Part II: Munich
Munich is a beautiful city but considered to be the birthplace of Nazism. After our last experience in Hechingen when the proprietor of the pension said he didn’t know they had allowed Jews to grow so tall, Suzy couldn’t wait to leave. Our next stop was Munich and there it went one step beyond…” I’ve got to go to synagogue tonight!” she insisted, having arrived on Friday afternoon.
I’m not chicken but I hesitated asking the manager of our Munich pension for the name and address of the nearest synagogue. I beat around the bush inquiring about a Kirche (church). After he grilled me…” Lutheran, Catholic, etc. etc.” I said, “Nein, ein Judisches Synagoge, bitte, that is, “No, a Jewish synagogue, please” (as if Lutherans had synagogues). “Ach, sicher, Oh, for sure,” and with that – and both God and Suzy are my witnesses – that awful blare of the European police siren (you know just what I mean) was heard right below us.
“He pushed a button!” we thought.
Ok, it was coincidence, but remember the Holocaust ended just twenty-five years before and on top of that there had been an incident that made us wary to begin with…
In February of 1970 terrorists had attacked a transit bus from an El Al plane that had arrived in the Munich airport. The Israeli actress Hannah Maron had been seriously injured. We had that in mind as well.
We found our way to the synagogue that night. Since Shabbat morning is the time most non-Reform Jews go to Temple, it wasn’t crowded at all at this Orthodox shul. Nevertheless, Suzy was sent to the woman’s gallery upstairs. That didn’t make her happy, especially since she was the ONLY woman present.
The next night we were sitting with the pension proprietors, a young couple probably no older than 35, who invited us to watch tv with them since our next train didn’t leave until midnight.
What was on the news?
That very synagogue we prayed in had been desecrated after everyone had left!!
The man, who knew we were Jewish from our inquiry as to the location of the synagogue, asked in German, “Why are you in Munich?” It wasn’t the voice of an enemy; he had serious concerns about our safety. I told him we had spent the year in Israel and were traveling through Europe. I was the son of a survivor and we wanted to visit Dachau.
He said, “You know, nothing has changed. It’s just quiet. It will never change, I’m sorry to say.”
That, to say the least, was unnerving, but truly until the recent rise of European anti-Semitic attacks, there had been a change. And ironically, as a 95 year old man said, an Auschwitz survivor who had been my cantor when I served a High Holyday “congregation” consisting of a number of “over-55” communities in New Jersey for six years, “The safest place to wear a kipah and a Chai in Europe is Germany!” It’s a bit less safe now but compared to other European countries it still is the least anti-Semitic.
We left for Denmark, during the Holocaust a haven for Jews; today, along with other Scandinavian countries, a hotbed of anti-Semitism. There, in 1970, the only two disturbing things were the price of everything (sky high) and, even worse, the realization that “The Little Mermaid,” famous from the movie Hans Christian Anderson with Danny Kaye, was in fact WAY TOOOOO LITTLE!
(Rachel is walking down the street and meets her friend Naomi. Rachel is very surprised to see that Naomi is walking a dog. “So, what’s with the dog, Naomi?” asks Rachel. “I’ve never seen you with a dog before. Is it new?” Naomi replies, “Yes, it is. I got this dog for my husband. I wish I could make a trade like that every day.”)