Marina Sapritsky

From Evrei to Iudei: Turning or Returning to Faith?

Marina Sapritsky - Anthropology Department, London School of Economics (UK). m.sapritsky@lse.ac.uk

Since the collapse of state socialism, Ukraine has been exposed to dramatic transformations in its religious landscape. This article analyses the effects of religious revival among the Jewish population of Odessa. It considers different trajectories and motivations of turning to faith and various ways to come to terms with religious observance, as well as controversies that these practices imply. The article also deals with how the new religiosity affects family relations. The author argues that for the most part newly observing Jews look at Judaism as a new way of being Jewish rather than a return to their familial legacy. In general, the author characterizes post-Soviet religiosity in Odessa as "religious adherence" in the sense of a state of mind as well as a space for the formation of spiritual life. This "religious adherence" leads to a new direction in perception of Jewish identity without entailing "full" observance " Religious adherence" thus may include full, partial, short or long-term dedication to Judaism, which is seen as either a complementary to the old worldview or a replacement of it.

Keywords: religious revival, Judaism, Ukraine, Jewish identity, community, migration.

Introduction

IN UKRAINE, as in the entire post-Soviet space, the period after 1991 was marked by rapid political transformations, profound social changes, and intense moral search. All this has led to tectonic shifts in the post-Soviet religious world.

Sapritskaya M. From Jews to Jews: turn to faith or return to it? // State, religion, and Church in Russia and abroad. 2015. N 3 (33). pp. 224-254.

Sapritsky, Marina (2015) "From Evrei to Iudei: Turning or Returning to Faith?", Gosudarstvo, religiia, tserkov' v Rossii i za rubezhom 33(3): 224 - 254.

landscape ¹. A "religious revival" was observed in many communities throughout the former Soviet territory, where religious practices were previously banned or isolated from the public sphere.² The purpose of this article, which focuses on various individual motivations, practices, and trajectories, is to analyze the extent to which Judaism as a religion has established itself as one (but only one) of the defining features of Jewish identity in Odessa since the collapse of the Soviet regime, and to examine the diverse forms in which it has been practiced and experienced.

As in the rest of the former Soviet Union, in Odessa, Jews who follow religious precepts are a minority of the Jewish population. As a rule, the newly observant Jews I met in Odessa did not receive religious education in their families. Some may have relied on their parents 'or grandparents' accounts of religious Jewish life that they had never witnessed with their own eyes; others had no prior knowledge or ability to ask questions. Most of Odessa's newly observant Jews converted to Judaism through contact with Jewish activists and organizations, or through personal relationships with a observant Jew; but this was not a return to their family roots. During the entire period of fieldwork, from October 2005 to December 2007, I did not meet a single person who observed the traditions of Judaism under the Soviet regime. This is not to say that local Jews did not follow Halakhic rules at that time: some of them observed them , but most often in a home environment and away from strangers

1. Wanner, Catherine (2007) Missionizing Eurasia: The Global Networks of Ukrainian Evangelicals, p. 1. Paper presented at Annual Soyuz Symposium, Princeton University, Princeton.

2. См. Hann, Chris & the "Civil Religion" Group (eds) (2006) The Postsocialist Religious Question: Faith and Power in Central Asia and East-Central Europe. Berlin: Lit Verlag; McBrien, Julie & Pelkmans, Mathijs (2008) "Turning Marx on his Head: Missionaries, Extremists and Archaic Secularists in Post-Soviet Kyrgyzstan", Critique of Anthropology 28(1):87 - 103; Pelkmans, Mathijs (2006) "Asymmetries on the Religious Market in Kyrgyzstan", in Chris Hann and the "Civil Religion" Group (eds) The Postsocialist Reigious Question: Faith and Power in Central Asia and East-Central Europe, pp. 29 - 46. Berlin: LIT Verlag; Wanner, Catherine (2007) Communities of the Converted: Ukrainians and Global Evangelism. Ithaca: Cornell University Press; Wanner, Catherine (2007) Missionizing Eurasia: The Global Networks of Ukrainian Evangelicals. Paper presented at Annual Soyuz Symposium, Princeton University, Princeton; Friedgut, Theodore H. (2007) "The Problematics of Jewish Community Development in Contemporary Russia", in Zvi Gitelman and Yaacov Ro'i (eds) Revolution, Repression, and Revival: The Soviet Jewish Experience, pp. 239 - 272. Lanham, Md.: Rowman and Littlefield Publishers.

eye. Others simply showed no interest ⁱⁿ it3. In addition, many Jews who are associated with Judaism or otherwise have a strong Jewish identity emigrated to Israel, the United States, Europe, or Australia in the seventies, eighties, and nineties after years of striving for a better life.

My material suggests that observant Jews did not see religious practices as a "return" to previously abandoned family traditions, as suggested in the concept of Baal Teshuva ⁴ and often emphasized by leaders of religious communities. Rather, the decision to turn to the faith was perceived as a new model of life that affirmed previously unknown values and meanings through the daily practice of the Jewish way of life. Like the young Jews of Kiev, whom Golbert describes as "rejecting the institutional model of religious development," many have not progressed along the " progressive scale of religious life."⁵. This article includes stories of Jews who kept the Mitzvot partially, vaguely, intermittently, and sometimes completely deviated from it.

Defining the boundaries of a religious "community"

The Jews of Odessa associated with the local community, while accepting orthodox discourse, mostly distinguished between those who were or were not considered religious people, not so much on the basis of their faith, in the sense of having religious beliefs, but on the basis of their observance of religious precepts. In this orthodox interpretation, the latter is a natural expression of the former. So, the Jews of Odessa often

3. Markowitz cites Boris, an Odessan currently living in the United States, as an example. His father in Soviet times was a gabbai (synagogue assistant) and baked matzah for the synagogue. According to Boris, his family visited the synagogue and celebrated all the holidays, but he did not pay any attention to it. "I've only been to a synagogue a few times in my life, but I didn't like it there... I just wasn't interested... I always knew I was Jewish, but I never thought about it" (Markowitz, Fran (1995) " Emigration, Immigration and Cultural Change: Towards a Transnational Russian Jewish Community?", in Yaacov Ro'i (ed.) Jews and Jewish Life in Russia and the Soviet Union, p. 406. Ilford: Frank Cass Publishers).

4. Baal Teshuva - a non-religious Jew who "returned" to Orthodox Judaism. - Note. ed.

5. Colbert, Rebecca (2001) Constructing Self: Ukrainian Jewish Youth in the Making, p. 209. Ph.D. dissertation, Oxford University.

they used the words religious and observant as synonyms. At the same time, it was not unusual for Odessa Jews to define themselves in a broad sense as adherents of Orthodox Judaism, as opposed to followers of reform Judaism, and this did not necessarily imply the actual observance of religious rules. Despite the fact that reform Judaism had a strong position in pre-revolutionary Odessa, today Reformists make up only a small part of the Jewish faithful in the city. To better define their place within the local sphere of orthodoxy, they distinguished such orientations as Chabadnik (a follower of the Chabad congregation) and litvak (a follower of the Lithuanian Orthodox movement).

