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A Meditation on Muscular Judaism

In Jewish Culture, Judaism and Society, Spring 2012 on July 18, 2012 at 2:51 am

By Ephraim Margolin

The stereotype of Jews as being physically inferior has existed for centuries. The otherness of the Jews, their insistence on being a people who dwells alone [1], and their characteristic refusal to assimilate has engendered a long and storied history of anti-Semitism. Unfortunately, much of this virulent anti-Semitism has perpetuated fallacious tropes, such as the existence of a “Jewish nose,” from as early as the 13th century. The advent of science helped legitimize physical anti-Semitism, which deemed Jews effeminate for their fast-style of talking, narrow chests, shorter arms, and flat feet [2].

Yet, the fin de siècle milieu of Eastern Europe, which gave birth to Theodore Herzl and modern Zionism, helped reimagine the Jewish people not as weak, nebbishy, and physically frail, but as healthy, strong, and able [3]. Max Nordau, a Zionist leader and social critic who was co-founder of the World Zionist Organization with Herzl, gave a speech at the 1898 World Zionist Congress in which he used the term muskel-Judenthum, muscular Judaism. He described a new type of Jew: one who is both intellectually and physically fit[4]. According to Nordau, “the victims of anti-Semitism suffered from their own disease, a condition he called Judenot, or Jewish distress. Life in the dirty ghetto had afflicted the Jews with effeminacy and nervousness.”[5]

“In the narrow Jewish streets,” he wrote, “our poor limbs forgot how to move joyfully; in the gloom of the sunless houses our eyes became accustomed to nervous blinking; out of fear of constant persecution the timbre of our voices was extinguished to an anxious whisper”[6]. While Nordau’s acceptance of Jewish stereotypes is incredibly disconcerting and his obsession with perfecting the body was unhealthy, muscular Judaism helped renew the idea that Jews could be whatever they wanted to be and that Zionism was the answer to the Ostjuden’s, Eastern European Jews’, ills.

Nordau’s muscular Judaism was a call for the regeneration of the Jewish people through the body. “We want to restore to the flabby Jewish body its lost tone, to make it vigorous and strong, nimble and powerful.”[7] He proclaimed that sport, which “will strengthen us in body and character,” was the panacea to the problems of European Jewry[8].

According to Todd Presner, professor of Jewish studies at UCLA, Nordau’s idea of muscular Judaism “was understood as a call for corporeal and spiritual regeneration” and that “National regeneration [of Zionism] would come through moral and physical rebirth”[9]. If only the Jews of Europe could defend themselves, no longer would they be pushed around. If only they had a homeland, as Nordau imagined. Nordau’s theory found a home with Hakoach Vienna. This sports club was founded in 1909 on Nordau’s ideals of what the modern Jew should be, and offered fencing, soccer, hockey, track and field, wrestling, and swimming for the roughly 180,000 Viennese Jews[10]. Hakoach, which in Hebrew means “The Strength,” was an unmistakable symbol of Jewish nationalism.

Fritz “Beda” Löhner and Ignaz Herman Körner founded the club and oversaw its growth after World War I. Despite Europe’s precarious financial situation at the time, the two benefactors added more sports to the club and built a stadium with a capacity of 28,500 people[11]. The sports club’s most successful team was its soccer team, which regularly competed in the Austrian first division. Hakoach won the league championship in 1925 and was one of the first teams to market itself globally. The team toured England and the United States unabashedly with the Star of David on its blue and white uniforms, drew thousands of Jewish fans, and became the first continental club to defeat an English team. Many of the team’s players also represented the Hungarian and Austrian teams in international competitions. Moreover, Hakoach Vienna’s success and Nordau’s theory were not limited to men. The women’s swim team also achieved astounding success, as documented by the 2004 movie Watermarks. The film tells the team’s story and focuses on Judith Haspel, a record-setting swimmer who refused to represent Austria in the 1936 Olympics because of Nazi Germany’s policy of anti-Semitism. The rise of Nazism and the desertion of many of the club’s star soccer players during the tour of America meant the end of Hakoach, but not the end of Nordau’s theory.

