storytelling

Theatre from a Jewish lens

Laen Hershler performing REMNANTS. Hershler brings an interactive version of Dr. Hank Greenspan’s play, which is based on 40 years of conversations with Holocaust survivors, to the Peretz Centre for Secular Jewish Culture on June 8. He will be joined by Vancouver Playback Theatre. (photo from grad.ubc.ca)

In June, Laen Hershler celebrates his first year as artistic director of Theatre Terrific. He also hosts, on June 8, Listening with Survivors, “an evening of deep listening and shared reflection as monologues from Holocaust survivors open into a live, interactive performance with Vancouver Playback Theatre.”

“I was deeply honoured and excited to step in as the artistic director of Theatre Terrific,” he told the Jewish Independent. “This community has always felt like home to me, both as a person and an artist. I look forward to continuing this welcoming tradition.”

“Theatre Terrific Society is a trailblazing mixed-ability theatre company that has been championing inclusivity in the arts since 1985,” reads the website. The society is “dedicated to tackling the challenges of accessibility, representation and inclusion in the arts by breaking down stereotypes and fostering empathy across diverse communities. It creates work that resonates with universal human experiences, bridging differences through storytelling. With a compassionate yet bold approach to theatre-making, it cultivates spaces where respect, rigour and risk drive the creative process.”

Theatre Terrific’s last production, called Proximity: The Space Between Us, was well received at the Vancouver Fringe Festival last September. Directed by Hershler and Susan Bertoia, it was created with the cast and is about the struggles of aspiring artists.

photo - In June, Laen Hershler celebrates his first year as artistic director of Theatre Terrific — In June, Laen Hershler celebrates his first year as artistic director of Theatre Terrific. (photo from instagram.com/theatreterrificvan)

Hershler is also an actor and improviser, and he is pursuing a doctorate in research-based theatre at the University of British Columbia. He is part of Vancouver Playback Theatre, as well, and, as an observant Jew, he performs complete with head-covering and tzitzit.

“Since my shift to diligently keeping Shabbat about eight years ago, my acting career moved from mainstream theatre, which almost always necessitates working on Friday/Saturday nights, to applied forms of theatre,” he said. “These include playback theatre, forum theatre and academically situated theatre, which are much less dependent on weekend shows. I love performing in these types of shows since they tend to be very socially engaged and meaningful projects.”

Hershler’s responsibilities at Theatre Terrific include arranging all the classes, courses and productions, and hiring the instructors, directors and other artists for TT’s projects. He teaches, directs and sometimes performs in the company’s offerings, and works on establishing connections with the broader community of theatre companies regionally and internationally, especially all-abilities arts organizations.

“I love the meaningfulness of the work, the creative freedom and the amazing human beings I get to work with,” he said. “I appreciate the opportunity to create work and opportunities for theatre artists of all abilities and to produce meaningful and evocative theatre. The challenge of the work – which is learning to hold a radically inclusive space that allows for high-level artistic work while including artists across spectrums of physical, neurodiverse and cognitive abilities – is also something I cherish.”

Hershler’s theatre career began at the Jewish Young People’s Theatre of Vancouver, which was based out of the Peretz Centre for Secular Jewish Culture. The program was guided by Lynna Goldhar Smith, who he credits as being a huge influence – he began classes with her when he was 8 years old and stayed with YPT until he was 14. He said a large percentage of people that he acted with in YPT are still involved in the arts today.

Since graduating with his master’s at the University of Cape Town in 2011, Hershler has been an instructor in the education faculty at UBC in Vancouver and in the creative studies faculty at UBC in Kelowna. He began his career as a performer and educator touring and giving workshops in France, Korea, Australia, Kenya, South Africa and elsewhere on various aspects and uses of physical theatre for both children and adults.

“I loved my role as the Tooth Prince while performing for 5-year-olds (and their parents) at one of the most prestigious theatres in Seoul, Korea,” he said.

A couple of years ago, at the Peretz Centre and at Or Shalom, Hershler performed the one-man show REMNANTS, which was written by Dr. Hank Greenspan and first produced, for radio, in 1991. Based on 40 years of conversations with Holocaust survivors, the work delves into the survivors’ experiences, exploring themes such as loneliness, rage, storytelling and the dynamics of relationships across generations.

“It was a deeply meaningful project,” said Hershler, who is bringing REMNANTS back to the Peretz Centre on June 8, in a different form.

“In this version,” said Hershler in an email, “these monologues will open into a space for collective reflection, storytelling and discussion through playback theatre – a form of theatre that invites the audience’s voices and experiences into the performance itself, creating a space for deep listening and dialogue. For this, we will be joined by Vancouver Playback Theatre.”

The evening will be about listening to the Holocaust survivors, as well as one another, he said, “to find overlap and connection with our own lives, today, in this moment in time – to learn with, to learn from, to learn alongside.”

Hershler would like to do more Jewish storytelling.

“I would love to create work that brings down the mystical tales of Rebbe Nachman of Breslov, an interest I inherited from my father, who has long been a storyteller of Nachman tales…. Being Jewish is who I am, and it pulsates through all the work I do,” he said. “All my artistic work emerges from this prism, from a Jewish lens, from a Jewish neshamah (soul).”

For tickets to Listening with Survivors, go to peretz-centre.org. For more information about Theatre Terrific, visit theatreterrific.ca.

Cassandra Freeman is a freelance journalist and improv comedy performer living in Vancouver.

An almost great movie

Coexistence, My Ass! follows Israeli activist and comedian Noam Shuster Eliassi as she develops her show of the same name. (photo from DOXA)

Coexistence, My Ass!, directed and produced by Amber Fares, is almost a great documentary. But it fails to ask at least two key questions that would have made for a more in-depth portrayal of an interesting and complex human being.

Coexistence, My Ass!, whose May 4 screening at the DOXA Documentary Film Festival already has sold out, is about comedian Noam Shuster Eliassi, who was born in Wahat Al-Salam / Neve Shalom / Oasis of Peace, a village in which Jewish and Palestinian Israelis have chosen to live together. It has been considered a model of coexistence and Shuster Eliassi grew up amid the idealism it represented, and speaks Arabic fluently. She and her best friend (to this day), Ranin, a Palestinian Israeli living in Oasis of Peace, were among the kids trotted out as the generation who would bring peace.

Shuster Eliassi’s mother is Jewish Iranian and her father is Jewish Romanian. The couple met in high school (in what country is not revealed), so basically grew up together. They decided to live in Oasis of Peace and became, says Shuster Eliassi in her act, what most Israelis love to hate most: woke, progressive leftists. “They believe in the radical idea that Israelis and Palestinians deserve the same equal human rights! Crazy. So radical.”

