Jewish identity in Austria seems so complicated, (maybe it is everywhere) --as is the history of Jews here; repeated toleration mixed with expulsions with the result that Jews seem to be a bit shah-shtill because of the external expectations. Synagogues were not allowed to mark themselves publicly and today the Jewish Welcome Service, a story unto itself, does not even have a sign in front.
Austria, welcomed Hitler, (in fact Mexico was the only country that protested the Anschluss)
and was late to provide reparations (see After Survival by Leon Zelman the founder of the Jewish Welcome Service and The Viennese by Paul Hofmann).
Most, if not all of the Holocaust memorials are relatively recent, indeed, maybe from the time of the 60th anniversary of the Holocaust. On one side, the liberal synagogue Or Chadasch received city and state funding for its renovation of its space into a very tasteful sanctuary, library, classroom and kitchen.
The Gratz synagogue was recently rebuilt through public funds though very few of the some 100 Jewish families in the Gemeinde wish to use the synagogue. It now therefore serves only as a Cultural Center, with some 2000 on its mailing list.
Our Jewish walking tour of Leopoldstadt included a young Austrian woman who lives in the area (so named because King Leopold kicked the Jews out and renamed it after himself). She calls herself a "non-practicing Jew", which may mean that she is Jewish by birth but has not registered with the Gemeinde, or that she has registered and only attends on Yom Kipppur. We learned about the bombing of the bridges by the Luftwaffe to create a line before the advancing Russians, that the city had been occupied for 10 years after the war, that the allies divided up the city and the center ring was shared by the four, that the Nazis had changed the genealogy of Johann Strauss who had a Jewish grandfather (the detail for this I cannot find on the Web), so that he could remain a popular Austrian figure, The Blue Danube and all. At the Jewish Museum run by the government we saw a show about Leon da Ponte, Mozart's librettist, and that the Nazis had varying ways of dealing with his Jewish birth (he was baptized with his brother and father when he was 14). The guide did a great job and seemed quite clear in her criticism of the Nazis.
Shabbat morning in Vienna, April 8, we did a bit of shul hopping. We woke up "early" even though the previous night had been late...and managed to get to the Orthodox synagogue the Stadttempel, the longest standing synagogue in Vienna. The Nazis did not destroy it on Kristallnacht because it was part of a row of buildings and they did not want to damage the other buildings. I of course sat in the women's balcony. I did not mind being a tourist, watching the men bantering away, catching the misheberach for each aliyah, watching the women watching the men or talking to each other, seeing the chazzan aloofly hand out lollipops to the kids. Then later on we moved on to the Liberal synagogue Or Chadasch where the security guard remembered us from the night before and let us in without a passport check. The only "welcome" in each place as we came in was from the security guard. At Or Chadasch, the American BM did a very good job with the Torah reading, but read her speech and the Haftarah in very halting English and the family had left after the candle lighting the night before because of jet lag [cringe].
As we left the synagogue, Debbie dropped one of her gloves.
As Vienna houses many ethnic groups and nationalities, so does Or Chadasch. At Or Chadasch we met a British born woman who moved to Vienna for a better cost of living and ability to still work for her Vienna-based company, as Jews traditionally have immigrated to Vienna for financial reasons (money lending, court Jews, financiers). She finds herself having to explain this decision to family and friends and does so, not wanting to leave Vienna Judenrein. She calls these gestures to synagogues by the state and city, guilt money, and not anywhere near the wealth which the Nazis derived from expropriating Jewish property which in turn was transferred over to the Austrian government. Our email contact at the synagogue, moved back to Vienna after her grandparents and parents had left during the war for the States. I'm not really sure why she came back 15 years ago, but her grandfather had come back to take a job in theatre he couldn't refuse after the war. Karen Engle, Director of the Gratz Jewish Cultural Center, came with her husband for his job, and stayed after he tragically died. I'm not sure why she stayed but she said there are several reasons. She brings her daughter to Vienna (a two hour drive) for Bat Mitzvah training. She's holding her Seder though in Gratz, instead of driving in to Vienna.
On our walk the following day, we happened into the local Marriott hotel, (next to the Herzl Platz):
We heard a lot of loud music, looked at the schedule of the day, to learn that there was a huge celebration for a Brit Milah.
The Kisei Eliyahu ( the Elijah chair) was set up in a public space
and the party looked like a very elaborate Bar/Bat Mitzvah or wedding. There's definitely Jewish life here, Chasidim, kosher restaurants, kosher markets, (we supplied ourselves with matzah here) etc. but I [Debbie] don't know how comfortable it all really is.
Or Chadasch, brought together a few things for me--familiar TAS melodies, a woman rabbi whose European qualities reminded me of Rabbi Marianne Gevirtz (z"l), and of course, one of my mother's childhood home. I became a bit teary at one moment. I wonder what it would have been like to grow up here and am so glad that I did not. Not only because of what may be a latent yet in-bred anti-semitism, but also a certain peculiar dourness (even surprisingly at the Jewish Welcome Service!!), pedantism and stereotypes about women that I sense here. Marianne, I realize, planted the seeds for this trip years ago when she told me how her family vacationed every summer ( in a caravan...) and when she also mentioned how the WUPJ congregations struggle and need assistance. Here we are now...
On our walks through Vienna on Shabbat afternoon we climbed up to the Judenstrasse where we found the local Hashomer Hatzair Ken busy with its activity.
Through my synagogue administrator, Jane, we contacted David (Israeli born) and Angelica (Austrian born) Maayan. They arranged for us to see their show Der Familientisch....at the Schauspielhaus Theater. What an experience. The performance we saw Saturday night was funny and moving and personal and challenging. The "audience" ("participants" might get closer to what David wants to achieve) is divided into groups to experience the family story of one of several actors, including family table experiences. We observe them. They observe us. We all become connected through our stories. It's four hours of intense presentation, including dinner with the entire cast and audience and more of the family stories and singing. Afterwards, we had a lovely conversation with Angelika and David. We learned about how they created this show through a 9 month process, and their work with a Roma woman. They invited us to Seder.
The morning before Seder was spent cleaning for Pesach.
At least there's not much to clean but every space requires a shift of a pile to another area to get the first spot clean, so that everything shifted at least once during the morning. But we are physically chametz free, and I [Debbie] think, for the most part, spiritually as well. I am more and more and more at peace with our recent decisions. Truthfully, I'm trying to be like all those farm fields we've seen at the end of winter, what I call "fallowing out". Mark's great sense of direction, love of navigation and enjoyment of driving, let me do a lot of that, too. I tag along.
We did not find the Or Chadasch, the liberal synagogue in Vienna (last Shabbat, April 8, 2006) community doing its job with Hachnasat Orchim (hospitality), nor K'vod haRav (honoring of rabbis); no one invited us for a meal (not that we couldn't handle food on our own mind you), though they knew we were coming for some time and the rabbi did not publicly welcome us to the syngague. Mark, more so than I, was more disturbed by that [there's another classic value that I remember they did not observe, but I (MH) cannot remember it at the moment). Rabbi Irit Schiller, grew up in Jerusalem, learned Hebrew, English and German at home; travels to Hameln about four times a year, and once a month to Vienna, and spends two week a month with a congregation in England, where her home is. What a rabbinic life that is!