Ever since I decided to focus my work on accessible historic synagogues in former East Germany (now known as the New States of Germany), I´ve tried to be a bit systematic. So, I assembled information and read books on the synagogues of Sachsen-Anhalt, a state in the middle of the country. With the help of my mentor, Dr. Simon, I made contact with the people who maintain each building, and off I went to visit my first two synagogues in Sachsen-Anhalt, Gröbzig and Haldensleben.
February 15th at a ridiculously early hour, I headed to the train station to board a train that left Berlin at 6:39 (whah?) and arrived at Halle, the largest city in Sachsen-Anhalt at 8. There are no trains to Gröbzig. I think there might be a bus. Might be. But basically, if I wanted to make my way to Gröbzig, population 3,000, I needed a lift. Fortunately the museum director, Ms. Marion Mendez, who lives in Halle, offered to meet me at the train station, at least, that was what I thought. Imagine my surprise when an older man approached me and asked, "Are you waiting for anyone?"
It was Bernd, an employee at the Gröbzig Synagogue. Another man was waiting for us with a car to go pick up Ms. Mendez so we could carpool together through the rolling hills and farmland of the Anhalt-Bitterfeld region before arriving at what is likely the most complete and intact historical Jewish complex in Germany - synagogue, cantor´s house, school house, cemetery and associated buildings, congregation house, etc.
I was lucky enough (ok we planned it this way, but luck makes the blog seem more intriguing) to have arrived on a day when a school group would be touring the synagogue. Eleven 8 year olds from a local Evangelical (just means Protestant in Germany) school. For my work watching children this young in a Jewish space is particularly interesting. They really haven´t learned much about the Holocaust or the Second World War quite yet (one child later mentioned something about having heard that bad things had happened to Jews - it was clearly a fuzzy subject though, and something he had overheard perhaps), and even learning about other religions and cultures at such a young age is probably a relatively new subject. Kids this young are really open to new ideas, and they will also ask questions and suggest answers that older children and certainly adults might be too shy to ask. So in the nerdiest way I can possibly say this - it is really exciting to watch children at this age interact in historic spaces.
Ms. Mendez had all of the children sit at 19th century school desks in the old school house. There was a table set up for Shabbat, and the children were going to act our the Jewish sabbath, volunteers got to be the mother, the father, the daughter and the son. It was really interesting to see how she explained the various traditions to the children, and how they reacted. The concept of not working on Shabbat, and what exactly is considered "work" fascinated the children... even video games are work... shocking! The idea that Jews do not eat pig (I mean, what else is there?). It was interesting, and I´ll admit, almost uncomfortable, to hear the children say the blessings over the challah and wine and candles (funny how we realize what things we hold for "sacred"). I was surprised at the children´s patience and seriousness with subjects like male circumcision (I was surprised the subject even made it to a tour for third graders).
The synagogue in Gröbzig was sold by its congregation due to a shrinking population in 1934. It became the town´s Heimat Museum (homeland museum), a common thing in German towns - basically like the attic/treasure chest for local history, and for this reason, it was not destroyed in the Pogrom Night of 1938 (recently learned that the preferred name for the events of Nov. 9, 1938 among German Jews is Pogrom Night and NOT Kristallnacht).
The building continued to be used as a "museum" although with basically no reference or association to its Jewish past through the war and during the GDR era. At one point during the GDR a memorial to the victims of Fascism (basically the only way East Germany discussed or dealt with the Holocaust was to identify all victims as anti-fascists) was placed in front of the building - truthfully it was so large it basically obstructed view of the building.
In 1988, in preparation for commemoriation of 50 years since the Pogrom Nacht, Erich Honeker, head of the GDR, decided to restore Gröbzig (as an example of rural Jewish life) and the Centrum Judaicum (as an example of urban Jewish life) in a political move that, the more I hear about, is generally confirmed as some sort of attempt to gain the favor of the West, namely the US. It is still sort of a mystery to me how exactly that was supposed to work, but in any case, that does seem to be what got the ball rolling in Gröbzig.
