"it will catch you by the ear” – emanuel nashon

Our last full day, March 12, consisted of a day in Kreuzberg, a visit to the Pergamon Museum, and a hot chocolate with lactose-free milk at the Cutie Pie Café. Aze kef.

Kreuzberg, a district of Berlin, encompasses many minorities and immigrants (particularly many Turks). Visiting the Kreuzberg Museum, Kivunim met with a representative of Kreuzberg Initiative Against Anti-Semitism who elucidated the mission to prevent and combat anti-Semitism in Berlin. She mentioned the intimidation teachers feel in addressing the increasingly relevant issue of the Palestinian-Israeli conflict (with a growing number of 23,000 Palestinians in Berlin).

We then met with Emanuel Nashon, an Israeli diplomat and Deputy Chief of Mission for the Israeli Embassy to Germany. Speaking of the German-Israeli relationship, Nashon identified the Shoah, the Holocaust, as the most impactful in creating dialogue and emphasizing the significance of Germany to Israel historically. Though I disagree that the Holocaust should wholly define Jewish history and Israel’s inception, Nashon underscored that all of Berlin’s remnants reveal Germany’s dark history.

 

“The past is always here, even if you try to ignore it – it will catch you by the ear.”

– Nashon

Furthermore, Nashon stressed that German Holocaust education should not teach guilt but rather the responsibility of German history. Producing a dialogue between friends and equals, the education should accentuate “one foot in the past, and one foot in the future.”

Nashon mentioned the approximately 15,000 Israelis living in Berlin – the so-called “godless” place – that the Berlin mayor has referred to as “poor but sexy.”

After an outing to the Pergamon Museum, we concluded the day and week with a nice dinner (beetroot and horseradish soup) and a summary discussion at the Cutie Pie Café. The café proved as adorable with its name, with its mini desserts and fruit and frothy drinks.

We filled out an evaluation form for Germany Close Up, whose staff then instructed us to write what we experienced most meaningfully within the trip.

I struggled – I fortunately do not have any family members who endured the immediate atrocities of the Holocaust. I do not have a personal connection – simply as personal as collective Jewish memory. However, I connected to the Jewish historical aspect of Berlin as well as the modern city it now is. What a strange contradiction, I thought, experiencing both aspects of the city separately but meaningfully. How could I so fluidly detach the past from the present? Yet I never felt repulsed or guilty for enjoying my trip – maybe this proves a symptom of a generation too far removed from the Holocaust.

 

Either way, I feel that Berlin has proved my favorite experience and city, meaningfully and enjoyably, thus far. I connected so much to this new city so unexpectedly.

Rebecca Abbott

(Kivunim – www.kivunim.org) - a gap year before Barnard

"diversity destroyed" der berlinischen galerie

The following day, March 11, Kivunim braved the cold and hurried off the bus into the German Ministry of Foreign Affairs. A German official met with us to introduce German international policy and so forth. Extremely articulate and knowledgable, he spoke English probably better than a lot of us and even a few phrases of Hebrew.

Upon asked why Germany has failed to recognize Hezbollah (as its militant and political wings are virtually one) as a terrorist organization, he insisted that evidence "was needed," or otherwise "there could be a strong case against it." Bulgaria (in reference to the bombing of an Israeli tour bus last year) has failed, he said, to "[provide] the adequate evidence." If they succeeded in proving Hezbollah's role, "Germany would be willing to push for it."

On Germany's abstention on Palestinian observer status at the UN last year, our speaker began that "Germany is a staunch ally of Israel." However, he remarked, Germany wanted to act in accordance with other European Union countries as recommended upon. He implied if it were not for the EU block strategy, Germany would have voted against the UN bid. This, perhaps, also reflects Germany's post-war hesitance to exert too much influence within the sphere of the EU and the world. In addition, he emphasized Germany would have supported the 40-year anniversary memorial service at the 2012 Olympics.

The German-Israeli relationship proves patently unusual. Our speaker mentioned Germany "does not see its role as a party to condemn Israel" - in contrast with the rest of the world - only to occasionally "voice criticism" (for instance, that the Israeli settlement policy hinders the possibility of a two-state solution).