It seems important to know why Shuster Eliassi’s parents left their respective countries to live in Israel, but especially her mother. With Iran as the main funder of Hamas’s – and other terrorists’ – murderous activities, and the fact that tens of thousands of Jews had to flee after the 1979 revolution, it seems that Shuster Eliassi’s mother’s experience is crucial to understanding Shuster Eliassi. But this question, if ever asked, doesn’t make it into the film.

Shuster Eliassi is an intelligent and accomplished person. By age 15, she had graduated, so to speak, from being one of the kids giving flowers to visiting celebrities (who would often mistake her, because of her dark skin, for being Palestinian – and with such good Hebrew!) to speaking around the world about coexistence and the possibilities for peace. At 21, she got a full scholarship at Brandeis University for being a peace activist. She even met the Dalai Lama, who, she quips, didn’t think she was Palestinian – “He just thought I was Indian.”

At 25, Shuster Eliassi landed a “peace worker’s dream job” – a position at the United Nations. We don’t learn much about what her job entailed, but there are clips of her speaking about the West Bank and Gaza as being the biggest prisons in the world, and how “the occupation” affects Palestinians and Israelis. Career-wise, she was on a wave of success, she says in her show, when she saw Ukrainian President Volodymyr Zelenskyy’s TV program, made before he was elected, about a comedian who becomes president. Zelenskyy, of course, then did become president, so Shuster Eliassi observes that, if she wanted to take her political career seriously, she needed to start writing jokes.

photo - Comedian Noam Shuster Eliassi in performance — Comedian Noam Shuster Eliassi in performance. *(photo from DOXA)*

This takes us to where the film begins, with her at Harvard in 2019, where she’s been asked to deliver a peace-building project. She tells them that Coexistence, My Ass! will be that project, and she’s accepted.

In the documentary, we see the development of Coexistence, My Ass! and how Shuster Eliassi’s views change as the political situation in Israel deteriorates and the violence increases. Her parents are often her sounding board, as are friends and fellow comedians. We witness the results of a hate crime – the school in Oasis of Peace was set on fire in September 2020. We see moments of happiness, most unexpectedly, perhaps, when Shuster Eliassi returns to Israel from the United States with COVID and must be quarantined in a hotel, where sick Jews and Palestinians are being isolated from the general population.

“And everyone is radically getting along. This is a 5-star oasis of peace. If they continue getting along, my comedy career is over. Just kidding, you’ve read the news, I have material for years. Netanyahu has my back,” says Shuster Eliassi in her act. “Somebody give him a beeper,” she adds sheepishly, referring to Israel’s taking out of Hezbollah with exploding pagers in September 2024.

Months before Oct. 7, 2023, Shuster Eliassi was disillusioned and would get into yelling matches with Jewish Israelis protesting the Netanyahu government and dangers to democracy because their protests didn’t also explicitly call for equal rights for Palestinians. Whereas pre-COVID, she says, “My biggest responsibility is to speak to my people…. The Jewish audience is where we have to work,” the purpose of Shuster Eliassi’s comedy ceases at some point to be a way to encourage peace and becomes a form of resistance.

After Oct. 7, when some of Shuster Eliassi’s family and friends abandon their belief in coexistence because they feel peace with Palestinians isn’t possible, Shuster Eliassi goes the other way, giving up on coexistence because she feels – though doesn’t state explicitly – that peace with Jewish Israelis is not possible.

Moria, a comedy writer, advises Shuster Eliassi that people need to hear what Shuster Eliassi has to say, but it can’t just be “genocide, genocide!” The role of a comedian, says Moria, is “to bring people together. To unify. We can’t stop the killing, but we can unify people. To get people to see the world through your eyes.”

“No, that’s not what I’m doing,” responds Shuster Eliassi, who explains that her goal isn’t to unify, it’s “to voice resistance to this insane show of force that has swept everyone up blindly.”

Shuster Eliassi’s friend Ranin reluctantly retains hope for coexistence because, otherwise, she tells Shuster Eliassi, there is no place for Palestinians and Arabs within Israel. For Shuster Eliassi, though, by the end of the film, there seems to be no place for Jews in Israel. She only sees fault with Israel, and somehow thinks that Hamas wouldn’t want to kill all Jews if Israel had dealt with “the occupation.”

If memory serves, Hamas is only mentioned once in the documentary, in a clip from Shuster Eliassi’s show, where it is part of a joke, perhaps one told before 2023, it’s not clear. Why Hamas plays little or no role in Shuster Eliassi’s view of the evolving situation is the second of those two key questions that would have made Coexistence, My Ass! a better film.

While Shuster Eliassi laments that Israelis – even the coexistence crowd – are not able to meet Palestinians where they’re at, she is unable to meet her fellow Jewish Israelis where they are at. While she is comfortable performing at a Palestinian festival where she’s greeted by a man wearing a “Palestine vs the world” T-shirt that, on the back, has a Palestinian flag over all Israel, she isn’t comfortable with Israelis who would fill out that same map with no Palestinian territories. While she is correct that peace is only possible between equals, she only sees one oppressor – Israel. Not Hamas. Not any other international party, like Iran. Just Israel.

Many of the people at the sold-out screening of Coexistence, My Ass! will think it’s the most amazing film ever because, despite attempting to be fair – and it seems like Fares honestly did try to present multiple sides – it ultimately heralds their anti-Zionist beliefs and justifies them. Others will be disappointed that Coexistence, My Ass! ends up being just another anti-Israel film, which will, no doubt, win more awards than it has already, despite its critical flaws.

Sharing parts of their lives

Iris Bahr opens the Chutzpah! Plus Spring Edition on March 19 with Stories from the Brink: My Festive Near-Death Adventures. (photo from Chutzpah! Festival)

The Chutzpah! Plus Spring Edition kicks off with comedy, though the laughs will mix with thoughtful moments of reflection on life, family, being Jewish, and more. Live, all the way from New York, Iris Bahr will perform at the Rothstein Theatre on March 19, and Talia Reese will be on stage there March 20.

Bahr is coming to Chutzpah! with her show Stories from the Brink: My Festive Near-Death Adventures.

“I don’t want to give anything away,” Bahr told the Independent. “Let’s just say I talk about my childhood in the Bronx, where I had to lead a double life. My bacon-eating parents sent me to an Orthodox yeshivah, which, as you can imagine, was extremely stressful. I was also stung by an entire beehive. But there’s a lot more. Just come and see. I really look forward to sharing the story and coming back to the theatre. I’ve missed it. Vancouver’s one of my favourite places to perform.”

Bahr explained why she has ventured into the non-fiction realm with her performance work.

