Newspaper Page Text
I
.1
•k
i'l
Judaism barely noticeable in Odessa
The former synagogue of Odessa, converted to a sports club. Photo,
1969.
by Joseph Polakoff
I hrough Soviet official anti-
Jewish propaganda including its
theatrical form, imprisonments as
warnings against Jewish religious
activism, the increasing pressures
and allurements of secularism, and
some emigration, observance of
Judaism among Odessa’s 200,000
Jews is barely noticeable. Never
theless, a spark of continuity still
exists.
The Ukrainian metropolis on
the Black Sea, wrested by Russian
and Ukrainian forces from the
Turks in the late 18th century, was
once a Jewish religious stronghold
with an extensive Yiddish culture.
Seventy years ago, at the time of
World War 1 and the Soviet revo
lution in 1917, Odessa had 48 syn
agogues and a third of its popula
tion was Jewish.
“Now,” reports Moscow corres
pondent Gary Lee of the Washing
ton Post, “all but one of the syna
gogues are closed, locked up or
used for other things—here an ar
chive, there an office building. The
sole working synagogue, lacking a
rabbi and a cantor, draws only a
handful of locals for weekly or hol
iday services.
During Passover,” Lee reported,
“25 people showed up for the spe
cial service, just over one-thou
sandth of the city’s official Jewish
population. This year only one bar
mitzva was performed in the tem
ple, and all the Jewish couples who
married opted to do so elsewhere."
“Even the relatively minuscule
local Catholic, Baptist and Sev
enth-Day Adventist communities,
with their regular, well-attended
church services, are more success
ful at attracting what Russians call
‘believers,’ ’’ Lee reported.
“We live in a secular society, a
society which pulls people away
from religion,” Arkady Litvan,
Odessa’s Jewish community chair
man was quoted by Lee. “Our
society offers some ideological
values in place of Jewish religious
values. 1 don't know if that is good
or bad. 1 have my own opinions of
course, but I speak only of facts.”
He also said, “I don’t think the sec
ular state poses any difficulties for
individual believers.” Lee described
Litvan, who was sent to Odessa to
run the synagogue after training in
Moscow, as “sounding more like a
spokesman for the state than for
the (Jewish) religion.”
Decline of Jewish religious ob
servance and cultural life dates
back to World War 11 and con
tinued thereafter. When Odessa
was occupied on Oct. 16, 1941, by
the Rumanian army assisted by
German units, about 80,000 to
90,000 Jews remained in the city,
many others having fled
On the first day of occupation,
8,000 Jews were killed. The last
convoy of Jews to the Nazi death
camps left on Feb. 23, 1942, and
Odessa was proclaimed “Judenrein.”
Local inhabitants looted Jewish
property and the old Jewish ceme
tery was desecrated. Hundreds of
granite and marble tombstones were
shipped to Rumania and sold.
When Soviet troops returned
to Odessa on April 10, 1944, about
5,000 Jews were living there under
false documents or in shelters pro
vided by non-Jews. Numerous in
formers were among the local Rus
sians and U krainians but there also
were persons who risked their lib
erties and lives to save Jews.
Under Turkish rule, Odessa was
known as Khadzhi-Bei. After Rus
sian and Ukrainian forces captured
the seaport in 1789, it became
Odessa. Six years later, in 1795, the
Jewish population was put at about
10 percent. In 1914, at the start of
World War I, the population was
165,000 or 34.3 percent of the pop
ulation. In 1939, on the eve of
World War 11, the Soviet census
listed 180,000 Jews or 29.8 percent
of the city’s people, but the 1959
census put their number at 102,200,
some 16 percent of the inhabitants,
although the actual number t4iat
year was believed to be 180,000,
the encyclopedia notes. Lee’s ac
count indicates official growth to
200,000 or about a 10th of the total
Soviet Jewish population.
With the end of World War 11,
Jews began returning to Odessa
but there was “no manifestation of
Jewish communal or cultural life,”
the encyclopedia says. There was
only one synagogue and one rabbi
in 1959. A quarter of a century
later there is still only one syn
agogue and no rabbi or “working
cantor,” Lee reported.
Denunciation of the Jewish reli
gious congregation that appeared
in an Odessa newspaper in 1964
has been enhanced by other means
of intimidation. “Last September,
the newspaper Vercharnaya Odessa
attacked local Jewish refusniks as
‘near spies’ and left a damper on
the community that still lingers,”
Lee reported. He said the cases of
the two Odessans—Mark Niepmi-
niaschy and Yakov Levin—“cur
rently imprisoned for ‘defaming
the Soviet state’ are also much dis
cussed” in Odessa.
In Moscow’s Stanislavsky Thea
ter, Lee noted, a new play about
Jewish emigration entitled “Sho-
lom Aleicham Street, House 40,”
offers “a rare glimpse into the foi
bles and heartaches of Jewish home
life” in Odessa. “On stage in the
Soviet capital, a Jewish family’s
living room strife is vividly repro
duced. The sharp accents, tarty,
sardonic jokes and lively banter
exude a chutzpa and humor Soviets
consider unmistakably Jewish, uni
quely Odessa.”
Last year, of the 1,040 Soviet
Jews allowed to emigrate, 67 came
from Odessa. Several years ago,
Lee wrote, a young Odessan came
to the Odessa synagogue. After
learning Hebrew and improving
his singing, he became a cantor. He
left a year ago for New York. “Now
another young cantor is being
trained,” Lee reported. Seemingly,
desire for.Jewish life in Odessa is
taint but not extinguished.
L’SHANA TOVA
On Behalf of the Officers and Board of
The Atlanta Jewish Federation
Your Vehicle for Touching
Jewish Lives in Atlanta,
Israel and throughout the World.
Atlanta Jewish Federation 1753 Peachtree Rd. Atlanta, Ga. 30309
Betty R. Jacobson
President
David I. Samat
Executive Director
Gerald Horowitz
General Chairman
1987 Campaign
404 873-1661
PAGE 3RH THE SOUTHERN ISRAELITE October 3, 1986