When pressed as to why the Hezbollah terror during the 2006 Second Lebanon War does not adequately serve as evidence, our speaker ambiguously mentioned that "previous actions [for reasons he did not know] were not being discussed." Moreover, the EU would only list the military section of Hezbollah as a terrorist organization, and they fear isolating the political wing of Hezbollah and thus preventing any further political interaction (with Hezbollah's stronghold in Lebanon).


Throughout the morning, I found his multiple references to examples of Germany's reluctance to exhibit individual nationalism intriguing. I didn't know that mentality still existed in Germany, with their nationalistic popularity in soccer and such.

That afternoon, we visited Der Berlinischen Galerie, a modern art museum in Kreuzberg. Holding a temporary exhibit, "Diversity Destroyed" depicted the degenerate art confiscated by the Nazis during World War II. The artists or their work violated the Nazis' "cultural policies" - "decadent" art, Jewish art or Jewish artists' work, anything associated with communism or expressionism, anything abstract, and so forth. Utilized as resistance, this art depicts a historical and political era.

Defined as anti-art, or DADA, these reactionary works illustrate mutilated, dehumanized, or even perverse images. The chaos and irrationality reflects the frustration and entropy (chemistry nostalgia) of the time. For example, a mannequin possessed a revolver as a shoulder as well as a fork and knife sticking out of its body. A lightbulb constituted its head and dentures modified other features of its body. Moreover, DADA artists intended this provocation and shock, depicted in a work such as this one, to stimulate self-reflection within society. Some of the DADA movement's most famous artists include Hannah Hoch, John Heartfield, and George Grosz.

"DADA ist die willentliche Zersetzung der bürgerlichen Begriffswelt.
DADA is the conscious disintegration of the bourgeois idea of concepts."

Between the Germany Ministry of Foreign Affairs and this art museum, today constituted one of my favorite days of the Central Europe trip.

I continue to India, but the blog posts will continue! Stay tuned.

Rebecca Abbott

(Kivunim - www.kivunim.org) - a gap year before Barnard

"Mr. Gorbachev, tear down this wall!"

Right: Robert Abbott at the Berlin Wall just to the right of Checkpoint Charlie (West Berlin, FRG May 1988).

On Sunday (March 10), we visited the remnants of the Berlin Wall. It persuaded me to think of the "walls" I've encountered, their purposes, and their implications: mechitzas, the Vietnam War Memorial Wall, the Western Wall, the Israeli security fence that runs along the West Bank, and so forth.

It also began to snow today, thickly and heavily without abate for the next two days. The snow, too, helped crystallize the living history of the Berlin Wall for me.

The cold weather had become so piercing we could not stand outside longer than a few minutes to listen to our guide. While I pulled wool socks and fleece socks over two other pairs of socks, my  RA Sarah managed to pile on four jackets over her fleece and sweatshirt. Germans, to me, however, seemed only mildly aware of the cold, with their noses cheerily pink because they hadn't buried their faces under an assortment of Moroccan scarves and multiple hoods like Kivunim kids. They walked and walked and biked around the city, while Kivunim kids would scramble on the bus after ten minutes in front of the Berlin Wall and swear to never step off the bus again. My Lithuanian-Russian ancestors had failed to prepare me for Central Europe.

We passed the second oldest cemetery in Berlin, which housed the grave of Abraham Geiger, another leader of Reform Judaism and another nod to the apparent failure and contradiction of Reform Judaism in its place of inception.

Our city bus tour concluded with a visit to the Old Royal Library. In May 1933, National Socialist students took out 20,000 books, stacked them, and burned them. In this main square, central to the city, a monument remains; a glass window in the cobblestone ground reveals a large, white room, filled with empty shelves and shelves and shelves. The monument bears an inscription that reads in English:

"Where they burn books, so too will they in the end burn human beings." - Heinrich Heine

This "sunken library" succeeds in evoking the eerie feeling of memory of the past as well as immense loss. Heine's words, written over a hundred years before the Third Reich, proved anticipatorily allusive. His own works were burned by the Nazis.

