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Bambinim, the Jewish family center where I’m interning, took an active role in the Lag B’Omer festivities at Chabad in Berlin last Sunday. We marched in the Jewish parade through a main street in west Berlin. Children participants wore hats and t-shirts with the logos representing different local Jewish organizations. Marchers carried German signs with different mitzvot (or commandments) such as “Learn Torah,” “Live Peacefully Together” and so on. I was a little puzzled that both a Scottish bagpipe band and a llama also marched in the parade, but I enjoyed it none-the-less! The parade ended in a street festival in front of Chabad Berlin.

Bambinim had an arts and crafts booth set up. Ludmila, an artist originally from Moscow, decorated candles with children. Later, Razia, an artist/performer from Israel, led a puppet workshop where kids could create their own puppets. It was a great atmosphere. Hundreds of people playing, dancing, listening to music and of course, eating and shmoozing for hours.

Since Sunday, national and international press have written about the event (The Jewish Week , Berliner Morgenpost, Jüdische Allgemeine), the first Jewish parade in Germany since the end of the war, according to Die Zeit. The event’s timing made it even more significant, in light of the Neo-Nazi rallies that took place in Berlin the same weekend. Some articles discussed the evident security at the event, but most focused on the renewal of Jewish life that the event represented.

The Jewish Service Corps midyear review in Jerusalem coincided this year with Yom HaShoah, “Holocaust Remembrance Day.” As the fellows returned to the hotel from the JDC office in Jerusalem on April 12th, a siren blared through the city, stopping everyone in their tracks. But this siren was expected and for two minutes, shop keepers, pedestrians, people at home, and even drivers got out of their cars and stood in silence, remembering the six million Jews who perished in the Holocaust. A flood of recent memories connected to this moment washed over me from the previous month: celebrating Passover in Berlin; seeing my grandfather’s concentration camp identity card for the first time; visiting the Berlin Holocaust memorial with my family; and arriving in Israel for my third time, but this time from Germany.

Last month, my father received documentation from a German archive of my grandfather’s identity card that was issued upon his arrival in Buchenwald, after a stop at Auschwitz. It was jarring to see his headshot on the card.  No photos of him before the war exist in our family. He is young, skinny, with a clean-shaven head.

When my parents and little sister came to visit three weeks ago, we went to the Holocaust Memorial in Berlin, located near Parliament. Underneath, underground the memorial, there is a small museum with information about the Holocaust, including photos, letters and even computers set up with the Yad Vashem database. In this database, we found a list of family members, with our true family name Gelberman, from Khust, Czechoslovakia, who were in the Holocaust. Some forms had my father’s signatures, others were signed by my great uncle, my grandfather’s younger brother, who had also survived. This museum is one of many in the city, but it is brief and free, and along the tourist route. The information is personalized and interactive, much like the experience one has wandering through the memorial itself:

Museum visitors wandering through a room that recalls a graveyard, reading extracts from letters, books and poetry written by people during the Holocaust:

During the JSC seminar last week, Adina Navon (placement: Agahozo Shalom Youth Village, Rwanda), Yelena Azriyel (placement: Kiev, Ukraine) and I led a session titled, “Renewal in communities with dark histories.” All the fellows took part, representing the communities also in India, Belarus, Moldova, Slovakia, Ethiopia, Israel and of course, Germany.

Adina, Yelena and I spoke briefly about our placements and then moved into what renewal we have witnessed during our  time volunteering. I spoke about the physical symbols of renewal such as synagogues that were restored and reopened, museums that celebrate Jewish history and Jewish centers, such as Bambinim. I also touched on the more abstract themes of renewal within Germany, such as articles, seminars and events (like the Jewish Book Festival and Limmud) that show a renewal in Jewish intellectualism and creativity (this also applies to renewal among those who immigrated to Germany from the Former Soviet Union, where Jews could not practice their faith freely). But I also spoke about the importance of remembrance, and how renewal can both be boosted and diminished by remembering.

It was fascinating to relate our experiences to the ten fellows placed in Rwanda. They work with a teenage orphanage that is dealing with a living memory of genocide. The community struggles with forgiveness and renewal, but the children have hope, which is rooted in their Christian faith. From speaking that afternoon, we realized what an inspiration it was to swap experiences not just between those working in Jewish communities but also between those serving in Rwanda. Certainly, the Holocaust and the Rwandan Genocide are two very distinct and unique events. However, both the fellows in Rwanda and myself must address similar issues when working towards renewal. During the JSC seminar’s four days, we shared embarrassing cultural mishaps, hardships and disasters. But we also experienced renewal ourselves, by sharing these issues and then expressing our hopes for the next six months.

