5 minute read
JWOW
jewish women of wisdom
Fascinated by the Fifties
By Rebbetzin Faigie Horowitz
It’s not just because I was born during that decade. There are more reasons I am fascinated by the fifties. It was a time of hope and a time of fear. It was a time of energy and a time of extraordinary bounty. Consumerism grew but civic responsibility was present. It was a time of social conservatism and strong family values. The U.S. experienced an economic boom as well as baby boom after the war. However, the fears of communism and nuclear war were clear and present.
For us Jews, it was the postwar era of refugees trying to rebuild families, businesses, and communities. Individual Jews had to figure out how to put bread on the table and navigate in a new world without language skills and a support network. For Jewish leaders, it was a time to encourage so many exhausted, poor Jews who put in a hard day’s work. It was a time to encourage tradition as they started families and looked ahead. For Jewish educators, it was a time to put joy into children who didn’t experience joy in the homes of their survivor parents. For Torah leaders and laymen, it was a time to develop yeshivas and institutions to restore what was lost. American Orthodoxy that had established institutions before the war was invigorated by the arrival of survivors.
Yet, this was the era of the rise of the Conservative Judaism. Orthodoxy was called the “sickly weed” which wouldn’t survive in an optimistic culture of Americanization. The big temples and JCCs of suburbia where Jews settled during white flight from the inner city offered easy Judaism, kosher-style. It was a time when Torah leaders inspired young men to go out and build communities, gather youngsters in communities in youth groups, and create Jewish experiences for them. “It was up to us,” recalled the late unforgettable Rabbi Aaron Brafman, z”l. “If we wouldn’t do the work, Yiddishkeit would be lost.”
Hungarian Jews on a bus to Salzburg in 1956
There was a strong sense of responsibility among the rank-andfile Jews during the fifties, not just the famous leaders and laypeople. What was it like to grow up then? I ask some recent friends who grew up in various cities. I am intrigued by the environment in the communities other than New York during this period. What was going on in shul? In kashrus? In the community? Were there schools? What did their parents say? What do they remember? I was curious so I proposed writing a series on this topic to one of the Jewish magazines.
One friend told me that Polish Jews left Paris for Uruguay because they thought there would be a World War III due to the tensions in Korea and the threat of nuclear war. The threat of Soviet communism for the frum Jews who had stayed in Hungary after the second world war was so real that they pulled up stakes and fled when the Revolution of 1956 failed. The scattered survivors of Hitler’s efficient eradication of Hungary’s Jews were determined to raise children who could live Jewishly.
The new State of Israel was fragile and beleaguered by the surrounding Arab countries. The success of the Sinai Campaign which followed just a few months after the Suez Missile Crisis marked the beginning of a sense of security. Some of the 56ers chose to go to the U.S. rather than Israel where their “children would be cannon fodder,” I am told.
In one of the towns in Holland where there was a historic Jewish community for centuries, the kehillah structure was maintained, another friend told me. There was a strong sense of mission. By the late sixties, most of the Orthodox Jews emigrated to Israel.
In Chicago, where my mother’ forbears arrived one hundred years ago, it seemed that the community was united in nurturing Yiddishkeit in every shape or form during the fifties. “If you were frum, you were family. It didn’t matter which group you belonged to,” my aunt told me. Everyone went to the same youth groups, visited with one another, and supported the budding schools and institutions with their labor and loyalty. Everyone worked hard together.
It’s this strong sense of fifties responsibility and mission that I find very compelling. It is so lacking today. It seems like the subjects we Jews talk about these days are third world problems: materialism, technology, and pandemic travel restrictions. Our kids have grown up with a strong Jewish infrastructure and Orthodox culture. Their children, too, are experiencing the same system that the postwar generation built with sacrifice and determination. Leaders and educators are trying to develop the missing passion and fight complacency about Torah life.
We baby boomers can remind the younger generations not to take their lifestyle for granted.
With all its flaws, the frum system as we know it is the scaffolding that supports us. The system enables our spiritual growth and the healthy development of Torah families. We are girded by institutions, leaders, and patterns that strengthen us. Sometimes, individuals and groups fail to remember that the frum system is not the enemy. It’s not necessarily causing the challenge one may be facing.
The frum system can use improvement. Good people have been stepping forward to address contemporary communal challenges. They deal with populations and issues that may not have gotten attention in the past. We are more individualized and sensitive in Jewish education. We offer more choices. We recognize diversity in our communities. We have changed as a community and are changing because of the efforts of people who are motivated to build, train, and provide alternatives.
My message for the young is simple. Value the shoulders on which you stand. Value the work of the pioneers whose efforts built you and your children. Improve with a sense of mission and responsibility, without criticism and cynicism. Remember the fifties. Respect the strong foundations of our community. Revise with loyalty.
