Episode Tie-in Review: The Yiddish Policemen's Union

The following post was written by Lori’s cousin Sarah, who offered thoughtful feedback and edit suggestions to our discussion. Thank you, Sarah!

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First of all, this is not a reaction to the book itself (which would take many, many pages). This is a reaction to the podcast, insofar as the non-Jewish person’s reaction to the very Jewish dilemma that plagues our generation: the Jewish identity now is entwined with the history of the Holocaust and the future of the homeland. There are so few of us now, still less than there were before the Shoah, so it is common to not know any Jews or to not be familiar with our history, and therefore the generational trauma that now goes with that history. This book is, essentially, a metaphor (yes, I understand the metaphor irony here) for those feelings that every Jew, regardless of the direct impact the Shoah had on their family, now are intimately familiar with; the feelings of determination and survival, but also the value of family, and the value of being afraid. There are many controversial topics associated with the Jewish people and the idea of our homeland that I won’t expunge on too deeply, and any opinions here are my own, although for the sake of being objective I will try not to put too many opinions in this review. This follows the podcast through their conversation, so I suggest listening to that first because it may make what follows easier to understand.

What qualifies me to speak about this other than being, well, Jewish? I’ve taught Judaics and Hebrew for several years now, and I’ve studied the theology in my many classes over the years. I’ve led services and congregations; I’ve worked on the Executive Board of the youth group at my temple (and was President) and have served with the Board of Trustees of the temple. This is still from my perspective, so it’s subjective (as is all religion) and you should take it with a grain of salt anyway.

Referring to the conversation around 13:15 to 17:30: There is a difference in the way a Jew and a non-Jew will read and interpret this book. To begin, reading this premise (Balfour declaration 1917 vs Slattery report 1938) is incredibly impactful for Jewish people. The Balfour declaration is the document from Britain that promised the cultural and ethnic homeland of the Jews back to them in exchange for their help fighting in WWI. The problem here is that the Balfour declaration was contradictory to the Sykes-Picot Agreement and the Husayn-McMahon correspondence, creating three disputes over the land from Britain’s influence, as well as the claim by the people living there at the time. Of course, Israel was not formed until 1948, well after WWI, but the damage was done as far as the legal ramifications and not only was the state in contention, but it was also small and constantly in danger. This also came after the Holocaust, which was the cause of huge, intergenerational trauma that is still felt today. The idea that the Slattery report could have happened successfully means that not only would those lives have been saved in the Shoah, there would also have been so many lives saved in the conflicts in the Middle East, and combined this would be several million lives and a much different look at the intergenerational trauma that defines the modern-day Jew and the cultural identity that was built in response to these acts of horror. These are things that (just about) all Jewish people know and consider to be an integral part of their lives. There is also an incredible importance to the Jewish people to have that ancestral homeland that they were driven away from so long ago in the diaspora returned to them (most commonly known as Zionism as an ideology, not the political movement), and the premise in this book would take that homeland away. My own opinions aside, this is an idea that has the potential to be disturbing to the Jewish people because Israel has become a beacon of hope that there will now and in the future be legal help for the Jewish people in the face of further oppression. Without legal protections, something like the Shoah could happen again and no government would be inclined to help, and this is a primal fear that lives within the newer generations of Jews worldwide, especially as antisemitism is on the rise. I absolutely consider this to be a completely alternate reality from today, and therefore this book fits the specifications of the Hugo category.

