Between Gaza and Berlin

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Aviya Kopelman, Jerusalem Symphony Orchestra, Rechavia

Those two names signify so many different views, concepts and even worlds, seeming to encapsulate the distinct worldviews that are so much a part of our life, here in Israel.

In a local and very provincial sense these are the names of two roads in Rechavia, the Jerusalem neighbourhood which was built in the 1920s. Today those roads are clogged with traffic for much of the day, and at the point where they meet there used to be a trendy café whose name was the same as the title of this piece. Gaza Street presumably once led south to the physical Gaza Strip, but of course this is no longer the case. Berlin Street was probably so named because many of the area’s initial residents hailed originally from Germany and still yearned for what had once been its culture.

But Gaza and Berlin are both geographical places that have been much in the forefront of Israeli consciousness in recent months, the former because of the fighting that took place there in the summer and the second due to the publicity given to the fact that the cost of living there is much lower than it is in Israel and that many young Israelis have moved there.

Physical Gaza embodies the culture of the Levant, a mindset that seems to oppose everything that Israel stands for, a dense population living in poverty (although some of the leaders there are millionaires) while cultivating a festering antipathy towards Israel, the West and the values they hold dear.

Berlin, by contrast, personifies the heart of Europe, with all that is good and bad in it, embodying both the pinnacle and the nadir of its civilization. Today, reunited Berlin is a thriving, vibrant city that fosters creativity and promotes coexistence between different ethnic, religious and cultural groups. And the living there is easy, so they say.

These are some of the thoughts that occurred to me at the concert the other night as I listened to the world premiere of Aviya Kopelman’s composition, ‘Between Gaza and Berlin.’ This young composer’s specially commissioned work for the Jerusalem Symphony Orchestra was full of rhythmic sections, some of them accompanied by lyrical passages, others consisting merely of drumming at varying speeds and tempi. Much of the work was characterized by almost jazz-like syncopation, and the programme notes mention the composer’s cooperation with rock as well as Arab musicians. These and other elements certainly showed through in the music, but the overall concept was interesting and invigorating.

And as the above paragraphs show, it certainly set me thinking.

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German Templers, Zionism and Nazism

The German Templers were part of the ‘Christian Zionism’ movement whereby the European powers sought to establish their presence in the Holy Land after 1840. Following their charismatic leader, Christian Hoffman, these adherents of the German Lutheran church, primarily in Wurtemberg, established settlements in Jerusalem, Haifa, Galilee and what is now Tel Aviv, in an attempt to bring salvation to the Jewish and Muslim denizens of the region.

They combined their calling as emissaries of the true faith with the practical need to support themselves in their new home. As they had been farmers in their country of origin they engaged primarily in agriculture, building houses according to the German rural pattern, cultivating the land and creating a pleasant and aesthetic environment. They served as a model for the Jewish pioneers who came to the country, and in many cases provided instruction and guidance for the newcomers.

The first group of 72 people settled in Haifa at the foot of Mount Carmel in 1868, preceding the first wave of modern Jewish immigration by fourteen years. But that influx, largely sponsored and funded by Lord Rothschild, consisted of thousands of people and soon became the predominant element in the population. The Templers built seven small settlements in various parts of the country and one of them, just outside the walls of Jerusalem, is known to this day as the German Colony. As well as engaging in agricultural activity, the Templers also participated in the modernisation of Palestine, introducing mechanised farming machinery, paved roads and the use of electricity in their homes.

In 1987 the late Professor Alex Carmel established a Chair for Research into the Christian Contribution to the Development of Palestine at the University of Haifa, as well as the Gottlieb Schumacher Institute, paying tribute to one of the Templers who engaged in exploring the Holy Land. It was Professor Carmel who insisted on spelling the name of these Templers with two ‘e’s’ to distinguish them from the mediaeval Templars, on whom they modelled themselves. This I learned when I translated his fascinating doctoral thesis on the Templers well before he became a professor.

In the 1930s, a number of the Templers in Palestine joined the Nazi Party, and one of them, a certaini Cornelius Schwartz, was appointed head of the Templer community. They made no secret of their allegiance, and even ventured to marched through the streets of Jerusalem, occasionally in Nazi uniform, bearing aloft the flag of the Third Reich.