Today's orthodox Jewish population of Odessa consists mainly of young and middle-aged residents of Odessa, who learned about the Jewish religion, joined it and became involved in it through programs launched in the city since 1991. Unlike emissaries of other religions, Jewish religious leaders do not seek to convert people from other traditions or ethnic groups. Their mission in Odessa, as elsewhere in the world, is to lead Jews to the Jewish religion - in other words, "to make Jews better Jews." ⁶

Among the large number of people enrolled in Jewish institutions, such as Jewish schools, universities, extracurricular school programs, camps, and other activities organized and sponsored by Jewish communities, practicing Jews are recognized by whether they observe the precepts of Judaism outside of these institutions, in their daily lives.

The number of Jews in modern Odessa is estimated by various sources to be between 12,380 and 30,000. Observant Jews are only a small fraction of the Jewish population as a whole. The two Orthodox congregations claim to have at least a thousand members each, as well as a wider audience of social service users or subscribers to a Jewish newspaper (the Chabad congregation, for example, distributes its newspaper to six thousand people). The figures reported by synagogues are often overstated, as they include those members of the congregation who may be involved in synagogue activities, but are not required to do so.-

6. Aviv, Caryn & Shneer, David (2005) New Jews: The End of the Jewish Diaspora, p. 36. New York: New York University Press.

but they consider themselves" observant " and are recognized as such by other people.

Vera, a thirty-year-old woman, puts it this way:

First of all, it is quite difficult to distinguish who exactly falls into the category of "religious". Of course, these will be those who observe Shabbat, Kosher, mikvah, dress appropriately, etc. But, as far as you know, in Odessa people observe the commandments in a very diverse combination. Here, for example, I am: Kosher, Shabbat-yes. But I wear trousers instead of a skirt (as required by Halakha). I think that for many people my status is more than questionable. Secondly, today there are people who will not publicly demonstrate their religiosity. They do, but you can't really tell from them...

Based on the figures reported by one female practitioner, there are 120-150 people living in the city who lead a completely orthodox religious life and follow all the regulations. Others talk about 100-110 families in general. Many Israeli emissaries contributed to a significant increase in this number, especially during the Jewish holidays. As for reform Judaism, Julia, the head of the community, considers all the hundred or so members of the Imanuh-El community to be religious. The figures reported by the community members themselves range from 50 to 70 people.

Judging by the available quantitative data, it is quite obvious that Odessa Jews who fully comply with the regulations still make up a tiny proportion of the city's Jews. However, this circumstance may distort the assessment of the significance of Jewish religiously oriented institutions, religious commitment or involvement, and the level of Jewish revival: although only a small minority fully observes the religious rules, many other Jews also observe them in their own way-partially or from time to time.

Thus, many people visit religious centers as centers of communication, send their children to Jewish religious schools (if only for the sake of the quality of education), from time to time use the help and support provided through synagogues, or simply subscribe to Jewish newspapers that are published in Russian and distributed free of charge (at the newspaper "Shomrei Shabos" 6000 subscribers). All of these are ways in which the lives of non-religious and partially religious, as well as observant Jews, are lived

they are intertwined in the process of religious revival, thus marking their Jewish identity. In addition, in the orthodox and reform circles, as well as in other circles, I met Jews who called themselves believers, but not religious, that is, non-observant.

The changing context of these phenomena is also important: we should not forget that many of the old ways of Jewish identification, some of which were imposed from the outside and others were the subject of choice, simply ceased to exist, disappeared. An important role was played by the fact that Jewish nationality is no longer registered in the passport, Jewish quotas and state anti-Semitism have become a thing of the past, and other markers of Jewish orientation associated with the public practice of Jewish practices and traditions have replaced the image of a Jew as an intellectual.⁷ Thus, even for those who reject the new religiosity or follow the rules less explicitly and strictly, arguments, discussions, and experiments around Jewish traditions become expressions of a newly realized question of what it means to be Jewish.

From Secularism to Judaism: Motivations and ways to "return"

Many Orthodox observant Jews I met in Odessa described the change in their lives-from "non-observance" to "religiosity" - as a "process" that began with the abandonment of practices perceived as "non-Jewish" (such as eating pork), followed by a gradual accumulation of religious beliefs. It gradually led to the recognition of the fullness of the Jewish faith and the daily observance of specific religious rituals. For some, this process lasted longer than for others; sometimes it changed direction and even led some to partially or completely abandon compliance with the instructions. Compared to the Baal Teshuva movement (very popular-

7.Odessa Mayor Eduard Hurwitz, who during my fieldwork was wary of associating himself with any religious community in the city and rarely spoke publicly about himself as a Jew, took part in a public celebration of the circumcision of his newborn son held in the Chabad synagogue in 2008. This event was widely covered in the local press (see Runyan, Tamar (2008)" Circumcision Makes History in Odessa, Ukraine", Chabad.org, March 13 [http://www.chabad.org/news/article_cdo/aid/650316/jewish/Circumcision-Makes-History-in - Odessa-Ukraine.htm, accessed on 22.09.2015]).

In the United States and Israel ⁸), describing their adherents as "repenting and returning to Judaism", Odessa Jews rarely described their personal journey as a "return" to traditions once abandoned by the older generation, and did not refer to themselves as Baalei Teshuva. On the contrary, much of what I saw looked like the beginning of something new. Parents or even grandparents of newly observant Jews usually did not see this as a return to family traditions, and some even sharply rejected these practices, considering them "outdated".

Many people felt an interest in Jewish religious life when it first found its presence in the public space of the city in the early nineties. These people said that their initial interest in Judaism grew out of a desire to learn about things that were previously forbidden, and to feel part of a meaningful community. As I listened to them, I had the feeling that many of the "new observants" had gained strength, courage, and meaning through their commitment to Judaism as a new way of being Jewish, and that the new way of being Jewish was a new way for them to be. Their stories, full of enthusiasm for the idea of God, his power, and at the same time-for the new post-Soviet freedom, contained a protest against the former oblivion of Jewish history, traditions, and religion. Describing the early days of her religious practice, Vera told me that it was like participating in an underground movement: "It was more like a war than a time of normal life," she said. And added in conclusion: "It was very difficult to follow the rules back then, but I have the fondest memories of that time."

Vera grew up in a mixed family. Her mother was Jewish, and her father was Ukrainian. She spent her childhood in Kiev and, according to her, "was very far from Jewish life." After entering Odessa University in 1990, she moved to Odessa. She often came here to visit relatives. At that time, Vera was already looking for ways to lead a meaningful life, but, according to her, she lacked information.

At the end of that summer, there was an ad in the local newspaper announcing that all Jewish girls twelve years and older and Jewish

8. For an analysis of the contemporary revival of Orthodox Judaism in the United States, see Danzger, M. Herber (1989) Returning to Tradition: The Contemporary Revival of Orthodox Judaism. New Haven: Yale University Press.

boys thirteen years of age and older can celebrate bar-i batmitzvah ⁹. One of my cousins decided to participate. Later, a group appeared there that unites people interested in traditions, rituals, Hebrew, etc. My brother took me to one of these meetings. It was very interesting. Everything was new and we were happy to learn.

