Mickeviciaus 7-8, Vilnius
Mlle Fania Brancovskaja, Tuskuleno 7a-11, Vilnius
M. Abram Broz, Zirmuno 20-111,Vilnius
M. Lemchenas Chackelis, Language Specialist, Vykinto 2-2, Vilnius
M. Milan Chersonskij, Vilnius Jewish Amateur Theatre, Pušo20-5, Vilnius
M. Samuil Chvas, Lawyer, Subaciaus 43-22, Vilnius
M. C. Erenburg, Lithuanian "Wizo", Vileišio 9-16, Vilnius
M. Semen Fishelsan, Giedraicio 100-13, Vilnius
Mlle Mina Frishman, Lithaunian State Jewish Museum, Tilþes 164-4, Vilnius
M. J. Gurvicius, Teacher of Hebrew, Vyduno 7-102, Vilnius
M. Piotr Ivanov, Engineer, Šilo 9, Ignalina
Mlle L. Jacovskiene, Lithuanian State Jewish Museum, Kražio 7-1
M. M. Jakobas, Head, Vilnius Jewish School, Kauno 43, Vilnius
Mlle Bluma Kac, Vilnius 5-7
Mlle Zoia Kantzedikas, Architect, Israel Rechovot, D.Alazar 26-3
M. Domas Kaunas, Vilnius University, Pietario 7-6, Vilnius
M. Bronislovas Kuzmickas, Institute of Philosophy, Sociology and Law, former Chairman of the Lithuanian Parliament, Basanaviciaus 18-57, Vilnius
M. Eiga Lebedys, Lithuanian State Jewish Museum, Antakalnio 65-59, Vilnius
M. Lempertas, Member of the Board, Jewish Community, Kalvarijo 178-52, Vilnius
M. Josif Levinson, Lithuanian State Jewish Museum, Donelaicio 14-7, Vilnius
M. E. Levitas, Chairman, Society of Jewish War Veterans, Muitines 34-32, Vilnius
M. S. Lukoševicius, Vice Chairman, Lithuanian Cultural Foundation, Jakðto 9, Vilnius
M. Benjamin Mackevic, Latvio 3, Vilnius
M. J. Minkevicius, Lithuanian Academy of Sciences, Vykinto 27-8, Vilnius
Mlle Audra Misiunas, Wife of Lituania's Ambassador to Israel, Ciurlionio 84, Vilnius
M. Kazimieras Motieka, Lawyer, Architekto 112-61, Vilnius
M. Hirshas Pekelis, Vilnius Jewish Community, Karaimo 3-1, Vilnius
M. Markas Petuchauskas, Zirmuno 24-24, Vilnius
M. Arturas Poviliunas, National Olimpic Committee of Lituania, Vrublevskio 6, Vilnius
M. Sergijus Rapoportas, Sociologist, Dominikono 3-26, Vilnius
Mlle Judita Rozina, Lithuanian State Jewish Museum, Kæstucio 3-1, Vilnius
M. Kazys Saja, Writer, Antakalnio 8-28, Vilnius
M. Anatolijus Šenderovas, Composer, Lakštingalo 5, Nemencine
Mlle Sulamita Valdšteinaite, Librarian, Vingrio 11-6, Vilnius
M. J. Žapiro, Lithuanian State Jewish Museum, Minties 2-35, Vilnius
Mlle Ovidija Zeifaite, Lithuanian State Jewish Museum, Zemaites 167
M. M Zibuc et Mlle F Zibuc, Jewish Artist Family,
Mlle Cile Ziburkiene, Muitines 34-34, Vilnius
Mlle F. Zimaniene, "Lietuvos Jeruzale", Konarskio 17-16, Vilnius
M. Mark Zingeris, Griunvaldo 4-56, Kaunas
Secretariat of the Colloquy
— Council of Europe
Mr Christopher Grayson, Secretary of the Committee
Mr João Ary, Co-Secretary
Mrs Anne-Marie Nothis, Assistant
— Seimas
Ms Arune Kontautaite, Delegation Secretary
Poem by Moshe Koulbak (1986 - 1940)
I
Someone in a tallis is walking in your streets.
Only he is stirring in the city by night.
He listens. Old veins quicken - sound
through courtyard and synagogue like a hoarse, dusty heart.
You are a psalm, spelled in clay and in iron.
Each stone a prayer; a hymn every wall,
As the moon, ripping into ancient lanes,
Glints in a naked and ugly - cold splendour.
Your joy is sadness - joy of deep basses
In chorus. The feasts are funerals.
Your consolation is poverty: clear, translucent -
Like summer mist on the edges of the city.
You are a dard amulet set in Lithuania.
Old grey writing - mossy, peeling.
Each stone a book; parchment every wall.
Pages turn, secretly open in the night,
As, on the old synagogue, a frozen water carrier,
Small beard titled, stands counting the stars.
II
Only I am stirring in the city by night.
No sound. Houses are rigid - bales of rag.
A tallow candle flutters, dripping,
Where a cabalist sits, tangled into his garret,
Like a spider, drawing the grey thread of his life.
"Is there anyone in the cold emptiness?
In our deafness - can we hear the lost cries?"
Raziel is standing before him: he gleams in the darkness.
The wings an old, faded parchment.
The eyes - pits filled with sans and with cobweb.
"There is no one. Only sorrow is left."
The candle drips. Stupefied, the weak man listens.
He suckles the darkness out of the angle's sockets.
The garrets breathe - lungs of
The hunchbacked creature who is drowsing in the hills.
O city! You are the dream of a cabalist,
Grey, drifting in the universe - cobweb in the early autumn.
III
You are a psalm, spelled in clay and in iron.
The letters fading. They wander - stray.
Stiff men are likely sticks; women, like loaves of bread.
The shoulders pressed. Cold, secretive beards.
Long eyes that rock, like rowbats on a lake -
At night, late, over a silver herring,
They beat their breasts. "God, we are sinful... sinful".
The moon's white eye, bulging through the tiny panes,
Silvers, the rags that hang on the line,
Children in beds - yellow, slippery worms,
Girls half - undressed, their bodies like boards -
These gloomy men are narrow like your streets.
They eyebrows mossy: like a roof above your ruins.
You are a psalm inscribe upon the fields.
A raven, I sing to you by the flow of the moon.
No sun has ever risen in Lithuania.
IV
Your joy is sorrow - joy of deep basses
In chorus. The quiet May time is sombre?
Saplings grow from the mortar. Grasses push from the wall.
Sluggishly, a grey blossom crawls out of the old tree.
The cold nettle has risen through mud.
Dung and rigid walls are steeping in their damp.
It may happen by night. A breeze moves a dry pebble on a roof.
A vision, moonbeam and drops of water,
Flows through the silver , tremulously dreaming streets.
It is the Viliya, cool, mistily arising,
Fresh and baby - naked, with long, river - like hands,
Who has come into the town. Blind windows are grimacing.
Arching bridges are crooked on their walls.
No door will open. No head will move.
To meet the Viliya in her skinny, blue nakedness.
The bearded walls marvel - the hills around you.
And silence. Silence.
V
You are a dark amulet set in Lithuania.
Figures smoulder faintly in the restless stone.
Lucid, white sages of a distant radiance,
Small, hard bones that were polished by toil.
The red tunic of the steely bundist.
The blue student who listens to grey Bergelson -
Yiddish is the homely crown of the oak leaf
Over the gates, sacred an profane, into the city.
Grey Yiddish is the light that twinkles in the window.
Like a wayfarer who breaks his journey beside an old well,
I sit and listen to the rough voice of Yiddish.
Is that the reason whey my blood is so turbulent?
I am the city: the thousand narrow doors into the universe,
Roof over roof, to the muddy - cold blue.
I am the black flame, hungry, licking at these walls -
That glows in the eyes of the Litvak in a alien land.
I am the greyness! I am the black flame! I am the city!
VI
And, on the old synagogue, a frozen water carrier,
Small beard tilted, stands counting the stars.
from A Treasury of Yiddish Poetry, ed. by Irving Howe and Eliezer Greenberg, Rinehart and Winston, 1969 (translated by Nathan Halpet)
Original and transliteration of the beginning of the Poem VILNA
A thousand years of Yiddish in the European arena
Dovid Katz
Director of the Oxford Institute for Yiddish Studies
St Antony's College, University of Oxford
Preamble
Honoured delegates, guests, and hosts: We are gathered here to consider the fate of a language and culture that have survived a thousand years of European history. The history of Yiddish is somewhat exotic, as European languages go, and if contemporary meanings can be read into history, then Yiddish may just have something to say about the borderless and the displaced among the minority languages of Europe, and about minority languages in general. The history of Yiddish, and the dialectology of Yiddish, have tended to ignore the political boundaries and divides within Europe. For centuries, the Yiddish territory constituted a vast "linguistic empire" in Europe, albeit as a minority language everywhere, in power nowhere. From a linguistic point of view, Yiddish was left free to develop entirely according to the external vicissitudes of history and the internal laws of historical linguistics, without the usual apparatus of normative academies and government edicts.
Yiddish was and remained a folk language in Western and Central Europe. It was only in its "second home" in the Slavonic and Baltic lands of Eastern Europe that it evolved into a highly nuanced medium suitable for sophisticated literature of international status. It is that modern, Eastern European Yiddish that was exported by emigrés to the satellite Yiddish centres of London, Paris, and Berlin, to other Western European cities, and overseas, early in our own century. West to east progressions from the folksy to the sophisticated are, as, we see from Yiddish, every bit as viable as those going the other way. Let us not be the ones to predict where the greatest European creations will come from in the next hundred years.
The linguistic, demographic and literary accomplishments of Yiddish were all achieved without armies, without navies, without the firing of a single shot, but rather, through the power of the word, the thought, the folksong, the poem, the novel, the treatise; through the feeling of solidarity among the members of a group dispersed throughout Europe, a group that never stopped interacting with all the coterritorial local populations in a permanent state of cultural interchange. It was give and take, all without a ledger book or accountant.
As if to illustrate how much can be achieved without the trappings of statehood, the language even has its own symbolic capital. That capital, the international capital of Yiddish, was Vilna — Vilnius —, the historic Yerusholayim d’Líte ("Jerusalem of Lithuania").
Yiddish a Quintessentially European Language
If there was ever a language that is quintessentially "European", born in Europe, matured in many different parts of the continent — from Strasbourg to Smolensk — and ultimately almost annihilated by the most barbaric totalitarian regime in world history, also, alas, in Europe, that language is Yiddish. European more than anything else quite simply because it has thrived across the time and space of medieval and modern Europe.
One of the first things to strike the contemporary student of Yiddish is the usual irrelevance of modern political boundaries to the linguistic and cultural categories of Yiddish. Cultural autonomy does not always need an army, a navy, border guards, and customs agents. Hundreds of years ago, the Jews who spoke Southwestern Yiddish, and were largely cattle dealers and simple folk, were spread in an area coinciding with parts of modern France, Switzerland and Germany. The Northwesterners, who were, on the whole, much more "bookish", and spoke a kind of Yiddish somewhat closer to today’s dialects, thrived on territories that today coincide with parts of Holland, northern Germany, and Denmark.
Turning to the modern Yiddish types, the Litvaks, the Jews who speak Lithuanian Yiddish, and are rumoured in folklore to be highly learned but somewhat humourless, are those whose forebears hail from the territory of Northeastern Yiddish, popularly known as litvish ("Lithuanian Yiddish"). Their "Lithuania" includes all of present day Lithuania, Latvia and Belarus (no modern political extrapolations intended!).
The potential for minority cultures to thrive across the political borders of Europe is of course founded upon the presence of an environment in which minority languages can thrive. That environment was sometimes stronger in earlier centuries, and it is sometimes more tenuous today, in a purportedly more modern time. Let us beware of falling into the trap of twentieth century snobbism. There may be much to learn from the past.
Let us for a moment go back two thousand years, roughly to the beginning of the common era. During the first millennium, the centre of gravity of Jewish life was in the Near East. Only the rabbinic authorities of Palestine and Babylonia could adjudicate on points of law. The new Yiddish speaking civilisation moved rapidly to initiate what we might today call a peaceful cultural revolution in favour of home rule. The founding father of this new European Jewish civilisation was the great Rabbi Gershom, known as "Light of the Exile", who is thought to have been born in Metz, around 960, and who lived most of his life in Mainz where he died around 1028. Gershom issued an edict forbidding polygamy. Now polygamy was an ancient Hebrew tradition; it will suffice to recall the exploits of David and Solomon for starters. It is not that the Jews of France and Germany were taking more than one wife a thousand years ago. It was rather a case of declaring symbolic independence, proclaiming a new European Jewish civilisation, and Gershom’s ban on polygamy did just that. Legal issues could now be decided by the new rabbinic authorities of Europe. The European period in Jewish history was, we could say, formally launched.
This new civilisation rose on the banks of the Rhine to its west and the Danube to its east, more or less simultaneously. It was destined to spread in all directions, and especially, eastward. It became known as Ashkenaz. In early medieval texts, Ashkenaz refers to the German speaking lands in central Europe, but it came over time to refer to the "Yiddish area" throughout Europe. The late Max Weinreich, the leading historian of Yiddish, referred to the central European birthplace of Yiddish as "Ashkenaz I", and to its Eastern European heartland in later centuries as "Ashkenaz II".
This European civilisation, Ashkenaz, has given the world an Einstein, a Freud and a Chagall. In the immediate family backgrounds of all of them is the traditional language of Ashkenazic Jewry, Yiddish. A never ending stream of literary innovation goes back centuries. In the early sixteenth century, Elijah Levita, a native of Germany who settled in Italy, joined the complex Italian rhyme pattern known as ottava rima, with Yiddish verse, exemplifying in masterful poetry the interweaving of Romance with Germanic. By the nineteenth century, Sholem Aleichem’s humour, best known today in the West via Fiddler on the Roof, had interlinked a Slavonic flavour with Yiddish humour. By then Yiddish had added to its Germanic and Semitic base the permanent layer of Slavonic, exemplifying yet again that what for the purist is debasement is for true culture the exponential growth of possibilities for creativity and advancement. And in 1978, the Nobel Prize for literature went to Isaac Bashevis Singer, whose works derive in no small measure from the joining of the European forms of the Kabbalah — Jewish mysticism — with insights gleaned from modern psychology and philosophy. Going back for a moment to the known beginnings of Yiddish literature, the earliest dated literary work is the Cambridge Codex of 1382, discovered in Cairo, of all places, which had a community of emigré Ashkenazim in the fourteenth century. In addition to a Yiddish version of the German Dukus Horant, the manuscript contains a Yiddish rendition of the biblical Binding of Isaac, written in the form of a central European medieval epic romance. The creation of new cultural products from the free intermingling of east and west, of Jewish and general European, is the hallmark of Yiddish.
The Fusion Structure of Yiddish
The Jewish minority of a thousand years ago that created the Yiddish language fused linguistic elements of the ancient Orient — Hebrew and Aramaic — with a variety of medieval German city dialects, in and of itself a fusing of near eastern with European culture. It is almost as if from the very moment of its birth, Yiddish symbolised the strength of cultures interacting, participating in give and take, without the straitjackets of purism or elitism. But the fusion that is Yiddish is no casual mixture of Hebraic and Germanic. It is a highly specific formula that goes back to that linguistic genesis of a millennium ago and that is often rooted in ancient Hebraic culture. The Yiddish word for "sun" is Germanic derived zun but "moon" is levóne from the Hebrew. Some would say the Semitic word stuck because of the importance of the moon to Jews; their calendar is after all the lunar one. Others would see the "coincidental" outcome of competing forms. Either way, the Hebraic "moon" and the Germanic "sun" are thousand year old bedfellows in Yiddish.
Fusion makes for a highly nuanced semantics. As Ber Borokhov, the founder of modern Yiddish linguistics pointed out back in 1913, the Yiddish word for "God" derived from Germanic — got — refers to a universalistic God of all humankind. The Hebrew derived riboyne shel óylem refers rather to God’s relationship with the Jews, what He is thought to expect and to demand. Gotinyu zisinker, with the Slavonic derived endearing suffixes, refers to an intimate God who is with you in your room, and whom you can feel free to be intimate with, and, who, when necessary, can even be admonished and scolded.
This third component, Slavonic, was gradually absorbed by Yiddish in Eastern Europe over the last five hundred years. It is not the Hebraic, the Germanic or the Slavonic that makes Yiddish Yiddish. It is their unending interaction in a way that is uniquely Yiddish that accomplishes that. The Yiddish word for "making fun", "kidding around" is katoves, derived from Hebrew (the root ktv meaning "write"). It is not ancient Hebrew, but rather a coinage of the Italian Jews of the early sixteenth century who needed a word for what we now know as "graffiti". They coined it to describe the practice of writing funny things on walls late at night to make fun of certain people. To engage in making fun (not necessarily in writing) is, in Yiddish, traybn katoves, with the Germanic verb traybn, literally "drive", "cause", but almost always with a mischievous connotation. The fellow who does it, originally the graffitist, so to speak, and nowadays any prankster, is a katovesnik, with the Slavonic suffix -nik. All of this, by way of the joining of Hebraic, Germanic and Slavonic, as an ongoing process.
The nuancing of Yiddish is evident throughout. A freg ton ("to ask"), for example, implies that it’s a matter of fact question that requires a speedy factual answer. The root is Germanic and the aspectual feature is Slavonic. A sháyle, derived from the Hebrew is a question asked of an authority, often asking permission for something, and usually requiring a yes or no answer. A káshe, derived from Aramaic, is an argumentative question that implicitly challenges the authority and wisdom of what has just been said by the other party.
The Fate of Yiddish a Product of European History
The survival of Yiddish, its adaptability to ever new places and conditions, and its record of creativity, are ultimately, of course, to the credit of its speakers, the Ashkenazim. Its history, however, is inextricably intertwined with the vicissitudes of European history, and exemplifies the interrelatedness of the fate of European peoples. To start with, the language itself is testimony to constant interaction between Ashkenazim and the surrounding European nations; otherwise the majority of Yiddish vocabulary and grammar could not possibly have derived from medieval German city dialects; that came to be because in spite of their strict adherence to cultural autonomy, the Ashkenazim were never isolated from their non-Jewish neighbours and the structure of Yiddish is the best testimony to that ongoing process of intercommunication.
Had Yiddish remained fixed to its Germanic birthplace, it is very doubtful whether it would have survived, let alone attained what it has in fact attained in the European cultural arena. Its geographic expansion resulted from some of the worst and some of the best of European history.
