Something to Think About

I found this thought-provoking line in a novel called A Gate at the Stairs by Lorrie Moore:

 “Still, mostly the Amish were buying up farms as is, and holding services in their parlors, though it was bitterly said in Dellacrosse that their wagons and trotting horses chipped and dinged the roads and that their houses were declared churches in order to stay off the tax rolls and that they bred like rabbits and dressed like bats.”

Hmm. Do people instinctively disdain groups who hold themselves apart? Is there a strain of envy toward individuals who are completely uncool and yet don’t seem to care?

Is there truth to what the people in Dellacrosse are saying about the Amish? Do the Amish, then, have in common with hasidim more than just the beards?

Documentary Recommend: Catfish

Catfish is a sort of kooky documentary with an offbeat vibe that is both mellow and thrilling. This odd combination is due to its characters (who all—Nev, Angela, and even Angela’s husband—have this mellow, placid thing going) and its fairly suspenseful plot. I don’t mean suspenseful or thrilling in the Alfred Hitchcock, sitting-at-the-edge-of-your-seat way. The suspense is more psychological. First, you wonder what’s really going on in this strange storyline. And once you figure it out, you’re left wondering about the roots and the causes of the characters’ actions. Loneliness, our need for love, our need for security, our ability to lie to ourselves—these are some of the aspects of the human psyche that can be studied in this film. Social media, with its various repercussions, play an important role, too. (Some may feel it is the most significant psychological/sociological factor in this documentary.)

I loved the film. But I do want to caution that it requires a certain capacity for “suspension of disbelief” to imagine that the story was filmed chronologically. The film worked for me regardless.

Book Review: Yiddish Civilisation

Yiddish Civilisation; The  Rise and Fall of a Forgotten Nation

By Paul Kriwaczek

Vintage Books, 357 Pages

Yiddish Civilisation by Paul Kriwaczek is not a new book (it was published in 2005), but I happened to spot it in a small independent bookstore two weeks ago, the first I’d ever seen or heard of it. What a lucky find. The book offers a running history of the formation and evolvement of Jews as a cultural group, starting from Classical times up to the very beginning of the twentieth century. What’s refreshing about the author’s take on this is that he chooses to focus on the periods of history when Judaism was a vibrant, successful, progressive society, who contributed significantly to the economic, intellectual, and communal growth of the societies they were part of. Instead of regurgitating the well-chronicled “lachrymose interpretation” (Salo Baron’s term, quoted by Paul Kriwaczek) of Jewish history, which mainly emphasizes all the travails of the Jews, most notably the Holocaust, Kriwaczek leads us back to the forgotten beginnings of this singular people. 

Though I wouldn’t call this book a light read, it is more accessible than typical scholarly books. Perhaps the reason is that Kriwaczek is not a scholar per se, meaning he doesn’t have the standard academic credentials (as far as I was able to ascertain) to establish him as a certified authority on the topic he writes about. According to the blurb on the book’s front page, his background is in film-making and journalism. However, instead of detracting from the book’s legitimacy, I believe it gives Kriwaczek an edge. He uses his journalistic experience to bring descriptions to life. With such charming alliterative phrases, such as “for seekers of sun, sea, sand and sex,” which describes the current holiday destination of the ancient Mediterranean coast of Turkey, the tone remains refreshingly light in face of the mass of heavy detail the book imparts.

The author calls this people a “Yiddish Civilisation.” The word Yiddish, however, is not meant to be defined as the language, but rather encompasses the Jewish culture as a whole. This is an interesting and quite clever classification, because it enables the author to present a broad umbrella under which is included nuanced, intricate historical and sociological details, all of which serve as part of this “Yiddish civilisation.”

In fact, it takes about four chapters of the book to get to the actual formation of a Yiddish civilization. Until then, these people were “Roman (or whichever empire they belonged to) citizens of Jewish faith.” According to Kriwaczek, it was the collapse of the Roman economic system—which forced Jews to become businessmen and money lenders—that turned them into a separate nationality: the Jews.