And yet, as Vera clarifies, "all this did not happen instantly."

Being religious was a process for me. Initially, when I watched, everything seemed complicated. What to eat, how to observe Shabbat, holidays, combining them with my classes. I always had to try harder. I remember when my cousins and I first decided that we would keep the Sabbath. Later, over time, all three decided to observe kashrut. We lived in the same house with my aunt, who did not support our choice at all and perceived our views as ultra-radical. This, of course, made things difficult. We mowed down one of the burners on her stove and a couple of pots. And they used them exclusively.

A similar situation was experienced by Maya, who was also a student when she first encountered Judaism. Unlike the Faith, Maya grew up associating herself with Jewry, among Jewish friends. "I studied mathematics, and many of my friends in the faculty were Jewish." The Mayan synagogue was first visited by an ad in a newspaper about the Hanukkah celebration. We went together with my husband Slavik. "We didn't really know what to expect, but we decided to give it a try," Maya explained.

I grew up playing chess, went to competitions, played KVN - all this later disappeared. And this was something new, interesting, intellectually stimulating. At the end of that evening in the synagogue, we were all invited to return, and as you can see, we haven't left since.

"Gradually," says Maya, " we began to give up some things. For example, from pork, shrimp, dairy and meat, walking on Fridays... Over time, this has become more common for us-

9. Bar (for boys) and bat (for girls) mitzvahs-lit. "son / daughter of the commandment", a person who has reached religious majority, and a ceremony marking this event. - Ed. note.

It was natural, familiar, and we went deeper and deeper. We didn't fully comply until we moved away from Slavik's parents. When you start to comply, there is a feeling that it is wrong to retreat... now it's just a part of life.

From her explanation, it becomes clear that Maya and her husband still voluntarily accept and experience moral obligations, although the practice of daily observance of the commandments has become much more routine over time. She and her husband were among the first couples in Odessa to have a" hula " (Jewish religious wedding ceremony) performed in the courtyard of the Migdal community center. Maya told me that they even made headlines in the local newspapers at the time: the first religious wedding in Odessa was reported in the news. A photo of Hupa Maya and Slavik can be seen on the stand of the Museum of the History of Odessa Jews.

In some cases, before finally choosing Judaism, people tried themselves in other faiths. Dima, a thirty-three-year-old biology student, shared his story of coming to Judaism.

I've always been interested in religion. My mother is Jewish and my father is Russian. At one time, I was seriously interested in Catholicism and considered becoming a deeply religious Catholic. Then I went to the old synagogue to study Hebrew, thinking that one day I would go to Israel, where some of my family had already emigrated.

There I met Shaya (Gisser) and we started talking. I never got to Hebrew, but I started taking lessons from him instead. There must have been about fifteen of us then, and we met every day. This man (Shai) had the ability to answer many questions about both life and religion.

Many observant Jews, not only associated with Shai's pioneering initiative, described their decision to convert to Judaism as a "religious awakening," a sudden moment of enlightenment, a realization of the need to lead a "morally correct life." Katya, a sixteen-year-old student at the Ohr Sameach School, told me that despite many years of studying at a Jewish school, she never wanted to be a practicing Jew. She was constantly on the verge of being expelled from school for bad behavior, and no one thought, including

and she said that one day she would become a "observant" person. One night, she said, she had a dream in which she was going to hell for all her daily misdeeds. When she woke up, she decided to live with the Almighty from now on. That day, she broke up with a friend who was Jewish but not religious, and started all over again.

Leib, a "new-observant" Jew in his mid-thirties who comes from a similarly mixed background, told me that after graduating from the Ohr Sameach men's religious school, he was still far from Judaism for two years. "I was interested in other things, and I was busy living," he explained. Five years ago, he began attending the Migdal Community Center and weekly lectures by a local Jewish mentor, Joseph, who, according to Leib, was a major influence on his decision to become a practicing Jew and a follower of the Ha-bad movement: "One day I just realized that this was just right for me." Soon after, Leib adopted the Hebrew name that he calls himself and that others call him.

For some "new-observant" Jews, the decisive factor was a "miraculous" event that revealed the power of God. Diana told me the story of her cousin: he became "fanatically religious" after the miraculous healing of his mother, who had previously been given a fatal diagnosis.:

When my cousin asked about my mother's condition, he was told that she had two days to live. He spent the whole day in the synagogue, praying for her recovery. When he found out that she was actually getting better and back on her feet, his previous interest in Judaism turned into a fanatical commitment.

Kostya recently returned to Odessa after living in Israel for about ten years. Although he led a fairly secular life there, about two years after his return, he became convinced that in Odessa one can be a Jew only because of religion. From his point of view, "everything else is assimilation." Kostya was attracted to Hasidism, especially Jewish mysticism, which he became familiar with during one of his trips with the Chabad synagogue community. As a result, Kostya became involved and began to observe many Jewish commandments. He was the only member of his family who followed strict Jewish practices in their daily lives.

Many of my Odessa friends were forced to change, to accept a religious life, by their relationship with a Jewish observant partner. Sometimes there was a question of different levels of compliance between partners even when they were just dating; in other cases, only at the time of engagement. David told me that when he started a relationship with Nastya, she gradually became more religious, and he felt that he had to follow her. Although their relationship ended, he continued to lead a religious life and subsequently moved to Israel. I saw David during my last visit to Odessa, in May 2008: he was still observant, but now he was living in Odessa again. Hana decided to become religious by becoming engaged to Arthur, a young student at a yeshiva in Dnepropetrovsk. Her religious "ascent," as she called it, was sustained by a desire to be with Arthur and build a life with him.

Others were initially motivated to attend religious classes, lectures, or ceremonies by their interest in the Jewish language, culture, and history. Gradually, these people incorporated the observance of religious precepts into their daily lives. "A purely academic activity, without any interest in religious life, led me to eventually begin to observe the commandments."

Most of the practicing Jews I interviewed emphasized that having a relationship with God, the Almighty "protector" and "judge" of their lives, gives them a sense of security. At the same time, they emphasized the practical comfort of feeling part of the community and receiving support from other observant Jews. "Stability, "" order," "security," "understanding the course of life," and a sense of "belonging" were experienced as the benefits of the Jewish religious way of life. When I asked Diana (who calls herself more traditional) what she thinks makes people around her become deeply religious, she said:

Religious people have a lot in common. You almost immediately get married, wedding, holidays-smazdniki... lots of questions to discuss and people to talk to... people do business in the community, friends, children, work-all together. Fun communal round dance. But if you're traditional (like most of us), you start to feel a certain amount of pressure. You find it embarrassing to turn down someone who offers to nail a mezuzah in your home.