“Some very significant events happened in my life, like my mom’s stroke, which was the basis of my previous show See You Tomorrow, that I performed in Vancouver a few years ago,” she said. “I felt a need to not only share the story because it was a very dramatic story, but, even more so, as I was in the depths of caregiving for my mom [in Israel], first with a stroke and then with dementia, I realized how isolating it was, especially with a loved one with dementia. And I realized how important it was, as an artist, to create a new piece about it, because so many people undergo similar caregiving trials and tribulations. I’ve been doing that show for over three years, and the amount of people that come up to me after, thanking me and hugging me and telling me they found comfort and were also entertained and were able to find the humour thanks to the show, is truly the reason I keep doing it.

“With my current show, Stories from the Brink, I had been exploring this theme of near-death experiences for awhile, first on a podcast that I created and then near-death-themed stand-up shows, with guests sharing their own stories,” continued Bahr. “But, after Oct. 7 and my experience in Israel on that morning, which was obviously terrifying and gut-wrenching, and the rise in antisemitism and extreme anti-Israel sentiment, it was very important for me to create a show that was framed by that experience that I knew would reach people from all persuasions and attitudes. But that is only one small piece of the mosaic of the show which is also filled with a lot of other life shmutz and a lot of humour.”

For Bahr, humour is one of the ways in which she handles challenges.

“Any coping mechanism that can find light amongst the darkness is a highly effective one,” she said. “And, as someone who has always reveled in the world of humour and made it a living, it seems like an obvious go-to when dealing with dark times. It’s not even a conscious decision, it just exists as a muscle, an internal reflex.”

While See You Tomorrow was written as a long-form story, Stories from the Brink comprises vignettes. Bahr explained that See You Tomorrow “takes everyone on a ride and hyper focuses on one aspect of a story. There are some tangents there, but it really is this one event that has a clear beginning, middle and end in a finite time.”

She took a different approach with Stories from the Brink because, she said, “I have a larger theme that I’m trying to explore from many different facets. The vignettes kind of tackle that theme from different angles and ways. And, it’s also a very colourful way to put a show together. It’s like a mosaic and there’s something beautiful about a mosaic, as well. Mixes it up a bit, especially for those audience members that have short attention spans.”

But audiences don’t have to be concerned about remaining focused on Bahr, who is an accomplished storyteller. Being an engaging performer, she said, “comes from physicality to voice to emotional presence and being authentic, being in the moment. Especially with storytelling, you have to have that combination of performance and authenticity and live in the present as you are recounting these stories. Otherwise, you’re just kind of giving a clinical recap, as I tell my students. You also have to really paint a picture and create a world and you have to depict the characters, including yourself, in a very full manner.”

Reese, who went from being a comedian to being lawyer and back to being a comedian, agrees about the importance of being a good storyteller. It has served her well both as a lawyer and as a stand-up comedian.

“So, this is random, but I’m a really good summarizer,” she said. “At the law firms, my thing was summarizing case law for memoranda and stating the facts of a case succinctly but informatively in a pleading,” she explained. “I think I took that skill to joke writing. Word cutting is so important, saying just enough to get to your punchline then move on to the next.

“I also really enjoy telling stories, which is helpful in law and in comedy. I can tell a good story, ya know? That’s why I have a low tolerance for stories that dwell on unnecessary details. I zone out fast, which is why I think I was so tough on teachers. But I’m all about entertainment value. Entertain me or go away.”

photo - Comedian Talia Reese takes to the Rothstein Stage on March 20 — Comedian Talia Reese takes to the Rothstein Stage on March 20. *(photo by Limor Garfinkle)*

Reese shared that she was the “class clown” growing up, which meant she was “thrown out of class a lot.”

“It really depended on the teacher though,” she said. “I was just so bored in middle school and most of high school and the teachers were such characters. Getting to act in plays was a saving grace for me. I enjoyed doing Neil Simon comedies so much. I wish I was still doing that.”

In high school, Reese said, “I was all about acting in comedies and then, in college, I was the director of a comedy troupe where I wrote all the sketches and played many wacky characters. Coming out of U of Penn, I felt tremendous pressure to choose a more traditional career path, so I did the law thing. Law school was an amazing education but the all-encompassing practice was not the life I would have ever envisioned for myself, so I took a stand-up class on a lark and wound up sticking with that.”

Coming from an acting and then sketch comedy background, Reese wasn’t sure she’d be good at stand-up. “But,” she said, “it was the only way to do comedy on my own schedule, after putting the kids to bed. I’d go to open mics and talk about my life, try out jokes, build setups around lines that I thought were funny. One by one my stories would pop, or a joke would come to life, and it was the most exciting thing since college, when I wrote those sketches. I think I found my voice, and am still finding it, when I started to talk more about my actual life, telling specific stories. And it always amazes me when something so random that struck a chord in me will get an audience going too. It validates that I’m not crazy. Or that I am, but everyone else is too.”

Reese, who describes herself as Modern Orthodox, grew up in a Reform environment, “but we always had a traditional Friday night Shabbat dinner at my savta and sabbah’s house,” she said. “I think, given that my father is Israeli and of Sephardic descent, having Shabbat with my grandparents and cousins every week gave me a strong sense of Jewish identity. Also, my grandparents on my mother’s side survived the Holocaust and I have childhood memories of being in the room when they played cards with their friends, most of whom were Polish and some had numbers on their arms.

“My ‘Jewishness’ played such a strong role in forming my personal identity that it wasn’t a stretch to become more religious for me, or for my parents and siblings, who consider themselves baal teshuva as well.”

She adapts her comedy routine to the situation, she said. “I try to be respectful of religious institutions that hire me to do a night of clean comedy. I know where that line is and I’ll go right up to it and then walk it back. I like to play with an audience’s expectations. Like I talk about my two failed marriages. Then mention that I’m still in one of them. As far as getting to know my audience, at a live show, I’ll usually do some crowd work to see what I’m working with, or throw questions out up top.”

As for how she works, she said, “If I make myself laugh with a thought, I write it down. If I make my friends laugh with a story, I write it down. Then comes the development. Will this be good for the stage? Are there enough moments in the build-up that keep it funny? Like, I was thinking about how my daughter’s name is too long for how much I have to yell at her. Isabella, too many syllables, it’s exhausting. So, just abbreviate. Isabreakfast! Isabedtime! Who knows, maybe that will make it into the act!”

* * *

Spring Chutzpah! Plus

The Jewish Independent interviewed Jessica Gutteridge, artistic managing director of the Chutzpah! Festival and the Rothstein Theatre, in advance of the March 19-23 Chutzpah! Plus Spring Edition.

JI: Why has Chutzpah! decided to do a spring edition?

JG: Chutzpah! has for many years presented special programming outside of the main festival through our Chutzpah! Plus program. It has been a goal of the festival to expand this programming in order to deepen our engagement with audiences and to take advantage of artists’ touring schedules that bring them to the area throughout the year. In late winter 2024, we were delighted to offer a Winter Weekend of programming. Now, with a shorter fall festival, we are able to shift some of our programming into the spring, offering opportunities throughout the arts season for audiences to enjoy what the festival has to offer.

