Growing up in a family of Soviet Jewish emigres, I knew from a young age that there was only one thing that could get you through Nazi occupations, Stalin, and the Iron Curtain: A wicked sense of humor. For Soviet Jews, humor was a lifeline. It breathed air into the most suffocating times. And in a society that systematically repressed Jewish culture, humor was perhaps the greatest marker of one’s identity: Anekdoti, situational jokes, featuring characters named Rabinovich, or Avrom and Sara, were the Talmud of the Soviet Jews. They were the narratives that were shared and memorized over tables in cramped kitchens. Men and women would bring their notes on the latest jokes they heard, often poking fun at current events and Jewish culture, and read them aloud at gatherings to a roaring audience and another round of vodka. Some of my warmest childhood memories are of those moments, transposed from Kiev and Minsk to New Jersey. Inside the Soviet Union, it was in this oral, self-deprecating genre that the Jewish way was preserved and passed on -- a system of codes, with a sprinkling of cynicism, whatever the risk. After all, a casual joke was never just that -- shared with the wrong person, it could land you in a labor camp. In the 1980’s, when the month of Jewish month of Adar would approach, Soviet Jews in large cities would gather secretly for Purim shpiels, comedic plays (often featuring refusenik actors) of the Purim story. The sagas of ancient Persia -- of totalitarianism, of threats of mass slaughter -- felt all too contemporary. The story of Esther is, after all, one big anekdot, a story of extreme dark irony, with a brave heroine at its heart: A dictator and genocidal bigot are overturned by an unlikely duo, a secretly Jewish queen and her wise uncle. It’s terribly funny, but also, terribly serious, right? We only narrowly escaped being decimated. Even so, the Jewish way is to laugh, of course -- to dance on the tip of the sword, to celebrate every survival with utter abandon. So here is my Purim gift to you, a quintessential Soviet anekdot that rings true today: A Soviet Jew comes to the KGB office, asking permission to leave. The KGB official: "Where do you want to go?" The Jew: "Israel. Ah, actually, no -- wars, terrorism, tough economy. O.K., America, then. Oh, no -- racial tensions, crime..." The KGB official puts a globe on his desk in front of him and says: "Just tell me where." The Jew spins it for a while, then asks: "Do you have a different globe?" Wishing you and yours a jolly Adar, Avital Chizhik-Goldschmidt |