Among the many stumbling stones we stumbled over throughout the day, Germany Close Up lead us to one in particular. Sonja, one of the Germany Close Up staff, had two Jewish family members deported from their home in Berlin: her maternal great-grandmother and her maternal grandmother. To the right, her great-grandmother's stumbling stone appears. Able to personify a name on one of these blocks on the ground, we lit a yarzheit candle and said kaddish for her. Her memory remains part of the fabric of Berlin, both the city itself and its history.

We then visited the German Jewish Museum, a place which I wrote in my journal that I felt I "was walking through a large piece of barbed wire." Designed by Daniel Liebeskind, the museum bore resemblance to Eisenmann's Holocaust memorial with its arbitrary zigzag construction, stone-gray interior, and open symbolism.

Below are two famous murals on the Berlin Wall that I really liked. The "Fraternal Kiss" sharply depicts the iconic embrace between Honecker and Brezhnev. The second illustrates the combined German and Israeli flag and the strength of their relationship. At the German Ministry of Foreign Affairs, the next day, a German official emphasized "Germany as a staunch ally of Israel" (more on his remarks, on the UN and EU and Hezbollah as an identified terrorist organization, next time).

Rebecca Abbott

(Kivunim - www.kivunim.org) - a gap year before Barnard

"in berlin, by the wall..." lou reed

Mishegas has returned from its two-month respite. Iberia will continue after Europe/Turkey. Guten tag!

Our Central Europe/Turkey trip commenced with a week in Berlin, where Germany Close Up hosted and guided us. Partially funded by the government, Germany Close Up introduces American Jews to modern Germany and contemporary German Jewish life. The programming sought to delve into the contradictions of the German experience: Germany as the origin of progressive and Reform Judaism, as well as ultimately the site of destruction of Judaism; and Berlin as the city that cultivated racism and facilitated mass-murder, as well as the same, newly-built city that promotes openness and tolerance. Fewer than a hundred years since World War II ended, memory remains something inevitably that one struggles with.

Walking through pristine modern Berlin, one inescapably endures the burden and heaviness of the past. Monuments in residential areas, such as the one to the above right, commemorate a square in which German women protested their Jewish husbands' imminent deportations and ultimately won. Gold "stumbling stones" pervade the cobblestone sidewalks of Berlin to evoke the memory of the Jews who once worked, lived, and thrived throughout the city.

One of our first stops consisted of a Jewish cemetery, built in 1672 and destroyed in World War II, that houses the grave of Moses Mendelssohn, a philosopher and forefather of the Haskalah (Jewish Enlightenment) in the eighteenth century. Constructing the foundations of Reform Judaism, he sought to integrate Jews into secular society while maintaining their faith. This ultimately backfired, as only two of Mendelssohn's six children remained Jewish. In addition, his experiment of full integration and assimilation into German culture patently failed as evidenced by the cemetery itself: this cemetery harbored German Jews before their deportation to concentration camps.

After the initial walking tour of the city, we visited the Haus der Wannsee-Konferenz, where the senior officials of the Third Reich established the Final Solution to the Jewish question. The villa, in the Berlin suburb of Wannsee, now serves as a museum and memorial. Cobblestone walking paths, white sitting benches, and trimmed bushes that act as walls line the innocuous-looking Wannsee villa. Its stone-gray front and heavy metal gates present an aura of regality and poise. Yet even in the bitter winter, the foreboding element inside house contrasts starkly alongside the beauty of its backdrop, Lake Wannsee.  The weather reminded me of my days in Poland on my senior trip, where the coldness and biting wind enlivened, however morbidly, the experience.

Thereafter, we drove to Berlin-Grunewald Track 17, or Gleis 17, where the majority of deportations from October 1941 to February 1945 occurred. Most trains ventured to the Litzmannstadt and Warsaw ghettos until 1942, and afterwards directly to the Auschwitz and Theresienstadt extermination camps. The Deutsche Bahn, the national railway company, instituted this memorial in 1998.