JI: Last fall, there was concern about the future of Chutzpah! How is it looking now?

JG: We were gratified to see the community come together to support Chutzpah! at a time of crisis, contributing generously and expressing a shared commitment to Jewish arts and culture. Adjusting our festival schedule to a shorter fall flagship festival plus our spring edition has also aided our sustainability. Important capacity-building support has come from philanthropic organizations like the Diamond Foundation and the Azrieli Foundation.

But significant challenges remain. The grant-funding landscape has not improved appreciably and, with more organizations competing for less funding, costs rising and the general economy precarious, it’s critical that we keep the momentum going. Not only is it important that the community continue to sustain us as donors and sponsors, we need audiences to “vote with their feet” and come out to festival shows and events – and bring friends. Showing support and getting to enjoy fantastic artists – it’s a win-win!

The Chutzpah! Plus Spring Edition runs March 19-23. Universus, a dance double-bill by Belle Spirale Dance Projects and Fernando Hernando Magadan is at Vancouver Playhouse March 21-22, 8 p.m.; Yamma Ensemble is at Rothstein Theatre March 21, 10 a.m., and March 22, 7 p.m. (for more about Yamma, see jewishindependent.ca/unique-in-style-rich-in-culture); and City Birds, a new project in the tradition of Americana by Tamar Eisenman and Sagit Shir, will perform music for families March 23, 11 a.m., at Rothstein Theatre. For tickets, visit chutzpahfestival.com or call 604-257-5145.

A gift of light in winter

Thanks to Doodle the village orphan, the people of Chelm celebrated Hanukkah even during “The Long Winter of the Cabbage.” (image from reformjudaism.org)

In literature, a cabbage might be a symbol for anything and everything disagreeable. In the village of Chelm, however, a cabbage is sometimes just a cabbage.

They called it “The Long Winter of the Cabbage” and, in the village of Chelm, few people were happy. There was a food shortage – all there was to eat was cabbage. Cabbage for breakfast, cabbage for lunch, and cabbage for dinner. No one was looking forward to Hanukkah.

As Rabbi Kibbitz was heard to mutter, “A diet of cabbage may sustain, but it doesn’t make you want to sing with joy.”

Except for young Doodle, the village orphan, who honestly and truly loved cabbage, and reveled in every bite. Doodle, however, had learned to keep his appreciation for all things brassica to himself. When everyone else is miserable, they really don’t want to hear someone appreciate the things they dread.

In previous years, the villagers held a Hanukkah party in the social hall, lighting candles and then dancing, and complaining about Mrs. Chaipul’s lethal latkes.

But, this winter, the thought of Mrs. Chaipul’s latkes made from cabbage made everyone shudder. So, the Hanukkah party was canceled.

“It’s the weather,” Mrs. Chaipul said. “Too cold. Too wet. Too much snow. Too much ice. Too much wind.”

“I’ll say there’s too much wind!” said Reb Cantor, the merchant, before he withered under Mrs. Chaipul’s glare.

Reb Cantor himself was particularly unhappy. Recently, the villagers of Chelm had gotten into the habit of buying and giving gifts to each other to celebrate Hanukkah.

“They’re not Christmas presents,” explained little Shemini Schlemiel, who had come up with the idea. “They’re Hanukkah gifts!”

The problem with these Hanukkah gifts was that they had become a large part of Reb Cantor’s business. The merchant discussed this at great length with his friend Rabbi Yohon Abrahms, the school teacher, but their cabbage-addled brains devised no brilliant solution. Not even a foolish solution.

When the first night of Hanukkah arrived, with a cold wind and rain mixed with snow, that turned to muddy slush in the darkened streets, the villagers of Chelm stayed home. They shivered in front of their fires. They poked at their cabbage stews and their cabbage briskets (don’t ask).

Everyone wanted to complain, especially the children, who had become accustomed to getting presents, but nobody had the energy.

Except young Doodle, the village orphan, who had already finished a bowl of Mrs. Levitsky’s sweet and sour cabbage soup, and was about to ask for more, when he noticed the dark mood in the Levitsky house.

“What’s wrong?” Doodle asked.

“Nothing,” Martin Levitsky, the synagogue’s caretaker, said, glumly. “I’m tired of cabbage.”

“I think I’ll go to bed early,” Chaya Levitsky said, taking off her apron. “Help yourself to as much cabbage as you want.”

“But we haven’t lit the Hanukkah candles yet,” Doodle said.

“Meh.” Both Levitskys shrugged, and began making their way to their bedroom. “You do it, Doodle. We’re going to sleep.”

Now Doodle was really worried.

He ran to the window, looked outside, and saw that no other houses in the village had candles lit in their windows.

“Not again,” Doodle whispered. It was the time of year. Sometimes the cold and the dark…. Was everyone just too tired of cabbage to celebrate?

“Wait!” Doodle shouted.

This startled the Levitskys, who stopped in their tracks.

“You want us to have a heart attack, Doodle?” Reb Levitsky asked.

“No, I want you to wait two minutes while I light the Hanukkah candles.”

“All right.” Mrs. Levitsky sighed. “Go. Go already.”

Doodle ran to the cabinet and brought down the Hanukkah menorah. He set two candles, and began to sing the blessings.

At first, the Levitskys stayed quiet, but soon they began to hum.

When Doodle used the lit shammos to set the second candle’s taper alight, the Levitskys joined him.

And then, together, they all sang the words of the Shehecheyanu, giving thanks simply for being alive.

Moving quickly but carefully, Doodle set the lit menorah in the front window of the Levitskys’ house.

At that very moment, Reb Cantor the merchant happened to look out his window. As did the entire Schlemiel family.

So did Rabbi Kibbitz and Mrs. Chaipul, who had been in the middle of a three-way argument with Rabbi Yohan Abrahms. All three forgot what they had been fighting about.

Through the rain and the sleet, everyone in the village of Chelm saw the two lights burning in the Levitskys’ window.

They all fell silent. They all ran to their cupboards and shelves, got their hanukkiyahs, said or sang the blessings, and lit the candles.

Soon, there were bright lights burning in the windows of every home.

Even though it was still raining and snowing, and all there was to eat was cabbage, those small flames made everyone feel warmer. Songs were sung, children began to spin dreidels, gambling for cabbage, and a few brave souls tried to make cabbage latkes, but without much success.

That year in the village Chelm, there were no presents. The lights in the windows were gifts enough.

