Chabad Almaty: Three Impressions

The leaves outside my window blaze a vivid gold, reminding me that it's been six weeks since I arrived in Almaty to research Jewish music. It turns out that finding and settling into an apartment, sorting out instrument lessons and classes at the conservatory, and two back-to-back trips to Lake Issyk-Kul in Kyrgyzstan (one to the Nomad Games, and one for a three-day bike trip along the shoreline of the lake) have a knack for making time fly.

Preliminary research informs me that a Jewish café called Bkitzer has shut down, and I have no new leads until Carly Van Orman, Assistant Public Affairs Officer at the US Consulate in Almaty, messages me about a Sukkot event happening at Almaty's Chabad Center. I go on to attend a total of three events in five days. Here are some impressions of my experiences.

Chabad Center, Almaty

I. Sukkot. 5th day. Thursday. 27 September

Sukkot, the Festival of Booths, occurs at harvest time each year. The theme of tonight's celebration is "Sukkot Under Water," which accurately describes my feelings when I walk in. Long tables are lined with strangers, already partaking in heaps of food. I mill about, checking out the on-site Kosher store and interior of the synagogue.

When Carly arrives, we exchange greetings. Hearing English, a rabbi visiting from New York City saunters over. I tell him about my project, and it excites him. I'm pleasantly taken aback — for months, even I've been doubting that I'll uncover anything notable about Jewish music in Kazakhstan. He thinks I could interview people about their experiences and write a book about Jews in the 'Stans.

I ask him: "Would this proposed book highlight the unity or the diversity of Jewish communities?"

"Both," he responds.

II. Shabbat. 6th day of Sukkot. Friday. 28 September

An older man sitting beside me tells me he's lived in Kazakhstan all his life. I ask him if the national agenda to de-Sovietize Kazakhstan, thereby making it more "Kazakh," has negatively impacted the Jewish community.

"Of course things are better now," he says. "During the Soviet Union we weren't allowed to practice our religion at all."

"Has mainstream Kazakh culture affected Jews here in any way?"

"Well, I suppose Kazakhs have made Jews more hospitable."

I share this with the rabbi visiting from New York. He laughs.

"It's definitely the other way around."

I defend the older man: "His was the diplomatic answer, I suppose."

The rabbi laughs again.

III. Simchat Torah. Monday. 1 October

My new New York friend has been waiting for me.

"You know, Yasha," he says, "Simchat Torah is the only day in the year Jews can make kiddush on spirits."

I did not know this. Kiddush is a blessing I've only ever said over wine.

He pours me a full cup of vodka. We say the blessing. I drink.

"You have to drink at least 51% of the glass" the rabbi says. "You've drunk like 38%."

I point out that the glass is wider at the top than at the bottom. Then, I point out that maybe some food would be a good idea.

The brother of the Chief Rabbi of Kazakhstan waves me over to his table. Vladimir, an elderly musician, is excited to speak English with me. Vladimir tells me that he wishes he could accompany the daveners as they pray, but they either don't want him to, or don't want instruments in the sanctuary.

I'm reminded of something the New York rabbi mentioned on Thursday night: "In Chasidic philosophy, instrumental music is more powerful than vocal music. Instrumental music can take the soul deeper than words can."

I put a pin in that thought. For now it's time to sing and dance with the Torah. It's Yom Tov, so no instruments are allowed.