Do not come to the synagogue for the feast. Don't follow them. For some, this can be intimidating. Being religious gives you comfort and security, an understanding that you are doing everything right. Others will support you, understand, and praise your choice once again. Plus, there's always a place for you after you die. Not bad. In addition, it is always pleasant to come to the synagogue and feel, as they say, among your own people.

Senya, who had nothing to do with Jewish organizations in the city and identified himself as a secular Jew, offered an interesting point of view on the" catalyst " of religiosity:

First of all, it is curiosity. Secondly, today we do not have the old system of organizations for the entertainment and development of our youth: pioneer camps, Komsomol and other similar ones - none of them exist anymore. And no alternative to replace it. At the same time, many new formations were formed among ethnic and national groups. Some are attracted to material benefits, then are drawn in... some go to universities, others go somewhere else... I think these are the main reasons, and not the call of blood at all.

Religious practice was not something that the" new-observant " Jews accepted immediately and completely. It is important to note that stories about religious awareness often mention periods of hesitation, doubt, frustration, and sometimes complete abandonment of religious practice. In the same way, one cannot necessarily speak of progress from partial acceptance of religious precepts and adherence to them to full immersion in religious life.

Vera told me that her attitude toward Judaism changed with her travels and growing up. After several years of strict compliance in Odessa, she decided to move to Israel under a two-year program for Chernobyl survivors. There, she decided to study at a religious yeshiva for girls. In Israel, she says, being religious means very different things for her and for "local religious" people.

"For me," Vera says, " this period when you were fighting for Jewish expression ended when I left Odessa, where it was a real battle. Being Jewish wasn't a problem in Israel. Suddenly you realize that Kosher or Shabbat are not heroes-

not a heroic feat, but rather a way of life. I've lost track of what I'm doing and why I'm doing it. And what's more, when you first learn about the Jewish ideals described in the books, you expect religious people to follow these laws unconditionally and live by them. But there are laws, and there are people. And people are people. I was disappointed by some of the things I saw among the religious in Israel. And religiosity as such began to seem fake to me.

Vera told me how violently she rebelled against religion while studying in Israel. "It was a major crisis for me," she explained. Chuckling uncomfortably, she remembered turning on the stereo loudly during Shabbat (despite the ban on using electricity) and inviting her classmates to her room to participate in kiddush (the traditional prayer that is said over a cup of wine by men). She immediately added that she didn't behave like that anymore. Only a year after returning to Odessa, Vera returned to her former daily practice of keeping the commandments, mainly out of a desire to share her knowledge with local Jews. Today, as she leads the life of a religious woman and Jewish mentor, Vera admits that much of her former practice was " maximalist." Only now has she found the balance between her personal beliefs and her religious responsibilities. "It takes years for it to become a natural part of you," she admitted.

Some Jews took much longer to become religious than others (sometimes intermittently), and for some of the people I met, this process never reached the level of religious life. Svetlana, a TV producer in her early twenties, told me that she tried to wear a long skirt, observe Shabbat and Kosher, but after two weeks realized that this was not for her. "I was fed up with it," she told me. However, she did not feel like a "bad Jew" at all; it was just that following religious precepts infringed on her lifestyle and freedom of choice. Similarly, Miriam told me that she used to light candles during the Sabbath, but then regretted that she couldn't work on Saturday, the busiest day of her job as a city guide. Some Jews who tried to follow religious precepts reported that they were still following the precepts of Re-

others did not consider themselves bound by these obligations for the future.

Discussing Tradition: Challenging Orthodox Models of Judaism

During my stay in Odessa, I witnessed that many of my friends participated in some religious rituals and did not participate in others; similarly, they chose which elements of religious practice to include in their daily lives. Because these Jews did not fully observe the commandments, they did not claim to be religious. Many of them, through various channels of religious education, were very familiar with how to celebrate Jewish holidays, follow rituals and traditions; but they chose their own ways of following them. For various personal reasons, these Jews did not seek to be religious, although at the same time some of them did not rule out such a possibility. Knowing the rules, they felt comfortable choosing what to do and what not to do. Young parents, not having been brought up in Jewish traditions themselves, were often willing to raise their children in them. They sought to teach their children what they called "basics": for example, circumcising boys or cutting their hair for the first time at the age of three, as prescribed by the halakha.

Andrey and his wife Lika are a young couple in their mid-thirties. Both grew up in a secular Jewish environment. They met and began dating through their participation in the Jewish camp of the Betar movement. ¹⁰ "Betar is not a religious organization," Lika said,"but it is a Jewish organization that has given us a lot of knowledge about Judaism." Although neither of them are active members of the organization today, many of their close friends, favorite stories and memories are associated with that period of their lives.

When Lika and Andrey decided to get married, their parents did not object to their desire to put up a chupa for the central ritual of their wedding vows-provided that all of them were fulfilled.

10. The Zionist Youth Movement, founded in 1923 by Vladimir Jabotinsky. It is based on the ideals of self-respect, military training, and the protection of Jewish life and property from anti-Semitic pogroms.

other elements of a "traditional Russian wedding" ¹¹. The couple proudly told me that they were the first in the family to celebrate a religious wedding. According to Leakey, the parents probably didn't mind because neither of them had any idea what the ceremony looked like.

During Passover, I saw Lika cleaning her house of chametz (leavened foods): she took it seriously. However, other holidays passed almost imperceptibly for the way of home life. Of course, there is nothing specifically Jewish about the partial observance of major holidays - for example, Yom Kippur. However, in the modern context, such partial compliance has taken on a new meaning. The meaning and content of these holidays and other religious rites were shaped and changed as families and individual Jews explored different points of the "Jewish continuum" ^.12

The choice of whether to observe Jewish religious holidays and rituals, and if so, which ones, was often accompanied by a choice of what not to observe when Soviet and Slavic holidays were approaching or when family traditions were at stake. Lika and Andrey got me involved in some of their discussions about this. They spent many nights in the kitchen arguing over whether to put up a Christmas tree, a tradition they both followed in their parents ' homes when they were kids. Andrey quoted Israeli teachers who gave weekly synagogue classes advice on proper Jewish domestic behavior: they said that this tradition was "Christian" or "Soviet", but certainly not "Jewish". For her part, Lika felt that it would be strange not to follow the family tradition, and did not understand Andrey's position, who claimed that this was "wrong". After I left, they decided that they would not put up a Christmas tree, but they would celebrate the holiday anyway.

The New Year's holiday was probably most often discussed or disputed among "new-observing" Jews. Although less known-

11. In cases where parents were not observant themselves, and sometimes even if they were, they often advised children planning a Jewish ceremony to include elements of Russian, Ukrainian, or Soviet customs that were common to other guests. They made sure that the ceremony did not look "foreign" to those who are not familiar with Jewish wedding ceremonies.

12. Golbert, Rebecca (2001) Constructing Self: Ukrainian Jewish Youth in the Making, p. 210. Ph.D. dissertation, Oxford University.

significant holidays, such as St. Valentine's Day, which is usually celebrated on February 14 according to the American tradition, became very popular in Ukraine, they were also considered Christian, and therefore non-Jewish, and caused controversy. Funerary ceremonies are yet another example of how former practices that were accepted in the Soviet Union, but were now considered Christian, began to be challenged, condemned, or completely abandoned, being replaced by Jewish rituals.

