How do you react to an environment that was once responsible for possibly the greatest inhumanity in history, and one with tremendous personal impact?
At what point is it appropriate and safe to turn your attention from the past, and how far can you turn before risking the loss of memory?
Berlin had been a ruined and divided city until the Wall fell in 1989. Since then, efforts have been made to join the two sides. We arrived at the central train station, built for the World Cup that was recently hosted.
Our main base for the week (besides our hotel) was the New Synagogue, on Oranienburger Straße. It is now also the Jewish Center, or Centrum Judaicum. The Synagogue was built in the 1860's and housed more than 3,000 worshipers. There were two levels, so say 1,600 women sat upstairs, and 1,600 men below. It was the first Synagogue to use an organ. The structure sought to show the confidence and pride of the liberal Jews of Berlin, along with two Rabbinical seminaries that still exist today. All that's left of this Synagogue is the facade and the tower. Today it functions with the Jewish Center to connect with Israel, preserve the memory of Berlin Jewry, and educate. There was a reason behind the choice not to rebuild the Synagogue.
In 1923, more than 170,000 Jews lived in Berlin. This is the community we were entering and remembering through the memorials around us.
The German Jewish community of today's Berlin are mostly Russian, amounting to 12,000, with 8,000 from the former Soviet Union (some of which aren't necessarily halachically Jewish), 1,000 Orthodox. All in all there are around 20,000 Jews in Berlin, but many of the rest are secular Israelis who aren't part of the Jewish community.
This and other information was shared with us by Dagmar, the director of the program. Trained as a Protestant Pastor, she is a PhD in Hebrew Bible, has studied all over, and teaches Hebrew Bible and Near East studies. She discussed how Germany Close Up won a competition for government funding to promote trans-Atlantic relations and Jewish exchange programs. She also pointed out that the German government doesn't censure or monitor the curriculum of the program, so there is no agenda, and no barrier obstructing views and discussions of positives and negatives.
Pictures of Berlin
Pictures of Mitte and Memorials
Dagmar was particularly interested in Kivunim because we are the only program that doesn't apply specifically for Germany Up Close. The students (and staff) wrote essays and filled out applications, but visiting Germany is one component of a greater program. Dagmar is interested to hear the students' responses, given that they aren't necessarily here because they want to be.
We broke off into two groups and two activities for the rest of the day. Oh, and did I mention we had bagels for lunch, and we got very sharp Moleskine journals to take notes in, complete with valuable maps and info about Berlin?
First I went with a group to the German Historical Museum. The lobby had an interactive map display showing the shifts of territory and empires in Europe from the year 117-2000. The purpose of our visit was to study what Jews found so attractive about Germany in the 19th Century. Shalmi was our guide.
After a brief walk through the museum, we crossed a canal and walked down the main street to a Starbucks for a short break, all paid for by German taxpayers. Whatever feelings one has, they can go through this entire week without spending a Euro, coffee included. After an excellent caramel hot chocolate, Dagmar led us to a park, where she began a tour of the local district, called Mitte, and the Jewish history of the place. She wanted this tour to be primarily an orientation to the Jewish life here, but being that it was our first informal discussion with a staff member, students began asking the difficult questions...
Educated Germans, she said, use the Hebrew word Shoah to describe the Nazi genocide, just like our guide in Dresden did. When we asked why, she responded by looking at our word, Holocaust, which comes from the Greek word for sacrifice. It became popular as a term to describe the events of WWII because of a 1970's TV show of the same name, starring Meryl Streep. Do you think that's an appropriate word? I asked about using some other term, like genocide, but she said even that wouldn't be concrete enough of a term. The same would be true for English-speakers. So German intellectuals chose the word Shoah.
The Jewish Community of Berlin dates back to the 13th Century because of a document from 1295 forbidding weavers from buying cotton from Jewish traders (Berlin is at least as old as the 12th Century). Towards the end of the 16th Century, two pogroms forced the Jews out, only to return again in 1671, when 50 families from Vienna received permission to settle here after the Thirty Years War. They came along with the Huguenots, but the Huguenots didn't have to pay to resettle. Between 1712-1714, the first Synagogue was built in Berlin. After the Oranienburger Straße Synagogue (New Synagogue) was built in 1886, this one became known as the Alte Syngagogue (Old Synagogue).
