The Soviet General

In the small conference room of the modern Medžiotojų Užeiga hotel in Šiauliai, Lithuania, a group of Jews gather for the Passover Seder.

Survivors from the Lithuania of old and Russians transplanted to the this former bastion of Torah by Stalin's machine, young students ignorant of their heritage but eager to learn and zeides with memories of how things once were... They have one thing on common—the name "Jew."

Two young American yeshivah students try to entertain the gathered during the course of the Seder. Smiles almost crack leathery faces wrinkled with age and sorrow; looks of wonder from the new knowledge gained on the faces of those far younger.

He does not know what to make of this Seder, or the American born rabbisIn the corner, set alone from the crowd, sits an elderly individual. His name is perhaps Mendel, perhaps Moshe—he's known in Russian as Misha. He does not know what to make of this Seder, or the American born rabbis. They reach out to him, try to draw him in—but this is not what he was looking for. He had envisioned a night of vodka and passionate dancing.

The Seder progresses; they are done with the salt water and the bitter herbs, they had filled themselves with matzah and wine.

Misha is still sullen, taciturn and lost in thought. A life spent as an officer in the Soviet army has left him numb to ritual. Yet something drew him to this place, but that something cannot be clearly articulated in his mind.

The end of the Seder draws near, the door is opened for Elijah the Prophet. Misha gets up and contemplates going out for a breath of fresh air, perhaps a cigarette or even a chance to leave with out notice.

Something stirs within and he remains for the last few minutes of the Seder. The wine in Elijah's cup is returned to the bottle. One of the candles on the table begins to flicker and die out.

Suddenly one of the yeshivah students jumps to his feet, words issue from his throat with great zeal:

"нет нет неКого" (Nyet nyet nikavo, there is nothing besides Him).

The assembled Jews hold hands and begin to dance in a circle, jumping and twisting to the words.

Misha becomes excited and points to the other guests:

"You see!" he says in glee, "There is nothing besides G‑d!"

The other guests laugh. One of them replies in jest, "You were a Soviet general, since when did Soviets believe in G‑d?

"Me?" Misha responds. "I'm a Jew!"