-At the turn of the 20th century, 1 out of every 4 residents of Budapest were Jewish, hence the nickname "Jewdapest"
- More than half of all doctors, lawyers, stock traders, bankers, etc were Jewish. Sometimes much more than half.
-Then a law was passed that, since only 6% of the general Hungarian population (not just Budapest) was Jewish, Jews could make up only 6% of students in universities.
To this day, the Hungarian Jewish community faces unique challenges. For example, American models of Jewish community cannot work here because Hungarian Jews will not allow themselves to be placed on any lists of any kind. So membership lists... mailing lists... e-mail lists... no way. No lists of Jews. And the Hungarian word for Jew is also a curse word in Hungarian. Many Hungarians avoid saying it at all, switching to English for just that word or saying "Well.. you know what..." like it's Voldemort.
We then saw a lecture by an anthropology and ethnography professor at the university. She gave a really fascinating presentation. The basic gist of the major problem she addressed is that Jews in Hungary are allergic to nationalism of any kind. Understandably. It was Hungarian nationalism, (and of course the National Socialist Party...) that sent hundreds of thousands of them to death camps in WW2. And communist nationalism that suppressed their religious practice. And now Hungarian nationalism that threatens them again currently. So anything that "smells of nationalism" makes contemporary Hungarian Jews recoil.
That includes Jewish nationalism. Or really community defined by something like religion in any way. One of her informants said:
“I am ashamed to be Jewish. However, this time, for different reasons. I am married to a Calvinist woman since 25 years.We have 3 children that we raised in liberal spirit. In the last few years we went to the Jewish summer festival and a few times for Yom Kipur to Dohany synagogue. (...) My wife encouraged me to go to Jewish events, seminars, lectures. On most of this seminars the topic was pretty much the same: we should be proud to be Jewish, we should be Jewish, much more Jewish, we should not let our kids to get out of the ties of the Jewish community, not let them to assimilate and God forbid marry a non-Jew. We should not let them to assimilate? You mean to mix with the society? Will we get infected by non-Jews? On almost every lecture and seminar I could hear openly that the Jewish culture is distinct. We are different. Our contribution to the Hungarian culture is enormous. Hungarian culture would be nothing without the Jews. (...) and Israel is unique, Israel has the most start ups, most talents, most Nobel prize winners. I felt more and more uncomfortable hearing this. Especially in front of my wife. I felt ashamed in fact. We condemn the Jobbik when they talk about Hungarian proud nationalism... And now we do the same?"
This was really hard to hear for me. I think every liberal Jew has thought this. I feel like I could imagine my Dad saying this very thing. And I'm the product of a mixed marriage, so I really understand. And it's hard to hold in one hand the beauty of the Jewish community, and the beauty of Israel, and in the other hand the liberal knowledge that nationalism and exclusivism is always a fishy business, and while I wouldn't equate Israeli nationalism with Hungarian nationalism, and I could write a book about why, it's normal for any liberal minded person to give serious pause to the idea of an ethnocentric state or an ethnocentric community.
Anyway, modern Hungarian Jews are just these sorts of people, generally... the liberal, justice-minded values that they inherit from Jewish upbringings (however unknowingly) are the very values that discourage them from wanting to embrace a Jewish identity and community. It's definitely a crisis among youth in Israel today, too. Crisis or enlightenment, I don't know. It depends how you view it. And how I view it depends on my mood. On the day, the hour, the second.
Mostly I think crisis, because people want to kill us so... you know, we have to survive.
Here is a recent tweet, translation on the right, from Jobbik, the radical right party in Hungary. Jobbik is currently the third largest party in the Hungarian parliament. In the last election, 38% of EDUCATED, YOUNG, UNIVERSITY students voted for Jobbik. Yes. Really.
The professor told us that since the far right took political control of Hungary 4 years ago, 200 professors have lost their jobs, most of them Jewish and liberal. She said that just a few months ago Jewish professors, including herself, got stickers on their doors which read "Jews: this is not your university. Signed, the Hungarian students."
And she basically said she's pretty sure she'll get fired any day, and they'd be doing her a favor if they fired her.
