Another amazing day in Berlin! For us here, we started REALLY early (my thanks to the group for always showing up on time). Here is our daily selfie as we waited for our guest speaker at a neighboring hotel.
Don’t we look wide awake? While we were still tired from our intense day yesterday, I know we were all glad we woke up early to experience our guest speaker, Dr. Sandra Anusiewicz-Baer, who gave us a history lesson about Jews in Germany, both past and present. She spoke of how today’s Germany has the fastest growing Jewish population in terms of percentage, but in terms of actual numbers Jews remain a relatively small percentage of the German overall population. And even though there are Jews here, there is not a true sense of there being a Jewish community. There is a difference to being a Jew and living a Jewish life.
She spoke about the fact that in Germany, there is a political structure that the Jews are a part of. Prior to the rise of Hitler, the main political wing of Judaism was the Council for German Jews. This group would work with the government for all Jewish activities. Once Hitler rose to power and once the Nuremberg Laws took effect in 1935, the name of the group had to change because it was no longer possible for there to be a German Jew. By law, Jews were no longer German. Instead the name became the Council of Jews in Germany, which still holds true today. And this council still makes decisions as to the Jewish activities of Germany. Imagine that if we had this in America, one council making all decisions for Jews of different communities, orthodox, reform and conservative and any other form you can think of…
The main point of her discussion was expressing a need for education. She explained that this is hard in today’s world because true education takes time, and with TikTok and Instagram no one has time for real education. While all German students learn about the Holocaust, they don’t really learn about Jewish life, and this might not change their preconceived ideas about Jews today. It was a sobering discussion because we discovered that there seems to be an underlying antisemitism that can bubble up, just like we are seeing in the United States. These kinds of things can’t be combatted through social media, rather they need to be carefully taught and discussed in order to impact real change. If a student goes to Auschwitz but there is no follow up education about the impact of that place, it could be just another field trip. Auschwitz can impact us as Jews, but if German kids have their faces in their phones, does it really make an impact? While Germany seems to be taking responsibility for their culpability during the Holocaust, there is more work that needs to be done to really eliminate antisemitism.
After this enlightening and difficult discussion we boarded our bus and went towards the old Jewish Quarter, making our first stop at the location where the first temple in Berlin stood, the Alte Synagogue. This site is located in what used to be the Soviet controlled East Berlin.
Sadly after World War 2, this synagogue was destroyed by the Soviets because in communist Berlin there was no need for religion, and the land was to be used as a parking lot to an adjacent apartment building. When digging they found the foundation for the synagogue it was instead turned into a park and in 1984 a memorial was commissioned. This memorial was not installed until 1994 after reunification. The memorial commemorates an important event during World War 2, where Jewish men who were married to non-Jewish German women were taken and placed into forced labor, as was the law. These men, 1800 in all were forced to live on the 3rd floor of the synagogue. The women, the wives of these men, all of whom were non-Jewish, began to demonstrate in front of synagogue demanding the release of their husbands. Imagine in World War 2 Germany, under Adolf Hitler, having the courage to demonstrate against the government in this way. What an act of heroism. Turns out the nazis listened and a week later the men were released. Actions are measured not at peaceful times sitting in a cafe, but rather in times of great trials. The memorial was to be constructed in honor of these successful demonstrations, called the Rosenstrasse Sculpture.
While there is so much to say about these sculptures, I want to point a few things to you. Look at the picture above. If you look closely, it could look like people enjoying life in a place like the garden of Eden, without a care in the world. But if you look at the other side, you see this:
My interpretation is that while all of these terrible things were happening to the Jews in Germany and Europe, there were people who were living like the first photo, oblivious and enjoying life. All the while, there were people suffering terribly at the hands of the nazis. How is it possible for both parts of the sculpture to be true? This was the reality. The last part of the sculpture was the most impactful for me.
In this photo we see a person sitting alone on a bench. And, if you trace their eyes, they are looking away from the other two sculptures that depict the horrible things happening in the world. How many people chose to turn away back then? What could they have done to help the Jews of Europe? What are WE choosing to turn away from in our lives? This profound question is one that I think of often in our divided world.
We then made our way to the old Jewish Quarter of Berlin. This consisted of walking through many courtyards as we saw the gentrification of Germany and could only imagine what is was like before the war.
It was so amazing to see all the different types of architecture and design found in these courtyards. We could have meandered these courtyards all day long.
Here we pondered if these were worthy memorials for the souls they represent. After all, you can walk on them. Does that show proper respect? I think Ron put it best when he said that as you walk on them your foot polishes the stone, then you look down to see what you stepped on, bowing your head in reverence without even meaning to do so. Tal added that the Holocaust was all about stepping on Jews, making them lower than human, how fitting it is that we take their memories and bring them home again, to their rightful place back in Germany? I find these stones to be incredibly moving and meaningful, and I am grateful to learn that there are more than 8,000 in Berlin (I believe I said earlier in the blog there were only 5,000, still an impressive number).
We then made our way into one more courtyard where we would enter the museum honoring Otto Weidt at the location of his workshop.
The museum of Otto Weidt’s workshop for the blind honors the man, Otto Weidt, who risked his life during World War 2 to hide and protect his Jewish workers in his broom and brush factory. His factory employed those Jews who were blind, mostly blind or hearing impaired. And while he was following the laws by using forced labor workers, he treated his workers like human beings. He took care of them, gave them food and medicine when needed, and, when their names appeared on the deportation list, he would march down and pay the gestapo to take their names off the list.