A week later, Israel celebrated Yom Haatzmaut, “Israel’s Independence Day,” with fireworks, barbeques and parties. Jews around the world celebrated Israel’s birthday, representing the ultimate example of Jewish renewal in the post-Holocaust, Jewish timeline. It was incredible to be in Israel for Yom HaShoah, Yom Hazikaron (Israeli Fallen Soldiers and Victims of Terrorism Remembrance Day) and Yom Haatzmaut. After a week of remembering and collective mourning, Israel turned to celebration, renewing the country’s hope for the future. I was inspired with Israel’s ritual of remembering and then rejoicing.

Section of Jerusalem’s Rose Park donated by the German government. Can you think of a better symbol of renewal than a garden in the spring?

It was hard returning to cold Berlin on Thursday, especially after the Icelandic volcano extended my vacation for four extra days. But I immediately found comfort in eating hummus and pita made by my Israeli neighbors Thursday night and celebrating Shabbat at Bambinim, where the children decorated their own Yom Haatzmaut signs and the Israeli parents pointed out where they have lived in Israel on a map. One mother was overjoyed to see I had made Israeli salad for our humble Shabbat meal. Tonight, the celebration continues at a Yom Haatzmaut party on the Ku’damm, a main street in Berlin.

If there is one thing that I took home with me from the seminar and my time in Israel, it is this: As individuals we must mourn our losses in order to celebrate where we are today and find hope for our future. Similarly, for the Jewish people, it is gravely important that we have rituals to remember our past and mourn. But it is equally important that we recognize our accomplishments and celebrate our diverse and radiant communities today. Only by finding this balance, can we continue on the path to renewal, in Israel and throughout the Diaspora.

Riding camels, Israel 2009

Every year, the Jewish Service Corp Fellows meet halfway through their placements for a midyear review. This year, the four-day seminar is taking place in Jerusalem, where JDC has offices and currently, two fellows. In addition, there are fellows this year in India, Belarus, Ukraine, Slovakia, Turkey, Ethiopia and Rwanda. While I’ve met almost everyone at orientation in New York City last August, I have not met the fellow in Ethiopia or the group in Rwanda yet. With so many young people coming together from their placements all over the world to discuss experiences, challenges and ideas, it is bound to be a stimulating experience.

Jerusalem 2009

The rest of my trip I will spend in Tel Aviv with some friends, maybe with a day trip here and there (Israel’s not that big…). But after an incredibly long winter in Germany, and it still being around 50 degrees here, I cannot wait for that Tel Aviv beach.

I went to Israel once as a child for my sister’s bat mitzvah and  last year for Birthright, where every day was jammed-pack with touring and information. It will be a new experience to come back for work and for a self-planned vacation. I hope to gain a new, non-touristy perspective of Israel from the seminar, which will take advantage of our setting, and then also staying with someone who lives in TLV. I also like that my trip comes right in between the end of Passover, which marked the beginning of the Hebrews’ desert trek before reaching the Holy Land, and Yom Ha’atzmaut, the national independence day of Israel.

Now my only problem before I leave is figuring out what to pack in my tiny suitcase for a trip that’s split between office attire and beach wear.

Beach, Tel Aviv 2009

Last Sunday, I attended/worked at the 4th Annual Jewish Book Festival in Duisburg. I helped my colleague Tanya prepare for the fest a bit earlier in the week by translating “Über das Fest,” which states: “The “Jewish Book Festival” addresses the question, what Jewish literature actually is, what it can be, and what it should be. Writers, rabbis, scholars and journalists – all those whose medium is language – examine the numerous styles of Jewish literature together with and for an audience. The spectrum is wide and includes many diverse topics, as well as different languages, in which Jewish literature may be found.”

Publications in German, Russian, Hebrew and Turkish were presented this year at the festival. Jewish Turkish author Mario Levi arrived earlier in the weekend from Istanbul. A few of the community members and myself spent time with him on Saturday, going to the Wilhelm Lehmbruck Center of International Sculpture, which happened to be the location for an event about depression that day. I’m not really sure what was going on, but people were reading poetry and even the mayor spoke. In this photo, which Alex took, I think I’m talking about what I think of Alberto Giacometti’s sculptures of frail women stuck on wagons.