Izzy Abrahmson is a pen name for storyteller Mark Binder. To find out more about ‘The Long Winter of the Cabbage,’ Mrs. Chaipul and Doodle, read The Council of Wise Women. This new novel for adults is available in print, ebook and audiobook. For purchase links, visit bit.ly/council-book.

Who holds power over you?

Jeremy Goldstein, centre, and volunteer participants in the Newcastle, Australia, performance of Truth to Power Café earlier this month. Members of the Vancouver community will participate in the event here on Nov. 3. (photo by Cassandra Hannagan)

“Who has power over you and what do you want to say to them?” This is the question at the centre of Jeremy Goldstein’s Truth to Power Café, which he will present – with the help of local community members – Nov. 3 at the Rothstein Theatre as part of the Chutzpah! Festival.

“As with all our events, we invite participants to sign up to the project through a combination of open call and personal invites, which we send out in close collaboration with our presenter, who, in this case, is the wonderful Chutzpah! Festival,” explained Goldstein. “We don’t normally confirm the line-up until a week or two before the performance, so it’s a little early to say what people will speak about, but we’re looking for Vancouverites willing to engage in a process of compassionate truth-telling. When we combine this with my own memoir, told through poetry, image, film and music, it makes for fantastic theatre.”

The deadline was earlier this week for local community members of all ages, experiences and backgrounds to apply to be a part of the event. Selected participants will present a short monologue related to the question of who has power over them and what they want to say to that person, whoever it may be, a parent, sibling, boss, politician, neighbour, friend. In a 2022 Total Theatre Magazine article, Goldstein wrote, “Participants’ voices are heard and understood through the political and philosophical beliefs of Harold Pinter and his Hackney Gang.”

“Nobel Prize-winning playwright Harold Pinter wrote about power and occupation. His inner circle, the Hackney Gang, were a group of working-class lads who met in 1947,” Goldstein explained to the Independent. “They knocked about London’s East End in the 1950s, where they took on the bullies and fought with antisemitic fascists. The gang included my late father, Mick Goldstein, and the late poet/actor Henry Woolf, who became known as the ‘King of the Avant Garde,’ and with whom I co-created the show directed by Jen Heyes.

“For 60 years, the Hackney Gang held firm in their belief of an independent media and in speaking their truth to power,” said Goldstein. “They remained on the side of the occupied and the disempowered and their allies. These are the people we invite to appear in the show with me.

“Ultimately,” he added, “the show has become a love letter to the memory of my father Mick, and his friends of 60 years, Henry Woolf and Harold Pinter.”

Goldstein started Truth to Power Café eight years ago.

“Back in 2016, I was presenting New York’s queen of the underground and former Andy Warhol Factory superstar Penny Arcade at Soho Theatre in London,” he said. “I wanted to stage a pre-show event so I opened up my address book and invited 24 Londoners to respond to the question, ‘Who has power over you, and what do you want to say to them?’ Over four nights, I saw the theatre come alive with raw and compassionate truth-telling and was compelled to make a show out of it.”

But there were unexpected challenges.

photo - Jeremy Goldstein brings his Truth to Power Café to the Chutzpah! Festival Nov. 3 — Jeremy Goldstein brings his Truth to Power Café to the Chutzpah! Festival Nov. 3. (photo by Cassandra Hannagan)

“Two weeks before the first night, my face became numb and the doctors told me I had a stage 4 lymphoma,” shared Goldstein. “At the time, I didn’t know if I would live, let alone make it to the Soho Theatre performances. Eighteen months and a stem cell transplant later, I was cured and premièred the show at Festival 18, the arts and culture program for the Gold Coast Commonwealth Games in Australia.

“I’ve been on the road with it ever since, playing everywhere from poor working-class mining communities in the north of England to remote townships in the Australian outback to Queer Zagreb in Croatia and on to Lincoln Centre in New York – Truth to Power Café is a genuine global hit.”

Since it began, the show has had some 800 diverse participants taking part in eight countries.

“Some participants are established writers, artists and community activists, whereas others have never spoken up in public before, let alone centre-stage, under lights in their local theatre, sharing intensely personal life stories in front of their friends and family,” said Goldstein. “I’ve become a vessel through which these stories are told. It’s a very privileged position to be in and I don’t take it for granted. I want people taking part to have a positive experience, so I’m very aware of people’s well-being as part of the process leading up to each performance, and into the show itself. I check in with everyone after the show. Many of our participants have become my friends.”

He is well aware of how confronting power can put a person in a vulnerable position.

“The basic rule in life is don’t rock the boat or to tell a white lie to keep the peace, so whether you choose to speak from the personal, political, professional or even all three, speaking truth to power can put you at risk,” he said. “We, therefore, make the show in a safe space or, in the words of one our recent participants, Ed Wright: ‘To talk truth to power, to find our own power, we need to be able to feel safe. To have our power returned to us when it has gone missing, we need to know we have been listened to.’”

The question being asked – “Who has power over you and what do you want to say to them?” – is meant to challenge ideas of power and give voice to people who don’t normally have a chance to speak out, said Goldstein.

“People from marginalized communities tend to talk about progressive change, whereas those with privilege and power want to maintain the status quo and have more power,” he said. “We live in the post-truth age of the demagogue, where fake news is the new norm. In politics, the oppressed often have to fight for the right to simply say what they are experiencing and, in personal relationships, that artificial barrier is also in place. If you have an approach to allowing the conversation to happen, the chances of change occurring are much higher.”

The Nov. 3 Chutzpah! show is Truth to Power Café’s Canadian première and its 60th performance.

“It’s extremely rare to have two significant milestones back-to-back,” said Goldstein, “so I can’t wait to celebrate this with the good people of Vancouver.”

Chutzpah! runs Nov. 1-10. For the full lineup and tickets, visit chutzpahfestival.com or call 604-257-5145.

New this year for the Chutzpah! Festival: Jewish Community Centre of Greater Vancouver members receive discounted ticket prices and concession purchases at the theatre. Select Student/Senior/JCC Member tickets and ChutzPacks and bring your membership card to the theatre.

Tell your own “crankie” stories

Where Do Stories Come From? (fun vanen nemen zikh di mayses) on Nov. 9 highlights a poem from each of three Yiddish women writers: Ida Maze, Esther Shumiatcher-Hirschbein and Yudika. (Illustration by Cesario Lavery)

This year’s Chutzpah! Festival includes several opportunities for people to participate in the arts being performed. A prime example is Where Do Stories Come From? (fun vanen nemen zikh di mayses), wherein attendees of the Nov. 9 event at the Rothstein Theatre will be able to learn new music inspired by Yiddish poetry and, in the Zack Gallery, on Nov. 7 and/or Nov. 12, participate in a “crankie” workshop.