Kriwaczek challenges the stereotype of “Jewish greed,” explaining that high returns for loans were the inevitable consequence of an insecure financial environment. He also challenges the attitude, popular among many traditional Jews today, that the Jews always suffered more than their countrymen. He specifically emphasizes that despite prevalent anti-Jewish rioting, “early medieval Jews were not especially singled out for particularly barbaric treatment.”  

Once you get past the first third of the book, the material becomes a bit less original (most of the data is covered in other texts) though not less enjoyable. There’s a detailed section devoted to Glikl of Hamlin, whose Yiddish memoir is the first of its kind by a woman (as far as we know).  He also mentions another famous female writer, Litte of Ratisbon, who wrote the Shmuel Buch. And he gives some space to Rabbi Jacob ben Isaac Ashkenazi of Janow’s Taytch Chumesh, which was later renamed the Tseynareyna (from the Song of Solomon’s Z’enah u R’enah), a book that has been published in more than two hundred editions and is still in print today. In fact, along with several pieces of jewelry, the Z’enah U’renah is one of the traditional gifts Hasidic grooms purchase for their brides.

Kriwaczek covers the “Maimonidean controversy,” the dispute involving the Rambam’s teachings. He also includes Rabbi Moshe Isserles’ (Rema) contributions to the study of astronomy and Kabbalah. Kriwaczek points to the Cracow Jewish quarter's physical proximity to the Cracow Academy (where Copernicus was a student), a detail that explains the inevitability of the Yiddish civilization’s interest in the field of astronomy.    

In a chapter entitled, “The New Yiddish World,” Kriwaczek offers some fascinating tidbits on the Yiddish language. Although scholars such as Paul Wexler, Dovid Katz and Mordche Schaechter (among others) have already explored and recorded much of this information, the concise account in this book serves as a basic introduction to Yiddish language and literature for those who may not have the necessary background in this genre.

The book culminates with a description of the Yiddish literary revival within the Haskoleh movement. It includes details on various famous Yiddish novelists and poets. The last line of the book is a line from the Passover hagaddah: “All who are hungry, let them come and eat.” Indeed, this is an appropriate directive to readers: All who are hungry for knowledge of Jewish history, come and partake of this literary feast.

Recommend: "Haley Barbour’s Close Shave" by Andrew Ferguson

I just read an excellent article in February’s Commentary titled “Haley Barbour’s Close Shave.” The writer, Andrew Ferguson, was the author of an article in the Economist that spiraled out of control in a ludicrous, yet oh so typical, way. The subject of Ferguson’s original article was Haley Barbour, a Mississippi Governor and presidential prospect. He uttered one simple sentence (not racist) that a gossip publication picked up, misconstrued it as racist, said as much online, and there it went… a modern day Salem witch trial. Ferguson’s insights about our “wired-up, blogged-over, twittering world” as well as our culture’s hysteria over anyone perceived to have possibly said something racist are worth noting.

(Commentary articles are only available to online or print subscribers. If you’re thinking of subscribing, be aware that politically the magazine leans heavily to the conservative side.)

Hasidic Women: Equal or Abused?

Back in 1923, S.A. Horodecky, a noted scholar on hasidism, made the claim that hasidism confers complete equality on the Jewish woman.[1] Ada Rapoport debunked his theory approximately sixty years later, but up to then, the understanding among scholars was that hasidism boasted a more egalitarian gender perspective than did other branches of Judaism.[2] This theory was mostly unexamined; scholars merely accepted Horodecky’s findings as fact and built their own work upon this alleged fact.

I point out this tidbit not because I want to re-investigate the Horodecky/Rapoport argument (I find modern hasidism such a different creature from the original hasidic movement that I see no point in using the movement’s early attitudes as a yardstick for measuring today’s), but rather because I revel in the irony. Namely, the irony of the contemporary acknowledged “fact” of hasidism’s gender inequality.

Nowadays, the regarded theoretical norm—unexamined, mostly, much like Horodecky’s findings—by both Jewish and non-Jewish pseudo-scholars and laymen is that women within the hasidism construct hold a lowly position in every aspect. It seems Horodecky’s findings have become irrelevant: not only is hasidism not regarded as affording women more equality than other Jewish denominations do, but the “pitiful, subjugated, mistreated second-class hasidic woman” has become the modern stereotype.