First, there were the Crusades, starting in 1096. On their way to liberate the Holy Grail in Jerusalem, marauding Crusaders massacred one Jewish community after another. In fact, the earliest dated Yiddish words are proper names recorded in the lists of martyrs of the First Crusade. Subsequent Crusades had similar effects through to the fourteenth century. The outbursts of violence against Jews included the Rindfleisch massacres of 1298, based on a series of blood libels, and the poisoned-well libel in the wake of the Black Plague of 1348 and 1349. All were part of the same pattern of deeply ingrained anti-Semitic myths. All of them resulted in a shift of population eastward as Jews fled persecution in search of a more tranquil life. Racial and religious intolerance led to the expansion of Yiddish and its interaction with genetically unrelated languages.
The other side of the same coin is no less potent. Racial and religious tolerance in medieval Poland and Lithuania inspired many to seek a better life in Eastern Europe; those communities were destined, over time, to become some of the most creative in the whole of the three thousand year history of the Jewish people. The best remembered symbols of tolerance are the statute of Kalish in 1264, issued by Prince Boleslav V, and its expansion by Kazimir between 1334 and 1367, and, most spectacularly, the legal status granted to Jews by the Lithuanian Grand Duke Vytautas (Witold) in 1388 and 1389, which in effect gave the Jews what we might like to call "equal rights". Vytautas, in his writ for the Grodna community, made synagogue and cemetery land tax-free, and explicitly allowed Jews to hold whatever views they wished to hold at home, and to engage in any kind of craft. In spite of major reversals and setbacks (for example, the expulsion of 1495), there were centuries when relative tolerance in Eastern Europe enabled Yiddish to thrive and to grow in proportions — both demographic and literary — that would have defied the predictions of any contemporary observer.
Yiddish and the world of ideas
From its inception, Yiddish was the language of both the marketplace and everyday life on the one hand, and, on the other, of sophisticated Talmudic discourse in the yeshivas of Ashkenazic Europe. The language itself came to embody both strands; the Aramaic-derived words for "probably" (mistáme) "necessarily" (dáfke), and "a fortiori argument" (kal vekhoymer), for example, became popular even among uneducated people. Daily immersion in the ancient near eastern heritage, from the book of Genesis onward, made thousands of years of history come alive in everyday life. "Carrying straw to Egypt", a reference to the brick building materials of Jewish slaves in ancient Egypt, came to signify what the British call "coals to Newcastle" in an ironic reference to uselessness. The connotations of "drunk as Lot", "evil as Jeroboam", "wise as Solomon" are everyday expressions, devoid of any pretentiousness.
Yiddish was one of three Jewish languages of the Ashkenazim of Europe. It interacted in a complementary way with the two ancient Semitic languages the Jews had imported into Europe: Hebrew, the language of the Hebrew Bible and the Mishnah, and many commentaries; and Aramaic, the language of most of the Talmud and much of the Kabbalah, the literature of Jewish mysticism. Ashkenazim spoke in Yiddish only. Some of them read Yiddish only although nearly all had at least rudimentary Hebrew reading skills. Then there were the learned, the rabbis, who wrote new and original works in Hebrew and Aramaic, here on European soil, right up to the Holocaust.
Now those who were learned in Hebrew and Aramaic were nearly all men. This "gender gap" was bridged, or at least compensated for, by the emergence of women as the primary readers of Yiddish, and in many cases, the primary early writers of Yiddish. The pietistic poetry of Toybe Pan in the sixteenth century, Chana Katz in the seventeenth, and Gele in the eighteenth may strike the modern writer as somewhat naive; but in their time and place they represented the emergence of women writers, writing in the universal vernacular, in a society where the formal "literary classes" wrote mostly in two non-spoken languages, Hebrew and Aramaic. The women readers and writers of Yiddish were, with hindsight, heralders of cultural liberation for both women and for Yiddish, most prominently reflected in the classic genre of tkhines, pietistic non-canonical poem-prayers. At the end of the sixteenth century, the Tsene-rene appeared. It was written by a man for women, a graceful interweaving of the stories of the Five Books of Moses and other select portions of the Bible with thousands of years of Jewish legend and lore. It became the "women’s Bible" of Ashkenazic Jewry, western and eastern alike.
With the advent of Yiddish printing in the 1530s and 1540s, Yiddish developed a standard language based on the Western Yiddish dialects of central Europe. Even books printed in Poland used this standard language. Standards, even lopsided and illogical standards, can win acceptance without government edicts. Incidentally, Yiddish printing was established with the active participation of the first generation of Lutheran Protestants, both in Germany and in Poland.
By the seventeenth century, the liberal bastion of Amsterdam had become the new world centre of Yiddish printing. In the late 1670s, two competing Amsterdam publishers sought to put out the first complete Old Testament in Yiddish. Their effort at literal accuracy was a novelty for Ashkenaz, where sacred texts have always gone hand in hand with the traditional corpus of interpretation assembled over millennia.
In the late eighteenth century, Moses Mendelssohn and his circle in Berlin sought to modernise the Jewish world by doing away with Yiddish. Their campaign went hand in hand with the decline of Yiddish on German speaking soil, and Western Yiddish ultimately died out, partly as a result of linguistic assimilation of its speakers to German, and partly in consequence of the campaign against the language.
By contrast, Yiddish in Eastern Europe had by then become a much more sophisticated linguistic instrument. Yiddish was ripe for new leaps and bounds. In eighteenth century Podolia, the hasidic movement arose and spread to most parts of the Ukraine and Poland. It preached mysticism, the closeness to God of every human being, and a philosophy of happiness in daily life, all irrespective of the degree of learning attained. All three ideas led hasidism to elevate Yiddish to a level of conscious sanctity, previously unknown in the history of the language.
The opponents of hasidism were centered here in Lithuania. Elijah, the Gaon of Vilna, who lived and worked in the street that once again bears his name, a short walk from where we are now gathered, inspired a resurgence of high level Talmudic study. His best student, Chaim Valozhiner, left Vilna for Valozhin (Volozhin) where he established, in 1802, the greatest rabbinical academy since the days of Babylonia. The language of the yeshiva was of course Yiddish.
In the nineteenth century, the movements for secularisation and modernisation well well underway among East European Jewry. These movements advocated the use of German or Russian or Polish as opposed to the native Yiddish. In one of the great ironies of East European cultural history, the modernisers who sought to supplant Yiddish quickly found that they needed that very language to preach to the masses the tenets of modernisation, and, almost against their own will, they forged a modern standard Yiddish that was based on the living Yiddish dialects of Eastern Europe. Around 1814, one Mendel Lefin, trained to hate Yiddish by the Berlin Jewish modernisers under whom he had studied, dared to rebel and do something outrageous, for which he was duly ostracised. He translated the Book of Proverbs into his modern Ukrainian Yiddish dialect.
The most spectacular transformation came on November 24, 1864, when the Hebrew didactic writer Sholem-Yankev Abramowitz became the first master of modern Yiddish prose, under his pseudonym "Mendele Moykher Sforim", by publishing the first instalment of his first novel in Yiddish in a weekly Yiddish newspaper in Odessa. He and his "pupils", Sholem Aleichem and Y. L. Peretz, collectively formed the triumvirate that was to establish Yiddish as a vehicle for the modern art of European fiction.
All the while, a movement was growing to elevate the status of Yiddish to a modern national language for secular literature, just as the hasidim had done a century earlier in the religious and mystical spheres. As fate would have it, a German Jew, Nathan Birnbaum, who did not speak Yiddish natively, became the most ardent advocate of Yiddish. He organised the Chernowitz Language Conference of 1908 which proclaimed Yiddish to be a national Jewish language. At that conference, a twenty-three year old scholar named Matisyohu Mieses proclaimed: "The nineteenth century gave birth to the rights of man, the twentieth has the grave responsibility of creating the rights of languages [...] We demand freedom of opportunity for the Yiddish language!"
The mass migration of Jews from the Russian Empire to a number of western countries, and especially, to the United States, opened new vistas for Yiddish. The Lower East Side of New York City became a major world centre for Yiddish belles lettres, and a phenomenal number of poets and prose writers, hailing from the most diverse East European towns and villages, began to publish their works and develop their talents.
In the years following the First World War, expressionism, impressionism, symbolism, introspectivism and other modern literary trends developed in the metropolises of both eastern and western Europe. Warsaw, Vilna and Kiev became the leading centres. Berlin, Paris and London became primary satellites. In less than a century, Yiddish had achieved the transition from folk language to the medium of a modern European literature.
Yiddish Scholarship
Just before the outbreak of the First World War, the scholarship of Yiddish — linguistic, philological, literary and folkloristic — was born right here, when the famous Vilna Yiddish publisher, Boris Kletskin (his building still stands) produced "Der Pinkes", a compendium of Yiddish scholarship, edited by master Yiddish critic Sh. Niger. The volume was opened and concluded with works by Ber Borokhov, the founder of modern Yiddish studies. In his essay, "The Aims of Yiddish Philology", Borokhov outlined the history and structure of Yiddish. In a single master stroke, he did away with hundreds of years of prejudices (by Jews and non-Jews alike) against the language of Ashkenazic Jewry. Borokhov also proclaimed the Yiddish of the "district of Vilna" to be the standard literary pronunciation, and in another single stroke, gave Yiddish its symbolic capital.
The book concluded with Borokhov’s survey of "Four Hundred Years of Research on the Yiddish Language". Borokhov enumerated the works of Christian humanists, missionaries, criminologists, anti-Semites, businessmen, Hebraists and more, starting in the sixteenth century. His point was that Yiddish had for centuries been an object of fascination for scholars with various and sundry motives. The time had come for a new Yiddish scholarship concerned with the language for its own sake.
Borokhov dreamt in 1913 that there would be an academic institute dedicated to Yiddish. It was here in Vilna that his dream came true, in 1925. By then, top young Yiddish scholars had settled in Vilna and joined forces. They include Zalmen Reyzen of Koydenov, Zelig-Hirsh Kalmanovitsh of Goldingen, and above all, Max Weinreich, also of Goldingen. Here in Vilna, they began to build the first university level institution dedicated to Yiddish. That institution is the YIVO, acronym of "Yidisher visnshaftlekher institut" (Yiddish Scientific Institute), which was successfully moved to New York in 1940, thanks to the fact that Max Weinreich was in Copenhagen on 1 September 1939, preparing to read a paper on the history of Yiddish at an international linguistics conference in Brussels. Thankfully he was able to travel on to New York.
Today Yiddish language, literature and culture are intensively researched in Paris, Oxford, Heidelberg, Trier and other major European universities. There are also major international centres in the United States and Israel.
The Holocaust and Beyond
The systematic murder of East European Jewry by the invading Nazi forces, readily assisted by local fascists in each country, defies all imagination. The vast majority of the six million Jews murdered were native Yiddish speakers. As a language of millions on European soil, Yiddish perished along with its speakers. The Jews of Vilna, the symbolic world capital of Yiddish, were shipped to Ponar, where they were shot and burned. In towns and villages all round us, there are mass graves where the children, the women and the men, the young and the old, were humiliated, shot and buried, often alive. All were led to slaughter for one reason only: they were Jews.
The legislative and cultural organisations of our new Europe cannot revive the victims of the Holocaust. Nor could they restore Yiddish to its status in Europe in 1939. They can help ensure the survival of the language and its literature on European soil. In Western Europe, there are burgeoning hasidic communities, where Yiddish is the first language. In both Western and Eastern Europe, there are communities of older generation Yiddish speakers born before the War. Last but not least, there are several thousand young enthusiasts, Jewish and non-Jewish alike, who are prepared to dedicate their lives to Yiddish language, literature and culture. They are without support, without guidance and without coordination. There is much to be done and time is short. Together we can take Yiddish in Europe safely into the new century. I say to this conference: the future contributions of Yiddish culture to Europe will justify our vision. Let the twentyfirst-century see the establishment of the rights of all the people of Europe, and — all its languages. Let us start modestly: with ten scholarships, to enable students of all backgrounds and from all parts of Europe to become experts in Yiddish.
Yiddish literature in its European context
Dov-Ber Kerler
Oxford Institute for Yiddish Studies
In the beginning we could argue if it is really worthwhile to discuss Yiddish literature beyond its European context or boundaries? It has spread through the centuries throughout Europe to Germany, Italy, Holland, eventually to Poland and other Eastern European states. The oldest Yiddish literary manuscript was discovered in Cairo, the Egyptian capital, and it dates back to 1382. This evidence supports our thesis. For most of the second half of the 20th century there was an active East European Jewish community that enjoyed the Yiddish theatre and radio programmes. This demonstrates that ancient and more recent European Jews (Ashkenazim) were together able to reach beyond the geopolitical boundaries of the European continent.
The focus of our thesis is Yiddish literature - those who created it - and the historical effect it had on those who studied it. Jews who moved to states where German was spoken were able to develop their own community . Yiddish was spoken there and given a linguistic identity.
The Jewish culture provided a basis for the Yiddish language and later Yiddish literature. This is known as a "vertical" that displays the continuity of Jewish culture. However, the origin of the Yiddish language and later the spread of Yiddish literature is known as "horizontal". It is an important Central European phenomenon that Jews interacted within an European environment that was a thousand years old, and the best Yiddish literature evolved during the last 800 years.
Yiddish literature originated, as did also the Yiddish language, approximately during the first millennium. A language researcher can reconstruct the history of a language based on that language's dialects, and a literary historian concentrates his efforts on the oldest written literature. The oldest Yiddish rhyme dates back to 1272 . Although it is insufficient as a literary and chronological work, it is exceptional as the earliest known example of a conscious, aesthetic, and literary activity. The 110 years separating this rhyme and the earlier mentioned oldest manuscript of 1382 were not without their significance; works that were adopted into the end of the 14th century manuscript were copied from previously written sources.
Very few old Yiddish manuscripts have survived, since cruel laws and deportations forced Jews to concentrate their efforts on protecting Torahs and holy books written in Hebrew. The first book published in Yiddish was produced in Krakow, Poland in 1530. We have a larger selection of books rather than manuscripts if we count the various books that were based on earlier written texts. The Hebrew and Yiddish history of written works is a fascinating page of European Jews history. It is important to state that the first Yiddish newspaper was published in Amsterdam in 1686.
Yiddish literature can schematically be divided into three important periods: the oldest Yiddish literature (from the beginning to 1660), old Yiddish literature (up to about 1862), and the most recent or present literature. Like many European languages that began their literary work in an environment of scholarly Latin, both the oldest and the old Yiddish language had to mature in the framework of an already developed Hebrew language. Therefore the ability to read and write (literacy) is known as ivredikait from the Hebrew word ivrit. It would not be incorrect to state that in each of the first two periods we find examples that carry on the tradition of local Jewish literature. They are known as: midrash, agadot, and musar which is folk or moral. It is adapted from the chivalrous period in Europe to a traditional Jewish genre and thematic synthesis.
First among the most distinct and significant of the original Yiddish adaptations, both based on Italian examples, are the two long novels "Bovo d'Antono" and "Paris and Vienna" which were both written in perfect "ottava rima" stanzas each with eight lines and eleven syllables. The author of these novels was the Jewish poet Elijahu Bochur (Elija Levita 1469-1549). In his work he created a natural meter for Yiddish poetry. Due to his efforts, Yiddish prosody were similar to unique Middle Age Hebrew metre harmonies with rhyme based on current European, in this case Italian, poetry. He created natural Yiddish metre more than one hundred years before Martin Opitz, who created metre for German poetry.
Among the most significant Yiddish literary works that put into practice the European-Yiddish synthesis are the Old Yiddish Bible Epics which were based on the "Nibelungas Hymns" stanza. For example: The Book of Samuel, editio princeps Augsburg, 1544 and The Book of Kings, editio princeps Ausburg, 1543. We are also aware of not less than eleven such longer epic poems which were published or created between 1543 and 1686. The style and image of these works is often reminiscent of German knight epics during the Middle Ages. However, their biblical content is very prevalent and is based on data gathered from the old Jewish midrash tradition.
In the first Miase buch (Mayse Bukh, ed. pr. Basle, 1602) edition, which is a large volume that includes many important Jewish legends and collected works, ther is a significant and basic change from epic poetry to narrative artistic prose. In this publication there is the Talmud legend, original hagiography of the twelfth century Western European origin cycle, and short stories which originated from spoken Jewish and German folklore.
This book was presented to a publisher in Basle by a certain scribe (copyist or writer) known as "Jakob Pollak the book Peddler". He was from Raisn or what is now known as Belarus. Since he could not earn much money in his native town, he would leave his wife and children to wander throughout Germany selling and sometimes publishing various Yiddish and Hebrew books. The books that he presented to be published contained his own preface or foreword ; these texts are the oldest known true examples of Eastern European Yiddish.
Jakov Polak moicher sforim (the book peddler) was not the only one who travelled around Jewish communities in Europe selling Hebrew and Yiddish books and occasionally also presenting new manuscripts in Yiddish to be published. The "grandfather" of Yiddish literature, Samuel-Jakov Abramov chose the literary pseudonym Mendelë Moicher Sforim (Mendele the book seller).
From Jakov the book peddler in 1602 to Mendele the book seller in 1864 is quite a long gap of time. During this period of more than 260 years Yiddish literature had a tremendous prosperous period. Up to 1750, many various new genre books were printed in Germany and new publishing centres in Amsterdam and Prague. At the same time, from about the 16th century, old Yiddish folk dramas, biblical dramas and plays (known as Purim plays) developed. They were an especially important result of the European-Yiddish cultural environment.
Later in the second part of the 18th century, Western Europe’s Yiddish decline was all the more apparent. Due to a greater tendency of assimilation in Western Europe, the old literary language which was primarily based on Western Yiddish now began to integrate with the new German language in Germany and the Dutch language in Holland. The Jewish Enlightenment movement transformed the new German language into a language published or written with a Jewish alphabet.
The common European book market began to fail. However during the second part of the 18th century new Jewish publishing centres formed in Poland, Ukraine, and later in Vilnius, Lithuania. As we approach the second part of the 18th century, the development of Yiddish literature continues to flourish based on East European Yiddish. Two important new social movements emerged: East European Haskala and Hasidism. Even up to now Hasidism has played a significant role and without it Yiddish would barely have entered the 21st century as a normally functioning language that the Ashkenzim cultivated and the Yeshivas learned. It is almost impossible to envision the three most recent Yiddish classic literary writers, Samuel Jakov (1851-1915), Sholom Aleichem (1859-1916), and J. L. Peretz (1851-1915), without the long-term and decisive influence of Haskala. This same movement stirred the resurgence in Germany of the floundering Yiddish movement in Eastern Europe. Often for primarily utilitarian interests this movement prepared the way for this era’s Jewish literature and eventually a new Yiddish-European original synthesis; it was the begining of contemporary western literature with its Yiddish roots. Also part of this period was a synthesis of Jewish national, humanistic, and universal aspirations with a global conception.