The current government is very bad news indeed. They took control, rewrote the constitution to preserve their control, changed the election process to keep them in power, booted out supreme court judges against them and planted new ones in their favor, installed their own officials as heads of all major Hungarian educational and cultural institutions, seized control of the media, fired opposing journalists and writers, and created, no joke, an organization called "Veritas" which is rewriting history. Reinterpreting history in a way that best supports the current regime. It's VERY 1984.
So I was pretty distressed heading out of this meeting. Because I understand that informant's feelings about nationalism, even in a Jewish way, but the reason Jews assemble is because if we don't, and if we don't stand up for ourselves, well, history shows what happens. The present shows what happens.
We visited the Dohany synagogue, which is very church like. Some Jews we met disdainfully called it a "Jewish cathedral." It's pretty empty except for high holidays, but apparently even that is an improvement. "25 years ago," Agi said, "Not even a drunken bird flew in this direction."
The front of the Dohany Synagogue
Stones placed by visitors
"Make me a sanctuary and I will dwell in you."
"God is praised from the East, from whence the sun comes."
There's actually a nice-ish story around the synagogue. Before the war it had 25 Torah scrolls, all of which were saved by priests from a neighboring church who snuck in in the middle of the night and took them before the nazis could burn them, and buried them in the church yard, and returned them to the Jews when the synagogue was restored after the war. During the war the building was used by the gestapo as a telecommunications center, since they knew the allies tried to avoid bombing synagogues.
These days, the synagogue is run by Chabad. I have mixed feelings about Chabad in general, but apparently in Hungary they're pretty bad news. All government funding goes to the Hungarian Jewish federation, which is basically run by Chabad. Other Jewish sects really resent them because they get all of the funding, but also because that means Chabad is basically in bed with the totalitarian Hungarian government. Lots of corruption, and government officials sometimes show up to Chabad events for photo-opportunities that is supposed to evidence their support of the Jewish community.
So apparently the building attached to the synagogue is on the site where Theodor Herzl was born.
And then it turns into a cute little Jewish museum.
Gate around the synagogue.
This photo shows the courtyard in 1945, with piles of bodies of people who died in the Budapest Jewish ghetto. Behind you can see the courtyard now, which is a mass grave memorial.
We're alive now but, probably we wouldn't have been 70 years ago.
This weeping willow memorial has a name of someone who died in the holocaust on every leaf.
Louisa found her Great Grand Father.
"Remember"
This memorial is to Carl Lutz, a Swiss envoy to Budapest in the war who forged papers saving over 60,000 Jews.
We heard a lot of stories about Jews who did various things to get papers... dressed as postmen, faked their names, pretended to be someone else... and I'm not saying they shouldn't have done those things at all. Not even a little. But I had a hard time feeling the levity at these stories that it seems other people did, since doing this meant they got papers instead of some other Jew. It's a happy story for them but that doesn't make it a happy story.
The Jewish ghetto today, full of pubs and shops
The last remaining wall of the original ghetto enclosure. It was really unsettling. And it's weird to think, with my mixed background, that if my family had been in a divided city like this, half would be outside the ghetto and half would be in.
When went to go see the Golem Theater company, which is a Jewish theater co in Budapest. They were really great and the director was fascinating. They recently refused a $20,000 grant from the government so as not to be obliged to fascists, basically.
After we went out with a Hungarian host to this really cool "ruin bar" in the ghetto.
Nothing like some shared national trauma and a warm drink to bring people together.
The next day we got up bright and early to see some very conflicting memorials...
This lovely double cross monument to true Hungarian-ness.
And this statue to Horthy, Regent of Hungary during WW2, who basically traded Hungary's Jews for a promise from Germany to regain some territory they'd lost. And now they've erected a statue of him. "It's like seeing a statue of Mussolini in Rome," Agi said.
But in front of that same church is a memorial to the people who hid there during WW2... including Jews (hence the Hebrew). History is complicated.
Okay, so this is a new monument that is incredibly controversial. It depicts the evil eagle of Nazi Germany attacking the innocent angel Gabriel, who represents all of Hungary. The idea here is that all of Hungary were innocent and blameless, and all were victims to Nazi fascism.
"In Memory of the Victims."