Someone later expressed their anger and incomprehension of "living at the whim of another people."

Conversely, the following day introduced the theme of the moving forward, the future; we visited Lauder Beit Zion (another European Jewish school funded by Ronald Lauder, president of the World Jewish Congress). Headed by Rabbi Josh Spinner (Baltimore-born and Toronto-raised), the school is part of a greater Jewish outreach organization that boasts a yeshiva and midrasha. Formally at 220,000, the number of speculated Jews in Germany has attained 300,000 (70 to 80 percent whom are Russian speakers).

He spoke of the growing Jewish community in Germany, his ambivalence towards his daughter rooting for German teams, and, upon request, modern anti-Semitism in Germany. Employing the recent circumcision scandal as an example, Rabbi Spinner cited the fundamental problem in German society as one of pluralism and tolerance, rather than anti-Semitism. Rabbi Spinner expressed that the anti-circumcision support stemmed from anti-religious and xenophobic sentiment, as Germany increasingly becomes a "melting pot" country.

The Memorial to the Murdered Jews of Europe, or the Field of Stelae, remains in the heart of Berlin. Designed by Peter Eisenman, the memorial constitutes 2,711 concrete slabs in grid-like pattern and initially bears resemblance to a cemetery. Walking down through the slabs, the "tombs" mount higher and higher and produce a sense of chaos and loss of control. Supposedly, Eisenman constructed the site with no symbolism in mind; he left his design open to interpretation. In contrast to Holocaust memorials all over the world I've seen, this one proved unusually provocative and effective to me.

Finally, before Shabbos preparations, we visited the German Historical Museum. This experience provided a history of World War II from a German perspective, and, additionally, our tour guide did not know we were Jewish, which afforded another unusual perspective (after nine years of Jewish education).

For Kabbalat Shabbat, we walked to the Joachimstaler Strasse Synagogue, an Orthodox shul with many young people and much ruach (spirit). Our dinner with them afterwards last five hours. The irony, of course, is that one of the most vivacious, effervescent shuls I've been to remains situated in the heart of the city that once promised the destruction of the Jews.

The following morning, we walked to the Pestalozzistrasse Synagogue, a "liberal" (Reform in America) shul complete with a mixed choir and an organ. However, depicting another contradiction, the congregation appeared almost entirely elderly; in the birthplace of Reform Judaism, Reform Judaism no longer thrives.

After Shabbos, we watched "The Reader" with German students and had dinner with them.

The Central Europe/Turkey experience to progress.

Gute Nacht!

Rebecca Abbott

(Kivunim - www.kivunim.org) - a gap year before Barnard

"here's looking at you, kid." (casablanca)

Morocco is a country of vivaciously colored buildings, people, and tap water. These vibrant hues reflect the landscape and the unknown substances in the water pipes. Our three days here have seemingly stretched into one bus ride, with a multitude of stops, played on the same continuous Moroccan-Arabic song.

Upon arriving the first night after a seven-hour bus ride from Casablanca, we settled outside the medieval city of Taroudant in the Hotel Palais Salaam, a former governor's palace dating back to the 16th century. The richness of the architecture, colors, and gardens compensated for our lack of real food (due to the kosher, vegetarian, no-fresh-produce-in-Morocco diet). The next morning, we visited the souk within the city walls, where Taroudant residents specialize in leather goods. Bargaining proves necessary as sellers often mark up over 60% (though I still managed to buy a leather purse for 100 dirham, or the equivalent of twelve and a half dollars).

Following the souk, we ventured to Arazan, a small town (village?) and the site of a shul over 500 years old, known as the Khmiss Arazan Synagogue. Raphy, our Moroccan-Israeli tour guide who dedicated his life to seeking Jewish remnants in rural Morocco, revealed its story:

"I had heard of a large Jewish population living in Arazan [prior to their emigration in the 60s]... So I went there. I went to the main street in Arazan, and I walked into a cafe. There were some men sitting there and I walked up to them and began to talk with them...

