My Channukah

The purpose of this blog is to add some Channukah to the Shabbat table. Please print and share.

Insiders read today's headline and smile.

They know that this title is an insider's pun.

It's a play on the Talmudic presentation of Channuka, which begins (in Aramaic): Mai Channuka? - What is Channuka?

OK, so now that you, dear reader, are an insider, here's the first question for your table:

Mai Channuka?

Not "What was Channuka" but "What is Channuka"?

What is it about that Maccabean war, that flask of oil, that menorah, and that destroyed Temple that matters today?

That's for your table, not for me to spoon feed you.

But the photo above has a story that you might want to share.

This has been been published widely, including the NY Times, various blogs, and sites

The scene is Kiel, Germany (north of Hamburg).

 
The date: December 31, 1932. The 8th night of Channuka, 5693.

It is exactly 30 days before the most infamous act of Herr von Hindenburg and perhaps of the 20th Century.

That last night of Channuka, Rabbi Dr. Akiva Posner lit the menorah and placed it in the window.

(Ask at your table:) Why in the window?

Publicizing the story is the entire reason for lighting the menorah.

(Ask at your table:) What if publicizing endangers you?

For sure, there is no need to put your family in danger.

Surely a year later, Jews of Kiel were not putting their menorahs in the window

But at this moment, they did.

Not only did they, but Mrs. Posner saw the tremendous symbolism of the juxtaposition, and snapped this photo.

On the back, she wrote:

    "Death to Judah" says the flag
    "Judah will live forever," answers the light.”

The Posners escaped the Vaterland and made it to the Holyland.

With their menorah.

For 51 weeks of the year, the menorah resides at Yad Vashemj.

But for the darkest eight nights of the year, the menorah returns to the family.

The Posner's great-grandson lights it with the entire extended family around.

Once again, for your table: Mai Channukah?


Happy C/han[n]uk[k]a/h (however you spell it)

and

Shabbat Shalom


PS - By the way, the saga continues....

PPS - Special video link for you if you click on the pic above.

 

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Are You Your Father's Son? A Coming-Out Story

The goal of this blog is to add controversy to your Shabbat table. Please print and share.

A couple years ago, Dr. Bernd Wollschlaeger’s 14-year-old son wanted to know his saba (grandfather).

For the first time Bernd shared the story of his life.

He was afraid of rejection but his son thought his story was cool.

Three weeks later was Family History Day their Miami Jewish school.

The Principal and the Rabbi called Dr. Wollschlaeger in for a meeting. They suggested that his son was delusional and was making up a story about his grandfather the famous Nazi. Bernd related the whole story to the enraptured school leaders.

Since that time he has been sharing the story regularly and finds a weight has been lifted from his shoulders.

World War II was a verboten topic in the Wollschlaeger home. Any questions were met with silence, with one exception: It was permitted to mention that Bernd’s father was a hero, decorated with the Iron Cross by Hitler himself.

There had been mysterious clues.

Like why his parents wouldn't tell him the purpose of a six-pointed star on a city building.

Or why he wasn't allowed to speak to a mysterious tenant upstairs.....

Bernd was 14 during the Munich Olympics, meant to reinstate Germany amongst the civilized world, but where the Israeli team was massacred by Palestinian terrorists, aided by German neo-Nazis. The headlines read Jews Killed in Germany Again.

Young Bernd was confused -  It happened before?

His teacher told the class that the Israelis had "brought it upon themselves."

That seemed an odd response to a terror attack.

His parents wouldn't talk about it, but he finally found out.

Munich was a watershed event for Germany. It spurred Germans to talk about the Holocaust.

Horrified by what happened to the Jews at the hands of the Germans, he needed to find out his father’s involvement.

An alcoholic, his father could be tricked into opening up at a certain point of drunkenness. Finally the truth came out:

"We are German, representatives of a pure race, with a historic obligation to clear up the riff raff in the east. The only mistake was in using the train capacity to transport the Jews to the camps, instead of bringing supplies to our troops. The Jews made us lose the war.”

The more Bernd learned, the more he felt drawn towards the Jewish People and Judaism.

He ultimately converted, moved to Israel and served in the IDF.

"This was, and is, very difficult to deal with. I never saw my father again."

Now that the cat is out of the bag, he has begun to speak at Jewish schools and centers, and also tells his story in a well-received book.

"I’m not the son of a survivor, I’m the son of a perpetrator," Wollschlaeger said. "And if I am my father’s son, I am guilty, too."

2 questions for your table: 

1. Do you agree?

2. What kind of soul does it take to make such a journey?Shabbat Shalom