The issue with this is that it totally revises and whitewashes history. When the nazis invaded Hungary, Hungarians not only gave up their Jews, they enthusiastically murdered them and rounded them up themselves. Hungarian fascists were so excited and effective about getting rid of the Jews that Eichmann had to beg them to slow down because there weren't enough trains to transport them so quickly to death camps. So to suppose that all of Hungary were blameless, and to put all Hungarians, from Jews and Roma to Horthy himself and Arrow Cross party members, on the same status level as victims, is absurd and very offensive.
In front of the memorial, protestors keep assembling counter displays.
This says something like "In memory of my grandparents, whom I never met, because they were killed by the Hungarian Arrow Cross party"
Here's a picture of Horthy and Hitler hanging out together
"Fish stinks from the head" implying that Orban and his government are awful, basically.
"Cowardly people don't have a homeland. Let's be brave, finally, and confront our history."
The last remaining monument to the communist liberation in Budapest. This day is remembered very differently by different Hungarian populations. The Jews saw it as liberation day. The other Hungarians observe it as occupation day.
Um.... Reagan. And Mati. And me.
Hungarian Parliament. You can tell the three offices on the right are liberal representatives because they hang the EU flag alongside the Hungarian flag. It's very trendy to be far-right and ultra Hungarian and buck the EU. Mavericks!
Hungarian guard... goose stepping... I think we all got a collective spine shiver.
Then we went to the shoe memorial, which is set up along the Danube to commemorate mostly Jews who were gathered and shot into the river.
"The Nation of Israel Lives"
And my shoes.
Then we went to the holocaust museum, which was mostly well done. Between exhibits you walk along these corridors to the sound of marching (and later the sound of a heartbeat). The lines on the right represent human lives, and the farther you get into the museum, the fewer lines continue.
The restored synagogue at the end of the museum.
We had some free time to get lunch and it just felt really bizarre walking around Budapest after that. I'm not the kind of person who can so easily switch moods and topics and so I was pretty quiet for most of the rest of the trip.
Apparently.
That night we went to a Chanukah lighting at the JCC. It's always nice to hear people from other countries all praying together to the same tune and in the same language.
And then we went to a Hungarian left-wing protest. It was mostly hipsters standing around with signs and beers. And some of these people. It was so tempting to tell them that when they wear those masks like that, it defeats the purpose of being cowardly "anonymous."
I couldn't understand much, obviously, and so I didn't stay long. And that's a good thing because apparantly riot police broke it up later with paprika spray. Paprika spray! Oh, Hungary.
The next day we went to the Lauder School, a Jewish day school that actually has a lot of non-Jewish students because it's the best place in Budapest to get a liberal education. The kindergarten was having a Chanukah celebration and it was sooooo cuuuute!!!
They sang lots of songs.
The school's rabbi was dressed up as Judah Maccabee for the candle lighting.
And they put the mezuzah up on their new building. The kids were all in these adorable little hats! I wanted to hug them ALL.
We listened to a panel of representatives from different Jewish sects in Budapest. The most interesting part to me was when Gargor, the Modern Orthodox rabbi, said that he didn’t identify as Hungarian, he identified as Jewish. That Jews are people who once had our own country and when it was conquered we were forced to scatter around the world, but we never become the people we live amongst, we always remain Jews, and we can be Jews wherever we go, and it won’t be such a tragedy if we have to move. And this thought was basically echoed by the entire panel. I was pretty shocked. This kind of rhetoric is often used against the Jews as cause to persecute us… that our allegiance lies with each other, or with Israel, and not with our local government, and so we can’t be trusted or whatever like that.
It reminded me of a time back in the spring when I was dating Dave (the marine) and I said something like “Americans this whereas Jews this…” and he looked over at me, we were driving, and said, “But American Jews ARE Americans…” so innocently and earnestly and it meant a lot to me at the time. I agree… but if America and Israel went to war… God I have no idea what I’d do.
Next we went to this really cool space called Aurora. It's a coffee house and gathering space for Jewish 20 and 30 somethings... activists, artists, just people gathering... I really wish there were something like it in Boston! I would totally chill there. And we met with some young Jewish activists doing all kinds of interesting stuff in Budapest.
One of the things they offer is self defense classes for Muslim women. I found this amazing.