I said, 'Were there Jews in this village?'

'Yes,' they said to me. But these men had been born after the Jews had left, or they were babies...

'Walk through the Kasbah,' one man encouraged. 'Walk through the Kasbah and find Harim. He knows about the Jews.'

I found Harim, he was about 60. I said to him, 'were there Jews here?' He said yes.

'Was there a synagogue?'

And Harim, a Berber-Muslim man, replied in Hebrew.

'Baruch haba [welcome]. Where have you been? I've been waiting for you.'

Harim pulled out a large, wooden key."

Harim explained that before the rabbi of the community had left, he had approached Harim. "If a Jew comes," the rabbi expressed. "And he asks for the synagogue, bring him this key."

Accepting the key almost 50 years later, Raphy attempted to unlock the shul with some difficulty. Upon asking Harim to open the door, Harim replied that Raphy should open it as "he is the Jew who came." Entering the shul, he recited Shema Yisrael.

Undeniably the Raphy-Harim story remains one of Peter's favorites (see Harim, left, and Peter, right). It has become a token story of Kivunim, a story of the value of the Moroccan Jews in Morocco, a story of fundamental human compassion. Emphasizing the "basic soul and character" Harim so embodies, Peter accentuated Kivunim's obligation to return to Arazan to pay tribute to Harim. Harim also possesses childhood memories of the shul; he remains able to chant part of the Torah service and a Berber-Jewish version of Shalom Aleichem. 

In tribute to Harim, Kivunim raised money to restore the shul. On our day in Arazan, we placed a mezuza in the shul and recited the bracha. Harim, the Berber-Muslim man from the village of Arazan, revisited his boyhood memory and sang Shalom Aleichem.

Journeying to Errashadiya, we stopped briefly to buy saffron (100 dirham for four grams). Morocco's herbs and spices, so significant to its food culture, supplement my sensory impression of Morocco.

Until the 1960s, an active Jewish community and its shul existed in the center of Errashadiya. Lack of maintenance and funding depreciated the shul and left it decrepit. Last year, funding from several American Jewish families allowed for renovation. This year, we spent the day painting the shul and reinvigorating it to mint and pistachio green, colors frequented throughout the country. Perhaps Jews (with the exception of Kivunim) may never return to this shul; however, it was powerful to restore a once-vibrant shul to its former glory.

Most unfortunately, this same day of revival, a mysterious wave of nausea seized me, only to produce bouts of vomit along the streets of Errashadiya. I have left my mark in more than one way.

Even undiagnosed digestive dilemmas, however, could not taint my sheer rabab (joy or happiness, also known as my Arabic name) upon visiting the date souk. Who knew of such a thing?

We then ventured to Merzouga via SUVs through the Sahara, accompanied by Moroccan drivers who spoke no English and bore no driving inhibitions. My driver's preferences particularly tested my fragile equilibrium with his sharp turns, aggressive accelerations, and total disregard for large rocks and bushes in our path.

Our hotel Auberge Timbouctou too encompassed the effervescent colors of the country: deep blues and greens in contrast to its adobe outside. Dinner comprised of an array of soups, couscous, and cooked vegetables. By far, however, the warm preserved apricots in a syrup of spices outdid itself.

The next morning, our Saharan dune voyage followed. More to come, so keep a lookout for further tales of the remnants of the Moroccan Jewish experience and of my digestive system.

Rebecca Abbott

(Kivunim - www.kivunim.org) - a gap year before Barnard

"let scripture be your eden, and the arabs’ books your paradise grove.” -- dunash ben labrat

Our two weeks back at Beit Shmuel have largely comprised of five-lecture days, much essay writing, and little sleep. Lecturing about the history of Islamdom and Jews living under Islamic rule, Cornell professor Dr. Ross Brann spent the entirety of last week with us. His seminars inspired my pre-international trip (to Morocco, Spain, and Portugal) Civilizations and Society paper on Judeo-Moroccan Arabic as a reflection of Jewish identity in Morocco in the Middle Ages. I found this relationship relevant and intriguing as I simultaneously learn modern Hebrew and Arabic and draw my own connections. This research has also reinforced my own notion that even an American Hebrew speaker, or sort-of Hebrew speaker, should learn and study Arabic from Hebrew instead of English.

