Today was the big project day. We split up into groups and went to different schools. I went back to Oranienburg with Morris, Moshe, Jackie, Abe, and Michael. In the morning we met with all the participating students from the two schools there—one Gymnasium and one Oberschule.
Key words for the trip: “difficult” and “important.” Everything is difficult, everything is important.
With all the participating Oranienberg students, we first had a panel discussion. There were six rabbis and maybe 50 students. Each of us talked a little about something (or in some cased talked a fair amount), and then the students had a chance to ask questions. When it was my turn, I talked a little about my life as a Reform Jew, and how it differs from the way some of my colleagues live. I also talked about how I think of Jews as a family—you’re not like everyone in your family, you may not like some people in your family, you may not have anything in common with some people in your family, but something binds you together so you’re still family (and coming from a family with adoption in it, I wouldn’t even say that it’s blood that binds a family together). That’s my favorite analogy for how Jews are one people.
When it came to the questions, because there were six rabbis on the panel, and usually multiple rabbis weighed in on each question, we didn’t get through too many. They weren’t kidding around with the questions, though. They went straight for the hard stuff, which I thought was great. Some questions I remember:
What do Jews think about Jesus?
What does it mean to eat kosher?
What do Jews think about abortion?
What do Jews think about premarital sex?
There may have been a couple more, but I don’t remember them anymore.
After the panel discussion, we had lunch (it’s possible that lunch was before the panel discussion and I just don’t remember properly, but I’m no longer sure—it’s not important). I sat with some very nice students whose names I never got. First we had an extensive discussion about what constituted the nuggets in our kosher lunch—they looked like chicken and tasted a little like chicken, but I pointed out that they couldn’t possibly be chicken because the lunches were marked parve, meaning that they contained neither milk nor meat. This was confusing to the students, who had apparently never encountered fake meat before. I haven’t had much experience with it myself. In the end, I don’t think they quite believed me that the nuggets were not meat.
With that burning issue somewhat resolved, they wanted to know what I thought about politics—American and Israeli too. I said what I thought of our president (I’m not a fan), and they had no problem with that. I also said I believe that Israel must exist, both because the Jewish people, as an ethnic group, wants its own country the same as many other ethnic groups do, like the Kurds, and because, well, I think there needs to be a country where Jews can go if they need someplace to go. I’m no persecutionist when it comes to Judaism, but I’m also only two generations after the Holocaust, and so many nations refused to accept the Jews then that I do think we need a home, a place where, to paraphrase some famous author, when we go there, they have to let us in. I said that I have difficulty with some of what Israel does, but that I think Israel works much harder at being humane in dealing with terrorism than most other countries. I commented that we in the US had one incident, 9/11—a very big incident, to be sure—but in response we invaded and brought down the governments of two whole countries. Can you imagine what we would do if we had suicide bombers blowing up pizza parlors every few weeks?
I said it’s very painful for me because I hate the killing, and I think there are extremists on both sides who want to prevent peace, while the majority on both sides want peace—but it’s so hard to progress toward peace in the face of continuing terrorism. That’s mainly what I said, and I was fairly passionate about it. I hope I did okay. They didn’t argue, nor did they agree. They were very respectful.
Next we split up into small groups. I got my same group of girls from yesterday at Sachsenhausen—they were all, “We want Heidi! We want Heidi!” How gratifying to have a fan club. They were the radio kids, so they taped our whole small-group session, which was a little unnerving for me. I’m not really used to giving my opinion, which I think is sometimes quite at odds with that of many other Jews, in a way that feels public (okay, blog notwithstanding—and before this journal, there wasn’t anything remotely controversial on the blog either. And anyway, who’s really reading through the pages and pages of this journal, who would even find anything that might be controversial?). I’m just not used to putting my opinions out there in that way, since I’m not yet a rabbi of a congregation—I imagine that when I’m a full-fledged rabbi, I’ll do more of that sort of thing, and maybe get used to it.
After we went around and they showed their artifacts, which mainly focused on family stuff, they interviewed me for their radio show. Questions included what my grandparents were doing during the war. It only occurred to me later that they expected to have a rabbi who was born Jewish, and maybe I should have talked about what Mike’s grandparents did during the war or something, since his were Jewish and mine were not. I didn’t think of that at the time, though, and talked about my own grandparents.