Old Jewish literature had many genres and styles. However, the difference between older folklore, dialectic literature, and popular works on the one hand and perceptive literature works on the other is very ambiguous and undefined. In the second half of the 19th century, Central and East European new Yiddish cultural centres spread and the modern Yiddish base also grew. The national language almost spontaneously evolved as one of the most important Jewish languages of this era. Yiddish was used for political, academic, and teaching purposes. This also effected complex European Jewish individual created works that illuminated other continents including both the Americas, Australia, Israel, South Africa and Asia.
While the three contemporary Yiddish classic writers mentioned above were still alive (1864-1917), the pace of life increased. Due to the meteoric expansion of Yiddish literature there have been several attempts to divide it into different generations of authors or even into separate periods. However as we view that period now, it seems that these incredible older and younger story tellers, novelists, playwrights, lyricists, "epic writers", researchers, critics, and various educators were individuals who worked and accomplished a great deal. They did this before World War I under very difficult and diverse circumstances. This took place especially in Poland, North America, Russia’s most important centres, and also in the West European capitals of Berlin, Paris, and London. This is literature that evolved and matured in a short period of time. The basic goal is to constantly locate new or adequate forms of aesthetically written works or reflections that either only completely match with classical examples, modern works, or experimental examples of literature throughout the world. Each of these writers knew at least one of the Central European literary languages very well. A Jewish reader during the first part of our century could chose from a very wide variety of literary styles from throughout the world.
The new Jewish theatre, which began its activity in the 1870s, had its roots in old Purim plays, 18th century dramatic satires of the Enlightenment, and also popular opera and song dramatisations. However in the 20th century this orientation turned to the best European theatre art accomplishments. During this period, an aesthetically refined and innovative Yiddish theatre developed. Most of the famous writers created a Yiddish repertoire. The dramatic performers of the Yiddish theatre included the Vilnius troupe, the Warsaw Jewish theatre (Zigmunda Turkovas and Ida Kaminska), the Moscow State Jewish Theatre (Sloime Michoelsas and Binjominas Zuskinas), and the New York Art Theatre with Moris Svarcas, and many others.
The world famous Jewish theatre history developed directly in relation with the Jewish cultural and literary environment. If the earlier Purim plays were Middle Age European folk theatre syntheses with primarily intrinsic Jewish origins and thematic manuscripts, then later in the 19th century the Jewish theatre was reborn as a popular art form with precise satires of society and national dramatic elements. The subsequent development of the Jewish theatre and its changes during the 20th century must be recognised as a significant event in contemporary Jewish dramatic art and as a original contribution to the theatrical world.
The same can be said of the contemporary 20th century Yiddish literary contribution. If I now attempted to name the most important authors, you would most assuredly recognise only a few and most probably not the significant ones. Although only a small percentage of the best and most important Yiddish works are translated into other languages, the list of these translations and speeches would be fairly long and diverse. They would, as contemporary Yiddish literature does presently, secure a respectable place in the consciousness of Europe and the West.
Around the end of the 1960s, after the incredible catastrophe in Europe, after the horrible persecution of Jews in the Soviet Union, after the Americanisation thrust in North America where a section of Jewish writers created and wrote (some are still active today), in France, Belgium, Ukraine, England, Russia, America, Israel, Canada and Australia some members of the younger generation (both Jews and gentiles) noticed a growing interest in Yiddish and Yiddish literature. This began to a degree in Europe and also in America for various reasons. In Western countries, Yiddish and Yiddish literature gained incredible world wide stature when Universities accepted them as part of their curriculum. Among these new efforts in European, American, Israeli, and even Japanese Universities, a group of sincere Yiddish literature enthusiasts and Yiddish speaking individuals. They are those who read, research, and critique original Yiddish literature matures. Some of these individuals attempt to write about Yiddish or the Yiddish language.
Who knows if it will ever be possible to build a bridge between these thousands of Yiddish enthusiasts who were born after WWII, and the hot-blooded millions who are predominantly Hasids? For it is the Hasids who not only are interested in contemporary Yiddish literature, but for them and their children speaking Yiddish is a part of their natural way of life. One thing is certain, the tragic and also glorious history of Yiddish literature and also its obscure future, both are directly related to its long-standing Yiddish-European synthesis through a reasonable approach to the original Yiddish and also common creativity. There is also a desire to continually utilise the arduously acquired link between international Jewish and universal humanistic aspirations.
Gennady Estraikh,
Institute for Yiddish Studies, Oxford University
Despite the fact that the Soviet Union does not exist any more, the term "Soviet Jew" continues to be used to characterise hundreds of thousands of people who live in the post-Soviet countries and in the Western world. In Israel and North America former Soviet Jews have their Russian-language periodicals, publishing houses, TV and radio programmes. In contrast to the turn-of-the-century Russian Jewish emigration, Yiddish plays a minor role in this community.
Seven decades of religious repression and, to an even greater degree, new social and demographic patterns ruined the ecology of the traditional Ashkenazi culture. The Bolshevik revolution broke up the territory which the Ashkenazi Jews had inhabited for many generations. Jewish centres in Ukraine, Belorussia, and Russia could not compensate for the loss of the national energy that Warsaw and Vilna had radiated before 1917. In addition, the First World War and the Civil War ruined the shtètl, shattered the old social and economic relationships of a precarious but typical Jewish economy. In addition, through the 1920s and 1930s, it was against the Jewish shtètl that the grievous economic blows of the Soviet regime were directed. In 1926, during a meeting of the Central Committee of the Communist Party, Shimen Dimanstein, the first Commissar in charge of Jewish activities in Lenin’s government, admitted that the revolution had brought misfortune to the majority of Jews and that the population of the shtètls was dying out. 1
There were two possibilities: either to find for the shtètl a new place in the Soviet economy or to condemn it to extinction. The powers that be showed a preference for the second possibility. "Productivisation" of Jews — an old skeleton rattling in the Russian closet — had gripped the imagination of some Soviet leaders in the early twenties. These ideas received a powerful backing from certain circles of the Western Jewish Diaspora overwhelmed by the romance of the Jewish man-with-a-hammer-and-sickle. The most well-known experiment is the "Soviet Jewish State" (Birobidzhan) in the Far East. However, "Birobidshanization" involved only a few scores of thousands of Jewish migrants, and the majority of them moved rather to Jewish national regions in the South Ukraine and Crimea and to agricultural settlements organised in the former Pale of Settlement than to Birobidzhan itself.
As a matter of fact, it was chiefly the industrial centres of the country which pumped out from the shtètl its young and active population. During the first ten years after the revolution at least one million Jews migrated from impoverished shtètls of Ukraine and Belorussia. 2 Assimilation and acculturation of the Jewish migrants proceeded very quickly. Especially as with the removal of legal barriers, Jews streamed into administrative structures and universities, they disproportionately swelled the ranks of the repressive organs, flocked administrative and managerial positionsto in large state enterprises.
As a result, in 1926, in the big centres of Ukraine with an overall population of over 50,000, Yiddish was given as the mother tongue by no more than a half of Jews under 24 years old. The language-related findings of two Ukrainian polls, in 1926 and 1929, which encompassed the members of trade unions, gave the most impressive results. During the three inter-poll years, the percentage of Jewish trade unionists who listed Yiddish as their native language fell from 58.5% to 42.5%. 3 In addition, according to one controversial hypothesis, by that time about one tenth (300,000) of Soviet Jews espoused a non-Jewish (chiefly Russian) identity. 4
The first twelve post-revolutionary years, up to 1930, framed the initial phase of Soviet Jewish history. It was the period of Evsektsija, that is, Jewish Sections of the Communist Party which organised an unprecedented network of Yiddish institutions and activities. The irony of the situation was that the Evsektsija, being a servile structure, lowered the status of Yiddish. Antagonists of Yiddish in the Soviet Union argued that it was a language of communist propaganda. Indeed, for the Bolshevik leaders Yiddish was a means for communist indoctrination. Thus, although the Communists organised an elaborate system of Yiddish education (in 1931, there were more than 1,200 Yiddish schools with 160,000 pupils, not counting a few hundred of Yiddish creches and kindergartens as well as scores of institutions for professional and higher education 5), the nationalising factor of this system was not substantial. Everything was taught from a narrow, communist point of view. My own experience as the managing editor of the Moscow Yiddish monthly Sovetish heymland prompts me to conclude that the authors and readers who studied in the 1920s and 1930s in Yiddish or Hebrew schools in the Baltic countries and Poland had generally a much broader Yiddish-Jewish education than those who graduated from the Soviet Yiddish schools.
Quite often Soviet Yiddish schools were regarded as a link in the "poverty cycle". It is no coincidence that the majority of pupils in these schools were from poor families. Some even protested against the forcing of Jewish children into proletarian Yiddish educational institutions. To a certain extent, the incidence of Yiddish education showed the aspiration of the authorities rather than of the Jews. As late as 1918 Ukrainian poll revealed that only about twenty percent of Jewish parents wished to send their children to Yiddish schools. 6 Their embeddedness in the country’s class structure as an important constituent of white-collar workers called rather for Russian education. The natural milieu of many Jews was the milieu of Russian intellectuals. Even for many employees of Jewish institutions Yiddish was often confined only to their professional activity, while everyday, even in their family life, they used Russian.
At the end of the war, Birobidzhan again entered the scene. At this time about 23,000 Jews resided in the Jewish Autonomous Region out of the total local population of 110,000. 7 Birobidzhan began to appear as a genuine refuge for thousands of Jews, who no longer had a place to live or could not bring themselves to live on the site of their families' slaughter, who felt the postwar hostility of neighbours and employers, who wanted to live among Jews. Actually, it was the last chance to create a Yiddish speaking enclave in the Soviet Union. But hardly more than 20,000 Jewish migrants came there. With the intensification of official anti-Semitism during Stalin’s last years, any pretence that the Jewish Autonomous Region was a national Jewish homeland vanished. Towards the end of 1948, the campaign of persecution that had spread all over the country reached Birobidzhan; waves of bloody "cleansing" against Jewish "nationalists" swept through the region.
At the end of 1948 and early 1949 all specifically Jewish cultural institutions, including those that survived the 1930s-purges and the few that had been established during the war, were obliterated. Most shocking was the death of Shlojme Mikhoels — the world-known Yiddish actor and chairman of the Jewish Anti-Fascist Committee — in an accident, deliberately staged by the Soviet secret police on 13 January 1948. This was followed by widespread arrests reaching many hundreds and embracing people who had any connection with the Jewish culture. Nearly all the prominent figures of Soviet Yiddish culture, most of whom had never voiced any opposition, were arrested and shot. Many others — Yiddish writers, editors, linguists — became prisoners of the Gulag detention camps.
According to one of the hypotheses, Stalin’s anti-Semitism also laid behind his swan-song — linguistics. The dictator could not forgive the late Soviet linguist Nikolai Marr (who had been idolised in the 1930s and 1940s) that his "Japhetic" theory ranked Yiddish and Hebrew among the most developed languages. 8
In general, from the mid-1920s onwards, Yiddish culture was harassed with a dull-witted fanaticism of the totalitarian state where political correctness reigned supreme. After his trip to Soviet Russia in 1928, Sholem Asch, the prominent Yiddish novelist, said that the literary work of Soviet Yiddish authors had proved to be failure, because "the literature and the men of letters were bodily under the discipline whip (kantshik)". 9 This authoritative opinion is indisputable except for some "details", such as the fact that even under the "kantshik" a number of Yiddish authors (Der Nister, Dovid Hofstein, Dovid Bergelson, Perets Markish, Leib Kvitko, Avrom Abchuk, and others) wrote works of high value. Thus, Avrom Abchuk’s novel Hershl Shamay published in 1929-1934 presents a vivid picture of Jewish life in Soviet urban surroundings.
The events of the novel start in 1927, when the revolution was already a decade old. Hershl Shamay is an elderly tanner who migrated to the city in 1920, after a pogrom in his native shtètl Korostyshev. Hershl Shamay's new chiefs, colleagues and neighbours are mostly Jewish, though it is clear that the Jewish tradition and Yiddish are dying away in there surroundings. The workers are amazed to hear that their "red director" can speak and read Yiddish. A logical explanation of "such a man's" proficiency in Yiddish is immediately found: their director has a Bundist history to live down. Another character, who has been in the Bolshevik Party since 1918, has already lost his proficiency in reading Yiddish though he still understands his native language. Even the "evsek" (an employee of the Jewish Section of the local Communist organisation), educates his children in a Russian school, in spite of the government-sponsored Yiddishisation drive of that time. 10
According to a remark of the prominent Yiddish poet Dovid Hofstein, the Jewish Communists "had made people free from the old mental associations. A youth had grown up that did not know the old and did not yet possess the new". 11 Actually, they did possess "the new", but it was a universal Soviet new outlook. It was the proletarian isolationism that turned the greater part of Soviet Yiddish activities to Sisyphean toil. The Yiddish version of Soviet proletarian culture deprived of the national strength was alien both to the old generation, attached to the Jewish tradition, and to the younger assimilated Jews who preferred the Russian medium. At the same time, paradoxically, Soviet Yiddish schools supported, in a sense, the Jewish religious teaching. Children who studied Yiddish and knew the Yiddish alphabet were able, with some additional effort, to read a Hebrew prayer book. With the liquidation of Yiddish schools in the late thirties and forties, the number of Jews who could decipher a Hebrew text was dramatically reduced. 12
In general, however, to be religious became a mauvais ton, especially among the Jewish intellectuals. A synagogue was regarded as a place for a few old people or for the "backward" Caucasian and Asian Jews. It is also important to note that Soviet rabbis were quite often regarded as agents of the KGB and henchmen of the authorities. The following anecdote of the seventies illustrates this attitude:
— Do you know why the Central Committee of the Communist Party cannot find a new rabbi for the synagogue?
— Sure. Everyone who was ready to fill this position appeared to be either a Jew or a non-Party man.
The Moscow synagogue on Arkhipov Street played a much more important role as a place where you could discuss problems of emigration, meet foreign Jewish tourists, or find a Jewish matchmaker. Even Simchat Torah, which was very popular among young Moscow Jews, used to be celebrated mostly in the street, as an outdoor fête with an ensuing party in somebody's apartment. The purim-shpiln (Purim plays), which became very popular, were secular and mostly in Russian, too. The leitmotif of large gatherings near the synagogue was emigration and the Israel (i.e. Hebrew) culture.
My great-grandfather was a rabbi and the author of three books on shkhite — ritual slaughter. His son, my grandfather, was a practising shoikhet almost until he died in 1962. My grandmother, his wife, was a traditional pious yidene who never learned any language except Yiddish. None of their eight children, including my mother, inherited their religiousness. This is also characteristic of my father's family, though it was a family of artisans rather than of rabbis. My father graduated from a Yiddish department of a pedagogical institute and till the war worked as a history teacher in Yiddish schools in one of the Jewish national districts which existed in the pre-war Ukraine. He was a Communist Party member and, during the war, a commissar in the Red Army. Later, after the anti-Semitic campaign of 1948-1953 and especially after the Six-days War, which became a watershed event for many Soviet Jews, his communist affiliation was just a formal attribute. But like the majority of Jews from his generation who lost faith in communism, he never switched to the Jewish traditions. It was Yiddish and Russian programmes of the Israel radio station and, paradoxically, the Moscow Yiddish monthly Sovetish heymland, rather than the Torah, that became the main national guides for my father and for thousands of his ilk.
Sovetish heymland, launched in 1961 under the auspices of the Soviet Writers' Union, became a continuous, state-sponsored centre of the Yiddish culture which had been pronounced dead in the late 1940s and in the 1950s. This centre also controlled the publication of Yiddish books, most of which were reprints of works which had previously appeared in the magazine.
Sovetish heymland, the product of Nikita Khrushchev's "thaw", was clearly conceived as a gimmick in order to evade other, more effective ways of renewing Yiddish culture. The Soviet authorities no doubt imagined that this manoeuvre would silence at least left-wing foreign movements and personalities who demanded the reconstruction of Jewish culture in the USSR. These demands became especially insistent after publication of the 1959 census returns which revealed that almost 21 per cent of Soviet Jews still consider Yiddish as their mother tongue. These statistics gave a lie to the arguments of Soviet officials that the Jews had been fully acculturated and, therefore, did not need Yiddish cultural activity. 13
The appearance of Sovetish heymland signified a modification of Yiddish-related policy. Officially, the status of Yiddish — as the national language of the overwhelming majority of Soviet Jews — was again placed beyond dispute. In fact, we know only about a couple of undisguised anti-Semitic authors and self-haters who infringed the status of Yiddish during the period. 14 Practically, however, without any system of germane schooling, the number of Yiddish writers and readers was doomed to steady reduction.
Sovetish hejmland was not a separate institution in the full sense of the word. Its staff, headed by the sole editor-in-chief, Aaron Vergelis (of undisputed talent but a virtually unsung name even among his closest colleagues), was, in fact, a department of the publishing house "Sovetskij pisatel" (Soviet Writer), one of the monopolies of the Soviet book market. Paradoxically, this vassalage offered significant advantages: the editorial staff were almost totally unconcerned with financial and administrative matters, their function being to prepare and proof read the current issue. The publisher also paid the salaries, bonuses and author's honorariums which provided the writers with a substantial income. Ideologically, the magazine was directly guided by apparatchiks from the Central Committee of the Communist Party.
Also, Sovetish heymland never had its own printing press. Manuscripts were sent to a printing house, which carried out the entire process of type-setting and printing. Incidentally, up to the end of 1991 linotypes belonging to this Moscow printing house also produced practically all secular and religious books in Yiddish and Hebrew for the Soviet Union, including Birobidzhan, where the old typographical equipment, deprived in particular of the final forms of consonants, was suitable only for the geriatric local Yiddish newspaper Birobidzhaner shtern.