Kristallnacht was not the end of this Old Synagogue. It was neither destroyed nor desecrated because, according to Dagmar, it was located very close to a post-office, and the Nazis didn't want to run the risk of vandalizing it. The Synagogue wasn't destroyed until an air-raid in 1945. All that's left is a stone line marking the foundation.
Dagmar explained the significance of another well known word, Kristallnacht. While sharing details about the Synagogue, she used the expression "so called Kristallnacht." Such a statement could be interpreted as cynical or worse, but she quickly explained her rationale. "So called Kristallnacht" because the night was far worse than one to be labeled by a term for "Crystal Night." Kristallnacht doesn't even mean "night of broken glass." So, we asked, what do Germans call this event? They call it the "November Pogrom." Like Shoah, we could begin to get a glimpse of sensitivities to language as expressed in the culture. Sensitivities to ethnicity and race are noted. The word "selection" is no longer used in German, because of its connotation of selections in what Shalmi calls the "so called" Death Camps. The word is ruined.
Right next to this Synagogue memorial were some stone pillars with carved figures and German quotes on them. In 1943, there were still more than 27,000 Jews living in Berlin. Most were forced laborers who lived at home, but remember, these German Jews were totally assimilated. They were Jewish men who intermarried.
There's a famous story rarely told in the American Jewish Holocaust Curriculum, called the "Rosentrasse Protest." The Nazis were executing what was called the "Factory Action" where they were deporting the remaining Jews of the area. They were to meet at the Jewish Community Center, the site of the Old Synagogue. Non-Jewish spouses assembled and demonstrated for two weeks for their Jewish husbands. The women numbered 200-2,000. Eventually, their husbands were released and even a collection of men deported to Auschwitz were returned.
Many questions arise from this story, concerning its validity and publicity. The Wikipedia article cites a German historian who says that the protests played no part in the actions of the Nazis, because these Jews had special status for marrying Germans. The Jews deported to Auschwitz were done so in error. On the other hand, what speaks more to me is the fact that there was organized opposition to the regime by the Germans during the War. Why is this never discussed. Perhaps because these Jews intermarried. Perhaps because Holocaust education groups all Germans as the enemy during the War. Perhaps to prevent the Germans from getting any credit for saving Jews.
A memorial for the Rosentrasse Protest (named for the street on which it took place), was erected in 1995, with carvings of women. After 40 years, how is anybody going to know what such a memorial is referring to?! In response to that criticism, there are statements on the back of the pillars, such as "set free!" and "give us our men back!"
We continued our walk, passing over a number of stumbling stones, similar to the ones we noticed in Budapest. Dagmar shared the background of the project. It started here in Berlin by a non-Jewish German named Gunter Demnig. There are stones all over Germany and much of Europe. Around 3,000 exist in Berlin. Each time one is placed, details are matched up with Yad Vashem archives, and a ceremony is arranged with local leadership and school children, and an article is published in the paper. Apparently, Munich put up a fight about having stolperstein on its pavements because of potential for disrespecting those intended to be remembered.
We next visited one of more than 300 memorials in Berlin. This one had dark stone figures standing very close together, and all looking in the same direction. A flower at the feet of these little people had a note on it with the word "Entschuldigung." "I'm sorry."
The statues stood in front of an old Jewish cemetery from as early as 1672. A century after it was purchased, the Jews transformed it into a Jewish old-age home (a German tradition). In 1945, non-Jews were buried here because so many had died during the war. There are rumors that SS are buried here. Only a few stones remain, including that of Moses Mendelssohn one of the key thinkers responsible for the Jewish Enlightenment and reformed movements. The gates were locked and all I could see was ivy and a path. Next to the park is a Jewish high school, where 400 students attend (about 50% Jewish). The school dates back to the 18th Century and was funded in part by the Mendelssohn family. It was reopened in the 90's.