Discussion of traditions was a characteristic feature of discussions among students of Jewish educational institutions. Depending on the social environment, young people were confronted with different expectations and criteria for being Jewish. Vika and Masha, students of the Chabad school, said that their choice to observe the commandments was mediated by the context. Unlike their classmates, whom they called "observant, "they themselves only wore" religious " clothing at school. They emphasized that in religious Jewish schools, all students are required to follow the rules prescribed by teachers and sponsors; but in different environments and circumstances, they were most likely to deviate from them. The girls told me that in their class, only two out of twelve students were "religious", as measured by the observance of religious laws outside Jewish educational institutions. "The others, including us," Masha and Vika explained, "wear trousers, eat non-kosher food, do not observe Shabbat, but in truth, nothing at all..." Both girls agreed that most students talk about this among themselves, and that teachers are aware of this practice of mixed education. compliance. As one teacher put it, "many children face the difficult task of living a religious life outside of school, because their parents are non - observant Jews, and in many cases not Jews at all."

Despite the fact that Vika and Masha call themselves non-observant, they admit to the influence of religious training on them:

Look, when you get caught up in this from year to year, you just get used to this type of "Jewishness." We are not religious, we do not observe anything, we are as we are, we are normal, just like everyone else. But to be completely honest, somewhere deep inside me, everything changed... before (entering a Jewish school) I could have easily entered the church, but now everything is different. I feel that for some reason this is wrong.

But the answer was different: "I belong to two religions. I'm a Baptist, I have a godfather and a mother, and I consider myself Jewish and Christian."

The proper behavior of a "observant" Jew associated with an Orthodox community also involves partial compromises, often driven by the need to simultaneously maintain loyalty to local cultural norms and family traditions. They are most noticeable in the ways of dressing adopted by some observant women. A religious married woman is required by halakha to cover her head. Many Israeli female emissaries walk the streets of Odessa wearing stylish wigs that are hard to distinguish from natural hair. Such a headdress is expensive, and it is difficult to get it in Odessa. This forces most women to choose other options - for example, a woven head cover. However, quite a few women I met preferred to go bareheaded. They were willing to change their lifestyle, but not their appearance. Maya explained to me that as a religious woman, one of the most difficult requirements for her was to cover her head and wear modest clothing that completely covers her body, including a knee-length skirt or longer. "Really, can you imagine me wearing a wig? "What is it?" she asked rhetorically, and added: "I also feel much more comfortable in trousers. I feel awkward in a skirt, it's not my thing." She grew up in Odessa, used to wearing casual clothes in the summer and going to the public beach. "It is still difficult for me to dress as required by religion and refuse to swim in the sea. After all, I am an Odessan, and the sea is a part of me." Only official community meetings and formal photos forced Maya to abandon her usual casual appearance and wear a wig to hide her hair. She wasn't the only one in her circle of friends who used alternative ways of dressing: other women, young and middle-aged, called themselves religious, but didn't always look the part. Maya believed that since men were required to attend synagogue every day and wear the tzitzit and kippah, the requirements were stricter for them. There were other "violations"among the observing men. Israeli rabbis should avoid a social environment such as a theater or concert where a woman's voice can be heard, and should not shake hands with women (except for Isa-

exclusion of immediate family members) - prohibitions that come from halakha. Nevertheless, many local Orthodox Jews reject such strict social isolation, paying tribute to family upbringing along with religious law.

During my fieldwork, I also met Jews who tried to maintain a high level of mitzvot observance for a year or two, sometimes longer, and then found a compromise point, following the practice of less or minimal observance, or refusing it altogether. In some cases, as with Faith, encountering a religious world that was alien in its values and mentality turned newly observant Jews away from the religious life they had previously adopted, romanticizing it. Others have lost all sense of daily ritual observance, finding it "burdensome, "" unnecessary, "and"tiresome."

I met Dima, a native of Odessa, when he was already living in Israel. He changed his place of residence at the age of 32 and returned several times from Israel to Odessa. Looking at the man with a bare, shaven head, wearing gray light shorts and a tank top, it was hard to believe that he had once been a student at the Lice, an orthodox Jewish educational institution near Jerusalem. Initially, Dima moved to Israel as a zealous practicing Jew, an adherent of the Chabad movement. This is how he described his departure from religion:

When I arrived, I was the center of everyone's attention. Here I was informed that I can only develop in one direction, and a rather narrow one at that. I didn't meet very good people in my yeshiva, and it was a shock to me. But most importantly, they told me what to do and what not to do, what you can or can't have, what to listen to, what to read... for me, it was a strange and oppressive feeling. I am the son of a hunter and an artist. I was used to a completely different way of life. As you can see, it wasn't an easy change for me. But over time, I began to feel differently about compliance.

In the circle of Dima's friends, I met other people with similar stories. Their move away from religion was not as radical as Dima's, but they did move away from the practice of full compliance.

Discussing Values: The Dynamics of family Relationships

Among the majority of newly practicing Jews, and especially among young people, observance was often made on an individual basis, with the rest of the family only partially involved in maintaining the religious lifestyle or not participating at all. With a high level of assimilation, as well as a large number of mixed marriages, the religious practice of one family member often did not bring or could not bring (in the case of mixed marriage) the rest of its members closer to Judaism. There were families that lived in three generations, but there were few of them.

Non-observant families ' reactions to their son or daughter becoming religious varied. In many cases, I have heard parents express concerns about sending their children to Jewish schools: they were afraid that they would become religious. At the same time, some parents expressed their admiration for their sons and daughters, who taught them "how to do the right thing" regarding Jewish holidays and rituals. Many parents said that they were unlikely to be able to "get used" to the lifestyle that their children led. The usual answer to my questions was: "What should I do?".

I met Malka when she came from Israel to visit her family. She was the only observant member of the family. Her parents, whom she called "atheists," accepted what she thought was her choice, but they didn't understand it. When I asked Malka if her conversion to Judaism affected her parents 'Jewishness, she said," Two years ago, I gave my father a small edition of the Torah. When I got home recently, I noticed that it was sitting on his bookshelf. I know my father: it means a lot to him."

Malka's mother, Anna, told me that the decision to live a religious life was entirely her daughter's personal decision. "My husband and I are both not religious people, and religion was never part of Malka's upbringing. She was raised in the values of the Jewish intelligentsia, nothing more. I didn't even know that my daughter had adopted a Jewish name until I went to visit her in Israel."

When I asked her if she called her daughter by her new name, she said no. "The name we gave her, Inna, begins with the same letter as my mother's name, and was given to her in honor of her grandmother.