It was at this point that the Templers switched from religious Messianism to political Messianism, according to Professor Yossi Ben-Artzi, Rector of the University of Haifa, although less than 20 percent of the Templers were members of the Nazi Party in 1938. Some of them returned to Europe to fight in the German Army, and in 1942, a young Jew, Noah Klieger, was summoned to Gestapo headquarters in Brussels, and was stunned when he was addressed in Hebrew by the German officer there, Joachim Erdman. He was told later that Erdman had grown up in a Templer village in Samaria.

After the outbreak of the Second World War the British authorities in Palestine interned the Templers in camps, deported approximately 600 Templers to Australia, and returned about one thousand of them to Germany in exchange for some five hundred and fifty Jews who had been in concentration camps. This unprecedented move brought those thus saved to British-controlled Palestine.

Among those rescued were relatives of mine, who regarded their release from the concentration camp as little short of miraculous, as indeed it was. The family’s subsequent ordeal in enduring the seige of Jerusalem led them to eventually leave Israel and settle in London, though subsequently some of their children did return to this country.

 

 

Rescue in France

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Cevennes, Lynmar Brock Jr., WWII

 

I have just read the book entitled ‘In This Hospitable Land’ by Lynmar Brock Jr. which is based on the personal experiences of the author’s wife and her family. It describes in great detail the trials and tribulations of the two Sauverin brothers, Alex and André, their parents, wives and children as the darkness of the Second World War descends on Europe.

André is a respected professor of chemistry at the Brussels Free University and Alex is an expert in philatelics, earning his living in that field. The brothers are married to two sisters, Denise and Genevieve, and each family has two children. The two families are understandably close, and even live in the same building, with other family members nearby in a comfortable Brussels neighbourhood. They are secular Jews, and do not adhere to any religious belief.

As the Germans conquer first Czechoslovakia and then Poland, triggering declarations of war by France and England, the two families, together with one set of parents, start driving south from their holiday home on the Belgian coast. The book describes every stage of their journey in the black Buick automobile bestowed upon them by a generous relative. Their route takes them first through Belgium, then across the border into northern France, continuing south through Rouen and Orleans, endeavouring to avoid the long lines of French people escaping from the German invaders as they advance south. The family drives along side roads that follow river beds, crossing the Massif Central, eventually reaching Millau, where the Tarn River cuts through the limestone plateau.

The two families were able to continue going south thanks to the special arrangement made by the pre-war French government for according refuge to fleeing Belgians. The two families eventually make their way to the Lozère department in the mountainous Cevennes region, in south-central France. It was in that area that the Protestant Huguenots found refuge after the St. Bartholomew’s Day massacre of 1572, during the French War of Religion.

Initially finding rented accommodation in a large house in the village of Bédouès in June 1940 the families are not made to feel welcome and the two brothers are required to work for the landowner for no pay. Harassed by the local mayor and fearing the worst as news of the German advance into France reaches them, mainly through listening to the radio broadcasts of the BBC, the families feel impelled to move elsewhere once more.

Helped by local inhabitants, the families are able to move to a remote farm-house in a sparsely-inhabited part of the Cevennes. The author provides vivid accounts of the scenery, the roads, the paths, the vegetation, and the land which the brothers, both men in their thirties, are now obliged to farm. Initially unaccustomed to that type of work, by dint of their hard work and determination the brothers manage to sow and reap crops. André’s technical ability enables them to produce chemical fertilizers that cause the soil to be more productive than is the case with the local farmers.

The villagers of the region conspire to spirit the families away when the Vichy authorities show an interest in the whereabouts of the newcomers, concealing them in their homes in even more remote villages and hamlets, obliging the two families to be separated for some of the time. As the war wears on the two brothers become involved in the activities of the Resistance, and are able to make their own contribution to it despite Alex’s pacifist leanings. At times the children are able to go to the local school, while at others they are obliged to remain hidden. For everyone, long-established residents and newcomers alike, these were years of hardship, food shortages, and the need to constantly contend with the elements and the unyielding soil.

The account of the ups and downs and ins and outs of the four or five years the families spent in France is extraordinarily detailed, and this can become somewhat tedious at times. The writing, too, is less than polished, but the intensity of the emotional involvement seems to compensate for the occasional jarring syntax or grammar. By and large, the general picture that emerges is that of the determination of the two brothers to survive and protect their families, and the kindness, nobility, and generosity of the local population.

As the war ends the families return to Brussels to find that, like most of the Jews of Belgium, the majority of their relatives have been deported to Auschwitz and murdered. The two families eventually emigrated to the USA, and the man who married one of the children has written this account on the basis of the recorded recollections of the personages involved and interviews with some of their rescuers in France.

