Mission to Berlin, Budapest highlights many needs in awakening Jewish communities

My first trip to Germany came after college in the late ’60s as part of the typical “if it’s Thursday, it must be Belgium” grand tour of Europe. West Germany back then was very much still in its remarkable rebuilding mode, initially made possible by the wisdom of the Marshall Plan, and enhanced by the work ethic of its citizenry. But evidence of the war remained unavoidable. The German trains we took still had many seats reserved for disabled veterans. To kill time on our trips, my roommate and I would speculate as to whether the older passengers on the train were ex-Nazis or spies for the East Germans.

The journey took an emotional turn, however, when we hired a cab from Munich and visited Dachau. There we met a group of returning survivors who quietly described the atrocities, the horrors they endured and how they maintained their determination to survive. Suddenly all that had been hearsay and textbook-driven became painfully real. It was all we could do to get back to the city. And there was no meal for us that night.

So when my wife, Elaine, and I had an opportunity to join the recent Alliance Mission to Berlin and Budapest, I was curious and excited to participate in a return visit. We had only been on one mission, a true bonding adventure to Israel with five families, when all our kids were B’nei Mitzvah age. It had been wonderful. And best of all Trine Lustig (now vice president of philanthropy for the Jewish Alliance of Greater Rhode Island), who had been the leader of our group, was to be the staffer on this trip as well. While this time we only knew about half of our fellow travelers, we could not have asked for a better, more knowledgeable, more congenial and more interesting group with whom to share this unique experience. And with the irrepressible Jeffrey Savit (president and CEO of the Alliance) as our ringleader, how could it not be entertaining?

It’s hard to imagine a more intriguing place to visit right now than Berlin. In addition to becoming one of the economic engines of the European continent, with the fall of the wall, the city is now at the center of a pragmatic test to see if Western and communist values can be blended into a single functioning contemporary environment. It’s also a city that seems determined to acknowledge and educate the current generation of its citizens about the horrific atrocities committed by their fathers and grandfathers. And it has become a “hot city” for young artists and families, including Israelis, in search of freedom of expression, while also providing one of the broadest social safety nets in Europe, a vibrant intellectual community and an affordable lifestyle replete with quality education and efficient public transportation.

The appeal to Israelis was expressed by Lana Zilberman, the guide who accompanied us the full length of our journey: “The Israel that I love and in whose army I served, is changing. The model of Israel after our founding, where the government took care of its people, is being replaced by one that is becoming unaffordable for my generation to all but the entrenched or the wealthy. I know many young Israelis, especially artists, who are exploring the model here.”

One of the virtues of this particular trip was that organizers Alan and Marianne Litwin and Bob and Mitzi Berkelhammer made sure that, in addition to the unique opportunities we had to learn about and explore aspects of the cities though a Jewish prism, we had enough free time to follow our own particular interests. In both Budapest and Berlin, we spent the first day receiving a broad overview of life in each city. The following days’ focus shifted to Jewish-based issues, past and present. And there was still time available for individual roaming.

The problems within both Jewish communities are unique. In the case of Budapest (pronounced Buda-pescht by the way), it’s a painful reminder of what ultimately happened  to the Jews of Hungary. In the first years of the war, Hungarian Jews were spared much of what befell their European brethren. “This city was called Jewdapest,” our guide told us. But during the last months, the horrific happened. Germany assumed control of the country and installed the right-wing Arrow Cross. Over 500,000 Hungarian Jews were rounded up and murdered, most at Auschwitz, some right in downtown Budapest.  One of the most moving memorials is the Shoes on the Danube installation in remembrance of the thousands of Jews shot and dumped into the river by the Arrow Cross. After the war, few surviving Hungarian parents felt comfortable informing their children of their Jewish roots. Recent efforts, especially through innovative summer camp programs aimed at trying to re-establish Jewish ethnicity to an entire, unaware generation, seem to be proving successful.

In Berlin, the problem involves infighting within the Jewish community. After the war, Germany tried to convince Jews to return to the country. An obvious problem initially, gradually some Jews began to return. Most of the immigrants arrived from Russia as part of the Right of Return. To be allowed to leave, all a Russian citizen had to prove was that one of his or her grandparents was Jewish. Upon arrival in Germany, however, they discovered that the more orthodox German Jewish rules applied, meaning one is only considered Jewish if his mother is Jewish. Since then a battle for control of the official Jewish community, which is the entity that receives state funding for synagogues and the like, has become an electoral nightmare, almost Rhode Island-esque in its machination.

As our group heard of the struggles of Hungarian, Russian and German Jews to maintain, and, in some cases, rediscover, their Judaism, I realized how fortunate we are to be living in a country where inclusion and acceptance seem to define our broad Jewish experience. Regardless of one’s background, gender, religion or spouse or degree of observance, there is usually a Jewish group, some self-organized, some formal, some not, that  is willing to embrace  him and  make him  part of their community. How ironic that the same discussions of cultural and religious inclusion are surfacing in Germany with the onslaught of a new wave of immigration and the rising success of the Alternative for Germany, a right-wing populist political party. As we continue to provide much-needed assistance to our worldwide brethren, along with our monetary support, perhaps we ought not overlook the importance of tolerance and inclusion.

BARRY FAIN is a resident of Providence and president of Providence Media, publishers of more than a dozen magazines and websites including East Side Monthly and Providence Monthly.