Aaron Vergelis concealed the magazine's true circulation figures. But in this case, it is a very simple matter to calculate the approximate circulation from the annual Pechat' SSSR (Periodicals in the USSR): in 1961 25,000 copies were printed; in 1966 the number fell to 16,000; in 1971 to 10,000; in 1977 to 9,000; in 1978/1981 to 7,000; in 1985 to 5,000. According to my notes 15, in January 1989, the magazine had 2,732 (or 83 per cent) Soviet subscribers and 547 (17 per cent) foreign subscribers. In addition to these 3,237 copies, several hundred more copies were published for free distribution and the retail trade. We do not know the ratio between the numbers of Soviet and foreign subscribers in the earlier years. It is clear, however, that the ideological and political foment of the years after the Six-Day War could not but result in a precipitous falling off of foreign readers, who started to shun Sovetish heymland as an anti-Israel force. Even the leftist Yiddish publications, which hitherto were distributors of the Soviet Yiddish magazine, became its opponents. In the Soviet Union, too, the magazine would certainly have had more readers, if it had refrained from attacking Israel and dealt with the real problems of Soviet Jewry, rather than glossing over them.
It is interesting that in 1989 almost 15 per cent of all subscribers of Sovetish heymland, or above 12 per cent of Soviet subscribers, were residents of Moscow, and the Moscow region or Leningrad, areas characterised by a high level of assimilation. While there are no specific details on the subscribers" social composition, my own experience indicates that a substantial number of the readers were elderly intellectuals, whose Russian was as a rule far more fluent than their Yiddish. Many of these readers skipped the novels and poems, preferring items on, for example, Jewish history, anthropology, art, bibliography, and language; especially as Sovetish heymland was the main outlet for such publications. Small wonder that the metropolitan Russian cities of Moscow and Leningrad boasted the largest number of such readers. Many of the magazine's contributors lived there too. Importantly, for many of the subscribes reading of Sovetish heymland meant not only being au courant, it meant participation, even if an ersatz one, in Jewish cultural life.
Beside the metropolitan and provincial "highbrows", other subscribers devoured Yiddish poems, novels and stories. For these readers, Sovetish heymland was usually the only Yiddish publication they could obtain. Birobidzhaner shtern, an equally accessible newspaper, typically covered the achievements of local milkmaids and construction workers, to say nothing of the primitive style of its articles. Vergelis carefully sought to attack the parochialism of the Far East Yiddish daily. Thus, in the 1980s he would regularly snub Leonid Shkolnik, the daily's ambitious young editor, using the tested expedient of letters to the Party authorities denouncing political "faults" found in the newspaper. Nonetheless, I knew several people who subscribed only to Birobidzhaner shtern because they preferred a newspaper to a sophisticated magazine.
The only foreign Yiddish newspaper which was distributed through some kiosks of "Sojuzpechat", was Der veg, the weekly organ of the Israel Communists. However, Der veg was so dull that many of its copies lay unsold.
Another potential rival was the Warsaw newspaper Folks-shtime (Folks-sztyme ). Alone among foreign Yiddish periodicals, this had a tangible number of Soviet readers. In general, Folks-shtime played an important role in the post-Stalin revival of Soviet Yiddish culture. Ironically, this pro-Communist publication had, in the eyes of Soviet Jews, a nonconformist reputation. In 1956-1961 it was almost the only place where Soviet Yiddish writers could publish their works.
In the Soviet Union it was impossible to subscribe to this newspaper. Some people managed to establish direct contacts with its editorial staff, for example, through Polish friends who paid for the subscription. However, given this specific character of its distribution in the Soviet Union, Folks-shtime could not vie with Sovetish heymland, especially as a committed Yiddish reader would prefer to have both periodicals. By the 1980s the Warsaw periodical had deteriorated in quality. Simultaneously its distribution in the Soviet Union appears to have fallen, though this process cannot be associated with its quality only. Rather, the number of its old readers declined. As for readers who had attended Soviet Yiddish educational institutions, many of them found it difficult to understand Folks-shtime and other foreign Yiddish publications due to the lexical and, especially, the spelling peculiarities of Soviet Yiddish.
In sum, there can be little doubt that the vast majority of regular Soviet Yiddish readers were subscribers of Sovetish heymland. Consequently, even if the same copy was read by two people (say, in the same family), the actual number of regular Yiddish readers totalled just a few thousand in the late 1980s — a small number compared with the 150,000 who, supposedly, claimed Yiddish as their mother tongue during the 1989 census. 16 But even in the 1960s, with the magazine's circulation of 25,000, only a small proportion of Yiddish speakers were in contact with Yiddish-in-print. Thus, at the time Yiddish in the Soviet Union was — mostly — a folk vernacular, because the bulk of its speakers did not read/write in Yiddish, and — partly — a sort of "classical language", because some of the readers of the magazine could hardly speak proper Yiddish.
While in 1961 the magazine boasted over one hundred contributors, in the late 1980s in the entire Soviet Union there were only about thirty or forty writers, a few professional proof-readers, historians, music, art and language experts, and perhaps about a dozen actors who could be called truly Yiddish.
In the 1980s, the magazine initiated the organisation of Yiddish groups at the Moscow Literary Institute in order to prepare young writers and editors. In 1986, Sovetish heymland began to issue annual youth editions, consisting mainly of work by Yiddish writers of the post-war generation; in 1989-1991, the bi-monthly Yungvald (New Growth) was published as a supplement.
In 1989-1991, perhaps something over one thousand people began to study Yiddish in different places of the Soviet Union. However, the dearth of teachers and, more importantly, mass emigration sapped the projects to revive Yiddish schooling. The milieu of Yiddish specialists was practically limited to the writers of Sovetish heymland . It is no coincidence that even the only samizdat Yiddish periodical Mame-Loshn (Mother Tongue; its fourth issue appeared in Moscow in 1989) was edited by Velvel Chernin, a former dissident editor of Sovetish heymland. For the younger generation, however, Yiddish became "the mother's tongue" or even the "grandmother's tongue" rather than the mother tongue. Also, Hebrew won many more adherants among the nationaly active Jews. In the 1990s, Yiddish lecturers had to be invited from the USA, Israel, Britain, and France for a few educational pragrammes organised in Moscow, since the last local specialists had by the time emigrated or were too old for such enterprises.
The break-up of the Soviet Union marked the end of an era in the modern history of Yiddish culture — the era of Soviet Yiddish culture. At the end of 1991, practically at the same time as Sovetish heymland ceased to appear (from 1993 some sporadic issues appeare under the name Di jidishe gas, The Jewish Street), the Moscow publishing house "Sovetskij pisatel" brought out its last Yiddish book.
BIBLIOGRAPHY
1 See G. Estraikh, "Evreiskie sektsii kompartii" in Vestnik evreiskogo universiteta v moskve (Moscow), no. 2 (6), 1994, p. 38.
2 Iu. Larin, "Territorial'naia peregruppirovka evreiskogo naseleniia" in Revoliutsiia i kul'tura (Moscow), no. 15, 1928, p. 35.
3 G. Estraikh, "Ukrainian Jews" Language Behaviour in the 1920s: An Index of Ukrainian Status" in The Ukrainian Review (London), vol. XL, no. 3, 1993, p. 40-41.
4 Iu. Larin, op. cit, p. 33-34.
5 Ia. Kantor, Natsional'noe stroitel'stvo sredi evreev v SSSR, Moscow, 1935, pp. 172-177.
6 Kultur un bildung (Moscow), no. 3-4, 1918, p. 22.
7 J. Lvavi (Babitzky), Ha-hisashvut ha-jihudit be-birodidzhan, Jerusalem, 1965, pp. 288-289.
8 M. N. Gorbanevskii, V nachale bylo slovo..., Moscow, 1991, p. 151; see also G. Estraikh, "Dem diktators a kapriz" in Yugntruf (New York), no. 78, 1993, pp. 12-13.
9 "Sholem ash vegn zayne ayndrukn fun rusland" in Haynt (Warsaw), June 15, 1928.
10 G. Estraikh, "Soviet Yiddish Vernacular of the 1920s: Avrom Abchuk's Hershl Shamay as a Socio-linguistic Source" in Slovo (London), vol. 7, no. 1, 1994, pp. 1-12.
11 Afn shprakhfront (Kiev), no. 3-4, 1935, p. 99.
12 J. Rothenberg, The Jewish Religion in the Soviet Union, New York, 1971, p. 180.
13 See in particular R. L. Tobin, "Communication chasm in a divided world" in Saturday Review (New York), October 14, 1961, pp. 93-94; E. Schulman, "Sovietish Heimland": Lone Voices, Stifled Creators" in Judaism (New York), vol 14, no. 1, 1965, pp. 60-71; Kh. Sloves, A shlikhes keyn moskve, New York, 1985; S. Levenberg, The Enigma of Soviet Jewry, London, 1991, pp. 207-224.
14 See, for example, W. Moskovich, "Postwar Soviet Theories on the Origin of Yiddish" in D. Katz (ed.), Origin of the Yiddish Language, Oxford, 1987, pp. 105-109.
15 G. Estraikh, "The Era of Sovetish Heymland: Readership of the Yiddish Press in the Former Soviet Union" in East European Jewish Affairs (forthcoming).
16 M. Kupovetskii, "Yidish — dos Mame-Loshn fun 150 toyznt sovetishe yidn" in Sovetish heymland, no. 3, 1990, p. 131.
Jewish folk art in the European cultural heritage
Alexander Kantsedikas
Centre for Jewish Art, Hebrew University of Jerusalem
The theme of my lecture is the art of a nation with a tragic destiny, created by a people during the many centuries of its roving. My people has been a partner to disastrous adversity, but has survived oppression to look ahead with hope. I am writing these words in the middle of April, on the first day of the principal Jewish festival of the Passover, the feast of the exodus of the Jews from Egypt. Our rovings have been very long, but we are returning home enriched by centuries of our nation's life in the diaspora, whence the customs, arts and crafts that have grown into our cultural heritage. We talk many languages, we sing the songs of many nations and we recognize ourselves within many national traditions.
We belong to the world and the world belongs to us by virtue of our boundless wanderings and our graves dispersed in many countries all over the world. Our Passover feast ends with a life-affirming cadence Had Gadya - a tale about a goat, purchased for two pennies and having undergone ill-fated misfortunes, reminiscent of the adversities of our people. This song is sung today by Jews from diverse countries from Europe, Asia and America. But it was included only four hundred years ago in the Passover narrative tradition in Central Europe and its rudiments are easily found in German and French folk-tales.
Within the tradition and folk culture of European countries, from Albion to the Ukraine, we see the roots of our folk art, the value of which is not yet fully realised by all the nations of Europe. By this art we also are united with the most basic feelings and the historical memory of all the nations of Europe.
There is a certain convention in the notion of Yiddish culture because Yiddish is a language and properly we should only be speaking about literature and folklore in Yiddish. But for a thousand years Yiddish has been a synonym for the culture and heritage of a major part of European Jewry. Towards the beginning of the Second World War Yiddish was spoken by eleven million people in Europe, America, Australia and South Africa. Yiddish had acquired the name of Mame-Loshn (mother tongue) and it will always live within us not only as a memory of what is dearest to us, but as a constant conceptual initiation to which our future is linked. So, Yiddish culture and traditional folk art include the creative legacy of the Jews who lieved for a millennium on the territory of Western Central and Eastern Europe. However, the culture of the Jews of Southern Europe: Spain, Portugal, Italy, Greece and other countries, where Yiddish was not used, later organically influenced Yiddish culture. Sephardic Jews after their expulsion from the Pyrenees moved into countries of Western and Central Europe gradually accepted Yiddish and in turn enriched the Yiddish world with their traditions.
The accumulation of diverse artistic traditions, imbibed in the process of association with various nations for centuries and the inclusion of theirs into the native culture, is a most important feature of the Jewish artistic heritage. Overall it can be considered as a harvest of the entire European culture. Within the works of the folk art, of the Ashkenazi (Yiddish) world were a confluence of a multitude of artistic traditions of Spanish, Italian, German, Hungarian, Polish, Lithuanian, Ukrainian, Byelorussian, Romanian folk art, equivalent to the art of the various countries, the Jews had inhabited. These traditions were not only summarised but were creatively apprehensible in the spirit of old national aesthetic norms going back to the Biblical period.
In this brief lecture it is impossible to investigate such a complex and heterogeneous artistic contingency. We shall have to be content with some clear but typical examples of Jewish folk art. I will permit myself to focus on works by Jews of Eastern Europe. For this there are several good reasons. Primarily, I suppose that most participants in this colloquy are better acquainted with the art works of the museums of Amsterdam, London, Paris, Strasbourg, Frankfurt, Cologne, Venice, etc. than with the collections of the museums of Lvov, Minsk, Moscow or St Petersburg. The best artifacts from the Jewish collections of Eastern Europe have been published frequently; I shall try to concentrate on showing you unpublished works. Secondly, the countries of Eastern Europe were where Jewish folk art most blossomed in recent centuries. Furthermore, while the western collections have solitary and frequently resplendent objects, the collections of the former Soviet Union contain a number of analogous objects that more adequately represent the local modifications of Jewish traditional art. In the third place the above-mentioned accumulation of traditions in Jewish artistic culture renders especially interesting and representative the monuments of the 18th and 19th centuries that are mainly of East European derivation. The assimilation processes lagged behind here and this allowed the folk art to preserve its originality. And finally, as these same countries of Eastern Europe are now acquiring their proper place within the European community there is a need to activate research and draw public attention to the monuments from the Jewish heritage. Your kind assistance is required for the latter.
Traditional Jewish folk art consists of a defined repertoire of objects, mainly connected with ritual and ceremonial purposes. In everyday practice the difference between the artistic cultures of Jewry and the local population is not so strongly marked. Within the architectural landscape of almost every European country a Jewish accent was present. It was reflected by the traditional urban Jewish settlement: Ghetto Nuovo in Venice, Judenstadt in Vienna, Kazimerzh in Cracow or the old Jewish Quarter in Vilnius, the remains of which we can still see. No lesser interest surrounds the planning and traditional buildings of the Jewish Shtètls (villages), many of which have survived in Eastern Europe but without their former Jewish population. The most pronounced national character is displayed in the synagogues and Beit Midrashi (religious schools). In Western Europe their architecture followed the influence of the dominant styles: from Early Romanesque in the celebrated synagogue of Worms (construction begun in the 11th century, destroyed during Kristallnacht in 1938, rebuilt in 1961), to the Renaissance, Baroque, and finally in the style of the historismus of the 19th century. The wooden synagogues of Eastern Europe, that emerged in Poland, Ukraine, Byelorussia and Lithuania in the 18th and 19th centuries had greater originality. Their architecture, considerably influenced by local church and civil constructions, with time created a special style and their interiors contained resplendent wall paintings.
You see here details of the wall paintings of the Mohilev synagogue, executed at the beginning of the 18th century by the forefather of Marc Chagall, Chaim Ben Isaac Segal. We are showing them in copies made by El Lissitzky in 1916. It is noteworthy that in the wall paintings of the wood-carved synagogues the allegorical icons of the "Holy City of Jerusalem" were contiguous with the representations of the "Glorious City of Worms". The Galician popular master Eliezer Sussman built and decorated almost simultaneously with Haim Segal a few wooden synagogues in southern Germany: in Behhofen, Unterlimpburg, Kirchheim, Colmberg and Horb. So the artistic culture of the Ashkenazi world was founded upon intense interbreeding. According to the accounts of researchers, 2,000 synagogues were constructed in the 17t to 19th centuries. Towards the beginning of the First World War there were about 200 and towards 1939 around 100. To the present only a very few examples have been preserved, and those far from the best.
The highest attainments of Jewish decorative art are the carved Torah Arks, having obvious prototypes in Belorussian and Lithuanian traditions of artistic wood- carving. Within the Torah Ark the scrolls of the Torah were protected under the covering of resplendent veils,curtains and valances, which combine a fusion of traditions of the Italian, German, Dutch and Eastern Europe traditional artistic weaving. These scrolls, parchment inscribed in the ancient canonical script, were deprived of any sort of embellishment, but were covered with precious and embroided veils - the Torah mantles -and completed by sophisticated silver finials and crowns. Their finery also included silver tablets - Torah shields. The scrolls were read with the help of silver, ivory or wooden pointers in the shape of a hand - Yad. In the museums of several European countries we see first-class examples of these items, testifying to a distinctive interpretation of local jewellery traditions by the Jewish masters. Our silversmiths had an obviously perfect command of all the techniques of working silver. Their products were sophisticated, reminiscent of the Italian Renaissance, the German Baroque, the French Rococo or the Russian Empire styles. As a result, elements of various historical styles coexist and are fancifully combined in late 19th century Jewish silver. However it is possible that the most precious collection of Jewish silver is today in the Kiev Museum of historical treasures. A part of this collection has been exhibited in the museums of Turku and Vienna. This represents one of the first instances of co-operation between the art historians and museum curators of the former Soviet Union and European countries in the matter of studying and popularising the Jewish artistic heritage.
I should also like to bring your attention to other types of Jewish ceremonial silver: containers for holy texts - Megillah; seven- and eight-branched ritual lamps - Menorah and Hanukiah; spice containers - Besamin etc. The most widespread type of Besamin which appeared in Western Europe in the Middle-Ages imitated monstrances and through them the architecture of chapels and towers. The style of the Bensamin cannot be understood out of the context of medieval German silver. We know that Jewish craftsmen worked in all the main centres of jewellery. Remarkable works were produced by them for kings, princes and bishops but naturally are not counted as Judaica. History has preserved the names of Jewish jewellers who served in Spain in the 14th and 15th centuries. Moshe Y'acob of Perpignan decorated a clock for an Aragon king, Shlomo Barbut made a silver reliquary for the Augustin monastery in Barcelona, and an anonymous Jewish silversmith forged an elaborate cross in 1402. Severe interdictions issued by Antipope Benedict XIII in 1415 and Queen Isabella of Castille in 1480, barring Jews from that type of work, testify to the fact that those occurrences were not rare. Suffice it to say that the famous Benvenuto Cellini studied under the Jewish jeweller Graziano in Bologna.
Perhaps most evident is the mutual influence of Jewish craftsmen and their alien colleagues in the illuminated manuscripts of the Middle Ages in Western and later in Eastern Europe. The few monuments shown here are only a small part of the masterpieces that remain. However if the West European Jewish manuscripts, essentially Haggadah, are widely known, then the hand-written community books, Pinkassim, are still awaiting study. This is a great treasure of East European Yiddish culture. Important collections of Pinkassim have been recently discovered in the National Library of the Ukraine.
Pinkassim, folk pictures - Lubki, decorative paper cut-outs - Mizrachim and Reizelech had their roots in Eastern European folk art. The naive character of this group is so mucH in tune with what is being sought in 20th century art.