Where Do Stories Come From?, which is presented by the Chutzpah! Festival and KlezKanada – co-curated by the organizations’ respective artistic directors, Jessica Mann Gutteridge and Avia Moore – includes “new musical and visual settings for three Yiddish poems by celebrated Canadian women writers, selected and translated by Faith Jones, with accompanying visual artwork in the form of ‘crankies’ – a centuries-old art form in which an illustrated scroll, evocative of the Torah, is wound across spools set in a viewing window.”

The artistic directors decided early on to work with the poetry of Canadian women writers who wrote in Yiddish, said Gutteridge, “and there was no more perfect collaborator to work with on selecting the poetry than Vancouver’s own Faith Jones. For the musical work, we drew on the incredibly rich community of KlezKanada’s artists and were lucky that Sarah Larsson was interested in the project – she’s not only a gifted composer with a thorough knowledge of Yiddish music, but is herself a stunning vocalist and music director.

“We also spent a lot of time looking at incredible artworks by Jewish visual artists and ultimately selected Benny Ferdman, Ava Berkson and Cesario Lavery, all of whom bring an interest in Yiddish, diverse styles, and interest in visual storytelling to the project. As part of the project involves community participation, we also ensured that all the artists are skilled at and enjoy working with community of all abilities and ages.”

The idea for the event came after Gutteridge met Moore at a KlezKanada Summer Retreat in 2022.

“When the JCC Association announced they would be funding new community-based projects incorporating live music and storytelling with an emphasis on partnerships,” said Gutteridge, “we realized we had a wonderful opportunity to work together to share our assets – KlezKanada’s immersive creative residency environment and access to brilliant artists with knowledge of Yiddish culture, and the Chutzpah! Festival’s presentation opportunities.

“KlezKanada’s 2023 Summer Retreat theme was Yiddish film and, because it’s a very unplugged environment, had plans to explore the ‘pre-film’ illustrated story technique of crankies,” she continued. “We thought this art form would pair beautifully with the musical work being created, and would offer a very engaging opportunity to the community to participate in creating a multidimensional presentation together.”

Where Do Stories Come From? is supported by the JCC Association’s Making Music Happen program and Chutzpah! Festival’s music programming is supported by AmplifyBC’s Live Music Presentation Fund.

The event’s title comes from one of the three poems highlighted, one by Ida Maze. “It’s a poem that grabbed the entire group immediately and we knew we wanted to work with it,” said Gutteridge. “In the poem, Maze creates a strong visual image of a little house that appears to be abandoned, but as you approach you see that a fire is lit and, in the house, sit a grandfather and a grandmother sharing culture and stories with the children, and the stories are then carried away on the wind. For us, this poem really captured the idea of the project – that intergenerational cultural transmission is the key to how we survive and thrive and, in many ways, is a model for how we hope to see this project unfold. But I think the very notion that we pose this as a question invites everyone who experiences the work to ask themselves where they think stories come from.”

The other poems are by Esther Shumiatcher-Hirschbein and Yudika.

“Faith made a longer list of poems selected for their striking visual imagery and potential musicality and presented them to our full group of artists,” explained Gutteridge. “Right away, we all responded to the Ida Maze work and had to then narrow our choices to two more. We asked the artists to highlight which poems they found particularly inspiring and, as artistic directors, Avia and I also kept an eye on whether the selections were creating an interesting and balanced program in terms of style and theme. It was an enjoyable and smooth process and I think we all enjoyed kicking off the project together in this way.”

As for the workshops, Gutteridge said, “Ava and Cesario will be with us through the week to guide workshop participants through the process of making their own crankies, inspired by prompts from the poetry we will provide. While the crankies being made for the music event will be large scale, a wonderful characteristic of this art form is that it can be made any size using very humble materials like a shoebox or even a matchbox. With our partner the Zack Gallery, the work created in the workshops will be on display in a community exhibition, and our video director Flick Harrison will be on hand to help participants capture their crankies in action. Participants can opt to share their crankies and stories in an online video gallery. We hope we will see intergenerational groups making crankies together!”

During the week, Chutzpah! will also be hosting the return of the Flame, with their evening of storytelling on Nov. 6.

“The Flame’s artistic director, Deb Williams, will teach her remarkable day-long storytelling workshop on Sunday, Nov. 12, ending just before our final crankie workshop and the concert presentation,” said Gutteridge. “We hope that these projects together will inspire community participants to explore their own stories and find new and inspiring ways to tell and share them.”

For tickets to Where Do Stories Come From? and other Chutzpah! events, visit chutzpahfestival.com.

A grandfather’s story – available online to May 7

The documentary How Saba Kept Singing had its world première last weekend as part of HotDocs. It can be accessed online until May 7.

The film starts with David Wisnia preparing for his return to Auschwitz-Birkenau after 70 years. Traveling with his grandson and musical partner, Avi, David reveals some new stories about his survival journey. Throughout his life, he had selectively shared details about his war experience, mentioning that his singing voice provided him with privileges that aided in his survival. However, he omitted a major detail – a love affair with a fellow prisoner is what actually helped save his life. Told through David’s perspective, the truth regarding his survival some 75-plus years ago is uncovered.

The film is written, directed and produced by Sara Taksler. It is executive produced by Hillary Rodham Clinton and Chelsea Clinton, and produced by Retro Report, HiddenLight Productions, in association with Burnt Umber Productions.

To buy a ticket to watch the documentary online, go to hotdocs.ca/whats-on/hot-docs-festival/films/2022/how-saba-kept-singing.

– Courtesy HotDocs

Orcas inspire creative music

The creation of Songs for a Lost Pod helped singer/songwriter Leah Abramson explore her family’s Holocaust history. (photo by Angela Fama)

The world première of Leah Abramson’s Songs for a Lost Pod was supposed to be part of this year’s PuSh Festival three months ago. Delayed because of COVID restrictions at the time, it now will debut May 28-29, 7:30 p.m., at Studio T, SFU Goldcorp Centre for the Arts.

Songs for a Lost Pod is a “nine-song cycle [that] makes spectacular use of orca vocalizations, transforming them into rhythmic beats in a musical exploration of historical trauma, environmental crisis and communication between species.” The theatrical production is the most recent development in a process that includes an album by the same name, released in 2017.

“It was just an outward spiral, really. The project started with dreams I had about whales, which turned into researching whales for fun, which then turned into a master of fine arts thesis, an album, a comic book, and now a stage show!” said Abramson when the Independent interviewed her in anticipation of the PuSh festival. “When I made the album, I knew there was so much research and information behind the lyrics and music of each song, and I felt like I wanted people to understand that context, so I made the comic book to highlight some of the research and stories. Then, as I was arranging the music to be performed live, I realized that I wanted people to have that context, too, so I’ve turned the research and background into a script. Then we decided that adding visuals would really help immerse the audience in the material. The project has just been expanding from the beginning.”

