The lively Klezmer music filled the wedding hall, and as family and friends formed a circle, dancing around the seated parents of the bride, I found myself captivated by a unique ritual. “Did you get to see the mizinke tantz?” my wife asked later, as we drove home, her curiosity piqued. Her friend Shaindy, ever observant, had suggested it might be a secular Yiddish theatre adaptation, perhaps even borrowed from non-Jewish customs. What was this intriguing dance, and where did it truly come from?
This dance, known as “the mizinke,” or more descriptively, “the broom dance,” is increasingly gracing Orthodox Jewish weddings. It’s a moment where the bride or groom’s parents are seated as honored guests, encircled by joyous dancers moving to the upbeat rhythm of Klezmer music, specifically the tune “Di Mizinke Oysgegebn, The Youngest Daughter is Given Away.” Often, the ritual includes a symbolic “crowning ceremony,” where the mother is presented with a broom, and both parents are adorned with laurel wreaths.
The broom sweeping and laurel crowns did strike me as somewhat out of sync with traditional Jewish symbolism. Laurels, in particular, evoked classical Greek imagery, a far cry from Jewish heritage. Yet, the mizinke dance was undeniably becoming a fixture at frum (Orthodox) weddings. Driven by a desire to understand rather than assume, I embarked on a quest to uncover the true history of this captivating Jewish Dance.
The Initial Search for Answers
My first instinct was to consult my library. Surely, if this was a long-standing Jewish custom, it would be documented in classic texts on Jewish traditions. I turned to Rabbi Menachem Mendel Paksher’s comprehensive two-volume Invei HaGefen, Rabbi Gavriel Zinner’s detailed Nitei Gavriel: Nisuin, and Rabbi Abraham Chill’s insightful The Minhagim: The Customs and Ceremonies of Judaism, Their Origins and Rationale. To my surprise, none of these authoritative works mentioned the mizinke dance.
Undeterred, I continued my research, immediately facing a linguistic hurdle: the spelling. Was it “muzinke,” “mozinka,” “mizinke,” or “mezynke”? To clarify this, I reached out to Dr. Paul Glasser, a former dean of the Max Weinreich Center for Advanced Jewish Study at the YIVO Institute for Jewish Research in New York. YIVO is a leading institution dedicated to the study of East European Jewry and Yiddish culture. Dr. Glasser confirmed the correct English spelling as “mizinke,” explaining it’s a Yiddish word meaning “the youngest daughter.” While he wasn’t familiar with the dance’s history, he directed me to Chana Mlotek, YIVO’s music archivist (of blessed memory). Ms. Mlotek was well-acquainted with the song “Di Mizinke Oysgegebn,” confirming its composition by Mark (Mordechai) Warshavsky in Kiev, 1901. However, when asked about the dance itself, she stated, “I don’t know anything about a dance.”
With the correct spelling secured, I delved into various databases. Searching for “mizinke” in the Bar Ilan University Responsa—Global Jewish Database, an extensive repository of Jewish texts spanning over 3,000 years, and Otzar HaHochma, a vast digital library of over 62,000 Judaic books, yielded no results. The mizinke dance seemed to be absent from traditional Jewish literary sources.
Tracing the Song and Exploring New Leads
Shifting my focus, I investigated Warshavsky and the song itself. Mark Warshavsky was a renowned Jewish folk singer and composer, mentored by the celebrated Yiddish author Sholem Aleichem. They were part of a vibrant artistic circle in Kiev’s cafes. Besides the mizinke song, Warshavsky also composed the beloved lullaby “Oyfn Pripetchik.” The lyrics of “Di Mizinke Oysgegebn” are deeply traditional, expressing gratitude for the joyous occasion and emphasizing the importance of providing for the poor. Yet, my search for the dance’s origins remained fruitless.
I then contacted Zalman Alpert, a reference librarian at Yeshiva University’s Mendel Gottesman Library of Hebraica/Judaica. Intriguingly, he shared that he had also recently researched the mizinke dance and found little information. He mentioned a possible “connection to Ukraine” and had even inquired if it was a custom among Skver Chassidut, originating from Skver in Ukraine, but it was not. Ukraine kept surfacing as a potential clue.
During a trip to Israel, I continued my inquiries. I asked relatives in Tel Aviv, who were of Polish descent (and Holocaust survivors), about the custom. They had witnessed the dance at religious weddings in Israel. However, my relative from Ruzhan expressed strong disapproval, finding it “repulsive,” interpreting it as symbolizing sweeping children out of the house, contrary to the welcoming spirit of Jewish homes. This custom was not practiced in pre-war Ruzhan, a town with both Mitnagdim and Chassidim communities.
Back in New York, I reached out to a senior member of The National Yiddish Theatre—Folksbiene, wondering if the mizinke dance might have emerged from Yiddish theatre or film, potentially explaining its modern popularity. He suggested it was plausible, as wedding scenes were common themes, and immigrants sought to maintain their Eastern European cultural ties. However, pinpointing a specific production featuring the mizinke dance would be incredibly difficult, like “finding a needle in a haystack” within the vast archives of performances.
