Benjamin K. Raphael
Newark, Delaware
Reading Dr. Howard Berlin’s article “Essen’s Alte Synagoge that Survived Kristallnacht” in the December 2nd issue of the The Jewish Voice excited me and I feel that I must add to Dr. Berlin’s account.
I was born in Essen in 1929 and my family belonged to the “Alte Synagoge”. Why it was called that, I don’t really know. It was known as the “Neue Synagoge” when it was built in 1913, and usually, European buildings have to be around for hundreds of years before they are considered old. But it looks like the “Alte Synagoge” and that’s what it is called.
The day before Kristallnacht in November of 1938, my father was arrested and taken to the local jail. The reason became apparent the next morning when a band of hooligans broke into our home. and demolished everything in sight, sparing only the canary. My mother tried to explain that the house had been sold, but had no proof on hand. However, this may have been enough reason to keep them from setting our house on fire. Our Catholic housekeeper stayed and saved some of our belongings. My mother and I fled with our Scottie, wandering through the city. We eventually ended up at my uncle’s former home, where we lived for about a month. The main part of that house had been burned, but the rear of the house was habitable. My uncle and his family were living in Italy at the time, but his mother-in-law and sister-in-law lived there and were kind enough to let us stay with them. Due to the efforts of our (Gentile) family doctor, my father was released from jail after about a week. About a month later, after being turned back at the border once for lack of another newly enacted huge “exit tax” we went to Holland, where we stayed about three months before emigrating to the U. S. After living in Yonkers, NY for a couple of years, we settled in Wilmington.
I don’t remember much about those weeks in Essen after Kristallnacht. My school, the Jewish Community Center, and most Jewish private homes had been burned. I visited the synagogue and saw the devastation after it had been burned.
The first time I returned to Germany after the war was in 1966. My father had died two years earlier, and my mother, my former wife, and I stayed in Essen for three days. The synagogue was still there, of course, but the Jewish population was so small that it could not begin to support a building of that size. It was now a museum dedicated to German industry. We took the guided tour. The very young tour guide explained that the building had been “damaged during the war”. I didn’t bother to correct her. There was no remorse or admission of guilt. On the exterior there was a plaque with inscription that illustrates the mood at that time:
“MEHR ALS 2500 JUDEN DER STADT ESSEN MUSSTEN IN DEN JAHREN
1933-45 IHR LEBEN LASSEN.”
(My translation: “More than 2,500 Jews of the City of Essen lost their lives during the years 1938-1945”)
One thing happened that I will never forget. My mother wanted to visit a former friend, a lady who had lost her husband and two sons fighting for Hitler. Both my wife and I rebelled. Neither of us wanted any contact with any followers of “Der Fuehrer”. But Mother insisted, and, as usual, she got her way. We arrived at the lady’s house unannounced and rang the bell. Mother’s friend answered the door and the two women just stared at each other for moments. Neither spoke a word. Then they fell into each other’s arms, sobbing.
I was back again in 1989. The Alte Synagoge was still a museum, but now it was dedicated to Essen’s Jews. My grandfather’s business (M. Stern A.G.) was mentioned. There was a monument inside as a tribute to the Christian gravediggers who, as they were working during the day of Kristallnacht, saw what was happening and hid the torahs from the synagogue in an empty grave to save them from being destroyed. And there was a new plaque on the exterior:
“DIESES HAUS DER EHEMALIGE SYNAGOGE DER JUEDISCHEN GEMEINDE IST EIN STUMMER ZEUGE EINES FURCHTBAAREN GESCHEHENS DAS WIEDERGUTZUMACHEN UNS ALLEN AUFGETRAGEN IST.“
(My translation: “This house, the former synagogue of the Jewish community, is a silent witness to terrible events for which we must all atone.”
In 2002, I was back again. This time I was a guest of the City of Essen, as part of the atonement for the Holocaust, an annual event in cities all over Germany. My present wife and I, along with a couple of dozen others from the U. S., Israel, and South America, were wined and dined beyond belief. The first evening we were feted at a welcoming dinner, hosted by the Oberbuergermeister (Lord Mayor) and a number of city officials. We were seated with a Catholic priest and a retired Bishop of Essen, Heinrich Gehring. It was Herr Gehring who had caused the plaques on our synagogue to be changed, and made many similar attempts to atone for the sins of the Nazis. He also had a historical marker erected in the center of the city, across the street from the railroad station.
My translation: “During the period from October 27, 1941 to September 9, 1942, over 2,000 of Essen’s Jews were transported on trains from Essen’s main railway station and its freight station to ghettos and death camps in eastern Europe. Almost all were murdered there. The transport took place during daylight hours, in full view of townspeople and other passengers. Armed guards made any escape efforts impossible. Normal train service was not interrupted.”*
He, more than any others we met, truly regretted the sins of his fathers. As a token of our appreciation, we gave him a memento of ours, an iron medal which had been presented to my mother by the German government during WWI in gratitude for some of her gold jewelry which she had donated to the war effort.
In addition to the museum, the building hosts a research team that will continue to collect data and oral testimonies from Holocaust survivors and refugees for a few more years in order, I assume, to reconstruct records of the lives and fates of Essen’s Jewish citizens. The team consists of Jews and Gentiles, working together. Graduate students host the returning “Wandering Jews”.
Essen had been bombed heavily during WWII. The Krupp industries were prime targets for Allied bombers. Our former house was hit and, after the war, was replaced with an apartment house. The area around the synagogue was devastated. Almost every building in downtown Essen had been rebuilt or newly erected after the war. Miraculously, the synagogue survived the Nazi terror and the air raids. The damage from the Krystallnacht fire had been limited to the interior and the windows. To the Nazis the empty building was an eyesore, and preparations were made to raze it. However, the structure was so massive that they were unable to allocate the necessary explosives to demolish it.
Will the “Alte Synagogue” ever be used as a house of prayer again? Probably not. In 2002, Essen’s Jewish population consisted largely of Russian immigrants, too few to support such a large building. But, the climate has changed and slowly, more Jews are returning to Germany. Maybe some day.
This article was originally published in The Jewish Voice on January 20, 2008.
Addendum:
* My wife and I returned to Essen for a brief stay in the summer of 2015. The plaque had been removed. However, On the adjacent sidewalk there was a small Stolperstein, one of many (presumably) all over Germany. Translated literally, it is a stone over which one can stumble or trip. Actually, it is anything but. It is a small brass plate which has been substituted for a brick or cobblestone in the sidewalk, and it bears the inscription of the name of the Jewish family which resided there before the Nazi era.