A small hurricane and two outings otherwise permeated our two stress-filled weeks. For four days straight, the Jerusalem skies unleashed a monstrous combination of pouring rain, hail, sleet, and finally a six-inch blanket of snow. We even had our likely only snow day of the year, as Jerusalem shuts off completely faced with the fear of frozen precipitation.

"I feel sure that science will bring to this land both peace and a renewal of its youth, creating here the springs of a new spiritual and material life. I speak of science for its own sake and applied science."  - Chaim Weizmann (1946)

Last Sunday, we split into three groups to explore Israeli innovation throughout the country. One left for the environmental Park Ariel Sharon in Hiriya, and one left for the Tel Aviv TechLoft and the Google offices in Tel Aviv. I visited the Weizmann Institute, a research university for math and science, in Rehovot. We toured the interactive museum, picnicked on the campus grounds, and then toured the science garden, which consisted of an array of physics-based activities and contraptions. Thereafter, we partook in a lecture with Dr. Daniel Lalush, a French-Israeli Weizmann Institute physicist who participated in an international collaborative team at CERN, Geneva, that discovered the Higgs Boson. The Higgs Boson, or the God Particle, refers to the long-sought particle that completes the Standard Model of physics and explicates why objects have mass and thus exist. This outing reminded me of how the world functioning physically as well as interpersonally and historically is so interesting. Moreover, the Weizmann exhibit and park manifests Israel's emphasis on science, math, and innovation, especially for young people. Israel's overwhelming innovation can attribute to part of Israel's success as such a young country.

Before class Thursday morning, we visited Temple Mount and the Dome of the Rock in anticipation of visiting a Muslim country. During Arabic class, we also walked to the Arab shuk in the Old City to utilize Arabic phrases (albeit "Shakespearean Arabic") pre-Morocco.

More on Moroccan adventures to come.

Ma alsalamah.

 Rabab

(Kivunim - www.kivunim.org) - a gap year before Barnard

ask the oracle

Upon leaving Ioannina, Kivunim began its journey to Meteora to visit to the monoliths and monasteries. Even on the bus, the view as we mounted higher and higher appeared striking. The Meteora, the massive castle-like structure of the six monasteries, perched on top of gargantuan cliffs. By the time we started to climb the 200 steps up, the weather had deteriorated to gray, menacing, and cold. This environment reinforced my absurd association with a Lord of the Rings scene filmed in Yosemite.

Reaching the apex, I could understand the monks' desire to seek an isolated refuge on a mountain. The height and view down provided a sense of closeness to the heavens and detachment from general society below. As monks sought to study and live here estimated as early as the 11th century, this monastery has proved its worth as a location and environment conducive to study and spirituality. As much as I have grown fond of Torah Drive off of Old Court Road, the shortcomings of Pikesville have become much more apparent in comparison to Meteora.

We then ventured to Delphi, home of the famed Oracle of Delphi. In ancient Greece, people flocked to Delphi to heed a message from the gods in the Temple of Apollo. The oracle would withdraw from her trance and enter into a psychotic episode, from which an interpreter would provide a cryptic, prophetic answer to the visiter. Her psychosis most likely resulted natural gases from a crevice in the earth at the Temple.

As we veered off from exploring Jewish remnants to ancient Greek ones, I became unexpectedly grateful for studying Edith Hamilton's Mythology in my eighth grade English class. The stories became relevant in my high school English classes, where Greek mythology references appeared as often as Biblical references in literature, especially in Shakespeare. However, standing above the amphitheater in Delphi, I wanted to simply FaceTime with Edith Hamilton and show her how Mythology became real for me.