Divergent Theories and Expert Insights
Friends and acquaintances offered their own, often contradictory, theories. One acquaintance of Polish descent dismissed it as “total naarishkeit [nonsense], a Hungarian custom.” Conversely, someone of Hungarian descent labeled it “total naarishkeit, a Polish custom.” No consensus, and no real progress.
Seeking more structured research, I turned to the New York Public Library. Miryem-Khaye Seigel, librarian at the Dorot Jewish Division, suggested the mizinke likely predated Jewish film and theatre in the US. She provided a list of Jewish dance experts, a promising new avenue.
Contacting Judith Brin Ingber, a Jewish dance historian, writer, performer, and educator, proved pivotal. She and her colleague Helen Winkler, from Toronto, Canada, joined the investigation. These experts introduced me to a network of Yiddishists, dance historians, folklorists, ethnomusicologists, and Klezmer musicians. Despite this extensive network, the core mystery remained. As Winkler summarized, Dr. Itzik Gottesman, a folklorist and associate editor of the Yiddish Daily Forward, stated he had never encountered the mizinke dance or the krensl (crowning) ceremony in his extensive readings of Yiddish and European sources. His expertise suggested the custom wasn’t widely known in historical European Jewish contexts.
Ingber noted the frequent inquiries about the mizinke dance, highlighting its contemporary significance: “the dance is a wonderful and powerful way to honor parents who are marrying off their last child. However it is done… it’s a heartfelt and important addition to wedding receptions.” While the dance’s emotional resonance was clear, its origins remained elusive.
Undeterred, I contacted the National Library of Israel at the Hebrew University of Jerusalem. A professor of dance history there echoed the familiar refrain: “We have done a very extensive search… and have not found the source for the custom.”
The Ukrainian Connection Solidifies
Despite dead ends in traditional Jewish sources, the recurring mention of Ukraine prompted me to focus my search there. “If all roads lead to the Ukraine, let’s take them!” I thought.
Returning to local resources, I contacted the Ukrainian Museum in New York, connecting with Lubow Wolynetz, curator of folk art. She was finalizing an exhibit on Ukrainian Wedding Textiles and Traditions. This felt like a breakthrough.
Wolynetz described 19th-century Ukrainian wedding celebrations lasting several days. On the final day, a custom involved wheeling the parents on a wagon to the local inn for feasting and revelry with guests. However, she mentioned nothing about youngest children, brooms, or laurels in this context. Disappointment lingered, but a theory was beginning to take shape.
Note: The original URL for the Ukrainian wedding image was not directly provided. A placeholder URL is used here. Efforts should be made to find the original image URL or a similar public domain image representing the described scene.
The Bandleaders’ Theory and Ukrainian Folkloric Roots
Based on the accumulated information, I hypothesized that bandleaders were key to the mizinke dance’s popularization at Jewish weddings. YIVO’s Mlotek had hinted at this, mentioning bandleader Abe Schwartz’s role in popularizing the song in the 1920s. Hankus Netsky, founder of the Klezmer Conservatory Band, in his ethnomusicology dissertation, also identified bandleaders as the source of the custom. Professor Ruth R. Wisse of Harvard corroborated this, suggesting that wedding bands incorporated the mizinke into their routines, sometimes even surprising the families. Winkler independently reached the same conclusion.
Then, a crucial email arrived from Wolynetz. She described a Ukrainian custom where, at the end of multi-day wedding celebrations, guests would place the bride or groom’s parents on a wagon and take them to the village inn for the “selling of the parents,” where the parents bought drinks for everyone. Crucially, she added, “If the parents married off their last child (son or daughter) then the guests would make wreaths and place them on the heads of the parents and thus take them to the village inn.” This information came from an 1889 Ukrainian magazine, based on the work of ethnographer Pavlo Chubynsky, who documented 19th-century Ukrainian village folklore.
Wolynetz pointed out that in the 1800s, Jewish families often owned or operated village inns in Ukraine. Jewish tavern owners would have witnessed this custom of parents wearing wreaths being brought to taverns for celebration. This, she proposed, was very likely how the custom entered Jewish wedding traditions.
This Ukrainian connection, combined with the bandleader theory, provides a compelling explanation for the mizinke dance. It suggests a fascinating cultural exchange, where a Ukrainian folk custom, perhaps observed and adopted by Jewish innkeepers, was then integrated into Jewish weddings, possibly popularized and embellished by bandleaders seeking to enhance wedding celebrations with engaging rituals. The mizinke dance, therefore, while not rooted in ancient Jewish texts, represents a vibrant example of cultural fusion and the evolving nature of wedding traditions within the Jewish diaspora. It’s a testament to how customs can emerge, adapt, and become cherished parts of cultural celebrations, enriching the tapestry of Jewish dance and wedding rituals.
