Pains of Prayer in Russia

The Kremlin has made it hard enough for Jews to worship together in the Soviet Union, but it seems that an equal obstacle is the reluctance of Russia's Jews themselves to press their faith openly in the atmosphere of an atheistic, totalitarian society. Their hesitance is wryly described in an article in the current U.S. Jewish monthly, Midstream. Written by an anonymous Hebrew living in Russia, the story is an account of an attempt by a retired bookkeeper, whose name is given as Yitzchok Kalman, to form a synagogue in an unidentified Ukrainian city.

Kalman explains that though under Jewish law a congregation may be formed with only ten members, the Soviet authorities have "ruled that in order to hold communal prayer there must be not ten but two tens, a dvatzatka, as they call it." Moreover, Kalman discovered, "collecting signatures for a dvatzatka is as difficult as parting the waters of the Red Sea."

Tea & Stuttering. Approaching one old friend, Kalman "found him draped in a prayer shawl; he was reciting the 18 benedictions. 'Mendel Israelowitch,' I said, 'sign this petition and we'll progress from individual to communal prayer.' 'You know my heart's desire,' he answered me, 'but my son, Kolya, teaches mathematics in high school. Should I become affiliated with a dvatzatka, he'll have a lot of trouble.' " Calling on another acquaintance, Kalman was given an effusive welcome. "His wife, Anna, served tea and cherry jam. We talked about the state of the world, politics and philosophy. When we spoke of lofty political matters, Solomon Moi-seiewitch's tongue was smooth and strong." But when it came to "the matter of the 20 signatures, he began to stutter. He said that he had two more years to go until he reached the age of retirement."

It then occurred to Kalman, himself 65, "that I had to concentrate on pensioners for my dvatzatka. For when you close your accounts with the place where you earn your living, you are immediately filled with strength of spirit." Scouring park benches, he rounded up half the required number, including a onetime cantor with osteoarthritis, and finally recruited the rest from among elderly women. Soon the group was holding services in two rented rooms. It immediately enjoyed covert support. "To be personally registered in a dvatzatka is one thing," observes Kalman, "but only to raise funds is another. Helpful hands were immediately found." Moreover, "so many men and women who were not members of the dvatzatka attended services that we had to order long benches."

A short while afterward, however, one of the founding pensioners died. "The government is very punctilious in its dealings with us," reports Kalman. "No sooner had Abramovitz passed away than we were reminded that a dvatzatka means 20 and not 19. If the vacancy were not filled, we would have to disband." Again Kalman went recruiting, "out into the city, into the parks and boulevards." But alas, he concludes, his project also died--this time "we searched everywhere for a 20th man to complete our dvatzatka and did not find him."

This file is automatically generated by a robot program, so reader's discretion is required.