From around 17:30 to 20:00: The Yiddish premise is super interesting to read. Yiddish was a result of the diaspora, it is a combination of Hebrew and German and it was primarily spoken in Western Europe (Germany, Poland, Austria, etc.) by Ashkenazi Jews (Eastern European). Now, we think of Yiddish as something someone’s grandmother spoke when she was a girl and we know how to complain with Yiddish words, but it is considered as important in those families as learning your prayers in Hebrew because it is, unfortunately, dying. Hebrew is the only language in the world (I’m pretty sure) that has been declared a ‘dead language,’ or no longer colloquially spoken by a community, and to have come back (post creation of Israel) and be spoken again. This is meaningful, but there is also a disconnect between ancient Hebrew and modern conversational Hebrew, so it’s very significant to any Jewish person to consider the idea that one of these languages that was created from violence against Jews could be so popular and relevant again to have slang and to be common. The jokes are hilarious and the play-on-words are incredibly apt, and Sholem, by the way (by my personal interpretation and what I originally told Lori), is a combination of Shalom (peace) and golem (magical clay figure given life in Jewish folklore, usually considered a protector) and this is amazing. It plays on the idea that a ‘piece’ is a gun, a peacemaker is a powerful gun that is made for protection with an appropriately ironic name, and also the idea that it is given a life of its own like a golem. This is so nuanced and makes for, like, four or five different meanings that all come back to gun and protection and life. Many of these words and jokes are similarly hilarious/insightful and make reading the book so much more nuanced and funnier. He is being so clever here; you guys are very right about this.

At around 24:00, there is a weird simile being discussed. I can’t speak for all the crazy similes and metaphors in this book, because there are a lot of similes and metaphors, and some of them are pretty weird, but I can say, and hear me out on this, any Ashkenazi person will likely be able to imagine the onions rolling around, or the smell of chicken that’s been cooking in broth, or any of the weird, obscure references to foods and things like this. Fairly frequently, he’s referencing something that would have been present in the childhood of an Ashkenazi Jew. It’s actually pretty nostalgic. That being said, the vast majority of these random similes and metaphors are just his writing style and I thought they were weird too.

From 32:15ish to 38:30ish: I agree that the idea of Sitka becoming American territory again would lead to Landsman’s continuing depression and lack of motivation for life because “what’s the point?” But the point here that I think is more poignant to a Jewish audience is that when I read something like this, I think, what is worse? The Shoah, where these people died for the ideas of an evil crazy man, and Jews were powerless to stop it, or the idea that a government can step into a situation, move a group of people, and leave them defenseless, country-less, without a form of governmental control that could ally themselves with something like NATO or the UN, a relatively unstable economy that is intentionally collapsing, and saying that this is a humane approach to dealing with an entire ethnicity? Realistically, forever and always, I will consider the Holocaust to be the worse option, no matter what ethical and moral conversations may come from this. However, that being said, I think that this sense of doom is multiplied exponentially in a Jewish person when they read about this premise, because as soon as Sitka is dismantled, who would protect them from another genocide? Who would lead them and keep them safe? If not the government of the United States, what was the point of the US getting involved in the first place? It becomes more of a question of morals than anything else, and this is a dangerous set of morals and ethics because it regards systematic oppression of a people turned into a sanctuary that would, intentionally, never last. I think your note on the indigenous children of the Americas is apt, and the “community with no future” is something that the Jewish people have generationally dealt with for four thousand years, essentially. I think Landsman’s reaction to this speaks more to the feeling every Jewish person would have when faced with this dilemma, as well as the mental health of the group. And, yes, it’s always a strange time to be a Jew.

“[A] comfortable place to mourn what you think you’ve lost instead of trying to find something new” (36:32) is so powerful, considering the Jewish memory of, well, everything that’s been lost and the idea that if we have that Jewish home (Israel), we can be safe to mourn what we’ve lost without constantly being pushed to move forward out of necessity and fear of loss of life. It’s kind of the whole point. For four thousand years, the Jewish people have had no choice but to keep fleeing to the next problem, and no opportunity to mourn. Normally we associate mourning and continuing to reflect on the past as a negative thing, but for a community so steeped in tradition and culture, this is a grief we bear and to be able to pause and mourn is a luxury, a privilege, not a guarantee.

