Евреи в царской России. Сыны или пасынки?

Лев Бердников, 2016

В новой книге известного писателя Льва Бердникова представлена панорама жизни российского еврейства XV – начала XX вв. Судьбы евреев, чьи литературные портреты предлагаются читателю, представлены на широком фоне общественно-политической и культурной жизни сменяющихся эпох правления русских венценосцев. Воспринимались ли иудеи в России полноправными гражданами или же чужаками-инородцами; кем при этом ощущали себя сами евреи, и в том числе те из них, кто оставил веру отцов и осенил себя крестным знамением? Автор убежден, что на эти вопросы не существует однозначного ответа – и тем более убедительны его выводы.

Jews in Russia: Alien Kin. Foreword

The title of Lev BerdnikoVs book is surprisingly accurate. Throughout most of their history the Jews have had to eat the bitter bread of exile and survive in foreign lands. But they did not merely survive, sacrificing everything for the sake of sustenance and shelter. They had the Torah, which they continued to follow, and they always tried to solve the excruciating task how not to lose their Jewish identity, devotion to their faith and their ancient community, and at the same time to live as law-abiding citizens. The latter was particularly important because the Jews constituted a religious minority and were generally distrusted by the populace of all of their host countries, especially in Europe. This was to be expected; after all, from an early age good Christians were taught from the church pulpit that the Jews had crucified God. And the main Jewish professions — money-lending, trade, innkeeping (there were often no other choices) — did not contribute to their non-Jewish neighbors' good will. These people who prayed in a strange language and dressed in strange clothes frightened their children, and did not often venture out of their neighborhoods or ghettos. But there were times when Jews' education and intelligence were prized by kings and nobles, and there were those who made brilliant careers at court.

How to preserve one's Judaism and still remain a Jew and law-abiding citizen in one's country of residence? The Jews had to deal with this question for centuries, to develop a special way of dealing with the powers that be and with the predominantly hostile population. Very early, even in the Talmud, the principle for life in the Diaspora was «dina de Malchut — Din» or following the law («the law of state is the law», Nedarim 28a Gittin 10b). Jews consistently obeyed this obligation and served their new homelands conscientiously, if often without reciprocity.

All of this fully applies to the life of Jews in Russia. They lived in Slavic lands from ancient times — from the era of Kievan Rus. We know the names of many Jews who were in one way or another connected with Muscovite Rus' and then with the Russian state during the fifteenth through seventeenth century. But the central act in the historical drama of the Jews in Russia starts with the glorious times of Peter the Great and especially Catherine II. After Russia's partitions of Poland, these lands, together with the former territories of the Polish-Lithuanian Commonwealth, combined to create in the Russian Empire the largest Jewish community in the world. Since that time, the fate of the Jews and Russians on Russian territory became inseparable, interwoven in most intimate ways.

Jews in Russia had much to endure — including hard life in the ghetto, humiliation and persecution, and at times blood libels and horrifying pogroms. But at the same time the Jews provided Russia with many outstanding citizens and true sons of the fatherland — generals, poets, scientists and businessmen. Over the centuries a special Jewish-Russian intelligentsia culture was born, with its own unique «Jewish-Russian» cultural atmosphere. But the prominent role of many Jews in Russia did not prevent them from often being treated as second-class citizens, always at risk of being humiliated.

These are the issues Lev Berdnikov describes in his new book, trying to solve the eternal question: have Jews in Russia been its children or its stepchildren? The tragic dualism of Russian Jewry is suggested by the book's two epigraphs, by Saul Gruzenberg and Alexander Gorodnitskii, each of whom sees the fate of the Jews from his own point of view. Starting with the Jews of Muscovy, the author leads us down Russia's historical path, along which Jews left many significant marks but invariably found themselves in a kind of limbo, suspended between the roles of children and stepchildren.

Thus the Jewish doctor of Venice, Leon Mistro, was brought in to minister to Ivan Ill's ailing young son. Mistro treated the heir honestly and unselfishly, but the treatment was unsuccessful, and the unlucky healer was beheaded. He had been caught in the middle of a conspiracy: the heir had been poisoned and Leon tricked into trying to cure a non-existent disease. A similarly tragic fate befell another Jewish doctor — Stefan von Gaden, who was probably the best doctor at the tsar's court. He was accused of poisoning Tsar Fedor Alekseevich and killed after brutal torture.

Faithful sons thus shared the fate of hated stepchildren. But of course not all Jews experienced such unhappy endings. General Mikhail Grulev, for example, became one of Russia's most prominent military leaders and died peacefully at the age of 86. But he, as a Jew, had to endure a lot on the way to the heights of military glory. Equally difficult were the lives of the artist Moses Maimon, the writer Victor Nikitin, the folklorist Paul Shane, the famous photographer Konstantin Shapiro, all of which are described in this book.

