Rosh Hashana in Augsburg

[Alex Jacobowitz <alexbjacobowitz...>]

B"H Munich

Rosh Hashana in Augsburg
------------------------

I was making my way to the kosher food store in
Munich´s Viktualienmarkt when the call came. I
recognized Diana´s thick Russian-accented German from
her "hallo". She was the secretary of Augsburg´s
Jewish community, fifty-five kilometers away. 

Augsburg had fired their rabbi years ago, but the
rabbi - more concretely, his wife - had mounted
a campaign to reinstate him. Endless legal battles
between the synagogue´s board of directors and
the rabbi´s lawyers had substantially impoverished the
community´s coffers, but the worst was that
the rabbi and his wife lived inside the synagogue
complex, and wouldn´t be dislodged.

The rabbi's wife even went to the extreme of
preventing synagogue members from entering the
synagogue to pray, trying to convince them to
pray inside the rabbi´s apartments instead. Police
had to be called to separate the supporters of
the board from the supporters of the rabbi.

I didn´t know any of this when I first spoke
with Diana in 2001. Then, all I knew was that Augsburg
had a magnificent century-old synagogue that seated
eight hundred, and had miraculously survived
Krystallnacht. They didn´t have a rabbi, I was told,
and the community wanted someone to lead the Seder
meal for about 100 Russian Jews who had recently
immigrated to Germany, and didn´t have much of an idea
how to prepare and run a proper Seder. I agreed, of
course. How could I say no?

I had no idea of the war that was going on at that
time, and of which I would eventually become
an unwilling participant.

The contentious war between the rabbi´s lawyers
and the board´s lawyers eventually made it to
the headlines in Germany. It seemed that the
rabbi was welcome to pray in the synagogue as a
regular Jew, but was legally prevented from leading
the service. So when the rabbi took the Sefer Tora
from the ark, an act which would have confirmed his
role as rabbi, he was physically prevented from
doing so by the chairman of the board. "This is
the first time that a Torah scroll was removed
from the hands of a Jew since the Nazis" ran
the German papers. The board wasn´t amused.

And then it got more complicated. The "Jewishness"
of the chairman´s lineage was questioned by an
English religious court. Allegations of the
rabbi´s wife´s brake cables being slashed.
Members of the board´s cars being vandalized.
Reports of money missing from the synagogue´s
accounts. The rabbi´s violation of contractual
obligations. The Jewish Museum, which is part
of the Synagogue Complex, didn´t know who
was responsible for administration anymore.
The Bavarian government was called in to administer
the Jewish community after rumors of illegal voting
procedures for the board members.
Police were called to bring charges for against a 
Bavarian official who shoved an 82-year-old
member of the board. And so on. Of all of this
I was blissfully aware.

Until kiddush Pesach morning, that is, when the
rabbi´s wife cursed me in a richly developed
modern Hebrew. Why would she attack me, I thought?
I mean, wasn´t I doing a mitzva for 100 Jews?
The board had hired a translator, so that I 
could recount the Exodus from Egypt in German,
and have direct translation to Russian. It
was a big hit. Especially the schnapps.

No, according to her, I was preventing them
from coming to the restaurant that she and the
rabbi had prepared - a RIVAL Seder! The poor
Russians - they had to choose between the rabbi´s
Seder (he didn´t speak Russian) and the board´s
Seder, where they WERE Russian. Oy vey.

The rabbi´s wife was advised by the board
that if she disturbed the synagogue services, she
would be removed by the policemen present.
Anything could happen in a powder keg like this, and
we all knew it. But somehow we all survived that
Pessach of 2001.

Pessach 2002 I was called again to lead the services.
"Are the rabbi and his wife still there", I asked.
"Yes", came the answer. Their lawyers were dragging
out the process, but the Day of Reckoning was coming.
The board had a new chairman. A judge. This
judge wanted to do one and only one thing as chairman,
and that was to rid Augsburg of this rabbi, his
wife, and their lawyers. He knew the legal
means to do it.

In the meantime, the Jewish community of Augsburg
had grown from 1400 to 2000. Almost all the
German Jews had disappeared from the scene,
and were replaced by Russian Jews who knew little
German and less about Judaism. We knew it was going
to get uglier.