The legacy of the folk art and crafts of Yiddish culture is so vast and various that in the time that remains I can only show you certain example of other objects of Jewish traditional art without detailed commentaries. It they arouse your interest, I am ready to reply to your questions. These are examples of bronze casting, ceramics, traditional textile, dresses. I will pause only at a few monuments - tombstones or rural cemeteries of the Ukraine and Moldova of the 17th to 19th centuries. During the Nazi occupation and later Soviet state-imposed ideology of intolerance to religious feelings numerous cemeteries with invaluable carved tombstones were razed to the ground.
An extremely interesting artistic aspect of Jewish tombstones in Eastern Europe is the obvious ambiguity of their stylistic features. Some of them stem from highly professional art, whereas others, more prominent and overpowering, belong to folk art. The efforts of hundreds of craftsmen enriched stone carving with new motifs and themes. Biblical images associated with the names inscribed on tombstones were added to the old symbols. The new themes were unrelated to the cult ritual and conveyed general human ideas of life and death. Stelae were covered with the pictures of animals, birds, plants, diverse objects of the real world, and attributes of trades and the Jewish mode of life. A vast variety of solutions and interpretations was employed. Traditional tombstones from the Ukraine, Moldova, Byelorussia, Lithuania and Poland help understand the variety of the aspirations of Jewish craftsmen.
Craftsmanship was for centuries a venerable occupation in Jewish society. In the Kiddushin part of the Talmud it is mentioned that whoever does not teach his children a craft, teaches him to be a thief. Documents of the Middle Ages state of the Jews of Western Europe that a significant proportion were craftsmen, despite acts of discrimination on the part of the authorities and the undisguised hostility of Christian guilds. The development of crafts was one of the aims pursued by Polish-Lithuanian kings when they invited Jews to their lands. This is borne out, among other things, by an official document which Grand Prince Vytautas of Lithuania granted to the Jews in 1389. The document allowed them "to engage in all sorts of crafts" and it regulated the life of the Jews for centuries to come.
In the 18th and 19th centuries the number of Jewish craftsmen in Eastern Europe kept on growing vigorously. According to the historian Ignacy Shiper, 22% of Jewish males in Galicia were engaged in different types of crafts in 1827. Half a century later the figure grew to 26.2%, while the corresponding figure among non-Jews was here 2.2% (I. Shiper. Dzieje Handlu _ydowskiego na ziemiach Polskich, Warsaw, 1973, pp. 412,444). This fact accounted for the enormous number of artifacts they produced, including traditional Jewish objects. I incline to believe that the inspired labour of many generations of Jewish craftsmen and anonymous artists is worthy of being specially appreciated in the history of European culture. Within the important and noble mission of sustaining the Yiddish heritage as a part of European culture, the significance of our current encounter can be great and productive.
What might we do in the first place? For the reconstruction of an overall understanding of Yiddish artistic culture it is necessary to collect together its remaining monuments. Such work might be conducted by the Centre for Jewish Art in the Hebrew University of Jerusalem. Scholars of the Centre are studying Jewish art from all over the world and so we might imagine it might not be difficult for them to sort Yiddish items of European derivation into a separate group. There are however particular encumbrances in this approach as it contradicts the main task of the Centre, which is to create a pattern for Jewish national art as a special phenomenon non contingent upon the countries of former residence or of masters. In accordance with this, all materials is considered outside the local context.
In the specific case of researching Yiddish culture, what is important is the direct opposite: the analysis of Jewish art as an organic component of an artistic culture of the actual country where the given monuments were being created and existed. This kind of study needs therefore to be focused in significant university centres of Europe that have important institutes and departments for researching regional art and ethnography. It is important to include the material of Jewish traditional art of any European country as an integral part of the history of the art of that country. In museum terms this means placing importance on the further development of specific Jewish museums, which according of our data currently number in Europe more that 30. Till now there are no Jewish museums in Russia, the Ukraine or Byelorussia, It is very important also to include in the expositions of regional museums representative Jewish sections. From this point of view the Jewish section of the Cologne city museum, situated in a common row of historical monuments of this region, has a no lesser significance than the Jewish museum of Frankfurt am Main. As a whole the Jewish museums of Europe are co-operating more and more intensively, but they are undoubtedly need contemporary methodology and, possibly, the annual publication on the basis of parity of a common European Jewish museum almanac.
For the introduction of Yiddish art as an indivisible phenomenon of European civilisation, it would be appropriate to put together a representative exhibition on the basis of all greatest collections of Jewish art and to expose it in several countries.
General and individual support is needed now from the countries of Eastern Europe, where many monuments of Yiddish culture have remained, requiring research and often conservation and restoration. Serious financial problems prevent there the organisation of exhibitions and the publication of catalogues. For instance, the successfully begin series of pictorial books"Masterpieces of Jewish Art" from museums and private collections in the former Soviet Union, five volumes of which had come out in 1992-93, was stopped for want of means by the publishing house. Subsequently scientific work has brought to light more than 2,000 unknown art monuments from Yiddish traditional culture. Great problems are encountered. The first, and until now the only Jewish museum or museal and research institution, occupying itself with the study and the popularisation of the Jewish heritage is in Vilnius.
To the number of larger and more utopian programmes belongs the creation of a scientific centre for the research of Yiddish cultural values within the bounds of all Europe with branches in all those cities with suitable traditions. I would like to remind you that seventy years ago, in 1925, such an institute was founded here in Vilnius. The Second World War destroyed this activity in Europe. The decision to renew such an organisation would have a particular sense for Jewish culture and the European heritage as a whole.
Roza Bieliauskiene, Chief Curator, and Ilona Krutulyte
State Jewish Museum
In the history of mankind the 20th century will be distinguished as a century of revolutions and world wars. The whirlwind of these events determined the evolution of the whole world. It made a particular impact on the countries in the territory of which these events were taking place. Lithuania did not escape from any of them and its people often fell victims to these events.
World War II turned into a grave catastrophe for the Jewish people - it wiped away from the surface of the land 6 million Jews, 220.000 Lithuanian Jews and with them their cultural heritage which was one of the richest in the world.
In the second half of the 19th century Vilnius became the "Jerusalem of Jewish fine arts" in Russia. Here a significant role was played by a teacher of drawing at the Vilnius realist school, Ivan Petrovich Trutniov (1821-1912). A graduate from the imperial Academy of Fine Arts and a follower of the classical style in painting, Trutniov came to Vilnius in 1867 to teach drawing. He totally ignored the imperial Russian laws that discriminated againts national minorities. To become his student one only had to be gifted. Trutniov taught over 5.000 students of different nationalities, and among them many Jews. Mordechay Antakolsky, Leib Antakolsky, Abram Griliches, Jaques Lipchitz, Chaim Soutine, Moishe Maimon, Mark Kadkin, Lazar Krestin and others who later became famous painters. Their names are inseparable from Vilnius and the history of Vilnius' art. However after their studies with Trutniov his students used to on to work in different high schools of fine arts in Western Europe and Russia. It often happened that they would stay in those countries and so move with their creative works into other cultures. They are often considered representative of other national artistic traditions.
Thanks to the unusual attraction of Trutniov's school, Vilnius became a famous centre for those interested in fine arts but who found themselves outside the closed doors of the schools of art in vast Russia.
In the newly opened Vilnius University a Department of Fine Arts was established (1919-1939). There was no university in Poland which at that time would shelter science and art under its roof. Around 45 Jewish students completed a four-year course at this Department. In what way did Vilnius' Jewish painters of the second generation distinguish themselves? What were the characteristic features of this generation?
Many of these painters came from Vilnius or the Vilnius region. Their professional skills were closely linked with the Vilnius University. Many of them were graduates from Vilnius' Jewish schools or Vilnius University. Of course modern trends of art were no more characteristic of Vilnius' Jewish painters than of other students in this school of art. Vilnius' Jewish painters worked and painted in Vilnius and represented the Vilnius school of art in exhibitions in Warsaw, Berlin, Paris and Munich, etc. Their personal and social life was closely connected with the life of Vilnius' Jews. They worked hard in the field of applied art: book graphics and theatre art. They sensitively reacted to everyday events and they used to take Vilnius as a model for their creative works. Most often they were realists both in life and art.
In 1929 the Vilner Tog published an article by a famous linguist and scholar Zalman Reizen "Entering the Jewish Literature" addressed to the then still young group of writers and painters the Jung Vilne. This article gave a blessing to the Jung Vilne and shortly afterwords the creative works of this group became well-known and popular all over the world. To commemorate the 10th anniversary of the group such celebrated painters as Shagal and Aranson and writers Leivik and Opatoshu, etc. came to Vilnius in 1939.
Already from the 1st half of the 20th century there could be discerned a tendency to include drawing as a discipline in the programmes of Jewish schools and Jewish handicraft schools. Specialised in drawing schools also began to appear.
With the Nazi occupation the resident Jews in Vilnius became outlaws. After several months of persecutions and pogroms those Jews who were left in Vilnius and remained alive found themselves behind the gate of the ghetto on 6 September 1941.
As Dr Dvorszetsky wrote in his memoirs later: "The Ghetto was a state whithin a city and every minute of life was a kind of grace lent to the citizens of this state by the rulers who lived outside its gate". Even under such conditions Vilnius' citizen Jews did not give way and found in themselves strength for spiritual resistance. A significant role was also played by the painters.
One of those belonging to a senior generation of Jewish painters was Jakov Sher (1890-1944) who worked and lived in the Vilnius ghetto. He was a well-known painter of Vilnius, and specialised in graphics and water-colours and used to depict views of the Vilnius old town, the Jewish quarter included. Those landscapes are particularly warm, with the touch of deep sorrow and admiration for Vilnius. As A. Suchever, J. Ran and Sh. Kacherginsky recall, J. Sher worked in a brigade which was to tidy up the SS accommodations in the ghetto. The Nazis made him draw posters and portraits. In the ghetto he drew portraits of his friends - residents of the ghetto - and organised exhibitions. After the liquidation of the ghetto J.Sher was deported to the Estonian concentration camp in Vaivori where he also had to drew to the orders of the chiefs of the camp. He died in Vaivori in 1944.
A self-educated painter, member of the Jung Vilne group Bencion Michtom (1909-1941) also fell victim to the provocation which was designed to clean the future ghetto quarter of its pre-war residents. Michtom was an unusually productive painter, constantly searching for himself and for new motives in the broad range of his skills. He was interested in the landscapes of Vilnius, portraits, satiric scenes and still lifes. He painted in water-colours, drew in Indian ink and worked with pencil. In his drawings (particularly in portraits) one can easily discern a distinct line and angular style. He was also engaged in book graphics and illustrated the almanac Jung Vilne. He participated in exhibitions in Paris and Warsaw and wherever his pictures were exhibited they were a success. On 25 July 1942 in the Vilnius ghetto a literary soirée was organised for the Jung Vilne. The adornment of the exhibition were the creative works of R. Suckever and B. Michtom.
Rachel Suckever (1905-1943), a graduate from the Fine Arts Department of Vilnius University, member of the Jung Vilne, worked in the fields of theatre art, book graphics, painting and graphic arts. Her creative works were noticed by critics and art historians . A historiographer of the ghetto German Kruk maintains that Otto Shnaid, an art critic, wrote about her creative works and made a comparison between them and the works of Chaim Soutine. Kruk himself identified her works with the works of French impressionists. R. Suckever participated in the social life of the Vilnius ghetto. After a hard working day in a working brigade the rest of time she spent by decorating cultural events, making scenery for the ghetto's theatre or organising exhibitions. In the ghetto Suckever arranged a gallery of water-coloured portraits of ghetto prisoners. She was killed during the liquidation of the Vilnius' ghetto.
A.Kacenelbogen (A.Bogen) (1916), known as a partisan of the Vilnius ghetto, commander of a partisan platoon, found himself in the Vilnius ghetto when he still was a student of the Fine Arts Department of the Vilnius University. In his drawings which go back to 1946, he depicted the everyday life of the partisans. The drawings were made in pencil for the post-war Jewish museum. Later, as A.Bogen became an Israeli painter, he gave up the realistic style and works now in the modern manner.
All inmates of the ghetto devoted their love to the ghetto's children. Nobody will ever estimate how many scientists, artists and craftsmen humanity was deprived of. Very few of them were fated to remain alive. Fortune smiled upon Samuel Bak (1934). His talent for drawing was noticed by his teacher who introduced him to the poet A. Suckever. The boy was taken under the patronage of the ghetto's cultural workers, they provided him with paper and paint, taught him and organised his exhibitions. Now S.Bak is a famous surrealist and a representative of Jewish fine art. He is active in painting and the field of theatre art.
In conclusion the plastic model of Vilnius should be mentioned which was made by the ghetto to order of Nazi government. The implementation of this order required immense skills in engineering and art. The architecture of Vilnius was modelled by Uma Olkenickaya, a theatre artist and contributor in the YIVO, and also by young artists such as Lisa Deiches and Judl Mut, etc, who perished before their talent was fully realised.
Such were the artists of the ghetto who accomplished a feat of life and creative work.
the influence of Yiddish culture on Jewish artists, 1870-1939
Julia Weiner, Curator
Ben Uri Art Society, London
A great many attempts have been made to define Jewish Art over the past century, and artists and art historians have argued over whether all works by Jewish artists can be called Jewish Art, or whether it is only those works which have a specifically Jewish theme that can be categorised in this manner. I do not, however, know of any attempts to define a specifically Yiddish art, and so for the purposes of this talk I shall be referring to artists who either painted scenes of life in the Yiddish speaking communities of Western Europe or who were Yiddish speaking immigrants to the West.
Over the past 120 years, a great many Jewish artists from Eastern Europe have made significant contributions to the world of Art. We find that many of these artists painted scenes of Jewish ritual, but the styles used show a marked change over this time. Whereas in the early period, a style of Jewish genre painting developed which incorporated trends already in common use, in the early twentieth century we see instead Jewish artists, who were amongst the most avant-garde working in Russia, Paris, London and New York, referring to their own artistic heritage, namely to Jewish folk art, in their work.
One of the best known of the Jewish genre painters was Samuel Hirszenberg (1866-1907). Born in Lodz, Poland, Hirszenberg was influenced by the late 19th century trend for paintings showing the plight of the poor, whose most famous advocates are the French artists Millet and Courbet. In his paintings, Hirszenberg exposed the predicament of his fellow Jews at a time when their lives were continually threatened by pogroms. He worked in a sober realist style influenced by his academic training in Cracow and Munich. Examples of this include The Sabbath Rest, a work measuring 2 metres by 1.5, showing several generations of a Polish family crowded into one room for their Sabbath afternoon. This successfully conveys the claustrophobic lifestyle of the poor at this time; the industrial landscape outside is bleak and unwelcoming, perhaps hinting at the possibility of violence waiting out there.
Later, Hirszenberg's works became more politicised, as in The Black Banner of 1905. This depicts the funeral of a Hasidic leader. Rather than being a scene of grieving, the painting is instead black and full of terror. This general mood, coupled with the title suggests that the deceased was the victim of the anti-Semitic Union of the Russian People whose gangs were known as the Black Hundreds and whose official newspaper was called The Russian Banner.
Other artists working in a similar vein to Hirszenberg include the deaf and dumb Maurycy Minkowski, (1881- 1931) who painted works such as After the Pogrom of 1905, Leopold Pilichowski, (1867-1933), a Polish born artist whose genre scenes were strongly influenced by Rembrandt and include Hear O Israel , and Abel Pann (1887- 1963) who studied here in Vilnius and is best known for his Jewish subjects such as Yeshiva Boy, which continued to dominate his work right up until his death.
Isidor Kaufmann, whose work is currently the subject of a major exhibition in Vienna, was born in Hungary, but spent most of his working years in Vienna, where his paintings chronicling the lives and customs of Galician Jews were very popular with the Jewish bourgeoisie. Rather than depicting the problems of the Jews of the region, he instead concentrated on the simplicity and traditionalism in these Jewish homes away from the increasing industrialisation and commercialism of the city. This followed trends prevalent in other countries promoting the simple life of rural communities, for example in Paul Gauguin's paintings of Breton peasants. In Kaufmann's Friday Night, these qualities are easily seen. The artist concentrates on the peace and solitude in the Jewish home at the arrival of the Sabbath. Kaufmann's works were much admired for their meticulous depiction of the household objects portrayed.
These artists did not, however, provide inspiration for the next generation of Jewish artists working in Eastern Europe. As the new century brought a decrease in interest in realist painting and social themes, and new tendencies towards primitivism and folk art, the genre painters were highly criticised for not having incorporated Jewish folk art into their work. An article published in 1919 speaks of them as follows: "From a national point of view ... they contributed nothing...they were pseudo-artists and only showed us how not to paint."[1]
These younger artists, working in Russia in the years leading up to and after the Revolution of 1917, were committed instead to Modernism as well as being strongly aware of their Jewish identity. They turned to sources such as the Jewish lubok (popular prints in a naive style), illuminated manuscripts, gravestone carvings, and the wooden carvings, painted decorations and architecture of the synagogues of Eastern Europe for inspiration which they combined with the avant-garde tendencies of Cubism and Constructivism, in an attempt to establish a national Jewish art form. In this they were at first aided by the new Soviet state which encouraged the development of the national arts among the various nationalities in Russia as a means of spreading the message of the Revolution as widely as possible. In this period a number of Jewish cultural organisations were founded. However, eventually as the Bolsheviks gained in strength, they stamped out all separatist nationalist aspirations.
It was the playwright Semyon Ansky who first brought Jewish folk art to public attention with his ethnographic expeditions into the towns and villages of the Pale of Settlement to study Jewish customs and rituals and to collect Jewish objects. These stimulated an interest in Jewish folk art amongst young Jewish artists and in 1916, Issachar Ryback and El Lissitzky explored the wooden synagogues along the Dnieper River, seeing amongst others the famous synagogue of Mohilev, a drawing by El Lissitzky from this expedition testifies to their interest in the decorations of the synagogues. These experiences no doubt inspired Ryback to produce his paintings of the synagogues of Dobrovna and of Chiklov the following year, which celebrate the architecture of the buildings, using the modern cubist idiom, but at the same time allowing them to achieve a monumental presence as they tower into the sky, the landscape around them echoing their form.
El (Eliezer) Lissitzky (1890-1941) illustrated a number of Yiddish books, though his best known illustrations are for the Had Gadya of 1917. This song, chanted at the conclusion of the Passover meal tells the tale of a young goat eaten by a dog, and the succession of assailants that attack until God destroys the final aggressor. Often considered as an allegory for the continued persecution of the Jewish people, with a final message of hope, this work, based on watercolours produced in the year of the Russian Revolution was probably relating the tale of triumph over evil to this momentous event. In these prints, El Lissitzky successfully combines traditional Jewish art forms - the lubok, calligraphy, animal forms taken from the carvings of animals found in synagogues, with the Constructivist style of Malevitch.
