This week I took a short trip to Oradea in Romania near the Hungarian border, where both cultures and languages co-exist. I was there with Rachel, who was born and raised in this historic city with its beauty and its great pain. Before World War Two, there were 30,000 Jews in Oradea and several large and beautiful synagogues; it was one of the biggest and most vibrant centers of Jewish life. After the Shoah, some 2,700 Jews survived and returned, but most did not stay and a small and dying remnant remains, with Temple Zion, the largest and a very ornate Neologue Synagogue, now a museum and venue for concerts and other events. On the way back to the airport on Thursday morning, Waze took us along Strada Evreilor Deportati, which literally means “Deported Jews Street,” on the edge of the ghetto where tens of thousands of Jews were rounded up in 1944, abused by the Hungarian gendarmes and then mostly deported to Auschwitz.
On Wednesday morning, I was asked by the secretary and president of the Jewish community to lead shacharit, the morning service, in the old Orthodox Synagogue, the only one still functioning for services, that stands in a square with the JCC, the old Sefardi synagogue, a new mikveh and a construction site for a new yeshiva. Standing on the bimah in this stunning, sacred space, with just a few old men, two women (Rachel and her mother) and a few gathered on zoom (not enough for a minyan, the quorum needed for certain prayers), was a deeply moving experience for me. It was especially poignant as I sang the words of the the prayer “shomer Yisrael, sh’mor she’erit Yisrael, v’al yovad Yisrael ha’omrim Shema Yisrael, Guardian of Israel, protect the remnant of Israel, let no harm come to the people of Israel, who proclaim Sh’ma Yisrael.” Just a few days before Tisha b’Av and its commemoration of the destruction of our people throughout history, these words in that place were full of meaning. I was asked to share a few words, which I did, and then the president of the community, Felix Koppelmann, who was attending via zoom, hearing that I was a rabbi in Colorado, asked in Hungarian if I was connected to the awful attack there. Surprised that they knew, I shared some of the story and the awful loss of Karen Diamond.
After politely declining the invitation for a shot of schnapps and a piece of sweet cake, Paul Spitzer, the secretary of the community, gave us a tour of the new mikveh and the half built new yeshiva. Paul’s father was deported to a Nazi labor camp, survived, returned to Oradea and stayed. He had been married just a few months before the deportation and waited 10 years after the war before getting confirmation that his wife was murdered in Auschwitz, and only then remarried. Paul is somehow positive and even passionate about the future of Jewish life in Oradea, in spite of a resurgence of antisemitism and a dying community. He had a great deal of pride in the projects he was overseeing, and his hopes for reigniting the community there. Meanwhile, the kitchen of the JCC was busy preparing 30 kosher meals to be distributed around the city to mostly elderly and impoverished Jews.
I was only in Romania for a very full day and a half. There is much beauty in the city and it was a short and enjoyable vacation too, but the impact of seeing such a vibrant center of Jewish life 80 years after its destruction has really impacted me.
I am now back in London for a few more days before returning to the US; here for a final Shabbat with family and for Tisha b’Av. London’s biggest Jewish newspaper, The Jewish Chronicle, has a full page article based on a long interview with me, and page after page of the paper carries stories of grim incidents of antisemitism, including canceling of Jewish artists at the Edinburgh Fringe Festival, vandalism of Jewish spaces, political hate speech and so much more. Yes, there are some huge and painful unanswered questions about the continuing starvation and suffering in Gaza and strong voices of criticism coming from prominent Jewish leaders and organizations, as well as across the world. The war must end. I admit that I don’t understand the UK and Canada joining other countries in their declaration of recognizing a Palestinian state while Hamas still holds 50 hostages in Gaza, with some, including the Hostage Families Forum, claiming that these statements reward Hamas for the atrocities of October 7th. The hope, I assume, of these countries is that it pushes the end of the war, the release of the hostages and a new possibility of Palestinian leadership without Hamas in power, but it is hard to see any of this as reality.
Shabbat Hazon is the Shabbat that precedes Tisha b’Av with a harsh prophecy of the destruction of Jerusalem. The Haftarah text from the first chapter of Isaiah, after which the Shabbat is named, describes the vision of a destroyed city as a consequence to the heinous transgressions of the people, yet it simultaneously offers hope of the possibility of reconciliation and redemption. On Shabbat Hazon, according to some of the Chassidic masters, we are given a vision of the Third Temple. Our souls see beyond what our eyes can process into a future of redemption and rebuilding. For me, this is not about the literal restoration of the Temple, but rather fulfilling the dream of Jerusalem's Temple as "a House of Prayer for all people," which is a later prophesy of Isaiah (56:7) that we read at the very end of Tisha b'Av on Sunday evening.
Traditionally Tisha b’Av and the days leading up to it, is a time where we ritualize our grief through fasting, avoiding washing and annointing, as well as intimacy and social gathering; the mournful chanting of the Book of Lamentations and liturgical poetry that echo the themes of destroyed Jewish communities throughout the ages, while sitting on the ground and reading by candle light. These rituals are tools to help us feel and connect to the grief of the past. I am not sure how much help we need this year with the painful truths of our world very present for most of us. We mourn for so much.
I will be carrying my experience in Romania learning about the brutal destruction of Jewish life there; I will be holding the unbearable reality of the 50 hostages still in Gaza and their families; I am carrying the pain and the fear of increased antisemitism in the world, including the continuing trauma of the brutal attack in Boulder on June 1st and the loss of our dear Karen. With all this, I cannot ignore nor deny the untold suffering, starvation and death of Palestinians in Gaza and the victims of horrific terror attacks from far right, extremist Jewish settlers. So much destruction and anguish. For all of these we mourn and we grieve.
May this Shabbat of hazon, vision, offer us a glimpse of a vision not just of destruction and loss, but of hope and possibility, a restored trust in humanity and a time of healing and rebuilding.
Shabbat Shalom
Rabbi Marc