Still it wasn´t until a few years later that Gröbzig, as a museum, became more than just an old building. The breadth of work that Mendez and her very small team are doing is somewhat incredible, considering their middle of nowhere location. She runs tours, maintains a history exhibit, entertains traveling art and music exhibitions, and even oversees overnight/weekend programs for youth to discuss Judaism, Tolerance, etc. In the middle of the village stands a large modern building. The first floor is not connected with the synagogue and functions as the youth center. The top two floors are a hostel of sorts where student groups can come and stay overnight to work on projects in association with the Jewish museum (there is another building that acts as a workshop, but it is currently being renovated).
But despite the amazing facilities and fascinating historical buildings, the locals in Gröbzig are... uninterested. Sometimes I am not sure what makes me sadder, when the nearest Jewish community has no interest in these old buildings or when the nearest non Jewish community has no interest in these buildings. I was talking about this with one of Ms. Mendez´assistants who comes from Gröbzig.
"I guess I understand how the villagers feel," I told her. "I mean if I were a Gröbziger, maybe it would be hard, uncomfortable, unsettling to live across the street or one block over from the synagogue - to feel confronted everyday with the town´s past."
"Really?" she said, "Because I don´t understand."
It is amazing what strangers teach you sometimes in just a few words. I can´t tell you how many times, in social contexts, I have hesitated to explain my work beyond saying, "I study old buildings". I think a piece of me always wonders if I will somehow make Germans uncomfortable. On one hand I am here to do my work, but on the other hand I am here to be a totally normal person in Germany. I take the second part of my experience here as seriously as the first - it was just days before leaving for Germany, on my 24th birthday, in the middle of the night, in the car, driving down nearly abandoned streets in Baltimore with one of my dearest friends, that I suddenly wondered if the two goals would be by nature in conflict. Would Germans I met accept me as a neighbor, friend, etc., and not be self conscious or shy or agitated or overly curious that I study their interactions with Jewish space?
My colleague in Gröbzig was an important reminder to me that my own initial feeling that I had to be "overly sensitive" to Germans is just as uninformed, unsophisticated, and in the end unnecessary as Gröbziger´s shying away from or resenting an historic building.
History is history. Inevitably what we produce with it, and NOT that we are products of it, should define us.
February 15th at a ridiculously early hour, I headed to the train station to board a train that left Berlin at 6:39 (whah?) and arrived at Halle, the largest city in Sachsen-Anhalt at 8. There are no trains to Gröbzig. I think there might be a bus. Might be. But basically, if I wanted to make my way to Gröbzig, population 3,000, I needed a lift. Fortunately the museum director, Ms. Marion Mendez, who lives in Halle, offered to meet me at the train station, at least, that was what I thought. Imagine my surprise when an older man approached me and asked, "Are you waiting for anyone?"
It was Bernd, an employee at the Gröbzig Synagogue. Another man was waiting for us with a car to go pick up Ms. Mendez so we could carpool together through the rolling hills and farmland of the Anhalt-Bitterfeld region before arriving at what is likely the most complete and intact historical Jewish complex in Germany - synagogue, cantor´s house, school house, cemetery and associated buildings, congregation house, etc.
I was lucky enough (ok we planned it this way, but luck makes the blog seem more intriguing) to have arrived on a day when a school group would be touring the synagogue. Eleven 8 year olds from a local Evangelical (just means Protestant in Germany) school. For my work watching children this young in a Jewish space is particularly interesting. They really haven´t learned much about the Holocaust or the Second World War quite yet (one child later mentioned something about having heard that bad things had happened to Jews - it was clearly a fuzzy subject though, and something he had overheard perhaps), and even learning about other religions and cultures at such a young age is probably a relatively new subject. Kids this young are really open to new ideas, and they will also ask questions and suggest answers that older children and certainly adults might be too shy to ask. So in the nerdiest way I can possibly say this - it is really exciting to watch children at this age interact in historic spaces.
