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> Параллельная Soviet Life: седер в Москве, 1965, by riftsh (LJ)
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ru_judaicaВо времена оны посольство СССР в Вашингтоне издавало глянцевый журнал, сначала под названием USSR, потом Soviet Life (сейчас он называется Russian Life и природа его, вероятно, изменилась). Тогда же, как и почти вся советская пропаганда, он был циничным, наглым и туповатым. В середине 60х годов в США стал расти общественный интерес к притеснению в СССР религии вообще, и еврейской религии в частности. Soviet Life откликнулась серией статей, среди которых был очерк и фоторепортаж о седере в семье московских ортодоксальных евреев Самуила и Пелагеи (sic!) Мешойреров и их десяти секулярных детей. Все описанное в статье, возможно, соответствовало действительности. Однако, больший интерес для американских читателей представляло то, что осталось за рамками репортажа: повсеместные запреты на выпекание мацы (кроме Москвы, Ленинграда и Грузии), милицейские облавы и тюремные сроки для тех, кто пек мацу подпольно, практически полная невозможность "достать" агаду (даже в Москве, где сидуры и календари были "ограничено доступны" постоянным прихожанам синагоги на Архипова), общегородские пионерско-комсомольские мероприятия с обязательным посещением в городах запада СССР с большим еврейским населением в дни еврейских праздников, и т.д. Но Soviet Life этого, увы, не знала...(IMG:http://www.ljplus.ru/img/riftsh/sovietlife_photo1_w.jpg) (IMG:http://www.ljplus.ru/img/riftsh/sovietlife_photo2_w.jpg) Samuel Meshoirer, an old-time friend, has been a linotype operator from his early years. Coming from a Jewish family that never questioned the traditional beliefs he, too, was religious. When I last saw him, he was a well-built young man with a clean-shaven face. The man who now stood before me was elderly, stocky, bespectacled, his thick beard touched with gray.We were both glad to meet again. We talked and talked, each telling the other what had happened over the years. Thus I learned that Samuel was the father of 10 and that his wife had been awarded a Mother Heroine gold medal, bestowed upon her in the Kremlin.As such conversations often do, this one led to an invitation, Samuel asking me over for the Seder. He said his wife would be especially happy for me to meet their children the eldest were already parents themselves - on the eve of Passover. I was touched by Samuel’s invitation; he and his wife were devout Jews, yet he had asked me over, even though I had informed him I was still an atheist.“If that doesn't bother you,” I had said. “I’ll be happy to come.”And so at the appointed time 1 was there. The host himself opened the door when I rang. As I stood in the foyer and looked around, I recalled the rickety old house on the outskirts of the city where he had once lived with his parents, sister, wife and three small children. How crowded that had been! And all the furniture they owned then was a kitchen table, a few wooden benches pushed up against the bare walls, and an old iron bedstead.I asked Samuel if his married children lived with him.“No, they have their own apartment”. Only my wife and I and the children still at school live here.”The lady of the house, Pelagea Meshoirer and two boys soon joined us. After greeting and thanking me for having come on time, she smilingly rebuked her husband for not having asked me to sit down in the living room.“Many guests?” I asked.“Many people, but only one guest,” my hostess answered graciously. “Just our family: the children, our sons’ wives, our daughters’ husbands, our grandchildren and the in-laws. So you see, you are our only guest.”“Are you sure no one will be offended bacause I'm not religious?” I asked. “I mean, I respect your beliefs and wouldn’t want to hurt anybody’s feelings.”“You're not the only heathen here,” Pelageya answered with a smile. “Just enjoy the kneidlach, the raisin wine and the other good things I've prepared. Our children are not religious either. They come to the seder because they want to please us. They like these family evenings around the holiday table.” When we entered the living room everyone turned toward us. Samuel made the introductions. .“My eldest son, Alexander. He’s 28 already, thank God, and has finished his army service. He's a highly skilled factory worker. His wife Maria works in a hospital. I’m sorry you can’t meet her; she got sick and is in the hospital for treatment. This is their son Mikhail. He’s close to two-and-a half years old, a real little devil. So far he's their only child. His grandmother is crazy about him. You can see why.”“This young man is my second son, Mark. He’s an aviation engineer. He knows a lot about many things but not too much about religion; he's been too busy with his mathematics. But that doesn't seem to stop him from enjoying a Seder!”“It’s just that I have no principles,” Mark said. “You know, the flesh is weak. You have to be made of iron to be able to pass up the kneidlach Mother makes. And as for her wine…”“All right, all right!” Samuel interrupted. “Let me introduce you to his wife Mila. She's an engineer too.”"Bella, Bella, come here!” my host continued, addressing a tall, statuesque woman."This is my oldest daughter. She's a seamstress in a clothing factory. And this young man is her husband Yevgeni, a subway mechanic. His father is on pension, but his mother still works. They’ll be here soon, so you’ll meet them. And this is their daughter Marina. She's three years old. Marina is our second grandchild.”The children came running into the room, yelling, “Come to the table, come to the table! Grandma wants you to come to the table.”We all went into the dining room. There, on a long table, set for 20, stood a pair of tall silver candlesticks with candles. In the center of the table was a large goblet of Passover wine, for the Prophet Elijah. On either side of it were the traditional haroset, a dish made of nuts, and morar—”the bitter herbs”, horseradish. Goblets of wine were at each place setting, small ones for the children.The hostess came into the dining room. Bowing to all, she said, “Gut yontev (Happy holiday)!” On the left side of her blouse she wore the gold star of Mother Heroine. The greetings over, she approached the table, lit the candles, and stood there, her hands folded across her breast in prayer.Then the others took their places. The first to be seated was Samuel. He sat on a small divan piled high with cushions, the Seder “throne” for the head of the family. His wife took her place beside him.When all were seated, Samuel placed three squares of matzoth one on top of the other. The one in the middle was the afikoman to be eaten at the end of the feast. According to tradition, he hid the afikoman under a cushion. Then the youngest boy turned to the head of the family with the first of the four traditional questions:“Why is this night different from all other nights of the year?”The head of the family read the answer with deep feeling:“We were slaves unto Pharaoh in Egypt...”The young people sat quietly and listened to the prayers and the ancient recital of the Exodus from Egypt. Then the glasses of tasty raisin wine were filled: Samuel placed the morar, the haroset, the hard-boiled eggs and other traditional dishes; the women brought in mountains of matzoth and plates piled high; and everyone set to.After the feast the old folks continued to read the old tales and sing the old song. It was not until after midnight that they sang the “Khasalsidur Pesach” (The Passover Feast Is Over). And the guests departed.
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