To achieve success in any sphere of Russian life and prove that they could identify themselves as «true sons of Russia», Jews often had to make a very difficult step — to accept baptism. As the historian Simon Dubnov formulated this difficulty: «for Jews the only way to win the favor of the government was to bow before a Greek cross». Because of the laws limiting Jews to the Pale of Settlement and severe restrictions against living in large cities, getting a university education, taking part in professional activities, and so on, a baptismal certificate served as a ticket to the larger world and a better life.

Changing faith is always a very difficult and delicate process. It was especially difficult for Russian Jews because after conversion they almost invariably found themselves between a rock and a hard place. Their former coreligionists accused them of the greatest possible sin for a Jew, betraying their people; converts were considered dead and ritually mourned. Christians, on the other hand, looked on them with suspicion, considering their conversion fictitious and possibly even as a satanic way of destroying Eastern Orthodoxy from within. To prove their loyally baptized Jews sometimes endeavored to be «holier than the pope», trying to demonstrate their hatred for their former compatriots; such were branded with the contemptuous label «vykresty» (cf. «conversos» or «Marranos» in Spain). Some of these, like Johann Pfeferkorn and Jacob Brahman, and others who lived in different periods, played very sad role in Jewish life, e.g., slandering their fellow Jews and claiming the anti-Christian nature of the Talmud and other Jewish writings. And there were those like Paul Veinberg who mocked his fellow tribesmen in vicious caricatures, fueling Judeophobia in Russia.

But even if Jews sincerely wished to join the new community, they were often mistrusted. The historian of Spanish Jewry Benzion Netanyahu has claimed that the Spanish Jews were not baptized under compulsion, but willingly and consciously, wanting to assimilate into Spanish Christian culture. Nevertheless, Christians still hated the «Marranos» and suspected them of a variety of sins.

And baptism did not save them from the hatred of anti-Semites, or sometimes even from death. This applies to some of the Jews described in this book as well as to many others. Since their school years the prominent economist Mikhail Gertsenshtein and the journalist Grigory Yollos had been friends. The former was baptized while the latter preserved his Jewish faith. Both were Russian patriots, its true sons, and both became members of the first state Duma in 1906; in questionnaires they described themselves, respectively, as «Jew of the Orthodox Confession» and of the «Russian Jewish faith», And both were murdered by killed by the Black Hundreds as Russia's despised stepchildren.

Lev Berdnikov carefully analyzes the biographies of Russian Jews who became famous and made significant contributions to the life of prerevolutionary Russia. Naturally, many of them adopted Christianity. But there is a common myth, particularly characteristic of the Orthodox Jewish community, that Russian Jews' change of faith was always a cynical move in order to improve their siuation, as echoed in the statement attributed to the outstanding Orientalist Daniel Khvol'son: «Better to be a professor in St. Petersburg than a melamed in Eyshishke». To the contrary, many Jews consciously accepted Eastern Orthodoxy, identifying it with Russian culture, and there were those who genuinely converted to Christianity without harboring any bad feelings toward their people.

The author explores the internal struggles, painful reflections, and complex life paths of Jews who converted to Orthodoxy but did not forget about their Jewishness. And he has created a truly unique work. There are scholars of Russian history who pay special attention to Orthodox-Jewish relations, but usually they are focused on very specific, narrowly scholarly issues. These studies are important, but only Lev Berdnikov raises broader questions of the nature of those relations, based on the lives of those who experienced them, and, furthermore, he presents his arguments for the consideration of a broad, socially-conscious public. To do this he aims to combine, as far as possible, the thoroughness of biographical research with a popular and entertaining style — something in which he certainly succeeds.

A notice in the newspaper «Veche» on the death of Gregory Yollos ended with the words «One less zhid». This represents one extreme and tragic model of the life of Russian Jews. But even if a violent death is not necessarily universal Jewish destiny, any Jew in Russia felt her or himself a stepchild to one degree or another. Berdnikov writes about this a lot, but the main focus of his biographies is on something else — on Jews as «children of Russia», on their tremendous, remarkable contributions — often putting their lives on the line — that Jews made to the life of Russia in various fields. Knowledge of this history reinforces mutual understanding between Russians and Jews, strengthening and celebrating the «Russian-Jewish» cultural atmosphere, which hardly has an analogue elsewhere in the world. And this, in addition to its educational function, represents the great humanistic power of Berdnikov's book.

Russia is a multiethnic, multinational country. Since ancient times many national communities have worked to the benefit of Russia. One may list many hundreds of Armenians, Georgians, Ossetians, Ukrainians, and many, many, others, who can be called true sons of Russia. All of them deserve to be recorded in history, so that the general reader may become aware of the glorious pages from the life of national communities in Russia. Unfortunately, such books are very rare. Lev Berdnikov's informative and engaging book is a shining example of how to preserve this memory of our past.

Yuri Tabak (translated by M. Levitt)