Part of the reason for this stereotype, I believe, is a trickle-down effect of feminists’ struggle within Judaism. Their valiant efforts to make a place for women in formal Judaism has led to numerous discussions, writings, and debates on the matter, all of which have helped some women achieve positions as Rabbis, Talmudic scholars and other capacities of status in Judaism’s public space, albeit mainly in non-Orthodox denominations. But the constant criticism of Orthodox Judaism’s lack of opportunity for female status positions led the general public—who most likely have but a shallow interest or understanding of the matter—to ascertain that OJ treats women shabbily in general. And who is the most conspicuously orthodox of the Orthodox? The hasidim, of course. Ergo, hasidism views and treats women as second class.

To the world at large (barring some scholars, sociologists, or anthropologists who have taken the time to actually observe and/or participate in the contemporary hasidic society instead of just buying into stereotypes, but absolutely including people who comment “knowledgably” on facebook, twitter and online blogs), this generally means that girls and women have less value as people within hasidic society, that hasidic husbands mistreat and abuse their wives[3], that women are treated as cattle and don’t get a say in how they and their families live their lives.

How the gender theory on hasidism has moved from Horodecky’s radical egalitarianism to women being consistently abused in less than a century is one of the marvels of  modern day technology, where everyone may espouse authoritatively on every topic on the world wide web, regardless of veracity or her/his expertise on the subject. Furthermore, film-makers, novelists, and even journalists tend to take the easy path when depicting hasidim, simply presenting them according to the prevailing stereotype. Although Orthodox Judaism forbids spousal abuse, and although—as hasidic insiders know—most hasidic wives “rule the roost,” the stereotype of the docile, submissive, abused hasidic woman remains  the conventional truism. Perhaps it is time for another Ada Rapoport to dig deep enough to actually discover the truth.

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[1] See Ha-Hasidut vehaHasidim, the chapter entitled “The Maid of Ludmir” by S.A. Horodecky

[2] See “On Women in Hasidism, S.A. Horodecky and The Maid of Ludmir Tradition” by Ada Rapoport-Albert

[3] See Wendy Graf’s interview about her play Behind the Gates

Recommendation: Exit Through the Gift Shop

Exit Through the Gift Shop is a documentary about the emergence of the street art movement. It is directed by “Banksy,” a noted street artist whose work ended up selling for thousands of dollars at Sotheby’s and Christie’s auction houses.  The documentary’s main character is Theirry Guetta, a guy who is portrayed as partly retarded and partly brilliant, and the viewer is never sure whether to laugh at or with him. Banksy, whose face is never seen (even his hands are covered in gloves, and his voice is distorted by a voice disguiser) is genius. I don’t want to give the plot away, but I will say that Banksy’s cheeky chutzpah gives this documentary a cool, fun side that’s missing from so many docs that take themselves too seriously.  Whether it’s Banksy’s fabulous British deadpan humor or the fact that he remains in mysterious secrecy throughout, he is a character that wriggles his way into your gut. I find myself still thinking about him days after I’ve watched the doc. See it! And let me know what you think.

Welcome

Welcome! In this blog I hope to explore two of my great interests: Hasidism and contemporary literature. I know the two are unrelated; in fact, Hasidic precepts disapprove of (may even be in direct contradiction to) contemporary secular literature.  Nevertheless, I have a passionate curiosity in both of these disciplines and will, however idiosyncratically, use this forum to indulge in them.

I invite all who share my enthusiasm to contribute comments, guest posts, book recommendations, photography and digital art. The book recommendations need not be long and detailed (though of course in-depth analyses would be fabulous) but can be a simple one-paragraph explanation of why you like/dislike a certain book or short story. I’d also be delighted to include articles on any topic in Hasidism, regardless of context or time period. Feel free to offer your insights and knowledge of Hasidism: historical or modern, formal or social, political or personal.

Thank you for visiting. I’m looking forward to spending many enlightening, entertaining hours here with you.