Kadya Molodowsky
One of the writers I really loved was Kadya Molodowsky, (1894-1975). Born in a shtetl in White Russia, Molodowsky grew up in an educated family as one of four children. Her father taught Hebrew and Gemara to boys in a heder, but was also a passionate follower of the Enlightenment and early Zionism. Her mother ran a dry-goods shop and later opened a factory that distilled a lightly alcohol beverage made from fermented cereal.
Molodowsky’s grandmother taught her how to read Yiddish. Her father taught her Bible and also hired Russian tutors to teach her secular subjects. Such an education, especially instruction in Hebrew, was not typical for a girl of her time and place, explains Jewish American Literature: a Norton Anthology.
Molodowsky married and emigrated to the US in 1935, settling in New York City. She published widely in multiple genres, including children’s poems, adult poems, novels and columns. In 1950, she moved with her husband to live in Tel Aviv, where, in 1971, she was awarded the most prestigious award in the world of Yiddish letters, the Itzik Manger Prize. In particular her writings reflect a deep awareness and compassion for the poverty she witnessed among immigrant Jews in New York.
After her husband died, Molodowsky’s health began to decline and she became incapacitated. Her sister, niece and nephew moved her to a nursing home near Philadelphia, where she died in March 1975.
It’s easy to learn more about this interesting writer. A research article has been written about Molodowsky and her work, which you can view here. A collection of her poems can also be viewed on GoogleBooks here.
One of Molodowsky’s most famous poems is called “God of Mercy.” What do you think of it? I’d love to hear your reactions.
God of Mercy
O God of Mercy
Choose –
another people.
We are tired of death, tired of corpses,
We have no more prayers.
Choose –
another people.
We have run out of blood
For victims,
Our houses have been turned into desert,
The earth lacks space for tombstones,
There are no more lamentations
Nor songs of woe
In the ancient texts.
God of Mercy
Sanctify another land,
Another Sinai.
We have covered every field and stone
With ashes and holiness.
With our crones
With our young
With our infants
We have paid for each letter in your Commandments.
God of Mercy
Lift up your fiery brow,
Look on the peoples of the world,
Let them have the prophecies and Holy Days
Who mumble your words in every tongue.
Teach them the Deeds
And the ways of temptation.
God of Mercy
To us give rough clothing
Of shepherds who tend sheep
Of blacksmiths at the hammer
Of washerwomen, cattle slaughterers
And lower still.
And O God of Mercy
Grant us one more blessing –
Take back the divine glory of our genius.
WanderingHebrew.com 