55,000 Jews dies in Berlin, approximately a third of the Jewish population. The rest left or escaped.
We started our walk back to the New Synagogue, but stopped along the way at the residence of Regina Jonas, who in 1935 became the first ordained female Rabbi. She studied at the same university as Leo Beck and Gershom Scholem, and wrote her masters thesis on the topic of whether women could be ordained. Her thesis was yes. She was only allowed to lead small functions in public, such as second Havdallah ceremonies but she was accepted by most liberals in Berlin and signed her name with the prefix Rabbinerin (female Rabbi). During the War, she rejected offers to flee to the States, and stayed with her ailing mother. She went to Therezinstadt and Auschwitz, where she died. She also donated all of her belongings to the Jewish Community Archives. Her thesis is available in English. It would take more than thirty years for another woman to be ordained.
We concluded our tour at the New Synagogue, where we are based. It serves today as a museum, JCC, and small Synagogue. Dagmar discussed the scriptural verse chosen by the Jewish Community to represent their new and liberal Synagogue (the same verse appears on a gate at Harvard).
פתחו שערים ויבא גוי צדיק שמר אמנים
(ישעיהו)
Open the gates, and a righteous nation will come, guarding the beliefs
(Isaiah)
Built in 1886. Organ. Separate seating for men and women. Rabbi Jonas led second Havdallah services here.
There was an Orthodox opposition to the values of this Synagogue, and Dagmar pointed out their interpretation of the verse.
Open the gates, and the gentiles will come, but the righteous will guard the beliefs
The Synagogue was attacked on Kristallnacht (November Pogrom), but not destroyed because a German policeman named Wilhelm Krützfeld sent the Nazis away. He also warned the Jews of deportations in advance. A plaque on the wall recognizes the officer. According to the Wikipedia article, Wilhelm Krützfeld was the superior of Otto Bellgardt, the real man who protected the national landmark. The Synagogue was destroyed by Allied bombing.
This all but concluded our first day in Berlin. I enjoyed my first Caesar Salad since last summer, before returning to the Synagogue for a screening of "The Reader," a film I had seen before. The thoughts that were shared after the viewing, though, were very powerful and lengthened the evening. Spoilers follow.
The film was based on stories written for Germans, as they dealt with the issues. Watching it, you begin to understand how people involved tried to rationalize their behavior, both verbally and internally. The main character's job, in one event, was to guard the Jews by keeping them in a Church. When that Church lit on fire, she wasn't going to let them out, because that would have directly conflicted with her role. There were many of these absurd reactions, but they addressed guilt and blame.
There were long gaps of time where the boy never confronted the women, unable to articulate his feelings. This reminded me of the Israeli response to the Holocaust. Until the Eichmann Trials, it was shameful to be a victim/survivor of the Holocaust, because there was this image of sheep going to the slaughter. Only those who resisted were recognized and respected. It took Eichmann for the Israeli public to realize there was nothing that could have been done. As a result, Israel entered a period of aggressive campaigning against victimization. It was the argument for military operations, and a social mentality. The Jewish state and its people would never allow such an event to befall them, so zealous defense would ensue, at all costs to prevent it future victimization.
Questions of morality and law became blurred in the film, as the entire court case was invalid because the women was illiterate and wouldn't admit it. In fact, the boy was really the true judge of the trial, and he found her guilty, despite her handicap. He determined her fate, which brought on him feelings of guilt.
There were symbols of the feelings that can't be articulated and the personalizing of the experience, like the shoes in Majdanek. There was an illiteracy throughout the entire film to discuss the Holocaust.
Is evil a passion? A feeling? a mentality? The movie rationalizes the feelings you should have for a weak and illiterate woman, but feelings themselves aren't rational.
The answers provided in the film are not those that we want to hear, but there really are no satisfactory answers otherwise.
The evening succeeded in tearing open the wound of the past studied for and reflected on for so long. It invited all the students to the conversation over the past and wrestling with it in the present. But we only wrestle with how much we should reflect. We're in Berlin, on a German program. There are many more questions to ask here.
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