The next day, Mr. Levi read a passage from his book “Istanbul was a Fairy Tale.” I never heard Turkish before, it’s really beautiful. Then the woman who had translated his novel into German read the passage out of her translation. I went from understanding 0% to understanding 50%. The book is about 800 pages, but it’s on my ‘to read’ list. Although Mr. Levi is fluent in French, writing in Turkish is very personal to him, as the language is so closely tied to his life experience and culture. In an interview with Haaretz, an Israeli daily newspaper, Mr. Levi says:

“I will never be able to avoid nostalgia. Anyone who was born in Istanbul loves nostalgia. This is the city’s principal feeling. You can summarize it in a word that cannot be translated into any other language – huzun. Sadness with a touch of optimism and a bitter smile. This is the feeling that accompanies people who left Istanbul on voyages and never returned, who were forcibly brought to live here or were forcibly deported. The last 100 years, since the Ottoman Empire disintegrated, have been an era of unending deportation, of everybody to everywhere. All I want is to remain in my own home.”

Forum during the book festival

Afterwards I went to Admiel Kosman’s reading of his own poetry. He’s a professor at the Geiger College in Berlin right down the street from where I work. I went to a seminar he gave the Camp Szarvas Madrichim in February that was indirectly about Martin Buber. His poetry was amazing. He writes in Hebrew, English and German. Some of his English poetry he writes using Hebrew characters or he’ll write words incorrectly so that they sound like how an Israeli would say the word. For example: Jeruzalem instead of Jerusalem. He wrote his English poetry when he first got to Berlin years ago and didn’t speak any German. Writing poetry in English this way expressed feeling “immigrant.” Someone in the audience didn’t understand the concept, So Professor Kosman asked me to read a poem in English, then he read the same poem. It was really cool, how the sound of the words changed the meaning.

Journalists Alan Posener and Yves Kugelmann discuss how Jewish literature is defined today with moderator Michael Rubinstein

I was really impressed with the special guests – accomplished authors, journalists and scholars from all over Europe, all who came to share their work and knowledge of Jewish literature! Throughout my time in Germany, I have been continuously amazed with the wealth of Jewish culture and knowledge of the Jewish communities here, especially of those who immigrated to this country from the Former Soviet Union and Israel. The Jewish Book Festival is a great example of this trend: the guests and visitors were representative of this native and immigrant reality, bringing their diverse backgrounds and intellect to the discussion of Jewish issues through contemporary literature.

Click here to see more photos of the festival!

Yiddish singer and accordion player roaming the conference

Köln Jewish Center

Limmud #2! Two Sundays ago, before my my already blogged-about adventures in Düsseldorf, I traveled over to Cologne to help out with “Limmud Day,” like the event I went to in Vilnius, but just one fun filled day, also supported in part by JDC.

Photo from my seminar

The event offered seminars on Jewish issues such as ‘Kabbalah and Mysticism in Judaism’ and ‘The Jewish Matrix – A Modern Midrash” in addition to movies and other things I don’t know because they were only written in Russian. In the morning I gave a seminar about Rosh Chodesh, a beautiful holiday celebrated by Jewish women to welcome the new moon. I did a massive paper on the holiday for one of my courses at GW and after re-reading the paper, still hidden away on my mac, I was again impressed with the story of how it developed historically, and also in contemporary times as the gem of the Jewish feminist movement. The seminar went well, although I’m a little rusty with my presenting skills, not making enough eye contact and speaking too fast. Not the best strategy when presenting to a non-native speaking group. But two women asked for my contact information because they were inspired to start their own Rosh Chodesh groups – success!

I had time afterwards to visit another lecture, on the Muhammed Al Dura tragedy and the trial against the French reporting of the events presented by Philippe Karsenty, who brought the trial to case and won, proving to the French court that the video and entire scenario was a hoax. At the end, Karsenty asked, “First, is anyone not convinced that the event was not a hoax?” No one raised their hands. Everyone was completely convinced and completely disturbed. Just one of the many interesting things one can learn at Limmud.

In the afternoon, I helped out Jana, the woman who originally started the Bambinim project, with the children’s program. I was pretty wiped out by then, having stayed out til 3am the night before in Düsseldorf for the Asian Purim Party. But the kids were amazing and still going strong after a day of pumping out art projects surrounding the theme of Passover, the Jewish holiday that begins at the end of this month. I came prepared to do another project with them, but we settled on free play until their parents came to fetch them, running around the colorful basement of  the Cologne Jewish community center.