The modern state of Israel embodies Nordau’s concept of muskel-Judenthum. Nordau was a Zionist, and his ideal of the modern Jew was congruous with his vision for a Jewish homeland. Nordau’s image of the new Jews, strong in both mind and body, became an integral part of what it meant to be a member of the Halutzim, Zionist pioneers. The mores of the State of Israel fall directly under Nordau’s vision of Jews as a people able to adequately defend itself as a distinct entity, without the help of anyone else.

While Israel has been the paradigm of muskel-Judenthum, the stereotype of Jews as physically inferior still persists in America. The Jewish man is often portrayed (and portrays himself) in American popular culture as neurotic, nebbishy, and even sex-obsessed. From Alexander Portnoy to Woody Allen to Larry David, the archetype of the modern Jewish American male is far from the muscular and intelligent man Nordau imagined.

However, the South Philadelphia Hebrew Association (the SPHA) comes to my mind immediately when I think about Jews in sports. Like Hakoach, the SPHA flaunted its Judaism openly with Hebrew lettering on its jerseys and also like Hakoach, the team was very successful. The SPHA was the dominant team in the American Basketball league, the premier league before the advent of the National Basketball Association. Even still, the stereotypes of Jews and Jewish athletes abounded, often giving rise to anti-Semitic explanations for their success. “The reason, I suspect, that basketball appeals to the Hebrew with his Oriental background,” wrote Paul Gallico, Sports Editor of the New York Daily News and one of the premier sports writers of the 1930s, “is that the game places a premium on an alert, scheming mind, flashy trickiness, artful dodging and general smart aleckness.”[12]

Growing up in suburban America, completely infected by my father’s love of sports and reading two sports pages every morning, I had very few Jewish athletes to look up to. Like the joke in the movie Airplane! in which a passenger on the plane asks for some light reading and the flight attendant hands her a leaflet entitled “Famous Jewish Sports Legends,” I similarly owned a book called Famous Jewish Athletes (although I will admit that my book was a little thicker). Yet, while the book with its stories about Hank Greenberg, Sandy Kofaux, Dolph Schayes, Nat Holman, Sid Luckman, Slapsie Maxie Rosenbloom, and Benny Leonard managed to capture my imagination, it failed to hold it. Where were the great Jewish athletes of my day? Sure, we had Jordan Farmar, Omri Casspi, Ryan Braun, and Dmitry Salita, but Tamir Goodman never became the Jewish Jordan. None of them managed to be as successful as their earlier counterparts, or even as visible or self-identified with their Judaism as Tim Tebow, Jeremy Lin, and Manny Pacquiao are with their own form of muscular Christianity. And just as Franklin Foer likes to recount in his book, How Soccer Explains the World, I also loved to guess which professional athletes were members of the tribe. “Funny, Youkilis doesn’t sound Jewish. And Scheyer? Oh yeah, most definitely. Can Amar’e really be Jewish?”

Judaism is inextricably intertwined with sports for many American Jews. The proliferation of JCCs with basketball courts and sports as a means for assimilation has placed Judaism and the sporting world very close to each other. While Nordau’s theory of muscular Judaism is fraught with the potential for misuse and misappropriation, it can hopefully serve as inspiration for today’s Jews to succeed in athletics. By peering into the past feats of Jewish athletes and visualizing the future, we can create a vibrant new understanding of what it means to be a modern Jew and what athletics mean to (American) Jewry.

1. Num. 23:9

2. Hoedl, Klaus, Physical Characteristics of the Jews, (Central European University),  http://web.ceu.hu/jewishstudies/pdf/01_hoedl.pdf.

3. Stanislawski, Michael, Zionism and the Fin-de-siècle: Cosmopolitanism and Nationalism from Nordau to Jabotinsky, (Berkeley: University of California Berkeley, 2001).

4. Presner, Muscular Judaism: The Jewish Body and the Politics of Regeneration, n.d.

5. Stanislawski, Zionism and the Fin-de-siècle.

6. Foer, Franklin, How Soccer Explains the Jewish Question. How Soccer Explains the World: An Unlikely Theory of Globalization, (New York: Harper Collins, 2004).

7. Foer, Soccer Explains Jewish Question 69.

8. Foer, Soccer Explains Jewish Question  69.

9. Presner, Muscular Judaism

10. “Hakoah Website,” http://www.hakoah.at/en/textedetail.asp?Block=1&ID=156.

