5
504Katrin
Guest
This is extremely special to me and I would like to share it with my community here.
When I was younger I once asked my Mom what happened during Nazi Germany with the Jews. She said she didn’t want to talk about it, and stuck to it till she deceased, but she once told me that: “Every family in our street moved away when things got worse but us…”
I’ve been asked by Jews from other countries how I could live here (in Germany). My answer is this. My Grandparents, probably mostly the Grandfather, were too stubborn to move away for many reasons I don’t know with certainty, but that I can think of. And since I grew up hearing “You so remind me of my father…” and that we were so alike, I think I can probably say that my assumptions are right.
Our mother grew up without her parents, the father returned but deceased shortly after. We kids grew up basically non-religious. We celebrated Easter and Christmas because everyone did, and every Sunday mother baked bread.
This year, when I received the recipe for Challah (the bread for the Sabbath) and read it, I smiled, but also almost cried. It was the same recipe that my Mom used and that she probably had from her Mom. I have it from my Mom and I knew how to bake Challah all of my life, I just didn’t know that it was Challah.
A couple of weeks ago I ordered my mezuzah. I got it from the States because even after weeks of trying to find the perfect mezuzah I couldn’t find one in Europe lol. I knew it might take a week or two to arrive here, but something told me it would arrive on Tisha b’Av. Tisha b’Av is a very tragic day in Jewsih history when a lot of unimaginable terribel things and prosecution happened to Jewish people. I wanted to fast on that day so I took a day off in advance.
Four weeks later - on Monday night the day before yesterday - when I returned back from work I had a scrap of paper in the mailbox saying that I could visit the customs in order to pick up my item. I was kindof surprised, almost struck with - not fear but don’t know how to express it - that I would go and pick up my mezuzah on the following day which would indeed be: on Tisha b’Av.
I went to temple service on Monday night and Tuesday morning, and had classes afterwords, so never before in my life did I hear these words that often:
Affixing it to the doorpost is kind of a historical event for me. My Grandfather was too stubborn to leave and to flee like burglar in the night. This was his home, and we would stay no matter what. When I nailed this mezuzah to my doorpost, in the same country, in the same city, a mezuzah that had been missing for almost two generations, it was like affirming my Grandfathers’ decisiveness. I’m still here. Hence, we’re still here. We ain’t moving anywhere else.
Thank you for reading.
When I was younger I once asked my Mom what happened during Nazi Germany with the Jews. She said she didn’t want to talk about it, and stuck to it till she deceased, but she once told me that: “Every family in our street moved away when things got worse but us…”
I’ve been asked by Jews from other countries how I could live here (in Germany). My answer is this. My Grandparents, probably mostly the Grandfather, were too stubborn to move away for many reasons I don’t know with certainty, but that I can think of. And since I grew up hearing “You so remind me of my father…” and that we were so alike, I think I can probably say that my assumptions are right.
Our mother grew up without her parents, the father returned but deceased shortly after. We kids grew up basically non-religious. We celebrated Easter and Christmas because everyone did, and every Sunday mother baked bread.
This year, when I received the recipe for Challah (the bread for the Sabbath) and read it, I smiled, but also almost cried. It was the same recipe that my Mom used and that she probably had from her Mom. I have it from my Mom and I knew how to bake Challah all of my life, I just didn’t know that it was Challah.
A couple of weeks ago I ordered my mezuzah. I got it from the States because even after weeks of trying to find the perfect mezuzah I couldn’t find one in Europe lol. I knew it might take a week or two to arrive here, but something told me it would arrive on Tisha b’Av. Tisha b’Av is a very tragic day in Jewsih history when a lot of unimaginable terribel things and prosecution happened to Jewish people. I wanted to fast on that day so I took a day off in advance.
Four weeks later - on Monday night the day before yesterday - when I returned back from work I had a scrap of paper in the mailbox saying that I could visit the customs in order to pick up my item. I was kindof surprised, almost struck with - not fear but don’t know how to express it - that I would go and pick up my mezuzah on the following day which would indeed be: on Tisha b’Av.
I went to temple service on Monday night and Tuesday morning, and had classes afterwords, so never before in my life did I hear these words that often:
And that should be the day I’d affix my mezuzah to the doorpost out of all days. After classes I went to the customs office and picked it up.
Affixing it to the doorpost is kind of a historical event for me. My Grandfather was too stubborn to leave and to flee like burglar in the night. This was his home, and we would stay no matter what. When I nailed this mezuzah to my doorpost, in the same country, in the same city, a mezuzah that had been missing for almost two generations, it was like affirming my Grandfathers’ decisiveness. I’m still here. Hence, we’re still here. We ain’t moving anywhere else.
Thank you for reading.