Abramson, who grew up in Burnaby, said she has been interested in music from a young age. “My grandma sang in her synagogue’s choir and my dad played the piano, so they tell me it runs in the family,” she said. “But I was also told that music was only for fun, and not a real career, unless you were a concert pianist or something like that. So, I tried to do other things, but I was miserable unless I was making music.

“Over the years, I’ve done lots of touring and playing in bands and teaching, but writing and composing has always been what I love the most. I have pretty varied interests – I’m fascinated by marine biology and I love learning about the environment, as well as human history. The great thing about writing songs is that you can research anything and put it into your work. Right now, I’m really excited about writing music for the stage, as well as choral music.”

Along with her MFA in creative writing (with a focus on lyrics) from the University of British Columbia, Abramson studied classical music at Capilano University, and also has studied traditional Appalachian balladry.

In addition to the song-cycle, Songs for a Lost Pod features the narrative script that Abramson mentioned, which “juxtaposes the whale histories with Leah’s own family and their experience surviving the Holocaust and its aftermath,” according to the program description. “Mind of a Snail’s handmade projections create an impressionistic and largely non-representational visual world to support the songs and narration, guiding the audience into a space of contemplation.”

“When I first started looking into whale histories, the parallels presented themselves pretty quickly,” Abramson told the Independent. “It was not my intention to delve into my family’s past, but, while learning about captures and commercial whaling practices, it was hard not to look at the bigger picture of human behaviour throughout history – aspects of cruelty and destruction that manifest in heartbreaking ways. But also, whales are similar to humans – whale intelligence is extremely high, and whale families are extremely tight knit.”

It was difficult for Abramson to explore her family’s Holocaust history – “the loss and pain are pretty overwhelming,” she said, “and it’s not always easy to find a way forward when that intensity is present. Whale families became a mirror for me, a way to understand and experience intergenerational trauma at a greater distance. The project allowed me to deal with my feelings in a more manageable way, through empathy for another species. And it provided a space for my grief, but also helped me find a way through it. Trauma is so common in families of all different backgrounds. Our ancestors may have lived through wars or other calamities and there are so many people living through these things right now. I think learning others’ stories can help people start to process their own family’s pain, even if the details are different. I felt like whale stories did that for me.”

Credit for Songs of a Lost Pod’s music and lyrics go to Abramson in collaboration with Antoine Bédard, J.J. Ipsen, Andrew Lee (Holy Hum), Aidan O’Rourke (Lau), Sandro Perri, Arliss Renwick and Marten Timan. The program notes that credit also could be given to the A5 whale pod, as the musicians “were given selected A5 pod orca vocalizations, along with Abramson’s other field recordings, to turn into beats and tracks, which formed the backbone of Abramson’s songwriting process, and the rhythms behind much of the music.”

Fellow Jewish community member Barbara Adler also has contributed to the project, and is the show’s narrator.

“Barbara and I have known each other for so long that we can’t remember when or how we officially met,” said Abramson. “It’s like that with people in creative community sometimes – you grow up making art alongside each other. We have shared some special experiences and projects over the years, and continue to work together and in parallel. We have some shared Czech-Jewish roots, which makes Barbara a really good fit for this project in particular. She’s working on a lot of interesting projects of her own, and I’m also happy to be one of her composer-collaborators for Mermaid Spring, which is a musical she’s making with Kyla Gardiner (who also happens to be our lighting designer).

“Barbara has been sending me song lyrics over the last few years, which I have been setting to music. I love working with the characters she has created, and it has truly been a joy to work on those songs. I also really admire Barbara’s artistic process. When she writes, she really digs into all the nuances of a situation or character. She welcomes complexity and the messy underside of creation. I think Barbara balances my impulsivity, and helps me step out from the shadows in my shyest moments. She’s also a great performer!”

Co-presented by Music on Main and SFU School for the Contemporary Arts, tickets for Songs for a Lost Pod ($15) can be purchased from musiconmain.ca/event/songs-for-a-lost-pod.

The Chiribim-Chiribom feud

Many years ago, in the village of Chelm, there were two families, the Chiribim and the Chiribom. They were enemies. They fought over everything. They fought over land, they fought over water, they fought over cows and horses and chickens. They fought over air.

The Chiribim and Chiribom didn’t talk to each other. They were stubborn. They didn’t look at each other.

In the synagogue and village hall, they would sit on opposite sides of the room and glare or shout or scream. Or spit. It was disgusting.

The feud had been going on for years, decades, perhaps centuries. No one knew where it began or how it had originated. What insult had provoked the first Chiribim to scorn the first Chiribom? It was long ago and long forgotten.

Sometimes the anger came to blows, but, fortunately, so far no one had been seriously injured or killed.

Rabbi Kibbitz, the oldest and wisest of leaders, was sick of it. He was tired of the malice, tired of the hatred, tired of the tension. He was tired of mopping spit off the floor of the synagogue.

So he decided to solve the problem. The Chiribim and Chiribom needed to come together to work out their differences. They were farmers, they worked the land. They were neighbours, living so close to each other but so far away.

The problem was that he couldn’t get them all in the same room without someone blowing up.

It had been pouring rain for most of the week of Passover, and everyone was cranky.

In those days, after a long rain, everyone in the village would go out into the woods to pick mushrooms. Mothers, fathers, grandmothers, grandfathers, aunts, uncles, cousins, brothers and sisters would all pack up their lunches, bring along empty baskets, and hunt for wild treasure. The youngsters would find dozens of kinds of fungi, and the elders would teach them which ones were tasty, which were revolting, and which might kill you.

During the rainstorm, Rabbi Kibbitz sent a note to the Chiribim, asking them to join him in the forest for lunch. He also sent a note to the Chiribom, asking them to join him for lunch in the same place, at the same time.

Early the next morning, the rabbi pulled on his boots, put a basket over his arm and plodded into the Black Forest. First, he would find the Chiribim and then the Chiribom. And then they would work it all out.

Unfortunately, he forgot his glasses, so he was having a hard time seeing where he was going.

Soon, he came upon a group of people.

“Chiribim?” he asked them.

They shook their heads. “Chiribom,” they answered.

Sighing, the rabbi continued his search.

He realized he should change his tactics. He would meet with the Chiribom first, and then the Chiribim.

Soon, he came upon another group of people. “Chiribom?” he asked them.

They shrugged, “Chiribim.”

“Hmm.” The rabbi wandered off, muttering, “Chiribim bom bim bom bim bom.”

Another group of people were asked, “Chiribom?” and they answered, “Chiribim.”

The next group were queried, “Chiribim?” and they replied “Chiribom.”

The rabbi was getting frustrated. “Ai Chiribiri biri bim bom bom! Ai Chiri biri biri bim bom bom!”

