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Friday, August 26, 2005 | return to: supplement

Yiddish as medicine against Stalin’s slaughter: Arts & culture

by tamar lafontaine, jerusalem post service

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jerusalem | To most Israelis, the date Aug. 12, 1952 is unlikely to trigger a common association. But some know that infamous date as "The Night of the Murdered Poets" that marks the climax of anti-Semitism in the Soviet Union.

On that night, some of Russia's greatest Jewish cultural personalities were murdered. Ukrainian-born Dmitry Yakirevich is determined that neither those artists nor their language, Yiddish, will be forgotten.

Recently, Yakirevich organized and directed a commemoration event of past and current Yiddish songs in Italian Square in Jerusalem.

Yakirevich remembers that 53 years ago, after they were arrested and shuffled through a dummy trial, leaders of Yiddish culture in Moscow were executed on false charges of treason and espionage on behalf of Israel and the United States.

Yakirevich himself was active in Moscow's Yiddish cultural scene at the time, which, he recalls, included Yiddish schools, theaters, orchestras, and opera. The death of many of its central figures was yet another blow to that culture, including Solomon Mikhoels, Itzik Feffer, David Hofsteyn, Leyb Kvitko and Peretz Markish.

"I was interrogated and told that I wanted to break up the Soviet Union," he says. "I responded that I merely wanted to advance my culture."

According to Yakirevich, secular Yiddish culture was the primary vehicle for Jewish identity in the former Soviet Union in the years leading up to World War II. "It was the voice of Zionism; it helped Soviet Jews remember that they were Jews."

After he made aliyah to Israel in 1988, Yakirevich, a trained musician and composer, says he quickly noticed the ignorance of Yiddish history and culture, and decided he would do his part to revive both. "It's about time that this rich and rare legacy is added to our national consciousness," he declares.

In Israel, he observes, one-dimensional notions of Yiddish culture are repeatedly recycled. "If it's not klezmer, then it's a Yiddish sing-along, with an elderly audience clapping and smiling. I'm against old-age homes on Yiddish stages," Yakirevich says. He adds that he deliberately chooses performers who are "young, pretty and talented."

Still, the 90-minute performance drew a predominantly elderly gathering of some 160 people to the small auditorium. The event opened solemnly with a reading of the names of the murdered poets.

The ensemble on stage consisted of four singers who appeared to be in their mid-30s. Two women in black evening gowns and makeup and two men in black slacks and solid button-downs read the Yiddish lyrics from texts propped on music stands while an accompanist alternated between keyboard synthesizer and piano.

"It was excellent," says Vladimir Rabinovich from the audience. "There are many popular Yiddish songs, but what Dmitri does is original. It's strange that so many people displayed an interest in Yiddish even though most here don't even understand Yiddish."

Rachel Torpusman has known Yakirevich since she was a 14-year-old girl in Moscow. "I like his cultural activity — then and now. I am happy he is continuing it here in Israel; many gave up.

"It's a matter of authenticity," she continues. "To stay true to ourselves, to preserve the good that we have — the Yiddish songs, the pure Russian language, the suits and ties — I think they deserve to be honored."

"People came to hear what they heard growing up," says Valery Kornblit, a local artist who was also once a part of Moscow's Yiddish bohemian circles.

"Yiddish is more than a language, it's a soul," he concludes. "It's important that Yiddish doesn't die. No young people came tonight. It's problematic. This is our tragedy."


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