A Jewish renaissance takes root
In Germany, new generation reclaims its heritage
BERLIN -- Shelly Kupferberg, 31, is the granddaughter of Jews who fled the Nazi terror in the 1930s for the land that would become Israel. Her parents returned to Berlin in the early 1970s, weary of Israel's wars and yearning for their German heritage. She was raised both as a Jew and a German, and takes quiet pride in both identities.
''It's great to be a Jew in Germany," said Kupferberg, a journalist and adviser to Berlin's Jewish Festival. ''There's this feeling of a unique culture being reborn -- with more people in the synagogues, more Jewish artists, a sense, at last, that it's completely normal for Jewish people to be living and working here. That's something you couldn't say until recently."
The dark mid-20th century history of Germany is seared into every Jewish soul. But in a turnaround few would have imagined, Germany today boasts the fastest-growing Jewish population in the world.
While Germany's Jewish community is full of hope for the future, its rapid expansion has brought new tensions -- with animosity festering between longtime German-speaking Jews and recent immigrants from the eastern fringes of Europe, many of whom lost their Jewish traditions, if not their identity, under decades of communism.
''This is a time of difficult transition for a community that was once tiny and insular, but has suddenly grown large," said Stephan J. Kramer, secretary general of the Central Council of Jews in Germany, the nation's umbrella organization for Jewish groups. ''There is friction, there is anger, there is distrust, there is fear. We have started to lay the foundation for a dynamic Jewish culture in Germany. But we are far from completing the house."
Before the 1989 collapse of the Berlin Wall, Germany's Jewish population stood at barely 25,000, mostly survivors of the World War II era and their offspring. Since then, encouraged by liberal immigration laws, the number has swelled to more than 200,000, according to estimates by the government and Jewish groups. Last year, twice as many Jews -- 20,000 -- settled in Germany as in Israel, according to Jewish groups.
In 1933, when Adolf Hitler came to power, Germany's Jewish population stood at 530,000. Berlin, famed for tolerance, was home to some of the world's foremost Jewish writers, philosophers, and scientists. By 1943, however, the Nazis had declared Germany ''Judenrein," or cleansed of Jews. In fact, several thousand remained hidden in Germany or returned from concentration camps after the Holocaust, which killed 6 million European Jews.
''For decades, the remaining Jews in Germany were seen as slightly cuckoo, people who 'lived sitting on a packed suitcase,' " said Kramer. ''Jews have finally unpacked their suitcases. If we haven't fully found our place in Germany, we do feel it offers a place for us."
Partly to atone for the Holocaust, Germany offers resettlement programs for Jews from Eastern Europe. It is much easier for Jews to win legal entry to Germany than other parts of Western Europe or the United States. Israel also keeps open doors, but many Jews from the former Soviet Union see Israel as either too dangerous -- because of the struggle with Palestinians -- or as too alien, because of its Middle Eastern culture and desert climate.
''Germany is Europe, and I am European as much as I am a Jew," said Frida Scheinberg, a veterinarian who recently arrived in Germany from Ukraine. ''Germany was a good place for Jews before Hitler. It feels safe and prosperous. Its cities, its climate, its customs all seem familiar. Israel seems strange to me, with the hot sun and the hot tempers."
Still, unease and bickering pervade Germany's Jewish community, reflecting differences between new arrivals and the old guard of German-speakers. Some question whether all of the newcomers can legitimately call themselves Jews -- until this year, when Germany tightened the rules to weed out imposters, almost any former Soviet citizen with a Jewish ancestor could qualify. Traditional law defines a Jew as an individual with a Jewish mother or someone who has undergone conversion to Judaism; Germany now requires that prospective Jewish immigrants have at least one Jewish parent, as well as some command of German and marketable skills.
Integration has been complicated by Germany's recent unemployment woes, with many Russian Jews drawing welfare -- and also drawing some resentment. But many Jews are confident that once the economy rebounds, differences among Jews will inevitably heal.
''Many problems, yes, but most [former Soviet] Jews in Germany feel ourselves to be in a much safer situation. The anti-Semitism here is minor compared to what we experienced in the places from which we came," said Mykhaylo Tkach, an engineer from Ukraine. ''In the old Russia, nothing changes -- when things go wrong, blame the Jew. Germans understand such things must never happen here again."