11. “Hakoah Website,” http://www.hakoah.at/en/textedetail.asp?Block=1&ID=156.

12. “The First Basket: A Jewish Basketball Documentary,” http://www.thefirstbasket. com/story.html.

Published on page 15 of the Spring 2012 issue of Leviathan.

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Pearl of Gold, Force of Nature

In Israel, Jewish Culture, Judaism and Society, Personal Interest, Winter 2012 Issue on May 19, 2012 at 4:36 am

By Karin Gold

This past winter break, six days after my birthday, my grandmother passed away. It was December 18th. I got the call around eight in the morning and cried for a good two hours while my dad rushed to buy plane tickets to Israel so we could go to the funeral and say goodbye. We stayed in Israel for two weeks for the funeral and the shiva, the seven-day period of mourning, and flew back to the US by New Year’s Eve. During my short time in Israel, I shuffled through all her old pictures and journals and was reminded of her life, a story I have heard many times. Only now do I realize how much inspiration can be drawn from her journey and her strength.
My grandmother, Pnina Kelem Gold Noiman, was born on November 29th, 1929 in a small town in British-controlled Palestine (later to be known as Tel-Aviv, Israel). Growing up, she was always surrounded by family. Either alongside her twin brother, Shmulik, or her younger brother Yechezkel (Ezekiel), she was never alone, and she liked it that way. Sadly, at the age of twelve, Pnina suffered her first loss. Her mother passed away and she was left as the only woman in a house filled with three men. Due to the tragic reality of her mother’s death, she had to become the mother figure for both of her brothers and quickly assumed the role of housewife.

At the age of fifteen, Pnina made a decision for her family and the Jewish community. She ran away from home and joined what was called the Haganah (Protection). The Haganah was a group of Jewish teenagers and adults who wanted to be part of an army to protect their land from invasion before an organized Zionist military even existed. While she was part of this impromptu organization, her job was to deliver hand grenades and explosives to other units, a job punishable by death by the British forces. After serving for two years in the Haganah, she joined the Palmach, the underground army of the Yishuv (Jewish community), prior to the formation of the state of Israel. Coincidentally, the United Nations voted in favor of the notion to partition the British mandate of Palestine in order to make room to create an Independent Jewish State of Israel on her sixteenth birthday. However, just because the UN voted it into existence, did not mean that the notion was recognized right away. There were still battles to be fought and the very idea of a country to protect.
During her service in the Palmach, Pnina went to Jerusalem in the Orthodox Battalion in 1948. In Jerusalem, specifically in the village of Mekor Chaim, she was part of the protection agency and went undercover for six months. During these six months, no one heard from her or knew her whereabouts. In Jerusalem, one of her jobs was picking up the dead bodies on the street and organizing them for a proper burial. While serving, Pnina was one of the only three girls in the entire Palmach that participated in combat during the war in 1948 and even found herself in face-to-face combat against Sudanese soldiers.

