Jewish History

Today in Jewish History​

• Columbia Tragedy; Israeli Astronaut Perishes (2003)
On the morning of February 1, 2003, the Columbia Space Shuttle, returning from its STS-107 mission, was destroyed upon re-entry, 16 minutes before its scheduled landing. All its crew members perished, including Ilan Ramon, a combat pilot in the Israeli Air Force, who was the first Israeli astronaut. Prior to his departing to space on Space Shuttle Columbia, where his mission included the manning of a multispectral camera for recording desert aeroso, he arranged to take kosher food as well as a Kiddush cup, a Torah Scroll, and a dollar from the Lubavitcher Rebbe, of righteous memory.
 
Black and white photo of Jews in traditional Bukharan dress with a Bukharan Torah scroll.


At the far edges of the Jewish world, Bukharan Jews (also sometimes referred to as Bukharian or Bokharan Jews) have made their homes in Central Asia’s vibrant cities — now located in Uzbekistan and Tajikistan — for well over a millennia. One of the world’s oldest diaspora groups, they came to resemble the Muslim Tajiks and Uzbeks amongst whom they lived, all the while maintaining connections to the wider Jewish world.

History

Folk tales suggest that ancestors of Bukharan Jews were among the Lost Tribes who arrived in this region after the Assyrian exile in 722 BCE. Most historians, however, agree that the first to arrive were among those exiled from the Land of Israel at the hands of the Babylonians in 586 BCE.

In the12th century, renowned Jewish traveler Benjamin of Tudela recorded that 50,000 Jews lived in Samarkand, among them “wise and very rich men.” Although these numbers are widely believed to be exaggerated, the data indicate that the city was home to a robust and well-established community at the time. Throughout the Middle Ages, the fate of the region’s Jews oscillated. During periods of persecution and instability, Persian-speaking Jews moved between the various territories today demarcated by Iran, Afghanistan, Uzbekistan and Tajikistan, seeking shelter among one another’s communities.

In the latter half of the 19th century, much of Central Asia came under Tsarist Russian colonial control. Though Tsarist rule was largely oppressive for the Jews of eastern Europe, it was favorable to Central Asia’s Bukharan Jews.

(full article online)


 
Szyk.jpg

Arthur Szyk, self portrait
The Museum of Jewish Heritage in New York City is celebrating the 130th birthday of the Polish-Jewish artist Arthur Szyk with a special lecture series hosted by the world’s leading expert on his work.

Titled, “Commemorating Arthur Szyk’s 130th Birthday,” the lecture series will include four 90-minutes sessions led by award winning author Irvin Ungar, a former rabbi who has studied Szyk for over 30 years, publishing three books about him and hosting exhibitions of his art at museums throughout the world. Among art historians, Ungar’s scholarship and curation is credited with single-handedly fostering a “Szyk renaissance.”

Born in 1894 in the city of Łódź during the Russian Partition of Poland, Szyk, though his life ended prematurely in 1951, lived through a violent and epochal moment in history — an age of revolution, world war, and genocide. His works, from sketches of the Boxer Rebellion he drew at the age of six to his depiction of Hitler as Pharaoh — and later, Hitler as Anti-Christ — were expressive commentaries on troubled times.

After Germany’s invasion of Poland in 1939, Szyk fled to England and then America, where he earned a reputation as a “soldier in art” for portraying the Nazis and Axis leaders as primal mad men and using irradiating imagery to alert the world to the plight of the Jewish people under Nazi occupation, an issue that affected him personally. In 1940, his mother, Eugenia, was murdered in the Chełmno extermination camp, just 30 miles from the city in which he grew up. Many more relatives, as well as those of his wife, were murdered during the Holocaust.


(full article online)

 
Oma was forced to flee from her homeland Germany with her parents in 1939, leaving behind family, friends and the land she had grown up in. They settled in a village called Livingstone, near the Victoria Falls in Northern Rhodesia (now Zambia), a destination chosen by dropping a pencil on an open map of territories that were still accepting refugees. They quickly realized that their lives were going to look very different, and although it was jarring – the Rosenthal china and piano they insisted on bringing to Africa were instantly useless – they had to adapt and accept their new reality.

Back in Germany, life had been becoming increasingly unbearable under Hitler’s rule. Its culmination came when my Oma was hidden in a village orphanage to protect her after her father was arrested during Kristallnacht. Her mother somehow persuaded the authorities to release him, and the family left for Africa shortly after. Even in Africa, away from threat of persecution, it was difficult for them to ever return to feeling completely safe. This experience, and her later journey to England in her 20s where she again had to assimilate into a new culture in order to be accepted, led to the development of my Oma’s mantra: Adapt, always adapt.This mantra represents who Oma was to the core, someone with a fiercely positive outlook on life in spite of the traumatic events she lived through. She felt neither safe nor able to openly celebrate her heritage, and yet she continued to see life as being made up of adventures. She managed to balance day-to-day survival with deeper appreciation for and enjoyment of life. I think of my Oma, and I remember her light, her joy and her optimism. I feel so grateful to have had the privilege of learning from her.

I didn’t know that joining the Jewish Society would be something I would find so intimidating, and I didn’t know that there were so many complicated fears and anxieties involved in being Jewish. I also didn’t know that I would meet so many wonderful people, people that are kind, welcoming and understanding. I only discovered this last part because I followed Oma’s example, and kept going with optimism.

I still have fears that I’m not Jewish enough, that I’m not understanding references to what seem to be universal experiences. I’m still calling my mum, asking her for advice and reassurance. I didn’t grow up with Hanukkah, or Passover, and I’ve never been to a Bar/Bat Mitzvah. But I’m learning to adapt, both at home and at university, where I’m starting to make a second home. There is so much beauty and love within being Jewish, I feel so comforted by the culture my Oma was forced to hide. Every time I learn about a new holiday or practice, I am genuinely excited to adopt it into my life – with the exception of Yom Kippur and some elements of Passover – I really love bread.


(full article online)

 

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