I don’t remember what all else they asked, except that after they turned the tape recorder off (I think), one of their teachers asked me to comment on the statement that came out of Israel a few years ago that Jews shouldn’t live in Germany. I said that I don’t think that statement is helpful, and then started talking about Yom Kippur (this was one of those times when I learned what I think about it by answering the question—exhilarating, but kind of scary). I said that on Yom Kippur, the holiest day of the year, we’re supposed to atone for our sins and do tshuvah, that is turning or returning, to God. Our rabbis teach that this is very difficult, but that if we can take the first step, God will come and meet us and help us go the rest of the way. I said that Germany has and is continuing to take steps toward tshuvah after the Holocaust, and what we Jews should be doing is trying to meet Germany and help it to go the rest of the way, not make statements like “Jews shouldn’t live in Germany,” which are not helpful. That’s what I said to the German students and teachers. Here I will add that that said, I just want to say that for those Jews who refuse to have anything to do with Germany or German politics, if those people are survivors of the Holocaust or children of survivors, I have no criticism of that. They should do what they feel they have to do. But for those Jews with no direct connection to the Holocaust in that way, I think it is incumbent on us to examine our reaction to Germany and see if it is still deserved. It is not fair to continue to treat Germany as if it were the same country it was in the 1930s and ’40s. That’s my opinion, and it’s one of the opinions that I worry could get me in trouble with some of my people, but there it is.
After the small group sessions, which I think we all felt were quite wonderful, we headed back to Berlin. Something mildly amusing on the train was that Daniel, the Bridge of Understanding staffer who came with us to Oranienburg, had neglected to get us the correct train tickets. He had gotten a regular city day pass for the train, but since Oranienburg is on the far outskirts of the train system, he needed to get extension tickets too, which he forgot to do (as he said, when does he ever go to Oranienburg?). So when the conductor came and checked tickets on the way there, all seven of us had wrong tickets, but only Daniel got a fine—30 or 40 Euros. Daniel said he thought it was because we were wearing kippot and the conductor could tell we were Jews, but he was on his cell phone, speaking German, with his big file of information, so he got busted. I don’t think I was wearing my kippah yet, and my opinion is that it’s more likely that the conductor could tell we rabbis were Americans since we were all speaking English, and let us go because he figured we were tourists who didn’t know any better, and busted Daniel because he was clearly German and should have known better. Anyway, we did an experiment on the way back. Daniel had the extension tickets, but we didn’t show them right away to see what would happen, and we all had kippot on, and Daniel put his on too (he had one, though he’s not Jewish). The conductor told us all we had the wrong tickets. Of course, Daniel had the extension tickets so there were no fines, and obviously it proves nothing, but we all found the whole thing amusing. Except maybe Daniel, who had to pay a fine.
* * *
Tonight we had our farewell dinner. Everyone was talking about what the trip has meant to them, and I started to think about the fact that ever since August I have been in the valley of the shadow of death. I don’t know how long I will continue to be there. I seem to have set up a camp. My mom spent her whole life feeling guilty about the Holocaust and often feeling bad about being German. When I went to Oranienburg and told those kids that I understand that pain about what has happened in their families’ past, and saw the looks on their faces when I told them that they’re OK, and that what they’re doing—confronting it, facing it, struggling with it—is really important, and that they have strength and courage because they’re doing it, well, I realized tonight that in a way I was talking to my mom. I don’t think she hears me—I don’t believe in that, at least not now. But if I can help someone else deal with the pain that was so hard for my mom, that’s something important.
The things people have said about me on this trip—real rabbis have told me they think I’ll be a great rabbi. An orthodox rabbi who doesn’t even think women should be able to be rabbis told me he thinks I’ll be a great rabbi. Tonight at dinner Dagmar, who led the trip, said that at the memorial service we did at Sachsenhausen, my words included everyone there—the German students as well as the rabbis—and that that was one of the most important moments of her life. Ron, who was the rabbi who led the trip on the American side, said that I didn’t know who I was talking to, that I was talking to rabbis of big congregations, and that I blew them away. (Frankly, I’m glad he didn’t tell me that other rabbis there were important rabbis of big congregations until after I spoke, because it would have been too scary to know ahead of time.) Something that was not related specifically to me, but that was very moving, was that another orthodox rabbi said that he has been trying his whole life to fulfill the mitzvah to be holy, and had never done it and didn’t think he every would. But tonight, he said that because of the experience on this trip, he has fulfilled that mitzvah. I have never had such a humbling experience as that dinner tonight.
[this is good] Wow. You didn't tell me about the dinner! That's amazing.
Posted by: mikerose | 12/07/2006 at 08:37 AM