Okay, there is so much to break down here (38:30ish to 43:40ish). Here’s the Jewish theology (spark notes version) regarding the tzadikim:

There are, like, 70 different accepted interpretations of the Tanakh/Talmud. Generally, this is what is believed from the 20th century to now. There are at least 36 Tzadikim Nistarim (Yiddish lamedvovniks) living among us at all times. They are not known to the public, and they are generally the most pure of soul in the generation. The orthodox (read: Hasidic) community believes the 36 would, naturally, be a part of their communities; this is up for interpretation/dispute for the other reform and conservative groups. What they are talking about in the book is the Tzaddik Ha-Dor, or Tzaddik of the Generation, and yes, they may only become the true Messiah if the generation is good enough to deserve it (think Noah’s Ark: the people were so bad that they deserved the flood, and if the people are so good, they will deserve the Messiah). Typically, especially significant Tzadik are noted in stories; think Abraham, Isaac, Jacob, Moses, Aaron, Joseph, David, etc.

This is more my interpretation, but considering Tzedek, which is the root word, means most literally ‘righteousness’ (although it doesn’t actually translate quite right), I have always believed that the generation that is granted the Messiah will not realize it, or at least not right away. Each Jewish person is a part of G-d, and that part is considered a G-dly soul, so it is righteous and pure in its own right. Each person has the ability to work towards being so pure inwardly and outwardly, and the more you achieve this for the sake of working towards G-d’s desires and not for the sake of your own desires (which is an independent relationship between that person and G-d), the more you are acting like a Tzadik. The more pure a generation, the less they will be working for their own gain, and the less they will look for a savior because they are righteous themselves.

Here's how this applies to the book: Sure, the character Mendel could have possibly been the Tzaddik Ha-Dor, although unlikely, but based on the actions of the people of Sitka, would never have been the actual Messiah. Being the Messiah actually has little (to nothing) to do with the ‘miracles’ a person is able to perform. The idea that a Messiah could be put up and toted around as the guy responsible for bombing the Dome of the Rock is so not realistic (or it shouldn’t be, at least). The author is showing satire for the generation he’s depicting because they are so self-absorbed that they would rather create the story of the Messiah themselves, and that they believe they are worthy of the Messiah, but in reality it should never be like this. I also have opinions of the bombing of the Dome of the Rock, but that’s more of a geopolitical rant so I won’t go too much into that. The point here is that a Jewish audience understands the irony and the satire being written into the group in Sitka. To what end this irony relates to the generation of today, Jewish or not, is up to interpretation, but I think it’s worth noting.

Here’s the answer to the question posed in the podcast about why the Jews and Christians are working together- there’s a great Wikipedia page about Christian Zionism if you want to research more. Basically, the Jews believe that going back to Jerusalem would speed up the coming of the Messiah (not Jesus), and the Christians believe that the Jews going back to Jerusalem will speed up the second coming of the Messiah (yes Jesus). They fundamentally believe two different Messiahs will come, but they need the same thing to happen to get there.

A few last little parting notes- Part of the idea that the men are so ‘family-oriented’ is a major part of the Jewish identity, because the religion is passed down from the mother, but especially after the Holocaust (there are still less Jews today than there were before the Shoah) and I found it very interesting that he still made that a part of the identity of the Jews even without the same type of devastation (although 2 million is still horrific).

Also I can’t believe you admitted to liking gefilte fish, Lori, that stuff is so bad.

Also also, I have to confess, I took the Manischewitz, not Grandma. It’s all gone now though. I wouldn’t have been surprised if she had taken some though, she does like it. It’s not even that good. I don’t really know why she likes it. I do recommend the blackberry over the concord grape, but I think that’s just because it’s what’s been served at every Seder I’ve ever been to in my family.

If you’ve made it this far, thanks for reading and I hope my insights as a Jewish person were helpful to understanding the core of our people and how this book speaks to us as an audience. It’s very clear to me that Chabon was writing from a Jewish perspective to a Jewish perspective, and I’m so glad that it’s getting attention because it’s so important to me, and because so many people don’t know about us, or at least they only know the old stereotypes. My point of view is so unique in this generation, considering I’m a Gen-Z girl from Georgia (which is weird enough as is) but I’m also Jewish, and that is so overlooked, but I consider it a strength. I think the more we hear about cultures other than our own is so important, and this absolutely sheds light on a group that doesn’t often have a chance to speak. I thought this was an awesome podcast, and all of the conversationalists had great ideas about this book and its themes.