 

 

 

 

 

Multi-tasking

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Adam and Eve, Deborah the judge, Ruth the Moabitess, Virginia Woolf

“Can’t you see I’m in the middle of doing something?” “I couldn’t write the number down because the phone call woke me up.” “I’ll call you later, I have to finish this now.”

These and similar responses are what almost every wife hears when she asks her husband to help her in some routine task or undertake a domestic mission that requires attending to.

Many women, this writer included, sense that behind these answers lies an unplumbed depth of self-deception, incapacity or, worse still, evasiveness. What woman hasn’t had to interrupt an action of one kind or another to attend to some ‘urgent’ crisis involving an injured child, a diaper that needs changing or a telephone call? What woman hasn’t continued cooking, filling the dishwasher or washing machine, packing a suitcase or unpacking shopping bags while continuing to conduct a conversation on the phone, answer a child’s question or attend to some other domestic duty?

It’s called ‘multi-tasking,’ and is as natural for most women as it is impossible for many men. I personally find it essential to have music on in the background as I work at the computer, and often have a cup of coffee and find myself thinking about undertaking a completely different activity, such as painting a picture, as I do so. Sometimes I even get up and do something about it and then return to my desk.

What is the reason for the inability of many males of the species to focus on more than one task at a time —  something that most women achieve with relative ease? When do our brains develop in such a way that teenage girls can talk on the phone while painting their toenails and doing their homework but teenage boys can either play a computer game or do homework, but never both at the same time?

I leave it to the experts on the human brain to explain just how and why these traits have developed, and to tell us whether they are inborn or acquired, but I venture to suggest that these characteristics are the result of the way humans have developed since time immemorial. In the caves where homo sapiens once lived the men were generally not around, having gone to hunt or fight, and so it was up to the women to gather such edible grains and seeds as could be found while at the same time bearing and caring for the children and attending to the other needs of the tribe.

Remember Adam and Eve in the Garden of Eden? Adam was nowhere to be seen, when the serpent tempted Eve, who was obviously one of those restless beings who needs to be occupied. With time on her hands she got talking to the serpent and the rest of the story is too well known to bear repeating. It’s obvious, though, that Adam was taking a nap, or contemplating his navel (which he may or may not have had) and had forgotten all about Eve and the ban on eating the fruit of the forbidden tree. Never mind, in true male fashion, he was quick to blame her for everything.

The Bible mentions women who took action in various ways (Pharoah’s daughter, Moses’ sister and guardian angel, Miriam, Ruth the Moabitess, Deborah the judge), but focuses mainly on the men, who were the agents of change and undertook tasks of national importance. However, none of this would have been possible had it not been for the women who bore the children and looked after them, attended to domestic duties, tended the flocks and herds, and kept the servants in order. Without the women there would have been no Hebrews to take out of Egypt or to fight to conquer Canaan. But all that is taken for granted and doesn’t warrant a mention in the holy book.

Perhaps the ability to focus on just one task has its benefits, and teenage boys grow up into adult males who are totally dedicated to a specific task, achieving fame, glory and riches in the process. That’s not to say that there aren’t any women who are focused on attaining a specific goal, though this often comes at the expense of other aspects of their lives. To the best of my knowledge, few men (other than one Israeli politician in the last few weeks, and he may have had a hidden agenda of his own) have sacrificed their career for the sake of home and family, though there are innumerable cases in which this has been the fate of the woman.

Having money helps. Money can pay for employing someone to undertake child-care duties and see that the household chores are done. As Virginia Woolf wrote in 1929, having a room of one’s own is well-nigh essential for anyone who wants to dedicate herself to pursuing intellectual interests (or the career of a writer in her case). And I’ll bet that there aren’t many women who have such a room.

And that reminds me of how I started my career (if you can call it that) as a translator/editor over forty years ago. I had a typewriter on the kitchen table, with a stand for the book or pages I was translating, two stacks of typed pages (original plus copy) and a dictionary beside me. When the children came home from school or kindergarten I would clear the things off the table, serve lunch (which I cooked as I worked), and restore the typewriter to its place when they had finished eating, to continue typing until 11 p.m., when the neighbours downstairs demanded that I stop. I’m not sure I’d be able to do that today.

But today the children have grown up and left home, which means that I finally do have a room of my own. And that’s where I manage to produce this blog, sundry articles and the books that I have published to date (and those that are waiting to be published). Now I no longer know which came first, the writing or the room, but at least the need to multi-task has abated.