Ms. Mendez had all of the children sit at 19th century school desks in the old school house. There was a table set up for Shabbat, and the children were going to act our the Jewish sabbath, volunteers got to be the mother, the father, the daughter and the son. It was really interesting to see how she explained the various traditions to the children, and how they reacted. The concept of not working on Shabbat, and what exactly is considered "work" fascinated the children... even video games are work... shocking! The idea that Jews do not eat pig (I mean, what else is there?). It was interesting, and I´ll admit, almost uncomfortable, to hear the children say the blessings over the challah and wine and candles (funny how we realize what things we hold for "sacred"). I was surprised at the children´s patience and seriousness with subjects like male circumcision (I was surprised the subject even made it to a tour for third graders).
The synagogue in Gröbzig was sold by its congregation due to a shrinking population in 1934. It became the town´s Heimat Museum (homeland museum), a common thing in German towns - basically like the attic/treasure chest for local history, and for this reason, it was not destroyed in the Pogrom Night of 1938 (recently learned that the preferred name for the events of Nov. 9, 1938 among German Jews is Pogrom Night and NOT Kristallnacht).
The building continued to be used as a "museum" although with basically no reference or association to its Jewish past through the war and during the GDR era. At one point during the GDR a memorial to the victims of Fascism (basically the only way East Germany discussed or dealt with the Holocaust was to identify all victims as anti-fascists) was placed in front of the building - truthfully it was so large it basically obstructed view of the building.
In 1988, in preparation for commemoriation of 50 years since the Pogrom Nacht, Erich Honeker, head of the GDR, decided to restore Gröbzig (as an example of rural Jewish life) and the Centrum Judaicum (as an example of urban Jewish life) in a political move that, the more I hear about, is generally confirmed as some sort of attempt to gain the favor of the West, namely the US. It is still sort of a mystery to me how exactly that was supposed to work, but in any case, that does seem to be what got the ball rolling in Gröbzig.
Still it wasn´t until a few years later that Gröbzig, as a museum, became more than just an old building. The breadth of work that Mendez and her very small team are doing is somewhat incredible, considering their middle of nowhere location. She runs tours, maintains a history exhibit, entertains traveling art and music exhibitions, and even oversees overnight/weekend programs for youth to discuss Judaism, Tolerance, etc. In the middle of the village stands a large modern building. The first floor is not connected with the synagogue and functions as the youth center. The top two floors are a hostel of sorts where student groups can come and stay overnight to work on projects in association with the Jewish museum (there is another building that acts as a workshop, but it is currently being renovated).
But despite the amazing facilities and fascinating historical buildings, the locals in Gröbzig are... uninterested. Sometimes I am not sure what makes me sadder, when the nearest Jewish community has no interest in these old buildings or when the nearest non Jewish community has no interest in these buildings. I was talking about this with one of Ms. Mendez´assistants who comes from Gröbzig.
"I guess I understand how the villagers feel," I told her. "I mean if I were a Gröbziger, maybe it would be hard, uncomfortable, unsettling to live across the street or one block over from the synagogue - to feel confronted everyday with the town´s past."
"Really?" she said, "Because I don´t understand."
It is amazing what strangers teach you sometimes in just a few words. I can´t tell you how many times, in social contexts, I have hesitated to explain my work beyond saying, "I study old buildings". I think a piece of me always wonders if I will somehow make Germans uncomfortable. On one hand I am here to do my work, but on the other hand I am here to be a totally normal person in Germany. I take the second part of my experience here as seriously as the first - it was just days before leaving for Germany, on my 24th birthday, in the middle of the night, in the car, driving down nearly abandoned streets in Baltimore with one of my dearest friends, that I suddenly wondered if the two goals would be by nature in conflict. Would Germans I met accept me as a neighbor, friend, etc., and not be self conscious or shy or agitated or overly curious that I study their interactions with Jewish space?
My colleague in Gröbzig was an important reminder to me that my own initial feeling that I had to be "overly sensitive" to Germans is just as uninformed, unsophisticated, and in the end unnecessary as Gröbziger´s shying away from or resenting an historic building.
History is history. Inevitably what we produce with it, and NOT that we are products of it, should define us.
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