Posted on April 30th, 2014 by Rachel
We are less than a month away from the eighth annual Herbert H and Irma B Risch Program on Immigration. This year’s program, to be held at Baltimore Hebrew Congregation at 2 p.m. on May 18, features Rabbi Marvin Tokayer. Rabbi Tokayer will be speaking on the topic of the Shanghai refugees, the remarkable Jewish community that not only survived WWII but also flourished in the years that followed (former Treasury Secretary Michael Blumenthal among them). The selection of this year’s program was influenced by JMM’s current exhibition, Project Mah Jongg, and its focus on cultural connections between Jewish Americans and Chinese traditions.
Mark Your Calendar!
The connections between Jews and China are far older than most people think. The merchant trade of the Silk Road brought the first Jews to this part of the world by the time of the 8th century Tang Dynasty. When Marco Polo arrives in Beijing in the late 1200s he finds an active community of Jewish traders. Kaifeng contained perhaps the largest and most enduring Chinese Jewish population, preserving kashreit and shabbat well into the 1700s.
Jews of K’ai-Fun-Foo (Kaifeng Subprefecture), China. Image via wikipedia.
In the modern era China has been a place of refuge for Jews on more than one occasion. When the Inquisition reached Goa, India in 1560, the demand was made that Portuguese marranos and “New Christians” return to Portugal and the punishments meted out to the unfaithful. A group of Portuguese marranos went further east to Macao instead. “Captain” Bartolomeu Vaz Landeiro was among the most notable of these refugees. Taking on a role that combined piracy and diplomacy, Landeiro became an agent for the local Chinese authorities in their dealings with the European powers. Without any sense of irony, his Chinese neighbors would call Landeiro, “The King of the Portuguese.”
Marranos: Secret Seder in Spain during the times of inquisition, painting by Moshe Maimon. Image via wikipedia.
In 1844, it was the opium trade that brought Elias David Sassoon, son of the treasurer of Baghdad, to China. Initially setting up shop in Hong Kong, Sassoon becomes the first Jewish member of the international colony in Shanghai in 1850. The big break for the Sassoons is the American Civil War. Suddenly, Chinese cotton becomes an important international commodity and Elias David Sassoon its most prominent dealer.
David Sassoon (seated) and his sons Elias David, Albert (Abdallah) & Sassoon David. Image via wikipedia.
In the early 1900s, Jews fleeing pogroms in Western Russia, managed to make it across the Trans-Siberian Railway to settle in Harbin, China.
And perhaps the most interesting Jewish emigre to China is Morris Cohen (known more commonly as “Two Gun Cohen”). Cohen was a British born pickpocket, pugilist and con artist (as a boy, in a scene right out of American Hustle Cohen is employed by glazier, breaking windows to bring in business). After leaving reform school in England, Cohen headed to Saskatchewan, Canada where he was hired on as a farmhand and taught to shoot with a gun in both hands. He made an unlikely friendship with a Chinese restaurant owner in Saskatoon whom he saved from an armed robbery. This brought him into the inner circle of Cantonese Canadians who were supporting Sun Yatsen independence movement against the child emperor PuYi (think Last Emperor of China). He eventually became a body guard for Sun Yatsen and his family and later a “Brigadier General” under Chiang Kai Shek.
If these stories pique your interest, I have two resources to suggest:
1) There is a terrific on line magazine called Asian Jewish Life at www.asianjewishlife.org. You will find much more detail on “Two-Gun Cohen” in one of their archival issues – this one to be exact!
2) In addition to his lecture in May, Rabbi Tokayer runs a series of highly-rated kosher tours of Jewish history in Asia. His next China-Japan tour is in July. You can find more information at www.jewisheyes.com.
A blog post by Executive Director Marvin Pinkert. To read more posts by Marvin, click here.
Posted on March 27th, 2014 by Rachel
We are just a few days away from the opening of Project Mah Jongg. Throughout the last month the team has busily been preparing. Ilene has been developing activities for kids, Trillion has been working on program concepts and Rachel has been applying her creativity to ways to let people know the exhibit is here.
As for me, I’ve been using my weekends to research a little bit about the history of Jews and board games. This is a convenient convergence of the needs of the project and my personal interests. I have been in the museum business 25 years, but I’ve been playing board games – nearly continuously – for at least 55 years; moving from the childhood classics (Candyland, Monopoly, Risk, Stratego) to the 3M games of the 1960s to Baltimore’s own Avalon Hill war games of the 1970s to the rail games of the 1980s and the Eurogames of the 1990s. I have somewhere around 150 board games in the basement, not enough to make me a collector, but more than enough to have my wife wince every time she sees a new box come through the door. To prepare for the exhibit I have also learned Mah Jongg (it’s tough work, but someone has to do it).
A staff Mah Jongg lesson.