Back and forth the rabbi went racing through the forest. If he asked, “Chiribim?” they told him, “Chiribom.” If he asked “Chiribom?” they told him, “Chiribim.”

“Ai Chiri biri biri bim bom bom. Ai Chiri biri biri bom!”

image - “Chassidic Dance” by Zalman Kleinman, 1964 — Until Rabbi Kibbitz decided to put an end to their feud, one could never have imagined the Chiribim and the Chiribom speaking, let alone dancing together. (“Chassidic Dance” by Zalman Kleinman, 1964)

The Chiribim and Chiribom were stubborn. They loved an argument, and neither group liked to be pinned down or admit to anything. Perhaps they were playing tricks on the rabbi. Perhaps they were just being obstinate.

“Bim!” the rabbi shouted.

“Bom!” they answered.

“Bom?” the rabbi yelped.

“Bim!” came a chorus.

“AAAGH! Bim bom bim bom bim bom!”

He began to twirl about.

He asked another group, “Bom?”

They answered, “Bim!”

The next had to be … “Bom?”

“Nu. Bim!”

“Impossible! Bim bom bim bom bim bom!”

The rabbi was running and twirling, almost dancing. “Ai Chiribiri biri bim bom bom.”

His hair was everywhere. His coat was open. “Ai Chiri biri biri bim bom bom. Ai Chiri biri biri bim bom bom. Ai Chiri biri biri bom.”

Well, the Chiribim and the Chiribom started laughing. They couldn’t help themselves. Their rabbi, this wise old man, was acting like a chicken with his head cut off, like a frog trying to escape a pack of curious boys, like a school teacher with a cube of ice dropped down his back. All the time he was muttering to himself like a crazy man, “Chiribimbombimbombimbom.”

They laughed and they grinned and they smiled, and then they looked up.

Across the forest they saw something that they had never seen before.

They saw each other smiling and laughing and grinning.

They looked and they realized that they all wore the same kind of clothes. They had the same kinds of shoes and hats and hair. They all held baskets full of mushrooms.

So the Chiribim and the Chiribom came together in the middle of the forest and shook hands, and they kissed cheeks, and they hugged.

And, of course, they had a Passover lunch.

Such a feast! Chopped liver on matzah with fresh-picked mushrooms. Beet salad. Brisket. And Mrs. Chaipul’s light-as-a-feather lemon meringue pie. So delicious!

When they were done eating and finished cleaning up, they lifted the poor rabbi up on their shoulders, because he was still too dizzy to walk, and all together they carried him back to the village of Chelm, singing: “Ai Chiri biri biri bim bom bom….”

From that day on, they were no longer known as the Chiribim or the Chiribom, but as the Chiribimbombimbombimbom…. Bim…. Bom.

“Ai Chiri biri biri bim bom bom.

“Ai Chiri biri biri bom….”

Izzy Abrahmson is a pen name for author and storyteller Mark Binder, who lives in Providence, R.I., and tours the world – virtually and in-person. Abrahmson’s Winter Blessings: Warm Stories from the Village was a National Jewish Book Awards finalist. This story about Chiribim and Chiribom is from his latest book in the Village Life Series, The Village Feasts: Ten Tasty Passover Stories, which is available on Amazon and at books2read.com. To listen to the audio version of this story, narrated by Binder, visit izzyabe.com.

A rediscovered novella

Moshkeleh Ganev, a forgotten novella by Sholom Aleichem, was recently resurrected from obscurity by gifted translator Curt Leviant.

Missing from the standard edition of Sholom Aleichem’s collected works, which was published after his death, Leviant came across a brief citation of the story in a Yiddish literary quarterly published in Israel, while doing research on another project at the Hebrew University library. Leviant went on to translate it into English and Moshkeleh the Thief was published in 2021 by University of Nebraska Press.

The story stands out as a lively and endearing picture of shtetl life in Russia’s Pale of Settlement. Sholom Aleichem himself wrote in 1903 that the work celebrated a phase in his career when he had, he said, “really begun to write,” and was not merely “fooling around.”

I read Moshkeleh at a rapid clip as soon as it was mailed to me by Leviant, unable to stop due to the inescapably arresting character of the narrative. Sholom Aleichem has the ability to keep readers riveted to his stories, as though we are living in the community he is describing. His narratives are always very much alive in this sense.

Tsireleh, the attractive daughter of Chaim Chosid, a wine-cellar manager (a marginalized role for many Jews of that time, whose sights were set on more prestigious occupations), was, for me, a pivotal character in the tale for several reasons.

Unlike Chava in Tevye the Dairyman, Tsireleh was another variation on the Sholom Aleichem theme of a daughter whose involvement with non-Jews (Chvedka) posed a challenge to a sense of Jewish identity. The nine Tevye stories were authored over several years, starting in 1894. Moshkeleh was first serialized in a Warsaw Yiddish paper in 1903, when five of the Tevye stories had already been published; the remaining four were published after 1904. So, thematic strands interwoven in the lives of characters like Chava and Tsireleh that were important to the author may have overlapped. For example, Tsireleh comes close to the same threat to tradition in her relationship with Maxim Tchubinski, a non-Jew, and her elopement with him to a Christian monastery, but is whisked away by Moshkeleh at the 11th hour.

It is tempting to think that, despite Tsireleh’s nascent feminism, she was a pushover for any man who declared his love for her in passionate terms, as did both Maxim and Moshkeleh. But one can also see her elopement with the latter – even though he is a horse thief fated for deportation – as an enduring commitment to the faith of the family she left behind in her drive toward independence. Far from being overly impressionable in matters of the heart, there remained a silent commitment to the Jewish faith, unlike Tevye’s Chava.

Also unlike Chava, Tsireleh was a contrarian from the get-go, who longed for a different life than the one she felt she was saddled with as Chaim Chosid’s daughter. She had earlier rebelled against the yet-to-be role of subservient wife, becoming pregnant and going on to appropriate the domesticity envisioned for her sisters, not to mention all the young women in the shtetl. Her own metaphor was not becoming a clucking hen who sits on her eggs until they hatch, only to repeat the process several times over. She rebelled against the idea of marrying at too young an age to experience the world in a different way, and rebelled against the thought of having to marry a suitable man from a respectable family. She promised herself she would build her life differently. Eloping with a non-Jew like Maxim Tchubinski on a Pesach night was a dramatic example of why, unlike other characters in the novel, she wasn’t cut from an ordinary mold.

Yet her elopement with Moshkeleh does show an enduring commitment to her Jewish faith. Perhaps Tsireleh was for Sholom Aleichem a character representing themes he wrestled with when it came to communities in which opportunities for assimilation were an ever-present temptation – or threat.

David Begelman, PhD, is a psychologist in New Milford, Conn.