Most famous amongst Russian-Jewish artists of this time, arguably the most famous Jewish artist of all time is Marc Chagall who was born in Vitebsk in 1887. He studied in St Petersburg and then went to Paris where he lived from 1910-1914. His longing for his home during this period is obvious, for though he assimilated the cubist style which was prevalent in Paris at that time, as well as the bright colours of the Fauves, his subject matter remains firmly rooted in Vitebsk imagery. In Self Portrait with Seven Fingers (seven is a mystical cabalistic number) he turns away from Paris, represented by the Eiffel Tower through the window, and instead paints scenes remembered from Vitebsk. Another work from this period is The Fiddler.
It was after Chagall returned to Vitebsk in 1914, that he became involved in establishing a modern Jewish national art. Yiddish and Hebrew theatres were founded after the Revolution to preserve and expand Jewish national consciousness and provided a meeting ground for avant-garde movements in drama, dance, music, literature and art (stage design). In 1920, he worked as a costume and stage designer for the newly founded Kamerni Jewish State Theatre, and he also decorated the auditorium. Rather than using the traditional personifications of the muses of Music, Dance, Drama and Literature, he used characters from the Yiddish theatre tradition; the street musician playing his fiddle on the roof (similar to the painting of The Fiddler), the dancer, the wedding jester and the scribe.
Nathan Altman (1889-1970) worked for the Yiddish theatre, designing scenery and costumes in the cubo-futuristic style for The Dybbuk by Semyon Ansky. Ryback also worked for the Jewish theatre for a short time.
Many artists had, like Chagall left Eastern Europe to work in the West, and Paris in particular attracted a number of Jewish artists. This was no doubt partly due the great beauty of the city, with both modern and older sights to see, ranging from the Cathedral of Notre Dame to the Eiffel Tower, and there were galleries, art schools and dealers in abundance. Unlike in Russia there was no bar on Jews entering colleges of art, and anti-Semitism was much less common than in Eastern Europe.
Although Jewish subject matter was not prevalent in the works of Jewish artists working in Paris, who tended to be influenced by French trends of Cubism and Fauvism, a group of Jewish painters working in the city calling themselves the Machmadim (the precious ones) met regularly to talk about Jewish Art, and published an art journal. They included Pinchas Kremegne, Isaac Lichtenstein, and Leopold Pilichowski. However even the works of as influential an artist as Chaim Soutine, who studied for three years here in Vilnius can be seen to show the influence of his upbringing. In his still-life paintings, chickens and herrings, an important part of the Jewish diet make frequent appearances, and his depiction of the chicken bring to mind the ritual of Kapparot, where personal sins are transferred onto the animal by whirling it over one's head.
Yiddish culture does not only permeate the works of Jewish artists born in Eastern Europe. Between 1881 and 1914, 2.75 million Jews moved from Eastern Europe to the West, and often settled together in the same areas of the cities to which they moved. 150,000 Jews came to Britain, and in the 1900s 2 miles square in the East End of London housed 125,00 Jews. Unsurprisingly, the main language spoken here was Yiddish, and a number of Yiddish cultural institutions were founded, amongst them the Ben Uri Art Society, which I am proud to say is the only one to have survived and which is this year celebrating its 80th anniversary. This group was almost certainly related to the Machmadim in Paris suggesting close cultural ties amongst Yiddish speaking artists. The founder of the Ben Uri was Lazar (Leon) Berson, a Lithuanian Jew who had been living in France, whose aim was to bring Jewish art (with an emphasis on the decorative arts) to the immigrant masses as well as to a wider public, through publications, lectures, visits to museums and exhibitions and through the arranging of art classes, as well as by collecting examples of Jewish art. This was to foster a sense of pride in the Jewish cultural heritage. Berson encouraged the production of decorative wooden vessels with Jewish motifs based on folk art; a drawing of some of the early works made by members is now in the collection. Another founder member was Moshe Oved, who was also influenced by Jewish folk art when producing his bronze Judaica such as the Hanukiah with Doves.
Jewish artists from the East End also played influential roles in the history of 20th Century British art. David Bomberg (1890-1957) grew up in Whitechapel and studied at the Slade School of Art. He was connected with the Vorticist movement, but often dealt with East End scenes in his paintings rather than the modern subjects of machinery and city life advocated by the movement. You may not be able to tell that The Mud Bath depicts the Russian Steam Baths, but The Ghetto Theatre (1920) is more easily recognisable. This depicts the Pavilion Theatre in Whitechapel, where the new immigrants, thirsty for culture, would go to plays by Chekhov and Shakespeare amongst others performed in Yiddish, Leeds based artist Jacob Kramer(1892-1962) also treated Jewish subjects in Vorticist styles as can be seen in Day of Atonement.
Mark Gertler also studied at the Slade School of Art, and although he mixed with people from the upper classes including members of the famous Bloomsbury Group, he painted scenes of the East End. In fact, he admitted that he relied on his excellent Yiddish to persuade people to sit for him. The Rabbi and his Grandchild shows the problem of communicating across the generations. The old grandfather born in a country far away and living a traditional orthodox life is unable to reach his grandchild who is more interested in jewellery and make up and turns away from him. The Jewish Family treats a similar theme. His favourite subject, however, was his mother, whom he depicts in a number of paintings, sometimes in the kitchen, sometimes in her best clothes, but always her hands dominate, suggesting a woman who knew hard manual work.
The influence of Yiddish culture in art is not limited to Europe, the majority of Jews who left Eastern Europe headed for the United States, and many settled in New York, where the Lower East Side resembled the East End of London. A number of Jewish artists grew up here, encouraged by the teaching of art at the Educational Alliance, where life drawing classes used models from the community to bolster the students' sense of identity. The People's Art Guild, an organisation similar to the Ben Uri was founded in New York in 1915, the same year as the Ben Uri was founded, but closed down in 1918. Many artists contributed to the Yiddish journal Schriften. Just one example of those who worked on Jewish themes in his paintings is Max Weber, who was born in Bialystok in 1881, but moved to Brooklyn at the age of 10. He came from an orthodox home where Yiddish was spoken, but did not paint specifically Jewish subject matter until the death of his father in 1918. In Invocation of 1918, Weber uses cubist forms that also bring to mind African sculpture to depict Hasids at prayer. The strong red paint alerts the viewer to the heated fervour of the scene.
In conclusion then, the Yiddish speaking communities originating in Eastern Europe have inspired some of the most important works to have been created by Jewish artists, which have then gone on to influence European and other artists on a wider scale. These ranged from works produced in the realist style to works influence by Jewish folk art. The works which you have seen slides of today art primarily by artists who left Eastern Europe for the West before the devastation caused by the Nazis, and their works are now to be found in public collections including in the Ben Uri Collection. The Ben Uri, the only cultural society of its kind to continue to function, does not receive a public subsidy and over it's 80 year history has constantly struggled to survive; presently we are unable to show our collection on a permanent basis.
However, there were many other artists working in Vilnius and other Yiddish centres whose lives were cut short by the Holocaust and whose work has been almost unknown until the 1988 exhibition held in Kaunas and Vilnius. Their work needs to be researched and shown to illustrate more fully the important contribution that Jewish artists from this region have made to the visual arts.
The architecture of Lithuania's synagogues
Architect Marija Rupeikiene
Institute of Architecture and Building, Vilnius
The first Jewish communities emerged in the ethnographic territory of Lithuania in the 14th century, after the formation of the Grand Duchy of Lithuania. By the end of the 14th there were the Jewish communities of Brest, Trakai and Grodno (only Trakai, where Karaites resided alongside with the Jews, is situated in the present-day territory of Lithuania). Synagogues and cemeteries are the main feature testifying to the independence of Jewish communities. In the middle of the 6th century mention is made only of a synagogue in Trakai. At that time a small Jewish community already existed in K_dainiai and in the third quarter of the 16th century a Jewish community is known to have emerged in __sliai. In 1573, when the Warsaw Confederation guaranteed equal rights to all religious denominations, the Jews of Vilnius also began the construction of a synagogue. Jews settled in many little towns of Lithuania after the wars waged against the Swedes in the middle of the 17th century. At that time most numerous were the Jewish communities of K_dainiai, Bir_ai, Vy_uona. At the end of the 17th century synagogues are mentioned in Valkininkai, Ukmerg_, and at the beginning of the 18th century - in Bir_ai, Šv_kšna. Jews settled in some small towns in the middle of the 18th century, after the granting of privileges to Šiauliai and Joniškis, and by the end of the 18th century Jewish communities could be found all over Lithuania. In the middle of the 19th century Vilnius - "Lithuania's Jerusalem" - became the major centre of Jewish culture in Eastern Europe to which people would come from all over the world to study Judaism. According to various census data, in the 19th century Jews constituted 49% of Lithuania's population, in some small towns accounting for as much as 50% of inhabitants of even more.
The Jewish way of life was closely linked to religious structures. The synagogue is the spiritual, cultural, economic and political centre of a Jewish community. Contrary to Christian churches, synagogues perform several functions: a synagogue is a house of worship, the community's place of assembly, a school and sometimes - the headquarters of the kahal. According to the Jewish religious rites, it is not allowed to depart far from one's home, therefore in small towns Jewish communities would insist that they should be permitted to build a synagogue, a house of worship or a religious school. The number, scale and type of the building would most often be built at the request and with the funds of religious communities, but sometimes the construction of buildings of this type would be funded by private persons. Often a residential house would be adapted to house a synagogue or a religious school.
Jewish houses of worship would be build in compliance with various restrictions (could not be higher than a Christian house of worship and had to be locate at a certain distance from them), as well as laws regulating construction work. Contrary to buildings belonging to other religious denominations, Jewish houses of worship would usually be built as entire complexes. This grouping of buildings must have been conditioned by the dense concentration of Jewish houses in certain locations of smaller and larger towns. The Jewish houses of worship were grouped according to the season (summer and winter synagogues), the estate (synagogue of merchants, retired servicemen, workers) or profession (tailor's, shoemakers' etc). Contrary to Christian temples which used to be built on spacious lots, synagogues would often stand in closely build-up and densely populated quarters. On the one hand, such an "everyday" situation would belittle the value of a synagogue as a specimen of religious architecture, but on the other - it helped to bring to the fore its semantics and peculiar forms. Synagogues never dominated in the panorama of towns and townships (a regulation was in effect in Lithuania from the 17th century according to which a synagogue could not be similar to a Christian church or be a dominant feature of the surroundings), however they are built in such a manner that one quite unexpectedly "discovers" them - in the depth of some town quarter where they can be pointed out because of their size and peculiar architecture. Synagogues were never built in the centre of a township or town, which would be dominated by a Catholic church or a Russian Orthodox church built in Tsarist times. And very rarely would they be erected in the central square or close to it (eg in Šv_kšna). Sometimes a market place would develop close to a synagogue (eg in K_dainiai). In larger towns (Vilnius and Kaunas) the principal Choral synagogue were built in side streets, leading to the city centre.
Prior to World War II a great number and variety of Jewish houses of worship used to stand in the territory of Lithuania. Many of them were destroyed during World War II, some of them were pulled down or suffered extensive damage during the post-war years, or were adapted to serve as warehouses, workshops, gymnasia. Therefore their facades have undergone substantial transformations, whereas their interior space and installations have been destroyed. Their architecture can only be judged from historic photographs preserved in various archives and museums and form the technical drawings which have survived from the 19th-20th centuries.
The architecture of synagogues had hardly been investigated, nor has an inventory been made of the old wooden synagogues, therefore at the present time it is not easy to restore a chronological and full picture of the architecture of synagogues.
The architecture of synagogues is essentially difference from other religious structures in Lithuania. The specific character and forms of synagogues have been conditioned by the functional requirements characteristic of Oriental temples: division into men's and women's sections, the places of the Aron-kodesh and Bima etc. The building of a synagogue visually produces the impression of a closed and rather monumental structure. On the Western side there is the entrance through which one enters the men's hall and the first floor galleries. The platform for reading the Torah (Bima) is kept in a special niche in the Eastern wall or in a shelf (Aron-kodesh) placed by the wall. Galleries for women are on the first floor, either on one side, or surrounding the men's hall on all three sides. Larger synagogues also used to have a school and premises for the community administration (Kahal). In small, one-storey synagogues women would be assigned the corridor of the right-hand side of the hall. In winter synagogues stoves would be build in such a manner as to have the opening facing the entrance (on Saturdays, Christians would kindle the fire).
Unfortunately, we have no information on the first synagogues built in Lithuanians during the Gothic period. We can only surmise that they looked like other synagogues of Eastern and Central Europe and even to a certain extent resembled Gothic churches (eg the old Gothic synagogue in Prague resembles by its forms the Gothic church in Zapyškis).
The oldest known synagogue, recorded in photographs and measurement drawings is the Grand Synagogue of Vilnius built during the Renaissance period. It stood near Vokie_i_ St., and it was approximately 2 metres below the ground level so as to ensure that it did not tower above other buildings. The exterior forms of the synagogue were very simple and typical of the Renaissance period, whereas the interior was quire sumptuous. Later, in the second half of the 18th century and in the 19th century more buildings for religious and public use were erected around the synagogue - an entire "township" with tow inner yards emerged in the rather crammed quarter. The buildings suffered damage during World War II, and later, in the period 1955-57, were pulled down during to the implementation of the master plan for the reconstruction of Vilnius. Despite the fact, that nothing has survived from the huge complex of buildings, the Grand Synagogue of Vilnius and other structures of the quarter remain an object of interest for historians of architecture from many countries. A model of the Synagogue and the Surrounding buildings is on display in the Diaspora museum in Tel Aviv.
Wooden Baroque synagogues, covered with roofs of several tiers, which used to stand in smaller towns and townships have not survived either. In Lithuania no inventory had been made of these buildings. Measurements of one of the synagogues, the synagogue of Valkininkai, were taken by Polish scholars. The old wooden synagogues of the Baroque period which used to stand in Lithuania, can now only be seen in historic photographs. Jewish houses or worship of similar forms used to be built in the entire territory of Eastern and Central Europe and have not yet lost their attraction oas objects of scholarly investigation. Drawings of measurements and photographs of many of them were published by the Polish scholars M. and K. Piechotka in the book "Wooden Synagogues" (Bo_nice Drewniane). In Lithuania, a small study on wooden synagogues, presented against the background of Lithuania folk art, was written by Prof. Pauliune Galaun_ in 1930. The size and exterior forms of these synagogues were reminiscent event of several types of fold architecture specimens: manor houses, barns, granaries, whereas their impressive roofs of several tiers with broken contours were characteristic of the Baroque period. The facades were given some liveliness by open galleries or small balconies, supported by small columns; low additions surrounding the men's hall would sometimes be crowned by pyramid-shaped pinnacles, imitating small towers. Most dazzling to look at were the synagogues of Vilkaviškis, Jurbarkas, Šauk_nai. The organisation of the interior space was rather loose. In most cases no specific place was allotted to the Bima. It used to be an independent structure, light and open-work, resembling a pavilion or a canopy, as if it were a "sanctuary in a sanctuary". The Bima of the Valkininkai synagogue looked like a small temple decorated with order elements. Aron-kodesh by its forms would often resemble the altar of a Christian church - of several tiers decorated with small columns and carvings, while the characteristic symbols of Jewish art would be used as elements of decor: exotic flora and fauna motifs, the Decalogue, the crown. Wooden synagogues of the Baroque period used to display a certain balance between a rather imposing exterior and a sumptuous interior with its exotic flora and fauna motifs. Details of carved window moulding, cornices, door jambs are reminiscent of Lithuanian fold art, whereas the elements of interior decor are characteristic of Jewish artistic symbolism.
Brick synagogues of the Baroque period are more compact in size, closer to a cube in form; their exterior forms are rather simple, without numerous elements of decor. Two brick Baroque synagogues have survived - in K_daubuau and in Kalvarija. The summer synagogue in K_dainiai was built in the second half of the 17th century and rebuilt in 1784. In the exterior forms traces of influence of the Calvinist church in K_dainiai can be discerned. The Baroque synagogue of Kalvarija with its surviving plan, structure, its unchanged exterior forms and Aron-Kodesh is one of the most important structure of its type in Lithuania.
The oldest wooden synagogue which have survived until the present day were built during the epoch of Classicism. They are more compact in size and have more simple forms than the wooden Baroque synagogues. The size of the Pakruojas synagogue built at that time had not changed, but its windows have been long ago covered with planks and the interior destroyed. Therefore we can form an opinion about its exterior architecture and the interior only from the surviving historic photographs. The exterior forms of the synagogue were influenced by Lithuanian folk architecture, while elements of decor and symbols characteristic of Jewish art dominate in the interior. The Aron-Kodesh was very ornate - three-tired, carved from wood and painted? The lowest tier in which the Torah used to be kept was decorated with four small carved columns; motifs from the Decalogue are depicted on the second tier, while the uppermost tier id decorated by a double-headed eagle with a crown. The Bima was octangular in plan, installed according to the open "arbour" principle. The influence of classical architecture is manifest in their interior forms. However, the majority of the surviving synagogues were built at the end of the 19th and beginning of the 20th centuries. In their size they resemble residential houses and hardly stand out from the surrounding buildings. The most interesting of them that still retain their original size and in part their facades, are standing in Atlanta and Kurkliai.
Many wooden and brick synagogues are marked on the plans of townships drawn up in the second half of the 19th century. In the plans, the most important public buildings are marked by special symbols and the plot of land occupied by various population groups, Jews included, are shown in different colours.