Leaving Delphi, we briefly stopped in Chalkida before continuing to Athens. Chalkida is home to a Romaniote Jewish community, very few whom are left now. The Vice President and President of the community introduced us to a shul there, renovated with funds from the Rothschilds, and then to the oldest Jewish cemetery in Greece. In front of this cemetery, a most unusual memorial stood solemnly. On one side of the entrance, a statue of Greek Jewish officer Colonel Mordechai Frizis, killed in World War II, faced forward, while, on the other side, a statue of Greek Orthodox Metropolitan Bishop Grigorios paralleled him. Grigorios remains famous in the Chalkida community for hiding the Jews (in a country where 50,000 Jews from Saloniki were deported) and their Judaica (including Torahs) in his own church.

Two things in particular about the cemetery intrigued me: the old tombs, which resembled small houses, and the plethora of orange trees planted within the graveyard, whose vibrant fruits contrasted with the brooding weather and colors of the tombs.

Kivunim then journeyed to its final destination of the Balkans international trip: Athens.

We stayed at the Parthenon Hotel, which I found funny in itself. Obviously, we would have preferred to stay at the Parthenon itself, but it seems as if Kivunim's funding would not cover that bill.

After a Greek dinner (with Israeli influence) at Chabad, the next morning we toured the new Acropolis Museum to preface our Parthenon tour. We discussed the relationship and relevance between people of antiquity and people of the post-modern era: a "big picture" perspective on the general Kivunim mission and theme, how we can better understand ourselves by understanding the ancients and their perspective. I also remember  learning this basic reasoning for studying history in my first world history class in middle school - a lesson that only took about six years to resonate with me.

Moreover, we contemplated the Parthenon itself on a hill. What is the psychological effect of Athenians constantly looking up? To illustrate the nobility, excellence, and power of Athens? To further emphasize their superiority? Perhaps to some Athenians, the majesty and grandeur of the Parthenon symbolized their own money and manpower, and, rather than standing proudly, the Parthenon glared down at them. Perhaps to some Athenians, they resented this obnoxious factor.

We also toured several synagogues and a Jewish museum in Athens. At one synagogue Etz Chaim, we met the Chief Rabbi of Athens, who shared with us his family's survival story through World War II.

Born in Larissa, a historical Jewish community for 2000 years, he lived there until the age of 17. He then moved to Paris to purse rabbinical studies and later learned at a yeshiva in Switzerland. By 1943, Saloniki had already deported its Jews and rumors began to propagate throughout the country.

The rabbi's father quickly gathered the family and fled to Mount Olympus, where they hid in the forests as the Germans passed through the country. He then told us a story which would fall under the category of hashgacha pratis, according to my high school davening. Crawling into a shed in the mountains as it rained, the family huddled next to the farm's animals. The rabbi mentioned how that night the kids were crying and screaming, and the father moved them to the opposite side of the shed. The next morning, they discovered the shed's roof had collapsed and killed all the animals underneath it.

Forced to leave the farm the following morning, the family trudged aimlessly through the still pouring rain and mud. Spotting a field, the rabbi's mother ran over and pleaded the farmer for water. The farmer, however, had other ideas. Recognizing the rabbi's mother as the daughter of one of his best clients, who sold produce, he then took the whole family in and hid them for the remainder of the war. The rabbi emphasized his deep feeling of G-d always present in the life of his family.

A final note: Greece is a beautiful, spectacular country with infinite superlatives that one can attribute to it. However, what provoked me the most to think and question and ponder was the absolute abundance of graffiti. Bitter graffiti, swastikas marked public buildings such as libraries and banks. The general feeling I drew from Greeks surprised me as one of unrest, one of melancholy, and also somewhat one of anger. After witnessing thousands of people storming the streets of Saloniki on November 17, screaming and chanting and protesting, I recognized the irony of these bitter riots that have struck Greece the last few years. Perhaps the Greeks, birthed in the birthplace of democracy, possess an inbred desire to showcase and utilize their rights and responsibilities as citizens of a democracy (in response, of course, to a failing economy and government efforts to cut public funding and raise taxes). Simply put, one could say, this is democracy at its both best and worst. 

Rebecca Abbott

(Kivunim - www.kivunim.org) - a gap year before Barnard