Some Jewish immigrants admit to ambivalence about their choice of a new country, even as they defend it.
''There is a twinge of guilt, some secret shame, I think, in the heart of every Jew who calls Germany home," said Josef Eljaschewitsch, a physician from Latvia. ''And yet, for Jews not to come here -- to surrender our stolen heritage in this country -- would be to give the Nazis a sort of final victory: A Jew-free Germany.
''Most of us come for bread-and-butter reasons, to make money, to ensure our children's futures are secure," he said. ''But our dream is also to make Germany a place where Jews and Jewishness can once again flourish. Against all odds, I believe that's starting to happen."
In Leipzig, Rabbi Joshua Spinner, a Canadian-American who has brought a missionary zeal to keeping Orthodox customs alive in Germany, recently presided at the first Jewish wedding recorded in the city since 1938, according to the Juedische Allgemeine Zeitung newspaper. The wedding reflected a trend among Jews in Germany to insist on traditional religious ceremonies.
In Potsdam, Ukranian immigrants, after years of holding worship services in a cramped fluorescent-lit meeting room of a civic building, have won a patch of land from the government and are struggling to raise money to build a synagogue in the historic city.
In Cologne, Frankfurt, and Hamburg, small but well-attended Jewish schools and kindergartens have opened over the past several years, intended to expose children to the Hebrew language, Torah studies, and the spiritual ideas behind ritual practices. Attendance often marks the first time Jewish youngsters from the East have received formal religious instruction. A Jewish academy in Frankfurt trains girls and young women in ancient texts.
But it is in Berlin, above all, where a new German Jewish identity is being forged.
''Berlin is coming back as a center for rich Jewish life," said Irene Runge, a native New Yorker who heads Berlin's Jewish Cultural Association. ''It's an exciting place to be right now."
For the Orthodox, there is a new Yeshiva, or religious school, sponsored by the US-based Ronald S. Lauder Foundation. On more secular fronts, there are Yiddish theater groups, Jewish bookshops, exhibits of Jewish art, and readings of Jewish poetry. Berlin's new Jewish Museum, finished in 2001, puts focus on the prominence of Berlin's Jewish community from the 18th century to the early 1930s, when the city ranked as one of the most important Jewish centers in the world.
The refurbished golden dome and Moorish exterior of Berlin's old ''New Synagogue" is once again a proud city landmark. Pilgrims leave small pebbles as tokens at the grave of Moses Mendelssohn, philosopher of the German ''enlightenment." Bagels have finally arrived in a few districts of Berlin, although they remain a culinary curiosity. There is a sprinkling of Kosher shops that do brisk business in matzohs, gefilte fish, and sweet Israeli wine. There are two rival Jewish newspapers, both published in German. And most tourist stands display colorful guides and maps to ''Jewish Berlin" -- a term that no longer connotes horror.
Berlin's Jews range from a few black-clad Hasidim to a free-spirited Rome-born artist who goes solely by his first name, Carlos, and who describes himself as ''Jewish by birth, Jewish by identity, Jewish by heritage -- but, actually, right now, kind of more into Buddhism."
Young Jewish expatriates from the United States, Australia, and Canada gather for semi-regular beerfests at a pub in Berlin's hip Prenzlaurberg section.
''To be honest, I was kind of frightened by the whole idea of coming to Germany," said Arnold Cohen, 29, a radiologist from Montreal who fell in love with an Israeli-German woman while both were working for a relief agency in Africa. They were married in May.
''She didn't want to do Canada, because of the snow. I didn't want to do Israel, because of the bombs," he said. ''So, we're making our start in Berlin, since she's really German at heart. My family is freaked -- Berlin! Oi! -- but I'm starting to love the city as much as the girl."
Amid the occasional expressions of disquiet, Germany's newest Jews find much to celebrate.
''We are rediscovering ourselves as Jews after nearly losing our heritage," said Eugenija Sapofhnikova, who said Jewish customs could be followed only surreptitiously in her native Kiev.
She emigrated three years ago and is taking immersion courses in German at a Jewish cultural center.
''Finally, we have a rabbi and we have a synagogue. My daughter is re-learning the Jewish traditions. My granddaughter so sweetly sings the old Jewish songs I was denied. Germany has given us this freedom to find ourselves, at last."
Petra Krischok, news assistant in the Globe's Berlin bureau, contributed to this report. 