Malka means nothing to me." (Malka means "queen"in Hebrew)¹³. In further conversations, Anna told me that her daughter was an example of a profound shift in modern Jewish society. She stressed that the Jewish values that are valued and practiced by today's Jewish youth are not associated with knowledge of local Jewish history, art, literature and music, or with familiarity with the works of Jewish writers in Odessa who wrote in Russian, Yiddish or Hebrew. Belonging to the Russian-speaking intelligentsia, being open to the world, or striving for the highest level of education and recognition are no longer clear markers of Jewish identity, as they were for the Jewish identity of her generation. Not that the modern Jewish youth of Odessa does not share these values and aspirations at all, but, as Anna explained, they are no longer considered markers of belonging to Jewry. The old "cosmopolitan" way of "being" Jewish is now being replaced by a new, stronger association between Jewish identity and belonging to Judaism as a religion in an Orthodox sense that emphasizes the practical aspect. However, she acknowledged, it is also an indisputable fact that the cosmopolitan basis of Jewish identity was already radically undermined during the Soviet era, when most Jewish religious, cultural, educational and Zionist organizations were closed, destroyed or banned. For Anna and the Jews of her generation, these institutions were inaccessible.

I asked Anna how she reacted to her daughter's religious attitude. She explained that Malka often spent the Sabbath with her friends. "There they cooked, slept, and went to the synagogue together - you could walk to it. This life was almost entirely spent outside of our home."

When I asked Maya and her husband how their families felt about the decision to become religious, they said:

At first, they were against it, very much against it! Especially Slavik's family, and for some reason they were angry with me about it. They thought I was responsible for his religiosity. Then

13. Recently, it has become fashionable for young Jewish families to give their children traditional Jewish names, rather than Russian or Ukrainian ones. This caused confusion in many families I knew: they insisted that Hebrew names were inappropriate, too difficult to pronounce, and not related to family history.

as the years passed, they calmed down. Time and the seriousness of our beliefs have taken their toll. They were very upset that we didn't eat at their house. Convincing my parents was easier. But I think this is due to the fact that they are used to the fact that I have been making my own decisions since childhood. It was important for us to behave in such a way that they understood that this is not a joke, but a serious life decision, and no amount of whims and resentments will make us change our minds. It certainly wasn't easy, but after all, they loved us very much.

Vera also shared her story with me:

My family was in shock. You must understand that at that time the thesis "religion is the opium of the people" was firmly hammered into everyone's heads. I think my family was trying to figure out what had happened to their daughter... I think the most difficult thing for them was that I was now a stranger, incomprehensible to them. They couldn't even articulate what it was that scared them so much. But time passed, and, thank G-d. I have a great family, we've been through it, and so much more.

Now it's become a joke. As her father says, "I don't understand how I, a Ukrainian, gave birth to a Jewish daughter."

Marriage issues could also be controversial. One day my friend David took me to my grandmother's house for a traditional tea. Being a "new watcher", David tried to avoid her questions about when he was getting married, and mentioned that he was looking forward to meeting a beautiful Jewish girl. My grandmother replied:

You need to marry someone because the person is good, smart, and kind. And getting married just because she's Jewish is stupid. There are so many nationalities in our family. So many wonderful people who have helped me a lot in my life. And you should have upset me with all this talk? ... And why are you walking around in that funny hat? (pile). And do you have to tell everyone that you're Jewish?

"That's the whole point," David said.

Some of the families I met were more tolerant of their children's life choices and were willing to make any compromises. Lera and Vladik had to adapt to the demands of Jewish religious life, which they were forced to accept.

they were led by their daughter and her family. They always kept kosher plastic dishes ready in the house, in case their daughter and her family came to visit.

Non-observant family members sometimes took part in religious festivals and rituals, but as if from the outside. "I was poisoned by my grandson's brit," Emma told me. - Beautiful holiday. But all this religious stuff... no, it's not for me. I'm a Soviet man."

There is a difference between observant Jews who tried to soften their transition to religious life for non-participating or non-Jewish family members, and those who approached the situation from a radical perspective. For example, Vera tried to get her parents ' consent through what she called "shock therapy." Others talked about how they tried to negotiate. Mendy said that he explained everything to his mother and answered all her questions. "It's all new to them," he said, referring to his parents ' generation as a whole. "They grew up at a different time. They also need to be understood."

The religious practice of "new-observant" Jews also played an important role in establishing new social connections with those who had similar experiences or lived the same life. These connections often mimicked family or blood ties. In some cases, as for Malki and others, the decision to spend the Sabbath outside the home meant not only being able to go to synagogue, but also feeling in the "right atmosphere." "When everyone does the same thing, it's nice and you feel comfortable. When you do something alone, you feel lonely, " one of my interlocutors explained.

It was a common practice for observant Jews (both Israelis and locals) to invite neophytes into the house after synagogue services for a Sabbath meal to make them feel like part of the "family." Orthodox synagogues also offered free on-site Shabbat food to all comers. Attending Sabbath meals, whether in private homes or in a synagogue, was one of the ways I made initial contact with the city's religious minority. I felt that in many ways the religious circles that "new-observant" Jews joined worked as kinship networks, where care, attention, and love were directed to the new members of the community as if they were children. As Vera said, " Those with whom you share this experience often feel like family."

Challenging Jewish Practice: a Compliance Policy

If religious practice, on the one hand, worked in Odessa in such a way that observant Jews recognized each other as "relatives", then, on the other hand, it turned out to be a challenge for everyone regarding their status as "correctly" observant. At the same time, non - observant Jews often rejected altogether the claim that Jewish identity is defined by religious practice: this contradicted their own Soviet - or Odessa-based-notions of a secular Jewish identity, linked to family history, education, knowledge, culture, a sense of belonging in upbringing to the city's Jewish circles, and broad views on life. Thus, the observance of the commandments of Judaism served in Odessa as a platform for debate both inside and outside the religious minority.

From time to time, local Jews have questioned the authority of foreign religious leaders based on other principles of observance. One family told me that Israeli families who worked in their religious community refused to eat in the homes of local Jews. This family saw this behavior as a manifestation of outright distrust of the kosher status of local Jews.

For others, on the contrary, the system of observance learned through Jewish education, which was provided mainly by emissaries, served as the main reference point in evaluating themselves and others as "good Jews." "I am a Jew and a Ukrainian," Zhenya told me. Although he was only ten years old, each of these designations was associated with different things, although in his own practice they were mixed up. "My (Ukrainian) grandmother and my (Jewish) grandfather believe in Jesus," he explained. "And you?" I asked. "No, I'm not. But I'm not as good a Jew as Jaime (his friend), I don't keep the Sabbath, I watch TV." It was clear that Zhenya's ideas about "correct" Jewish behavior were shaped by the school, since this could not be done by his family environment. Since Jaime fulfilled one of the main duties of an Orthodox Jew, Zhenya considered him a "good" Jew, but was hesitant to call him that. However, he considered himself a better Jew than his grandmother, who believed in Jesus. Although Zhenya, like most Orthodox school students, was confronted with a different set of religious and cultural orientations at school and at home, he did not have the same experience.-

It is clear that it was his formal education that shaped his judgment of the contradictions he witnessed.