Photos courtesy of the Gold family

Finally, at the end of the war, she came back to Tel-Aviv and was reunited with her family. In that same year, the first-ever Israeli newspaper came out and Pnina Kelem was on the cover. An extensive article was written about her explaining how she risked her life in order to help create the State of Israel and protect the newly formed country. After the war in 1948, Pnina went to work in the legal department of the IDF and met a man named Benjamin Gold. Now Benjamin, or Benny, as he liked being called, was seeing a lovely girl at the time and was unfortunately quite happy in that relationship. Pnina, as was characteristic of her, managed to worm her way into his life and became his confidant. She listened to all his newly relevant relationship problems with his girlfriend, and comforted him when he was upset. He inevitably fell in love with Pnina and, after breaking it off with his old girlfriend, they were married just two years later. In 1951 they had a son and by 1961 they had a total of three children: Yoram, the oldest, Orna, the middle child and only girl, and Ehud (Udy) the youngest. Benny was a construction worker and an architect and because of his job, the entire family (with exception to Yoram) relocated to the small country of Sierra Leone in Africa and lived there for a year while Benny finished building a water tower in the city of Freetown.
In 1967 they returned to Tel-Aviv to continue their lives in Israel. In 1968, when little Udy was only seven years old, Pnina faced another tragedy when Benny passed away in his sleep from a heart attack at the age of forty-two. This devastating and completely unforeseen event shifted the family dynamic in a very familiar way. Orna, like her mother before her, was forced to assume the role of housewife and disciplinarian while Pnina worked two jobs in order to provide for her family. Finally, after being alone for ten years, Pnina found Moishe Noiman, also a widower and one of the only men who could handle a woman with a fire like hers. He moved in with her after the youngest child was out of the house and they started their 32-year long relationship together. In those thirty-two years she continued to work and in that time became the grandmother of six. Each one of her children had two of their own and, continuing the trend of her family, the children’s genders alternated according to their birth order: boy, girl, boy, girl, etc.
In 2009, Pnina riskily had open-heart surgery at the age of eighty. Luckily she recovered, but because of the surgery, her memory was never the same. Doctors say that after enduring this type of physical trauma, it is possible to develop Alzheimer’s, a condition in which one loses their short-term memory abilities. Because of this degenerative disease, about a year later she barely remembered her own grandchildren and confused her children with one another. In the summer of 2010, right before my eldest cousin’s wedding, our family put her into a home that had an on-call staff to make sure she remembered to eat and continued to function normally. Although she was not happy to go to the home, after a while she did not remember when she had gotten there and simply adapted. Even at eighty-one years old, Pnina Gold was not an easy patient to have. When someone bothered her, she would deliver the following warning‚“If you don’t shut up in the next five minutes, I’m going to go over there and smack you myself!” Unbeknownst to the other loud patients and the staff, she was completely serious. She walked right over to whoever was making the ruckus and smacked them, either with her cane or with her bare hand, just so that they would be quiet. Luckily she was living in Israel, and the hospital staff was not only used to this type of behavior but also unmoved by her threats and her occasional misbehaving. Sometimes they would even send her into other patients’ rooms to keep them in check! It would be safe to say that even with her crazy antics, she displayed her chutzpah everywhere she went. Pnina was definitely what one might call “a woman with balls.”
Once in a while, Pnina had to receive blood transfusions because of her heart condition.

On December 18th, 2011,  she went in to the hospital for a routine transfusion. Things went wrong, as things often do. Her heart was very weak, and she was old. She passed away at the age of eighty-two, leaving behind Moishe, her three children, six grandchildren, and infinite friends. Her funeral was very beautiful. Many came, including the six grandchildren, four of whom lived outside of Israel. Family and friends laid her to rest in a respected cemetery in Israel with a beautiful tombstone picked out by her children.
This woman was my grandmother.

Photo provided by the Gold family

A woman of valor, integrity, kindness, and tremendous chutzpah. I grew up with her playing Rummikub, listening to her stories, and raiding the candy cupboard made only for the grandkids. I grew up getting knitted sweaters every year, the best food anyone could taste, and kisses that pierced my face with  her sharp nose and sharp chin at the same time. I will miss her more than words can describe and so will everyone who knew her. She was my grandmother, my friend, and my hero. Her name, Pnina, literally translates to Pearl. Pearl Gold. And that’s what she was, a pearl of gold. Rare, beautiful, and although malleable, also strong. So here’s to you Savta Pnina, Savta Pina, Savta Ptitim. You were the most interesting, inspiring, and heroic person I have ever met. Much love from the world below, I know you’ll give them hell up there.

Published on page 12 of the Winter 2012 issue of Leviathan.

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My Akedah

In Jewish Culture, Judaism and Society, Poetry, Winter 2012 Issue on May 19, 2012 at 4:36 am

By Savyonne Steindler

 You bound your children to the altar of God
Securing their limbs with tethers of hesitation
Full of piety, you gave a humble nod
And raised your shimmering blade of condemnation

There was no angel of heaven
To stay your eager hand
Your clear resolve would not weaken
You’d fulfill this demand

The Lord on high sinks perplexed
Into His bejeweled throne
Furrowing His brow, quite vexed
That you thought He would condone

On that day you offered up
The heirs to your guilt and grief
God sits too stunned to disrupt
As you pull knife from its sheath

Illustration by Savyonne Steindler

Click to Enlarge

Published on page 16 of the Winter 2012 issue of Leviathan.

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