Eastern Europe feels tired, almost worn out to me, or maybe it reflects a difference in perception from the wide eyed youth I was when Carol and I lived in Europe for 8 years during the 1970's and the cynical old duffer I am now. Who knows? One thing is clear -- and it was something I did not feel in the 1970's, although I knew it intellectually -- the 20th century was a bad one for Europe and especially for Jews. Two world wars, the Holocaust, nearly 50 years of mind numbing Communist tyranny. Bad, very bad!
Of course, in the 70's I was not, so to speak, Jewish. On my 21st birthday Mom and Dad told me they were Holocaust survivors. So we were Jews. I told no one the family secret for 10 years. I told Carol and the kids in the 1980's. I have not lived as a Jew until recently (and then only in a tentative way to the non-Jewish world). All of the above "sets the table" for who I was and what I felt going into the TBO Eastern European trip.
Prague feels like one giant museum. Where are the Jews? I see the old synagogues with tourist of all kinds (including Hasidim) snapping pictures in front of signs that say "no photos". But where are the Jews of everyday life in Prague? Where are the Jews in Terezin? Ghosts... the town is full of ghosts. I am walking down the streets my mother walked in April and May 1945 as an 85 pound guest of the Third Reich. She had already survived years of fear in Hungary hoping the war would end before the Germans killed the Jews. And then there were 6 months of hell in Bergen Belsen, 2 months in Ragun, then Terezin and finally liberation by the Russians.
A few years ago, I asked Mom if she wasn't afraid when the Russians liberated Terezin because their soldiers were known for raping women on their march from the steppes of Russia to Berlin. A huge belly laugh. "I looked like shit. Who would have wanted to rape me."
What started to bring me out of the darkness was the Hidden Synagogue at Terezin, a triumph of Jewish hope over the horror of their experience. They kept its existence hidden from their jailers and killers throughout the war. Raachel always sings El Rachamim beautifully but never more so than at the Hidden Synagogue. I said Kaddish for Mom in that special place. The whole experience was transformative for me. The rest of Terezin could be bulldozed as far as I was concerned. I guess I'm still pretty angry.
The anger goes away the next day in Hermanuv-Mestec. The restored synagogue is a holy place, filled with righteous people of faith -- Christians -- who in a sustained act of humanity waited 2 generations for Communism to fall so that they could restore the synagogue to honor 700 Jews who lived amongst them until World War II, 698 of whom perished in the Shoah. I am a basket case during the service. So much love, so many memories in that place. I feel so close to Carol and to our group with whom I am bonded forever in the divine. The first Jewish service in Hermanuv-Mestec in almost 70 years -- and with their own Torah. Wow!
Then a miracle. Eliska Levinska was our tour guide for the day. On the ride from Prague to Hermanuv-Mestec she told us of spending over 2 years in Terezin, then being sent to Auschwitz in October 1944, where her Dad was killed. After 10 days in Auschwitz, she and her mother were unexpectedly sent all the way across Germany to Bergen Belsen, and then finally liberated back in Terezin in May 1945. My mother had been sent from Bergen Belsen to Terezin in 1945 also, so I asked Eliska if she had gone directly to Terezin, or if she had stopped on the way. She said she had stopped in a place called Ragun for about 2 months, working as forced labor for the Germans. They were in a very weak condition and then were sent on to Terezin in April 1945. When I told her that Mom had the same Bergen Belsen, Ragun, Terezin story, Eliska exclaimed "We were on the same train. It is a miracle!"
When I asked her how she could be sure, she told me she had researched this very carefully after the war. There was only one train that left Bergen Belsen for Ragun and it left on January 27, 1945. It had 200 women on it, mostly Czechs and Hungarians. The women worked in Ragun for about 2 months. Many got typhus, including my mother. Some died, and those who survived were sent in April 1945 to Terezin on one train. The Russians liberated the camp in May.