Those who joined the religious practice in the early nineties believed that the situation has changed dramatically today, under the new Jewish leadership. According to one of my interlocutors, " then the religious community was nothing... We gathered in a small room and studied... We didn't pay for our classes, and the rabbi didn't support us financially... It wasn't easy." Although it is likely that today's religious Jewish life brings more "benefits" than in the nineties, I do not question the sincerity of those Jews who began to keep the commandments later, or the later leaders of religious Jewish communities in Odessa. In fact, the reasons that led one or another" new-observant " Jew to follow the commandments were very different, depending on personal motives and life circumstances.

Secular and non-congregational Jews have occasionally expressed skepticism about the sincerity of faith, practice, or high morals of religious Jews, sometimes referring to them as individuals, and sometimes as representatives of a collective effort to revive Judaism as a way of life. In one conversation, Senya, a middle-aged physics teacher, said that he doubted that one of his friends, a "new watcher", a former foreman and now a synagogue employee, could believe in anything other than his salary. It is not only that this man's lack of education prevented him from entering into communion with God, but also that he did not live the most highly moral life. "I think ninety percent of those who consider themselves religious have never even opened the Bible."

Olga Notkina told me:

My entire family, including myself, has been raised as atheists since childhood. So I find it funny to see modern people - educated, intelligent, talented-who go to synagogue on certain days, at certain times, and wrap up pieces of paper with prayers so that they don't forget who exactly is saying the prayer for their deceased relatives.

Yevgeny, an art collector and journalist in his late seventies, told me that the Jewish life of the city unfolds not so much in synagogues as in the Jewish one

the press, the Jewish theater, Migdal Or, and in the work of Jewish artists and ordinary Jews of Odessa.

Such views were most often expressed by older people and, to some extent, middle-aged people. Specifically for older people, their participation in Jewish organizations or centers does not imply any degree of religious involvement: many of them depend on the assistance provided by these organizations, but most of them are not religious.

I also met young Jews who did not connect Jewish identity with Judaism in any way. Misha and Gosha, both students in my English class, described themselves as Jewish by nationality. Being Jewish for them meant something innate, which includes a passion for education, family history in Odessa, and the secular Jewish culture represented in the writings of Jewish writers and composers, as well as a love of Jewish cuisine. Later, their Jewish identity was also associated with emigration and families who moved to the United States as Jewish refugees in the nineties. They both told me that even though they are atheists, that doesn't make them any worse Jews than the new watchers. Participation in Jewish organizations required interest and time, and they spared neither.

The middle-aged Odessa Jews I knew were aware of Jewish life in the city (mainly through their children), but for the most part they did not participate in Jewish organizations and did not observe the commandments of Judaism: this was hindered by lack of time, lack of interest and/or anti-religious ideals. In many cases, they held views close to those of their own parents and shaped by their Soviet upbringing, although, as we have seen and will see again, there may have been different paths even within the same family. In the eyes of Jewish emissaries and other Jewish activists, Odessa's middle-aged Jews had an important task to perform - financially supporting the Jewish education that their children received in schools and other centers of activity. Contrary to these heightened expectations, many parents I know have not sought to place their children in a religious environment (even if, as was the case with Vera, Vladik, Anna, and Marik, they have occasionally provided support in other ways: for example, by sharing kosher rules or creating conditions for their compliance). Therefore, it cannot be said that they agreed to commit themselves or their children to live in accordance with religion.-

by federal laws. In many cases, children attributed their parents ' lack of enthusiasm to their mixed ancestry, which would have put a non-Jewish parent in a difficult position to strictly follow Jewish practices in their home life. In the case of purely Jewish families, the main reasons why Jewish parents hesitated or refused to follow religious practices at home were secular beliefs or Soviet upbringing.

The end of the religious revival?

Today, there are more Jewish organizations in Odessa than there are Jews.

Misha, one of my interlocutors.

Despite the general perception that former Soviet states are gradually becoming more open to religious influences as they break free from Soviet secularization policies, many in Odessa are talking about the decline of Jewish religiosity. Compared to the nineties, when many Jewish religious institutions and practices were new and enthusiastic, their novelty seems to have become less pronounced later. Many of my informants suggested that the very certainty that these institutions and practices are now permanently linked to Odessa dampens the need for active participation. In addition, due to the improved economic and social situation that was observed during my fieldwork, many Jews have become less dependent on Jewish aid from religious organizations (although this may change again in the current economic climate). For others, active engagement turned out to be a youth activity that they grew out of or changed the direction of their efforts, as they had to feed their families and build a career.

Given the fact that Judaism is not aimed at conversion, there is a clearly limited number of possible members of the community and intense competition between different movements. Jewish program leaders agree that emigration from the city has significantly reduced the number of Jews who are recognized as such by the Halakha and the Law of Return. Similarly, reform religious leaders partly attributed the relatively small size of their community compared to Orthodox communities to the fact that the reform community had established itself in Odessa "too late", when a large number of Jews were already connected to the Jewish community.-

but with Chabad or Litvak movements. So, compared to the early period of Jewish activism, when many local Jews were willing to participate enthusiastically in Jewish institutions of any kind, many of the remaining Jews have already become members or activists of certain communities, or, having gained some experience, for one reason or another, have chosen to participate partially in religious community life, or even completely rejection of it. Others, who had never been interested in Judaism, simply ignored the appeals of Jewish propaganda.

In addition, many sociologists have noticed that in the former Soviet Union, increased Jewish activity was often observed on the part of those Jews who were definitely inclined to emigrate.¹⁴ This is also true for Odessa. A large proportion of Odessa's Jewish population, which was active in the early stages of the Jewish renaissance, later emigrated to the United States, Israel, Germany, and other countries. Those who remained in charge of local associations simply could not compete with the economic resources and opportunities available to international organizations, with their foreign personnel and programs formed abroad. Those of my interlocutors who remembered or knew about the local initiatives of the early nineties (related to Shaya Gisser) were aware of the structural growth, widespread expansion, and overall strengthening of these religious communities, at least in a material sense. Moreover, they accepted and even welcomed the new amenities brought by foreign funding: kosher food stores, Jewish institutions that support religious lifestyles, and, to some extent, connections to a wider network of observant Jews. But they regretted the times when the impetus for change came from the local Jewish population.

Comparing religious development to building a house, Vera described the initial stage of Jewish life as "living in a tent":

Being on a camping trip is very romantic, but for some reason we always build our homes on solid foundations and with thick walls.

14. Chervyakov, V., Gitelman, Z. & Shapiro, V. (2003) "E Pluribus Unum? Post-Soviet Jewish Identities and their Implications for Communal Reconstruction", in Zvi Gitelman, Musya Giants and Marshall I. Goldman (eds) Jewish Life after the USSR, p. 74. Bloomington: Indiana University Press.

walls. At first, the construction was staggeringly new, but then we made progress... Today we see a new stage of construction. It reminds me of living with my neighbors, with all the pros and cons... Whether we like it or not, this is progress.

