February 21, 2019
On German Reisen: they say it is a big trauma to be born
They say it is a big trauma to be born. The trauma for the baby is greater than for the mother. The mother had been told about and was more or less prepared. The baby is innocent. Then imagine the baby is born black or Jewish or both. A black baby can see himself that he is black. The Jewish baby has to be informed. If nobody is doing it the baby will be confused sooner or later like it was in my case. Since I was informed only when I was ten-year-old I paid attention first of all to my misfortune (I knew nothing about Jews but enough about anti-Semitism) and was careful especially around Germans. Germans had killed so many Jews so I understood they would not mind killing me too. Until I learned that there was no actual danger any more, especially now, after I have been living in Jerusalem for the past thirty years the chance of being killed by an Arab is much more realistic. Also I am not a child any more, the other way round, I even have a grandchild, and this grandchild moved unexpectedly to Hamburg, Germany, and I naturally wanted to visit her, the baby is a girl. I first visited Dr Klaus who lives in the German countryside. To enjoy the fresh air and to relax. Klaus was the best friend of my best friend Uli. Klaus and his wife Herta invited us to stay in their big wonderful house with a huge garden. Russians would call it a “dacha”. Klaus had visited Israel a few times and for him I was a Russian guest. He has many books on Russian history and geography and wanted to share his knowledge with me. He likes to say that in reality the Germans won the war not the Russians. He has the soul of a soldier. His father was a soldier in the Russian front during the war.
They both, husband and wife, are German patriots, no doubt. Herta as a woman saw in me less the Russian soul than the Jewish one. She is a little bit worried about so many Arab Muslim immigrants, who brought with them their passion for anti-Semitism. She did not know how to take it, even though she is not exactly philo-Semitic but she had learned the hard way about anti-Semitism being not such a good idea. After it had proven itself as a big mistake, with the Germans the victims in the end, a repetition seemed as a clear sign of stupidity. So – how should one deal with those new arrivals?
I wanted to help her. There has to be a new paradigm strong enough to fight the old one. Why not try vice versa? Instead of hating Jews, start loving Jews. Just as an experiment, like scientists that are always open to look for a new theory when the old one dissatisfies them.To give Muslim refugees the right to stay in Germany only if they can say and sign a declaration of love for the Jewish people: “I love Jews,” as a minimum requirement for residence in Germany.
Herta was impressed and even repeated “I love Jews” and was surprised when nothing terrible happened, no thunder from the heavens. I myself was fascinated by my newish discourse about an old issue. The next day I had a chance to try it on a guest who visited Claus and Herta. He is a neighbor, his dacha within ten minutes drive.
This man named Dr Kuhlman, is a pastor, Dr of theology and is well known for criticizing the Muslim religion and denouncing it especially cruel to women. He even had the relevant pages from the Koran translated into English where it was recommended and even explained how much to spank your unruly wives. He is quite famous and invited to talk-shows and to give lectures all over the world. His family came from Königsberg, Kaliningrad by now, and he has a great nostalgia for his fatherland. He sounded like a Palestinian when talking about Palestine, minus the threat of violence.
I was impressed by his great knowledge of the Koran and shared with him my last idea of how to reduce anti-Semitism of Muslim immigrants. I was expecting him to pronounce like Herta: “I love Jews.” That he did not manage. Dr Kuhlmann is against Islam, but no way had he wanted to go as far as to pronounce love for Jews. But in the end, unknowingly he was my helper in need.
Finally, I took the train to Hamburg to see my family. They were doing fine. After a couple of days I planned to go back to Klaus, Herta and Uli. Claus had promised to pick me up at the rail station of Osnabrück. I only had to phone and let him know when. Herta had dictated to me their telephone number, but I got it wrong, one digit off.
A small mistake, but enough to create a problem. I kept calling the wrong number, and only once by accident, or by adding another impossible mistake, I got through. Afterwards I kept calling the wrong number and worried. On top of everything, I did not even have the address.
Uli’s friend, his wife and Uli belong to the disappearing generation, the people who are not “connected”. They are not like me; they are happy even without the Internet. Desperate, in the middle of the night I had a stroke of genius: the pastor! He must be connected. And there it was, his location in the country, my return destination: Bohmte. My train stopped for a minute, then I got off. It was raining. I headed to the police station. Ilana, my friend in America (“connected”!), had recommended: you want an address, you go to the police. The officer on duty had a lot of questions about Klaus and about me, and then asked me to come back the next day. Too bad! But I pulled out my iPhone, and there was a portrait of the dear pastor. “Do you know pastor Kuhlmann?” The policeman asked. “He is my friend!” I said. The photo worked magic! The officer suddenly became active and brought a superior officer who was a gentleman and even a friend of Dr Klaus. He called the correct number to find out whether I was a guest of the house. “Please send her by taxi,” Uli said, and was more than surprised when twenty minutes later a police car arrived with a little Jewish woman climbing out. That was me and I was not afraid.