Me, Shev, Kiyomi, Leonora
Yair, Shai, Louisa
Plus our amazing guide, Agi!
Leonora lighting on the second night
Some of Tamasz's collection. The box on the right is a Tzedaka (charity) box from an old synagogue, still with money inside from Communist rule.
Communist Tzedaka!
Tamasz showing me a pre-WWII boy's report card he found. Kid was excellent in everything. Where is he now?
He told the story about how when he was sixteen he went into an abandoned synagogue in a Hungarian town near the border with Romania. And he found many of the things above and caches full of books. Mati asked, “You were so young. How did you know these things had to be saved? How did you know how important they were?” And he said, “I just knew. I just felt it in my heart. I just knew.”
And I immediately thought of a time when I was also sixteen and in a strangely similar situation. As some of you know, until birthright I really didn’t give much of a shit about being Jewish. And in high school, I was actually rather notoriously actively anti-religious. And one time I was in a play in a local theater. The theater was on the site of an abandoned Jewish summer camp. In one scene, some characters needed to tear pages out of a book. So the other kids went looking around the theater for a prop, and found some “old books” in the basement. I came onto the stage and I saw littered around the floor pages with Hebrew writing on them. I could’t read Hebrew, I just vaguely recognized the characters from our Passover hagadah and dreidels and stuff, and I remember it felt like someone had reached into my ribcage with a trowel. The pain of seeing the torn pages was so intense. And even though I didn’t care about being Jewish (I thought), and even though I was so anti-religious, and even though questions of my identity hadn’t even begun to form, I found myself gathering up the pages and saying, “Where did you find these? Where did you find these?” And I saw they were tearing pages out of what I now understand were prayerbooks, as if they were nothing, and it so viscerally troubled me. I gathered up the books and hid them somewhere. And if you’d ask me why I knew it was important to do that, I’d have answered, like Tamasz, “I just knew. I just felt it in my heart. I just knew.”
This moment with Tamasz, and those objects, and that memory, really eased a tightly wound tension in me. I’ve been nursing these festering questions of “Am I Jewish?” “Should I convert?” “Why won’t people accept me? And if they don’t accept me, what does that mean about my Jewishness?” And these questions really came to the foreground on this trip, considering what I discussed above about the problems with ethno-nationalism, and my divided self along the ghetto wall. But remembering and realizing that birthright aside, Zionism and Israel aside, Jewish education aside, before any indoctrination, before any trauma and healing, there was a moment when I knew in my heart what I was and what that meant about my obligation to the people to which I belonged. And belong.
At the party I also talked to a Jewish genealogist whose job it is to help mostly American Jews trace their history back to Europe and, if possible, connect with surviving relatives. I know this isn’t a practice unique to Jews, but I think Jews have a special preoccupation with unearthing the link to our past. Mati was interested in learning about her family in Muncatch, and so Tamasz and the genealogist took down books and maps and were telling her about the community… the families… the rabbis… all of these lives and stories. It’s crazy to think of this entire complex ecosystem of lives that were rounded up and ended.
I was looking at these parsha cards and I noticed a signature at the bottom. Tamasz said he says “Engel”… which is Mati’s last name. Of course she was thrilled to hold them, and he even let her keep it. Who knows if it’s the same Engel, but considering how big the families were, there could definitely be some relation.
Mati Engel!
Mati learning about her heritage.
The Ladies
So what am I left with after this week? Well, overwhelmingly a sense of obligation. An obligation to really make the most of my remaining time with this fellowship. An obligation to start making some decisions about my life and committing to them, even if I change my mind later. Life is short and it is a gift, and I feel lately very overwhelmed by how intensely gifted my life has been. The opportunities this week to meet these amazing people, the chances this year to do what I’ve already done, the funding and connections and support and advice coming in from all directions… it’s incredible and I need to capitalize and I need to find some way to leverage it and my own energies to give it back. I’ve made a list of skills I want to bring to the next level by June, and people to talk to and options to explore when it comes to what my next big step is going to be. I do think that life is meant to be enjoyed but not just enjoyed. At the beginning of this year, Steve said that Dorot is a gift and if you don’t give a piece of it away it will go rotten, and I think that’s true of Dorot and it’s true of life.
Me and Tamasz
-Jonathan Safran Foer
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