For all these reasons, many observant local Jews and Jewish activists perceive today's Jewish religious life as the end of what they considered a Jewish renaissance. Describing the overall level of religiosity in Odessa (for all religions), local sociologists agree that the sudden increase in the number and diversity of religious organizations in the early nineties was what they call a religious revival. However, according to a review by A. Pankov15, a sociologist at the University of Odessa, for most religious groups, the dynamics in Odessa has remained virtually unchanged since 199516.

Although the number of communities has increased, Pankov and other sociologists note that religion and religious values are marginal to public consciousness.¹⁷ Therefore, they are forced to admit that by 2003 it was no longer possible, as in the mid-nineties, to talk about a religious revival in Ukraine. Other studies-

15. Pankov A. Integration resources of religion and multi-confessional stability. Faculty of Sociology, Odessa University, 2013.

16. A survey conducted in 2003 showed that 51 % of respondents considered themselves believers, 32 % found it difficult to answer, and 17 % considered themselves non-believers. In 1995, 51% identified themselves as believers, while 19% found it difficult to answer and 28 % considered themselves non-believers. While the number of believers who call themselves members of the Ukrainian Orthodox Church increased from 28 % (1995) to 46 % (2003), the number of Greek Catholics, Roman Catholics, Protestants, Muslims, adherents of Judaism and other" non-traditional " religions (1% each) remained unchanged during this period (quoted in Richardson, Tanya (2006) " Living Cosmopolitanism? 'Tolerance', Religion, and Local Identity in Odessa", in Chris Hann and the "Civil Religion" Group (eds) The Postsocialist Religious Question: Faith and Power in Central Asia and East-Central Europe, pp. 213 - 240. Berlin: Lit Verlag).

17. Chervyakov and his colleagues ' research led to similar conclusions. In comparison with earlier surveys (1992-1993), they found "a general decline in Jewish educational activity among the Jewish population [in Russia and Ukraine]", judging by the level of attendance at lectures and seminars on Jewish history, religion and traditions, as well as the frequency of listening to Jewish radio programs. At the same time, the authors note that regular attendance expresses a "deeper interest" in these subjects (Chervyakov, V., Gitelman, Z. & Shapiro, V. (2003) " E Pluribus Unum? Post-Soviet Jewish Identities and their Implications for Communal Reconstruction", in Zvi Gitelman, Musya Giants and Marshall I. Goldman (eds) Jewish Life after the USSR, p. 73. Bloomington: Indiana University Press).

Research shows that this decrease in the level is typical not only for Odessa. In Kyrgyzstan, Pelkmans found a similar phenomenon ¹⁸. He notes that despite the growing number of mosques and the greater willingness of people to recognize their religious affiliation, "the question arises to what extent this means a more active commitment to Islam or Christianity." ¹⁹ And in continuation of the thought: "I was more struck by the lack of interest in religion among the majority of Kyrgyz people than by the 'religious revival '" ²⁰.

Conclusion

This material shows that for Odessa Jews, adherence to religion meant adopting a new way of life rather than returning to the earlier code of social norms observed by previous generations. In this sense, I agree with the following statement of Norman Solomon:" Going back to the roots", Europeans - Eastern and Western-do not and cannot simply recreate the lifestyle that one or more Jewish communities followed in earlier times... They truly invent new lifestyles by selecting one or more past expressions of Judaism, modifying and mixing them with other elements of Soviet, Russian, European [I would add: American and Israeli. - MS] culture ²¹.

18. Pelkmans, Mathijs (2006) "Asymmetries on the Religious Market in Kyrgyzstan", in Chris Hann and the "Civil Religion" Group (eds) The Postsocialist Reigious Question: Faith and Power in Central Asia and East-Central Europe, pp. 29 - 46. Berlin: LIT Verlag.

19. Ibid., p. 34.

20. Ibid.

21. Solomon, Norman (1994) "Judaism in the New Europe: Discovery or Invention?", in Jonathan Webber (ed.) Jewish Identities in the New Europe, p. 97. London: Littman Library of Jewish Civilization. Solomon describes a group of young Jews he met in Leningrad (St. Petersburg) in 1982: they had just received tefillin and were praying according to Orthodox requirements. His doubts about their "return to their roots" stemmed from the fact that the young people were being taught about rituals by a visiting Orthodox Jew, rather than from older Jewish residents of their hometown who had forgotten, as they feared, the "right" ways. This example prompted Solomon to ask: "So, in what sense did the young Leningrad Jews go back to their roots? Of course, not in the sense of returning to the way of life of their ancestors - because of the fear that they followed distorted rules " (Solomon, Norman. "Judaism in the New Europe: Discovery or Invention?", p. 87).

In the course of this transformation, new authorities of Judaism and Judaism were created, recognized, but also tested. All of them were related to different meanings of what it means to be a Jew.

"Religiosity" in this case can include many open narratives and motivations of Jewish, non-Jewish, secular and religious orientation. All this creates for the local Jewish population a variety of alternative ways of expressing Jewishness, in addition to the institutional model of Jewish practice. Therefore, it is more accurate to speak of "religious adherence", meaning a special state of mind and space for building a spiritual life. For my interlocutors, this commitment sometimes, after some reflection, led to the fact that their perception of Jewish identity took a new or slightly different direction, no longer connected with the "completeness" of observing the rules and commandments. "Religious commitment" may include full, partial, short-term, or long-term practice of Judaism, or adherence to it in addition to or in place of previous beliefs.

Similarly, if we assume, as at least some Odessans assume, that the impact of religious revitalization has declined since the nineties, then the term "religious commitment", less loaded with the meanings of novelty and revival, will help us conceptualize the current attitude to religious practice and its current models. This will make it possible to better represent the current attitudes and aspirations of religiously oriented Jews, who are testing the limits of Judaism and its institutions in a variety of ways.

Perhaps it is too early to fully assess the significance of Jewish "religious commitment" in Odessa, given the ongoing changes in migration patterns, the growing range of public religious practices and personal aspirations of believers, and the role of the global economy that fuels religious education and practice at various levels. However, it can be concluded that the impulses of religious awakening and revival in Odessa led to complex and already undeniable changes in Jewish religious practices. The consequences of these changes remain to be seen.

Bibliography / References

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Aviv, Caryn & Shneer, David (2005) New Jews: The End of the Jewish Diaspora. New York: New York University Press.

Chervyakov, V., Gitelman, Z. & Shapiro, V. (2003) "E Pluribus Unum? Post-Soviet Jewish Identities and their Implications for Communal Reconstruction", in Zvi Gitelman, Musya Giants and Marshall I. Goldman (eds) Jewish Life after the USSR, pp. 61 - 75. Bloomington: Indiana University Press.

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Richardson, Tanya (2006) "Living Cosmopolitanism? 'Tolerance', Religion, and Local Identity in Odessa", in Chris Hann and the "Civil Religion" Group (eds) The Postsocialist Religious Question: Faith and Power in Central Asia and East-Central Europe, pp. 213 - 240. Berlin: Lit Verlag.

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