In this photo you can see Otto and his business partner and some of his workers from 1941. Sadly, there came a time when he could no longer bribe the guards to take names off the list so instead, he would pay to have them sent to Thereisenstad (or Terezin) instead of Auschwitz because they had a better chance for survival there.
As we went further into the workshop we learned that eventually he even hid a family, the Horn family which hid in the back room of the workshop which had no windows. A large wardrobe was placed in front of the door.
Sadly, the Horn family was found out and all 4 of them were sent to Auschwitz after living in this room for 7 months. Otto Weidt was eventually named a Righteous Gentile Among the Nations and was honored at Yad Vashem. I hope to find his tree the next time I visit Israel.
Our next stop, after a brief break for a bite to eat, was a visit to the New Synagogue. Here we learned about the richly ornamented synagogue, which once seated 3,000 people, and the liberal Jewish community it served during the 19th century. Miraculously, it was saved from any structural destruction during Kristallnacht, saved by a police officer who stood in front of the synagogue and protected it from the mob in the streets. Arsonists did get inside and ransacked the sanctuary and desecrated the Torah, but the synagogue survived because of this police officer. We learned that when community members went into the synagogue following this terrible day, while the sanctuary laid in ruins the eternal light was still burning.
An interesting note. In America, we call it Kritsallnacht. But here in Germany, they refer it in a different way. They say Kristallnacht, or the night of the broken glass, is not a strong enough term to describe what happened on November 9 and 10, 1938. It was way more than just a night of broken glass. It was a pogrom and so it is referred to here in Berlin as the November Pogrom. I think I will try to call it this from now on.
The building is really impressive from the outside!
I was really moved to see these photos on the front gate of the synagogue. It is a reminder that we still have work to do to bring these hostages home.
While the synagogue was saved from any destruction during the November Pogrom, it was not so lucky during the war and suffered direct hits from Allied bombing runs that almost totally destroyed the building. We toured a museum about the synagogue, its history and rebuilding and are really looking forward to participating in Shabbat services with this community tomorrow night and having dinner with its members.
Our final stop of the day was the Jewish Museum of Berlin. What a museum! Most of the time the exhibits tell the story of the museum but in this case, it is more the building itself and its architecture that tells the story.
I know it is hard to see in this photo, but no wall is exactly straight and the floor is not level. You are never comfortable in this setting, perhaps suggesting that we should never be totally comfortable in our surroundings. Certainly the Jewish story of Berlin leading up to the Holocaust saw a relatively quick transformation of feeling secure and comfortable to deportation.
We made our way down an aisle called “The Axis of the Holocaust.”
Again, while it I hard to see here at the start of this aisle the ceiling is high and the walls are far apart. But as you progress down towards the end the ceiling and walls seem to cave in on you, causing you to feel almost trapped. This must have been the sensation of the Jewish community of Germany and beyond during the lead up to World War 2.
At the very end of this hallway was a door that we were invited to walk through.
The room we entered was called the Holocaust Tower or the “Void of Voids.” The first thing you notice when entering this room was the bitter cold. There is only one light that comes through a window that is at the very top of this tall tower, way out of reach of us on the ground. Even though we were in there with other people, entering this space makes you feel totally alone and isolated, much like the German government tried to do with the Jews of Germany. That light does represent hope, as if there is a possibility of a better future, but it is totally out of reach. On the other side of the room is a ladder that ascends all the way to the ceiling, but it, too, is out of reach, perhaps only to be reached if people work together and help each other. But there is another problem. What if we do reach that ladder and climb all the way to the ceiling (which, by the way, is a long, hard climb not without great risk)? If we hit that ceiling there does not appear to be any way out. We felt trapped, again, much like the Jews in Germany. As I write this post hours later I can still feel that cold isolation of the Holocaust Tower.
We then made our way to the “Axis of Continuity” and saw this enormous staircase ascending up and up and up.
In these photos you can barely see to the top. It almost felt like climbing out of the ruins of the Holocaust was impossible. With each step our feet grew heavier and heavier.
We stopped midway to enter what I consider to be one of the most powerful exhibits I have ever experienced. Shalekhet (Fallen Leaves) was designed by Menashe Kadishman and it contains more than 10,000 faces, cut from steel plates, that cover the floor of the Memory Void.
Take a look at the faces in the steel. They are all different, with different expressions and different layers of thickness. Every Jewish victim of the nazis was unique, and they are all calling out to us. While I really associated this with the Holocaust, our guide Victor said this was designed as a memorial to innocent victims of political violence everywhere.
For me, it brought a whole new meaning to the stumbling stones we saw earlier and has left a permanent mark on me. Much like the children’s memorial at Yad Vashem, you leave this exhibit different from when you entered.
We walked up further on that eternal staircase and as we walked up we saw at the top of the stairs was a solid wall, representing the fact that there can be a solid break from the Holocaust with a brighter future on the other side of that wall.
Looking back down it was hard to see where we started. I hope and pray we do not have to climb stairs like this again.
At the top we were able to write our hopes for the future and hang them as leaves on this tree. May all of our prayers be answered.
This was one of the most powerful museums I have experienced. So much so that Leasa and I want to come back and wander for a few more hours to take more of what is has to offer. Tomorrow we face some really difficult, yet important places as we see the site of the Wannsee Conference and the horrors of Gleis 17, which was the railway track that was the path to Auschwitz.
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