At precisely eight in the morning June 23 2005, I was awakened by a phone call. When I picked up the receiver, I heard a man‘s voice say „Happy Birthday, Berlin calling“. Since I knew no one in Berlin who could possibly know my birthday, I took it to be a practical joke. But it wasn‘t. The caller was Ruediger Nemitz, an official of the Senate of the Federal State of Berlin who called to invite me to come „home“ as a guest of my native city. […]
I was just three years old when I left Berlin and although I visited the city a number of times on business I had no memories of ever having lived there. This, then, was an opportunity to delve into my origins and I accepted the invitation and considered it a wonderful birthday present. In due course, I was informed that my wife and I would be joining a group of fellow former Berliners and that our visit was scheduled for May 2006. […]
We all came to Germany with our own „baggage“. Some, like myself, knew Germany from previous visits or military duty and felt no animosity towards the present generation of Germans. Others, a number of whom had lost family members or experienced Nazi atrocities themselves, were still bitter and unforgiving. Still others had lived a life of denial in their new homelands and didn‘t want to admit their origins, even to themselves. No matter what attitudes we arrived with, I think it‘s fair to say that by the end of the week, everyone was convinced of the good-will of our German hosts and of the ordinary Germans with whom we came into contact. […]
The Berlin we saw is „a happening city“ full of vitality and young people on the go. In the 17 years since reunification, Berlin has once again become Germany‘s capital. Today, the former East Berlin is the focus of government and high culture, while the former West is still the entertainment and shopping center. While Berlin has all the hallmarks of a twenty-first century city the vast majority of whose population is under 40, I found it quite remarkable that there are so many reminders of the Nazi regime. Among them are a number of exhibits detailing the horrors perpetrated by the Gestapo, a billboard in front of a railway station listing the names of concentration camps to which Berlin‘s Jews were deported, and so-called „Stolpersteine“(copper memorials in the shape of cobble stones) embedded in the sidewalk in front of the former homes of many Nazi victims. Our tours included these and many other important landmarks of „Jewish Berlin“. […]
By sheer coincidence, the daughterin-law of my oldest friend was in Berlin on business during our stay. Leah Salter is an observant woman who lives with her family in Alon Shvut, an Orthodox community in Israel. We arranged to meet her for Shabbat dinner at the Glatt Kosher Restaurant Gabriel, located in the Jewish Community Center on Fasanenstrasse, opposite our hotel. The Center occupies the lot on which the Fasanenstrasse Synagogue, Berlin‘s largest, stood prior to its destruction on „Kristall Nacht“, November 9 1938. Of that synagogue only a portion of the entrance arch remains and now frames the entrance to the Center. Leah and my wife, Barbara, began the evening by lighting and blessing the Sabbath candles and continued with my celebrating Kiddush. […]
I was deeply touched by the spirit of Shabbat which was palpable and the realization that here we were, literally all survivors, celebrating „shabbos“ on the very spot the Nazis had chosen to eliminate us. What a demonstration of „am Yisroel chai“ (the people of Israel live)! […]
The final day of our tour began with a visit to Weissensee Cemetery. Since (I believed) I had no family members buried there, I remained near the entrance and admired some of the monuments to holocaust victims and Berlin‘s Jewish aristocracy. My lonesome vigil was soon interrupted by one of our guides, Caroline Naumann, a young woman active in Berlin‘s nascent Jewish community, who approached me saying „come, I want to show you something.“ She led me a short distance to a memorial honoring about two dozen young GermanJewish men and women in their twenties who rose up against the Nazis during the war. They were members of a movement similar to the „White Rose: student uprising and, tragically, all were shot. Among this small group, were three who bore my family name – Rothholz. Although I have no idea whether they were relatives or not, they made me feel very proud! […]
In his Farewell to us Dr. Gideon Joffe, Chairman of the Central Council of Jews in Berlin suggested that „we Jews are a warning system because we are often the first victims of crimes, but usually not the only ones.“ He concluded by saying „I hope you have convinced yourselves that Germany has changed a lot, and changed for the better.“ I, for one, left Berlin convinced.