Since we signed up for the exhibit, I have been intriguing audiences with the question “how did a game for Chinese menbecome a pastime for Jewish women?” The empirical answer to this question involves Jewish flappers of the 1920s and Jewish charitable fundraising in the 1930s. But this statement of facts sidesteps a more interesting question about Mah Jongg as an example of cultural adaptation. Mah Jongg is just one example of many things that both Jews and non-Jews would point to as culturally Jewish that have no theological basis, no connection to Torah or Talmud – e.g. bagels on Sunday morning, Borscht Belt shtick, discount camera supplies.
This year marks the 30th anniversary of the Abba Eban-narrated PBS series, Heritage: Civilization and the Jews. The point of the series was that Judaism had not merely survived 4,000 years of contact with other cultural communities, it had actually helped shape (and in turn was shaped by) those contacts. With the passage of enough time we often loose our awareness of cultural adaptations and assume that our customs are native to our history. In researching games, I found a fascinating example: dreidel. Like many of you, I grew up thinking that the game of dreidel was contemporary with the Maccabees. But with a little on-line searching I learned that the game probably becomes a part of Hanukah in the 17th century. The dreidel is based on a top called a teetotum and a game known as “put and take” that originated in England in the 1400s. In the following century, the top moves to Germany where it gains some familiar letters – G for “ganze”, H for “halb”, N for “nicht” and S for “stell ein” meaning “put in”. It became a popular Christmas game in Germany. Like “potato latkes” (19th century) and “gift giving” (20th century), dreidel is a piece of the Hanukah celebration borrowed from our neighbors and given new meaning in a Jewish context.
Of course at this time of year my senses are more likely to be excited by the anticipation of matzah kugel than the memory of latkes. However, Passover too is a great example of the history of cultural adaptation – running the gamut from ancient rites of spring to the Roman custom of free men reclining to the contemporary examples of suffering and depredation often invoked during the recounting of our bondage in Egypt. I have often looked at the seder as an archeological dig, not only through Jewish history, but through all the cultures we have touched.
So perhaps it is not as unusual as it seems to include Mah Jongg among our adapted treasures. We have made the meld and now it’s a part of us.
A blog post by Executive Director Marvin Pinkert. To read more posts from Marvin, click here.
Posted on February 5th, 2014 by Rachel
At the end of this month we say good-bye to Passages Through the Fire: Jews and the Civil War. I, for one, will be sad to see it go. I’ve not only enjoyed the exhibit and the chance to work with Karen and Todd on our “Maryland edition”, but also the outstanding programs that Trillion put together and the fun we’ve had with our volunteer docents and museum educators on the special tours.
Closing February 27th!
I’ve gained dozens of new insights over the last few months but the one that sticks with me is actually about “saying good-bye”.
When Ross Kelbaugh came to speak at JMM at the beginning of December, he spoke about the boom in photography in Baltimore at the start of the Civil War (and the involvement of members of the Jewish community like the Bendann brothers and David Bacharach in this new “high tech” industry). As many as 50 photo studios were doing business here in 1861. Why the boom? Well one of the causes that Kelbaugh points to is a technological innovation know as cartes de visite. Just before the start of the war, photographers perfected the technique of printing multiple copies of playing card-sized images to card stock. These images were affordable, even for people of modest means and could be easily slipped into the mail for loved ones. You can imagine that soldiers sent to staging areas, like Baltimore, were very anxious to share pictures of themselves in uniform with their loved ones and images of nearby battlefields could bring the war home in a way that was unthinkable just 10 years earlier. This keen interest fueled the photography craze (more about this can be found in a New York Times’ “Disunion” column by Andrea Volpe from August 6, 2013).
School students visit Passages Through the Fire.
I look at this as a first revolution in the concept of “away”. For thousands of years, when husbands and sons went off to affairs of war or commerce, there was an absolute loss of connection. Their wives, children and siblings in most cases had only their memories to rely on (or perhaps an old portrait) to invoke the image of the person who was truly “away”. But the Civil War chipped away at the concept that saying good-bye completely severed visual contact with those who were away.
Today, we’ve experienced a second revolution in “away”. With Skype, Face Time, Facebook and more, we almost never completely lose visual contact with those who have gone away, whether they are at summer camp or at a base 10,000 miles from home. The technology has changed what it means to take leave and endure separation.
All this is not to say that we have solved the problems of being apart. Images can be a poor substitute for human contact. But nothing ever leaves us as completely as it once did, and we’ll have the pictures of the Civil War exhibit on our website to prove it.
(editor’s note: Passages Through the Fire closes on February 27th. Due to the fragile nature of the artifacts this will be the end of the exhibit tour, everything will be returned to the lenders. If you haven’t seen it yet, we encourage you to take advantage of your last opportunity)
A blog post by executive director Marvin Pinkert. To read more posts by Marvin, click HERE.