So, when I got the call from Diana, I really expected
her to tell me that the courts had decided, the
lawyers were settled, the rabbi and his wife were
gone.

Not exactly.

It seemed the rabbi had lost his court petition,
but there was only one more suit that needed to be
determined: whether the rabbi would have to leave
his apartment in great haste, or whether he
could earn a six-month reprieve in which to
settle his things and move, despite the court
process having already moved into its fourth year.

No. Diana called because she was now a member
of the board, and the board had unanimously decided
that I should lead their Rosh Hashana and Yom
Kippur services. It seems the whole world knew
about their situation, and that no rabbi worth
his kosher salt would want to involve himself
in such a menagerie. So they asked me instead.

Don´t get me wrong: I´m no rabbi, nor do I make
a claim to be. I´m what Jews call a "shatzmatz",
kind of a lay leader. I don´t have rabbinical
ordination, though I did attend yeshiva in Jerusalem.
And since the Augsburg community wanted me precisely
to lead the prayers (not to decide Halachik issues).
And I guessed that because of my musical training, 
I just might be able to act as chazan.

"We want you for everything - chazan, shofar,
tora, tefila...", she said.

"And the rabbi and his wife are still there?", I
asked.
"Yes", came the answer.
"What if they disturb the services?", I asked, worried
that they might make a last-bid attempt to take over
the synagogue, the services, make a Rosh Hashana plea,
who knows?
"I will have the rabbi - or his wife - removed in
handcuffs if necessary".

Wow. I mean, I understood that the rabbi was fighting
for his livelihood. But he and his wife had split
the community for years. Often no minyan could be
arranged in either the synagogue or the rabbi´s
apartments, though if the members came together
there could have been a minyan. But the members
of the community and their democratically elected
officials - the board and chair - had decided.

And their decision was that I should lead the
services. With only two months to go until
the Yomim Noraim, I took what can only be described
as a crash course in chazanus. I bought the CDs and
tapes of famous liturgical pieces.
I interviewed the cantors in Berlin. I rummaged
through the transcribed solos of the greatest cantors,
and trained my ears. I bought the biggest shofar I
could find in Mea Shearim and promptly blew my brains
out. Learned the Torah reading. The Nusach.
The Haftara. The Musaf. Ashkenaz, Sphard, Chassidish.

Finally, Rosh Hashana. First night in the Big Shul.
Four hundred Jews bedecked the acoustically perfect
sanctuary, and there I stood, with my blinding-white
kittel, a virgin talles, a new kippa, and shpilkes
like you wouldn´t believe. The rabbi´s supporters
came into the sanctuary to argue one final time
with the chairman. For naught, as it turned out.

I had written a speech for the community in English,
and had it translated to German. The chairman
liked it so much that he wouldn´t let me deliver
it, and he decided to deliver it instead, with
simultaneous Russian translation. In that speech,
I had mentioned that a Nazi plan in Munich had
recently been uncovered by Bavarian police,
and foiled before they could blow up the new synagogue
there. In the speech, I posited the question: what
should be our response?

The chairman had already responded. Police cars
were set up outside. Full time security was
engaged in the person of "Vitaly", a huge Russian with
a graying ponytail. Vitaly spoke perfect English,
but at the speed of a Siberian thaw. One. Word.
At. A. Time.

He told me that he missed sparring, and was
really in the mood to hit something. And that
if I had anyone who needed to be hit, I should
tell him. Funny guy.

Another man was there for security. His name was
Meltzer, and looked exactly like Agent Smith
from The Matrix. Same dark suit. Same sunglasses.
Same coiled wire in his ear. Still, he was a Jewish
member of the board, and wanted to know if
anyone might have put a bomb underneath my car.
I was to park on the synagogue grounds for the length
of Rosh Hashana. For a moment, I wasn´t sure
if he meant Nazis or the rabbi´s wife. Then
I realized that he wasn´t so sure either.

I could tell by the glance in Vitaly´s eyes
that the security detail didn´t know which
was the greater threat. And as services ended
that night, with round challas, figs, honey and
apples for hundreds of Russian/German/Jews, Vitaly
insisted that I not walk in front of the rabbi´s
window on the way to my hotel, and he accompanied
me back personally.

Est ist schwer ein Jude zu sein.

Alex Jacobowitz

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