Many of the surviving brick synagogues were built in the second half of the 19th and the beginning of the 20th century, i.e., in the period of historicism. It was then that in many Lithuanian towns and townships (Joniškis, K_dainiai, Kalvarija, K_lme and others) a second synagogue was erected close to the already standing wooden or brick building of the type. Interesting complexes, comprising three buildings, were formed in K_dianiai (two synagogues and the butcher's house) and in Karvarija. The ensemble of three buildings in Kalvarija - two synagogues (one in the Baroque, the other in the eclectic style) and a small playful "brick style" rabbis house is the only three-building complex to have survived up to the present day. An especially close link existed in the synagogues in the period of historicism between the size, plan structure and the interior space, i.e. the plan structure and the organisation of the interior space are reflected in the composition of the exterior facades. Windows are located in the main facade, letting in light on the entrance and women's galleries. The side facades display a precise distinction between the men's hall with tall windows and the two-storey part with windows identical to those in the main facade. The back facade, facing the East, has a blank middle section with the Aron-Kodesh and tall side windows. The elements of exterior decor are not numerous, with the Star of David and symbolism of the Decalogue prevailing. Polychromatic playfulness predominates in the "brick style" buildings where bricks of two colour (red and yellow) and white plaster borders are matched. A polychromatic Aron-Kodesh has survived in one of the synagogues of the period - in the "Red" synagogue of Joniški. A close ling between the size, plan and exterior had formed the image of the synagogue architecture characteristic of the period of historicism. Only the details of the facades differ - the form and bordering of windows, the location of doors, horizontal or vertical divisions etc. There is also a certain variety of styles, depending in most cases on the personal style of the architect. During the period of historicism synagogues would be designed by local architects who also engaged in designing buildings used for other purposes. A stylistic diversity prevails in the architecture of synagogues as well as other buildings of the period that began with architecture with no style and ended with complicated interpretations of medieval styles or oriental forms.
Generalising the architecture of synagogues of all periods and epochs, we may notice that their size and exterior have been influenced by the changing traditions and forms of local architectures, whereas separate details and the interior reflected the oriental nature of the building and elements of decor characteristic of Jewish art - exotic motifs of flora and fauna.
This peculiar combination must have endowed synagogues with originality and exoticism. The peculiar architecture of synagogues enriched the urban environment of towns and townships and became an inseparable part of Lithuania's cultural heritage.
At the present time Lithuania is facing a complex problem of reconstruction adequate adaptation and application of synagogues. The surviving buildings of former synagogues in actual fact no longer resemble synagogues: some have retained only the outside walls and the roof, others - one or two facades, still others - the traces of windows, etc. On can find synagogues transformed into workshops, warehouses or just serving "no particular purpose" in many towns and townships of Lithuania. Therefore, it is even difficult now to speak of synagogues as buildings used for religious purposes, as there are only two operating synagogues (in Vilnius and in Kaunas). At the present time synagogues are the most sorrowful religious buildings in Lithuania having been deprived of their original purpose and masters, having been subjected to numerous restrictions and destruction. The former synagogues constitute the most important part of the Jewish spiritual and material cultural heritage, consequently it is necessary immediately to made an inventory of the buildings and take care of their preservation for future generations.
Proposals for institutional co-operation
Prof Dr Julius Schoeps
Moses Mendelssohn Centre for European Jewish Studies
Potsdam University
The heritage of Jewish culture is an all-European heritage. Throughout the centuries Jewish history - with all its cultural, religious or national differences - was especially this: it was "European" history. Jewish merchants made up the economic relations between east and west European towns. Jewish scholars contributed to the spread of ideas and new scientific developments. The Jewish communities from France to Russia, from the Baltic States to the Balkans, constituted one of the substantial links between the nations in Europe.
An essential part of this culture - even if not the only one - was the Yiddish language, which can be seen as the basis of a multifaceted social and cultural living space. It inspired literature and theatre, music and arts, as well as various social and political movements within east European Jewry. The Nazi extermination policy during the Second World War destroyed this flourishing culture. If we in today"s Europe want to establish connections in these times of exchange and co-operation and if we want to initiate a new all-European identity, then we have to awaken the memory of this heritage and at the same time we have to search for new possibilities for connections.
The following proposals for networks in the field of Jewish Studies in Europe and for particular projects would like to serve this aim.
I. Co-operation between institutes of Jewish studies in eastern and western Europe
New scientific institutions on Jewish Studies have been established in several European countries, especially during the last years. This concerns not only the countries in Eastern and Central Europe where there was no possibility for scientific work on topics of Jewish cultural and history, but concerns also west European countries such as Spain. In other countries such as France, the Netherlands, Great Britain and in the initial stages also in Germany, similar institutions had already existed for several years.
It would be good if the Council of Europe could support co-operation between these institutes. The new institutes are sure to profit from the experience of long-established institutes (building up libraries, synopses of relevant and attractive curricula, exchange of scientific staff); on the other side the already existing western institutes could draw great advantage through co-operation agreements in Eastern and Central Europe by possibilities of access to archives and libraries and particularly to the newly formed (or recognised) Jewish communities.
Of course, several forms of co-operation already exist but this has come about more or less by accidental acquaintances or thanks to the personal interest of individual scholars. An institutionalisation of these contacts - corresponding to a European Union of Jewish Studies could help avoid unequal weighting from the outset.
Concrete steps leading to co-operation - exchange of scientific staff, scholarships for students and post-graduates, support to newly set up libraries, microfilming of documents, development of transfrontier scientific projects - should be discussed and agreed upon at an international conference.
With regard to co-operation with the institutions in Eastern and Central Europe and in the Baltic States, it would seem sensible to envisage research work, publications, exhibitions etc. in the field of Yiddish linguistics, literature and culture as an integrated part of Jewish studies and not as an isolated discipline.
II. Establishment of university chairs for Yiddish studies
Language instruction is the indispensable foundation for all scientific research in the field of Jewish studies. The European centre for Yiddish is in the UK, namely the Oxford Institute for Yiddish Studies. In Paris, Yiddish is recognised at the academic level. In Germany there exists a chair in Yiddish rich in tradition at Trieste University (within the framework of German studies and with the main emphasis on west-Yiddish linguistics), followed by other university chairs relating to courses in Jewish studies (University of Potsdam), but which also offer courses on Yiddish linguistics and literature.
To promote the surviving formes of Yiddish language and culture in Russia and other former socialistic states in eastern Europe extensive institutional changes will be necessary. Therefore we stress the need for the establishment of chairs on Yiddish which will also cover the till now disregarded field of east Yiddish linguistics.
In addition it is important to find means for promoting existing or future cultural initiatives of individuals and groups, which write in Yiddish, put on Yiddish plays and foster the wealth of Yiddish music or which seek in other ways to preserve this heritage.
III. Co-operation between Jewish museums
During the last years in several European countries museums have been established, which deal with Jewish culture and history. The range from small establishments on local history, which are often to be found in old synagogues, to major institutions with international status such as the Jewish Museum of Vienna.
There already exist forms of co-operation between these establishments. A further institutionalisation of this co-operation would seem to be very useful to fulfil in particular the following aims-requirements:
— to draw up joint exhibition projects
— to avoid competing for acquisitions
— to support each other in the training of employees
— to produce joint catalogues
— to exchange experiences on methods of research, cataloguing, exhibition techniques
— to incorporate the extensive archives in East and Central European countries and in the Baltic States.
Especially to be promoted are projects dedicated to the exploration and description of the Yiddish language and culture. We would like to propose a project for an exhibition on Yerusholayim d'Lite. The Jewish Museum of Vienna could contribute its know-how and carry out this project together with staff of the State Jewish Museum in Vilnius. This exhibition could be conceived as a touring exhibition so that it could be shown in several European countries. It would help considerably in introducing the Lithuanian State Jewish Museum to a larger public and it could encourage western investors to support this museum.
IV. Co-operation between libraries and archives
Following the political changes in the year 1989/90 west European and American academics, who could now visit the eastern and central European countries and the Baltic States, were deeply impressed by the number and extent of the libraries and archives that still existed.
The majority of these institutions are in a rather bad state. Many very valuable books and documents are kept under conditions that make one fear for their slow destruction. The libraries do not have enough staff, and lack space and technical equipment for preserving and cataloguing the documents and making them available for research.
For these reasons we recommend urgently that money and staff be made available so that at least microfilming of the most important documents (as the documents of the YIVO-Institute at Vilnius) could be assured and that adequate storing of the stock of books could be guaranteed. Staff in east European libraries should have the possibility to make acquaintance with technical innovations by practical training and study visits. To build up stocks of western books and journals, sufficient financial means must be provided. Besides exchange contacts should be initiated between west and east European libraries.
At the same time financial means must be provided to buy computers and library-software so as to facilitate cataloguing by data processing. A retrospective data processing catalogue system for especially important library stock should also be considered. The building up of local library networks must be supported and decentralised ways found of obtaining books. In addition the technical requirements so that the libraries can have access to Internet have to be created. In addition foreign researchers from institutes for Jewish studies should get more possibilities than now to work in these archives and libraries.
Of particular interest to the institutions which have managed to have saved books and writings of great historical value through all the years of persecution and suppression, are such questions as their legal liability, their freedom to dispose of such material and the obligation to provide access for international research. There is a real problem when state institutions, which for years hindered the work of Jewish organisations, now, when the financial value becomes apparent, (successfully) claim to ownership to the documents and by this block their preservation or microfilming.
V. Promotion of the Mendelssohn Academy in Halberstadt as an international meeting place
The city of Halberstadt was the seat of one of the most important Jewish communities in Germany. From here the neo-Orthodoxy movement spread out, which reached many Jews in Europe during the 19th century. The so-called "Klaus", a rabbinical seminar/school, became a place of attraction for Jewish scholars from many countries. After the destruction during the Nazi period and the Second World War some of the buildings belonging to the Jewish community remained. As the entire town these were neglected during the period of the GDR. After the political changes, the city is trying to rediscover its Jewish past.
On a proposal of the Moses Mendelssohn Centre for European Jewish Studies (University of Potsdam), an academy for information on Jewish history and culture, for teacher training and for international exchanges will be set up in these buildings. Congresses, conferences, courses, seminars and individual events are parts of the programme of the academy which sees itself as a forum for the meeting of scientists and interested non-professionals from Eastern and Western Europe. By joint concern with Jewish history and culture, with transfrontier co-operation in research and preservation projects for the Jewish heritage, the academy can become a workshop of European co-operation.
Support by the Council of Europe could strengthen the European dimension of the project and integrate it from the beginning of its activities in pan-European institutional networks.
VI. Exchange of students and scholarships
All the above mentioned proposals — co-operation of scientific institutes, setting-up of university chairs for Yiddish, building up of libraries and archives, museum co-operation, establishment of art European Jewish academy — can be realised effectively only by the participation of students and academics with various qualifications.
Therefore we would like to recommend:—
— the creation of possibilities for student exchanges between universities
— the provision of scholarships for the post-graduate research work
— the establishment of a fund for short-term travel scholarships
— the support of special reciprocal teaching posts.
VII. Scientific conferences
In connection with these proposals, we would like to recommend regular meetings and discussion between all the institutions involved.
Permanent commissions should be established to work on different sections of the scientific programme.
The conferences should take place regularly in different countries, for they do not only have an inwards effect for the participants, but they have an effect towards the outside public where it could arouse interest for Yiddish culture.
At present a conference on "The situation of the Jews in Eastern Europe" is being organised by the Moses Mendelssohn Centre for European Jewish Studies in co-operation with the Jewish University of St. Petersburg and the Institute for Jewish Affairs in London. This conference could serve as a model for further similar events.
Appendix
Ideas for an exhibition
"The Jewish Vilnius - Jerusala d'Lite""
Short historical survey
Over a number of centuries Vilnius was one of the centres of European Jewish culture. In spite of the numerous restrictions the Jews in Vilnius had to endure under Polish and then Russian dominion, Vilnius became a place for Jewish education and culture and this led to the epithet "Lithuanian Jerusalem". One of the most famous scholars was Gaon Elia who attracted students form all parts of the country. Unlike south-east Poland and parts of the Ukraine, whence from the 18th century Hasidism spread, Vilnius was seen as a centre of rabbinical scholasticism, and Gaon Elia appeared as one of the strongest opponents of Hasidism. In the 19th century Vilnius became the centre of the Haskalah, which promoted modern Jewish school education and which introduced Hebrew as a modern literary language. In Vilnius there were important Hebrew publishers such as the Romm Publishing House, which published a famous edition of the Talmud and was visited by Moses Montefiore, or the Publishing House B. Klezkin, which edited much modern literature and many journals.
The cultural and political life of the Lithuanian Jews went through another peak at the beginning of the 20th century. Vilnius became one of the starting points for the Zionist and socialist movements. From 1905 to 1911 the Central Office of the Russian Zionist movement was situated in Vilnius, both Poale Zion and the non-Zionist Bund had their homes in Vilnius. Vilnius became the centre of modern Yiddish language and literature. In 1925 the YIVO-Institute was established in Vilnius, though later moved to New York. The most popular Yiddish writers included the circle Jung Vilne (Young Vilnius), whose members were Abraham Sutzkever, Chaïm Grade and Moshe Kulbak. One of the highlights of cultural life in Vilnius was the Yiddish Theatre. The Vilner Truppe toured Europe and America and by its high artistic standard made the Yiddish Theatre popular even in non-Jewish circles.
After the German invasion of Lithuania in 1941 the extermination of the Jews began immediately. Mass executions, the establishment of the Vilnius Ghetto and its purposeful liquidation by the transports to the extermination camps, are the sad last chapter of the centuries-long history of the Jews in Vilnius.
Not much of Jewish Vilnius was left after the Second World War. Nearly all the synagogues, cultural institutions and cemeteries were destroyed. A large part of the cultural heritage of the Jews in Vilnius - the numerous books and manuscripts of the Strashun Library, the art treasures of the synagogues and the valuable art collections of the old Jewish museum in Vilnius were destroyed or have remained lost without trace till today.
Conception and idea
The exhibition should present a picture of Vilnius as a centre of Jewish culture, art and literature. However, it should not be planned as a great exhibition, but as an atmospherical exhibition concentrated on some selected objects only, so that the relations become clear by association with the complexity of Vilnius" Jewish history. This should be illustrated by some of the objects from the State Jewish Museum in Vilnius: for example parts of old wood carvings from a Torah-shrine out of a Lithuanian synagogue, decorated with numerous three-dimensional figures and floral motives, or hand-made puppets for a traditional Purim-play or a collection of artists of the Vilnius Ghetto. (One could conside involving the Lithuanian-Jewish artist and set-designer Adamas Jakovskis). The representation of the Holocaust in the exhibition should be done by artistic means and not as a documentary, for example by poems of Abraham Sutzkever, songs of the partisans etc. The exhibition should be designed as a visual and acoustic experience to reflect the memory of Jewish Vilnius as in a vision.
Organisation
The exhibition should be organised by the Jewish Museum in Vilnius in co-operation with the Jewish Museum in Vienna. It should be conceived as a touring exhibition and be shown in several European cities. Research work would also have to be done in several museums and institutions in Vilnius (particularly in the National Library, which owns a valuable stock of Hebrew and Yiddish manuscripts, books and journals). The YIVO in New York and several private collections (for instance the Gross-Collection) could contribute objects. A budget for the exhibition should be drawn up.
The educational Golden Age of the Yiddish language in inter-war Poland
Henri Minczeles
Journalist and writer
A few facts on yiddish culture
Just before the Second World War 4 million Yiddish-speakers lived in Eastern Europe.
In Poland, 600 000 pupils attended the secular and religious primary and secondary Yiddish schools.
250 libraries had holdings of about 1 000 volumes each, managing a total of 1 650 000 works.
1 200 libraries with under 1 000 volumes belonging to various associations, catered for the closely interwoven societies of the Jewish towns.
THE PRESS
In Poland 250 Yiddish newspapers were published, with 25 in Romania and 80 in Lithuania.
The bigger newspapers had a circulation of over 50 000.
THE WRITERS
800 Yiddish writers were murdered during the Shoah. 8 000 writers and journalists are listed in the Leksikon fun der Yiddisher Literatur (Dictionary of Yiddish Literature).
In the 20th century, over 60 000 original works have been published in Yiddish.
Most of the world's literature has been translated into Yiddish, including the works of Hugo, Molière, Maupassant, Romain Rolland, Jules Verne, Zola, Rousseau, Tolstoy, Dostoyevsky, Pushkin, Chekhov, Cervantes, Goethe, Heine, Karl Marx, Nietzsche, Schiller, Kipling, Dickens, Shakespeare, etc.
THEATRE
In Poland, 500 actors and directors have been involved in 200 professional companies.
CINEMA
Over 100 Yiddish films have been produced.
Fifty years have elapsed since the end of the Second World War, and yet we can never forget that among the tens of millions of dead, six million men, women and children were Jewish. Most of them were Yiddish-speakers, amounting to the assassination of a whole language and culture. As we know, the whole Jewish nucleus of Eastern Europe was savagely annihilated. The Shoah spread its shroud.
We should remember that just before the Shoah that Yiddish experienced a genuine Golden Age, particularly in inter-war Poland. Of the 3 400 000 Jews, over three million used it as their mother tongue, their language of communication and creation.
My purpose here is not to present the background to the Yiddish language, a language with a thousand years of history behind it which over eleven million Jews throughout the world spoke before the war, or to vaunt the extraordinary wealth of an idiom which, despite having no territory, flag or army, was nonetheless a language in its own right with an abundant literature, a prolific press, an impressive theatre and a very specific intelligentsia, a culture which vigorously affirmed its own identity through an extraordinary vitality which the Jews had never before experienced.
I could list all the Yiddish literary genres, dwell on writers such as Mendele Mokher Sforim, Shalom Aleichem, I.L. Peretz, Shalom Asch, the Singer brothers, Avrom Reizen, Yosef Opatochou, Itsak Manguer, Moshe Kulbak, Zalman Schnéour, Haïm Grade, Avrom Sutzkever, Peretz Markish, and many, many more. But I shall instead dwell on the educational aspects, in my view this theme has given voice to the vigour, permanence, indeed immortality of a culture which has gained recognition through a highly successful neologism, namely yiddishkayt; in the words of the great Jewish historian Simon Doubnov, this term bears witness to innumerable struggles on the battlefields of the mind.
We should, however, note that the objective conditions for such a development were hardly promising. Although the Jewish community was recognised as a national minority, it was exposed to ever-increasing anti-Semitism, all kinds of discrimination, harassments and vexation from increasingly reactionary governments and specific Polish figures heavily influenced by the growth of Nazism in Germany. The combination of all these elements accentuated the poverty and insecurity of the Jewish masses.
And yet despite these negative conditions, the educational networks, which are the subject of this statement, managed to embrace hundreds of thousands of children and young people in Yiddish primary and secondary schools, where, alongside the compulsory teaching of the Polish language, all subjects, including spelling, grammar, history, geography, geometry, algebra, science and literature, were taught in Yiddish.
An international conference held in Czernowicz, Bukovina, in 1908 decided to standardise the Yiddish language and set up Yiddish schools. The instigators were aware that a language could only have a safe future if it had an appropriate network of schools to demonstrate its vitality. One of those attending the conference, Chaïm Jitlowski, who was a Yiddishist, asserted that if Switzerland could maintain three universities, Yiddish-speaking Jews should be capable of maintaining twenty-five!