God has made this possible. Coincidences like this, or the unbelievable circumstances that led our TBO group to Hermanuv-Mestec in the first place, do not just happen. They are made to happen by a power greater than ourselves. I choose to believe it is the hand of God at work here.
On to Hungary, but that is for another blog entry.
Of course, in the 70's I was not, so to speak, Jewish. On my 21st birthday Mom and Dad told me they were Holocaust survivors. So we were Jews. I told no one the family secret for 10 years. I told Carol and the kids in the 1980's. I have not lived as a Jew until recently (and then only in a tentative way to the non-Jewish world). All of the above "sets the table" for who I was and what I felt going into the TBO Eastern European trip.
Prague feels like one giant museum. Where are the Jews? I see the old synagogues with tourist of all kinds (including Hasidim) snapping pictures in front of signs that say "no photos". But where are the Jews of everyday life in Prague? Where are the Jews in Terezin? Ghosts... the town is full of ghosts. I am walking down the streets my mother walked in April and May 1945 as an 85 pound guest of the Third Reich. She had already survived years of fear in Hungary hoping the war would end before the Germans killed the Jews. And then there were 6 months of hell in Bergen Belsen, 2 months in Ragun, then Terezin and finally liberation by the Russians.
A few years ago, I asked Mom if she wasn't afraid when the Russians liberated Terezin because their soldiers were known for raping women on their march from the steppes of Russia to Berlin. A huge belly laugh. "I looked like shit. Who would have wanted to rape me."
What started to bring me out of the darkness was the Hidden Synagogue at Terezin, a triumph of Jewish hope over the horror of their experience. They kept its existence hidden from their jailers and killers throughout the war. Raachel always sings El Rachamim beautifully but never more so than at the Hidden Synagogue. I said Kaddish for Mom in that special place. The whole experience was transformative for me. The rest of Terezin could be bulldozed as far as I was concerned. I guess I'm still pretty angry.
The anger goes away the next day in Hermanuv-Mestec. The restored synagogue is a holy place, filled with righteous people of faith -- Christians -- who in a sustained act of humanity waited 2 generations for Communism to fall so that they could restore the synagogue to honor 700 Jews who lived amongst them until World War II, 698 of whom perished in the Shoah. I am a basket case during the service. So much love, so many memories in that place. I feel so close to Carol and to our group with whom I am bonded forever in the divine. The first Jewish service in Hermanuv-Mestec in almost 70 years -- and with their own Torah. Wow!
Then a miracle. Eliska Levinska was our tour guide for the day. On the ride from Prague to Hermanuv-Mestec she told us of spending over 2 years in Terezin, then being sent to Auschwitz in October 1944, where her Dad was killed. After 10 days in Auschwitz, she and her mother were unexpectedly sent all the way across Germany to Bergen Belsen, and then finally liberated back in Terezin in May 1945. My mother had been sent from Bergen Belsen to Terezin in 1945 also, so I asked Eliska if she had gone directly to Terezin, or if she had stopped on the way. She said she had stopped in a place called Ragun for about 2 months, working as forced labor for the Germans. They were in a very weak condition and then were sent on to Terezin in April 1945. When I told her that Mom had the same Bergen Belsen, Ragun, Terezin story, Eliska exclaimed "We were on the same train. It is a miracle!"
When I asked her how she could be sure, she told me she had researched this very carefully after the war. There was only one train that left Bergen Belsen for Ragun and it left on January 27, 1945. It had 200 women on it, mostly Czechs and Hungarians. The women worked in Ragun for about 2 months. Many got typhus, including my mother. Some died, and those who survived were sent in April 1945 to Terezin on one train. The Russians liberated the camp in May.
God has made this possible. Coincidences like this, or the unbelievable circumstances that led our TBO group to Hermanuv-Mestec in the first place, do not just happen. They are made to happen by a power greater than ourselves. I choose to believe it is the hand of God at work here.
On to Hungary, but that is for another blog entry.
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