A few years later, thanks to the fact that the First World War had liberated much of Poland from the Tsarist autocracy, the first Yiddish schools were able to develop unhampered. The foundation of a sovereign, independent Poland and the Treaty of Versailles removed the last barriers to the establishment of the Yiddish schools.
The new Polish Republic introduced a free Polish-language school system. However, contrary to its undertakings under the Versailles Treaty agreements on national minorities, it did not subsidise the Yiddish schools. It merely set up Polish-language elementary schools for Jews, which closed on Saturday and were called Szabasowski. Although there was some polonisation of young Jews, the Szabasowski were only open in the morning and so most children could, and did, attend Jewish classes in the afternoon.
Developing alongside the Polish school, the Jewish school network was made up of either religious or secular private schools. Religious Jews had the traditional institutions: the liedarim (primary schools), the Yechivot (Talmudic academies), and the schools run by the Agoudat, an Orthodox Jewish movement. The secular schools broke down into two branches: the Tarbut in which the main language was Hebrew, and the CISHO network, which was cerated in Warsaw in 1921 and taught exclusively in Yiddish. It should, however, be noted that the vernacular, that is to say Yiddish, was unvariably used to teach Hebrew and religion.
When it was founded, in 1921, the CISHO, the Central Yiddish Schools Organisation (Tsentral Yiddishe Shul Organizatsiè), had branches in 44 towns and cities, with 35 nursery schools and kindergartens and 69 primary schools, catering for a total of 14 357 pupils. The main centres were Warsaw, Lodz, Bialystok and Wilno (Vilnius). In addition to the CISHO there was the Shulkult, the School and Culture League, a Zionist workers' organisation comprising some 3 000 schoolchildren.
This was an innovative venture in that it was specifically secular, whereas over the centuries Judaism had expressed itself almost exclusively in religious terms. However, at the beginning of the century the new ideologies emerging from the Haskalah, the Jewish Enlightenment, had secularised Judaism, giving it an increasingly national content. This is why the directors of such institutions were neither rabbis nor ministers of religion: religion simply was considered as an educational and historical subject which did not include prayers or rituals. On the other hand, a national, or indeed nationalistic, awareness was profoundly altering Polish Jewish thought. The teaching staff consisted of secular educationalists and primary and secondary teachers.
A great many Jewish intellectuals, historians, researchers, politicians, writers, doctors and scientists felt moved to contribute to drawing up the curricula. Over the years the CISHO schools network developed adequate educational facilities, sufficient schoolbooks and other works, and above all a competent teaching staff. The CISHO secured official recognition and authorisation for its work in 1924. When the young person left secondary school, he could attend Polish school for one year and take the school-leaving examination. If he passed, he could go to university, albeit with some difficulty because of a de facto, if not official, numerus clausus which was the result of virulent anti-Semitism.
Overall statistics on textbooks and other works published in Warsaw, Bialystok and Wilno show that between 1900 and 1930, 202 books were published, including 59 primers, 35 arithmetic books and 23 textbooks on history and culture. These are impressive figures which point to an intense need for acculturation. Similarly, we should note the innovative spirit of the directors. In 1935 the CISHO President, Chaïm Shloyme Kazdan, said, "Our school presents a Jewish national character, because it introduces the children to the sphere of our people's past and present problems ... creating a new type of man with ideals associated with productivity and physical and spiritual usefulness". Of course the socialist ideology was not absent from the CISHO leaders' thinking, and it acted as a counterbalance to the Tarbut, an educational organisation based on Hebrew and the Jewish religious doctrines of the time.
The Yiddish secular schools continued to increase their attendance by about 25 000 to 50 000 children per year, despite operational vicissitudes, the severe lack of money and premises, increasing financial difficulties, and the fact that the Polish municipalities usually reneged on their promises of subsidies. We must pay tribute to the parents, the Jewish trade unions and the American Jewish organisations for having kept afloat a movement which was indubitably original and in which coeducation was the rule. The modern teaching methods created a highly advanced educational approach, one generation ahead of the school systems in other countries, in the West or elsewhere. The directors of the Yiddish schools had resolutely opted for cultural autonomy in Poland, the main representatives of which were the Jewish socialists of the Bund followed by the Folkists (Jewish separatists) and the left-wing Zionists (Linke Poalé Tsion).
As a prime instrument of Yiddish culture, the CISHO and its outpost in Wilno (or Vilnius), the CBK (Tsentral Bildungs Komitet - Central Educational Committee), also founded teacher training institutions for primary, junior and secondary schoolteachers. One of these, the Real Gymnaziè, deserves a special mention for its academic excellence. All the schools adopted active methods, with regular staff meetings at each educational level and parents' associations. The upper primary classes produced a regularl press review providing information from all over the world. The preparation of the subjects taught often involved teamwork. A highly sophisticated nation-wide study was even conducted with a view to an exhibition on Sholem Aleichem. Moreover, the children often studied "in the field", in the countryside, in factories, printing works, museums, etc. We should also note that the teaching method was both culture-specific and universalistic. This analysis of the world arounf us comprised, for instance, periods of history such as the American War of Independence, the French Revolution or the Paris Commune. The literary curriculum included reading and commenting on classic works by Mickiewicz, Tolstoy, Shakespeare, Balzac, Hugo, Heine, Ibsen and Cervantes. I was astounded to find in a literature textbook not only the Yiddish classics but also selected passages from Maxim Gorky, Guy de Maupassant and Gerhard Hauptmann. These young Jews were genuine Europeans even before the term was coined!
Although the teachers were poorly paid and often received their meagre salaries late, they showed exceptional devotion and abnegation. Some of them had a stock of knowledge such that, had it not been for the aforementioned obstacles, they could have taught in the Polish universities. Realising that they belonged to an oppressed community, they directed their efforts at the CISHO and Shulkult schools.
The children and young people acquired a Jewish national awareness and many of them were also in youth movements or scout organisations, where they were able to put into practice the concepts of responsibility and solidarity they had acquired in the Yiddish schools. It is no coincidence that in the resistance movement and the uprisings against the Nazis - I am thinking especially of the Warsaw uprising which we commemorated on 19 April last - most of the fighters were from the school system which I have just described. These schools initiated people into community life and were the best model for developing the Jewish identity. I recall that several former pupils of these schools had been hoping to organise a world reunion of survivors. To them, among the hardships and joylessness of their environment, in the greyness of the cities, this was a warm human bond with a second family.
Apart from the CISHO schools network, we should also mention the extra lessons, the tsugobshul, aimed at providing complementary Jewish schooling for children attending state schools. This was not a mere adjunct to the "real" formal education but an actual reception unit complementing primary education with extracurricular activities such as chess clubs, drama classes, choirs and musical formations. We should also mention the intensive work conducted by the ORT (Organisation, Reconstruction, Work), a network of technical and vocational schools aimed at teaching young people a trade, whether in photography, the fine arts, the wood and metal industries, painting and decorating, garment-making, commercial classes, etc.
Higher education was enriched with the creation of several institutes. The YIVO (Jewish Science Institute) in Wilno accommodated a team of renowned researchers, sociologists and linguists, and famous philosophers and Talmudists worked in the Institute of Jewish Studies in Warsaw. Many rabbis were trained at the great Yechivot (Talmudic universities) and the Takhemoni Institute.
Let us examine the YIVO in greater detail. Founded in Berlin in 1925, the same year as the University of Jerusalem (this was no coincidence), and established in Wilno (Vilnius) in the following year, it benefited from the work of the foremost specialists in yiddishkayt, that is to say the breeding-ground for Yiddish culture. A people's university made famous by such renowned intellectuals as Max Weinreich, Zalmen Reizen, Simon Doubnov, Yakub Lestschinsky, Liebman Hersch, Zelig Kalmanovitch and Jakub Shatzky, the YIVO enlisted the services of a host of "zammlers", hundreds of young people recruited from among the best CISHO students, whose task was to gather documentation on a village or Shtètl (small town), an occupation, an elite, a type of folklore, etc, and to forward such monographs to the YIVO.
Currently operating in New York and Vilnius, the YIVO is the prime forum for what can legitimately be called the Ashkenazi Jewish civilisation. We should be grateful to these men and women, Jews and non-Jews, who risked their lives under the German occupation to preserve some of the works and archives which the Nazis strove to annihilate. We thank the present directors of the YIVO library in the Knigu Romai (Palace of the Book) in Vilnius, particularly Fira Bramson who is, I think, in our midst today, and who busily archiving thousands of documents with a view to preserving our heritage. The YIVO is the very symbol of Yiddish culture, and from it the Yiddish schools derived most of their pupils' and teachers' educational material.
In conclusion, I would like to express my heartfelt thanks to Emmanuel Zingeris, the instigator of this colloquy, and also my pleasure being back in Vilnius, which used to be known as the "Lithuanian Jerusalem". This home town, Heymshtot in Yiddish, and lr Vaem be Israël in Hebrew, of Judaism inspired me to wirte a book, a work which has given me much happiness and many new friends whom I recognise in the audience and who have honoured me with their presence.
on "Die Yiddishes emissiess fun Radio Com'Judaïques FM"
(Radio broadcasts in Yiddish on RCJ - Radio Com'Judaïque FM, Paris)
Thérèse Liberman-Jasmin
Maker of Yiddish programmes
A meeting point and a mouthpiece - a European network of links and contacts
I should first like to thank the Council of Europe for allowing me to attend this Vilnius colloquy on the Yiddish language, enabling me to give you a brief description of our broadcasting activities at RCJ.
RCJ - Radio Com'Judaïques FM, a Jewish FM radio station
A look back, without giving a detailed history of Jewish FM radio stations, which were set up first in Paris, then elsewhere in France and in Europe. It was inevitable that, when the FM band started in 1981 to feature what were known as "pirate" radio stations, Jewish stations would emerge, one after another, eventually totalling four.
They became known as "free" radio stations after the imposition of legal constraints (the "loi Holeau"); I was among a group of twenty-five friends and relatives who set up Radio Judaïques FM, represented by an association known as the APDCJ (see appendix). The frequency allotted to the four Jewish stations by the Conseil Supérieur de l'Audiovisuel was 94.8 FM. In combination with Radio Communauté, the RCJ Radio Com'Judaïques FM group had 50% of the air time (audience of some 50,000).
Yiddish and bilingual broadcasts
Radio Com'Judaïques FM's aim was pluralism, reflecting and voicing the views of the community. Working on the station were journalists and representatives of institutions, associations and cultural centres. I put on and took responsibility for Yiddish programmes. The renewed interest in Yiddish since 1978 (when I B Singer won the Nobel Prize) gave fresh impetus to the teaching of Yiddish and to the activities of cultural centres. A new programme, "Mame-Loshen", was devised, presented by Paul Spigelman and myself. We broadcast information about Yiddish language activities, biographical interviews, personal accounts and programmes featuring Yiddish poetry and literature. It was not very long, however, before bilingualism was adopted, in a spirit of openness and with a view to disseminating Jewish culture, while a major effort was under way to translate Yiddish literature for an audience curious to find out about our language and culture, in which it showed both interest and passion, requesting songs, music, drama, films and other forms of expression.
My present programmes on RCJ are a fortnightly magazine called Unzer Magazine and a weekly music programme, Bey mir bistu sheyn. Other special broadcasts have covered Isaac Pougatch, Janush Korczak and the Jewish resistance movement, as well as the commemorative dates on our calendar and from our history (day of programmes marking the 50th anniversary of the uprising in the Warsaw ghetto, with Henri Minczeles and Lise Amiel).
Among those involved in the production of these programmes were:
Yiddish speakers:
Oscar Fessler - producer; Léon Leneman - journalist on the daily "Unzer Vort", who writes in both Yiddish and French and is president of the Association of Yiddish language writers; Tadeck Lotchinski - actor; Mordehaï Litvine, who has taken part in many of our programmes; Isaac Opatovski - writer and journalist; Iosef Shein - producer at Moscow's Yiddish theatre and Israel's Habima theatre, and a writer; Kiwa Vaisbrot - president of the Médem Library; Moshé Waldman; as well as numerous others.
Most are members of the International Committee for the Yiddish Language and of many associations, including the Federation of Jewish Societies, the Arbeitering, the Union of War Veterans, their Children and Friends, and the Médem Library Association, responsible for Europe's largest Yiddish library (housing 20,000 works in Yiddish and some 3,000 in French or other languages; it has also just received a legacy of collections from other former Paris libraries).
Teachers and researchers:
Jean Baumgarten - research scientist at the CNRS; Jean-Marie Delmaire - University of Lille III; Delphine Bechtel - University of Paris IV; Alex Derczanski - CNRS; M S H Rachel Ertel - Charles V University; Sylvie Anne Goldberg - EHESS; Carole Ksiaseniszer - Ecole normale; Henri Minczeles - EHESS; Itsrok Niborski - INALCO; Bernard Vaisbrot - University of Paris VIII; Baruch Smérin - University of Cambridge; Astrid Starck - Head of the Department of German at the Université de Haute Alsace, Mulhouse.
Artists (singers, musicians, choirs, actors):
Talila, Ben Zimet, Jacintha, Michèle Tauber, Jacques Grauber, Rosalie Baker, Lilia Grandé, Mérédith, the Denis Cuniot/Nano Pellet duo, the Black Yiddish Trio, les Yeux Noirs, etc.
European network:
Our programmes provide a meeting point based upon Yiddish for all involved. We publicise and play host to the organisers of events held in Europe: festivals of Jewish culture in Cracow, Kiev and Mannheim, "The Force of Yiddish" - Carrefour des littératures européennes, Strasbourg, Amsterdam festival, colloquies and conferences, summer schools, training courses and seminars.
Our guests include actors, artists, teachers, writers, researchers, film makers, radio and television figures, Yiddish enthusiasts (Austria's non-Jewish "Gebrider Moischelé" group, whose concert was sponsored by the Austrian cultural centre).
So we have paved the way for a European network based on the language and its teaching and associated activities.
Appendix
Association for the progress and propagation of Jewish cultures (APDCJ)
JUDAÏQUES FM
The APDCJ was set up on 8 September 1981 to maintain, promote and stimulate the various aspects of Jewish cultures.
The Jews of France are in fact very much inspired by their history, with its many sources. Only if they have a creative and innovative link with their past, to the benefit of their present and future, will they be able to forge a contemporary culture neither consisting solely of their past nor standardising through renunciation of their own history. This is even more important for the fact that, more than any other human group, the Jews have a long tradition of changing societies, passing through and helping to alter and to enrich societies over three millennia.
Now that our society is threatened by a cultural levelling down through the ubiquitous spread of one and the same technology, whether for industrial or for leisure purposes, every nation faces the problem of the survival of its national and cultural identity. It is a similar concern that the Jews feel in respect of the diversity of their own cultures and the problem of how to maintain them in changing societies while replenishing them. Thus they face the same question as the French community as a whole.
The APDCJ equipped itself with a mouthpiece which is its raison d'être: Radio Com'Judaïques FM. This station exists thanks to the voluntary efforts and funding of association members, and it has a pluralist mission, open to every tendency and all the cultures of the Jewish community without exception, but also open to the outside world and to non-Jews.
Through its programmes, it endeavours to:
- introduce both the Jewish community and the national community as a whole to the various Jewish cultures: Yiddish, Judaeo-Spanish, Judaeo-Arabic and Israeli;
- foster the emergence of a French language Jewish culture by covering new works in the various fields of the arts;
- remain vigilant vis-à-vis racism, even if not directed against Jews;
- develop within the community a spirit of dialogue and tolerance consistent with Jewish ethics and universal values;
- show solidarity with the State of Israel;
- prevent the community from turning in on itself.
The Colloquy,
1. Recalling the vital role played by Jewish communities in Europe as cultural mediators fostering intellectual advancement, and as original contributors to European literature, art, science and thought;
2. Underlining that the 50th anniversary of the end of the Second World War and the liberation of the death camps serve to highlight the uniqueness of the Holocaust and the necessity of its commemoration by the younger generations of today;
3. Noting that the collapse of the totalitarian communist system in Central and Eastern Europe should now make it possible to bring into perspective the richness of the Yiddish cultural heritage both in its pre-war Eastern European heartland as well as throughout Europe;
4. Stressing that the Yiddish language, literature and culture should not be petrified in museums, but that its remnants should be enabled to flourish both in surviving Jewish communities and in non-denominational academic and cultural institutions; and, that relevant contributions to literature, arts, cinema, theatre and general education be available through a variety of media to the wider general public;
5. Forcefully condemning the resurgence of racism and antisemitism in both the west and east of the continent;
6. Recommends that the governments of Europe:
(i) undertake a concerted action for the equitable reparation of Holocaust survivors still alive on European soil;
(ii) reintegrate and invigorate elements of the Yiddish cultural heritage in the historical heartland of Yiddish-speaking civilisation in Eastern Europe and throughout the continent;
(iii) preserve and protect Jewish cemeteries and other historical sites;
(iv) inspire and support the development of Yiddish cultural life at all levels, including the highest levels of creativity in literature and scholarship, so as to preclude the risk of the extinction of the Jewish culture that was specific to central and eastern Europe but which came close to annihilation as a direct result of the Holocaust;
(v) facilitate by the means of new or existing support frameworks the possibility for assimilated writers and scholars, working in other media than Yiddish, to produce works based on their ethnic and historic experience;
(vi) stimulate the establishment of institutions, associations and projects dedicated to developing the Yiddish cultural heritage with emphasis on scholarship, awards, and publications, designed to inspire and enable a new generation of Yiddish writers, scholars and cultural leaders;
(vii) stimulate the dissemination of the finest products of Yiddish culture to the nations of Europe via a programme of translation, anthologies, courses, exhibitions, theatrical productions and other appropriate means;
(viii) establish within the framework of the Council of Europe's Cultural Routes, a Yiddish pan-European route illustrating both the wealth and diversity of the Yiddish cultural heritage, as well as the history of the communities destroyed;
(ix) support projects which make researchers and the general public able to conceive Yiddish culture in the context of the surrounding cultures;
(x) establish a Council of Europe coordination centre, possibly in the heartland of Yiddish culture, for all the above-mentioned activities;
(xi) invite the Council of Europe to endorse these recommendations.
[1] Issachar Ryback and Boris Aronson, 'Di Vegin fun der Yiddisher Maleri' (Oifgang Kiev Kulturige 1919).
