Proud to be Jewish

My brief glimpse of the Jerusalem of Lithuania has made me feel ever so proud to be a Jew, yet ever so ashamed to be a member of the human race. Learning about the Holocaust and WWII is nothing new to me, nor is being in the locations where atrocities took place. But something about my short time in Vilnius has had as much an effect on me as visiting Aushwitz & Birkenau. Maybe it is because I am older and wiser this time around, or maybe because it feels that much closer to home. But why proud to be Jewish? I'm proud to be a part of such a resilient people, and despite the fact that I can't claim any credit for it, part of a people which contributes positively to this world (despite what at times, the world does to it) in unbelievable disproportionate amounts - and it's not just the ~20% of Nobel prize winners who are Jewish, but in the every day things that are done to make this world a tolerable place to live.

No need to read the detail - the overview is clear enough!

Despite various forms of persecution, Jews lived and flourished in Lithuania since the 14th century like in no other European country. The persecution they faced here over the years was probably not nearly as bad as in some of the other European countries, but it seems like for the most part, they were not treated the same as other citizens. Thankfully though, there were times, in the more recent history prior to the Wars, where the Jews were allowed to live fairly independently. This, perhaps, was a priveledge they would have never experienced anywhere else. They were a significant part of the population in nearly every single town throughout the country, and in many, formed the majority of people. An important part of Jewish culture developed here, and now, there remains not but a shadow of what once existed.

The Choral Synagogue on Pylimo Street - the old border of the Jewish Ghetto

One of the few remaining symbols of active Judaism in Vilnius is the Choral Synagogue. It is a beautiful building, both inside and out, and is used for all religious services. I attended kabbalat shabbat on Friday night and was saddened to see that the shul had maybe two dozen people in it. Apart from one other man who I estimate to be in his 30s, all the other men were over 50 (and I would guess the vast majority of those, over 65). Prior to the War there were over 100 synagogues in town, with an active and relatively religious Jewish community. Nowadays, not only are the numbers small, but many simply don't identify themselves as Jews any more and many who do, are extremely secular. The ageing of the community makes it seem as though it will die out in the not to distant future. Secondly, while there is a Chabad rabbi in town, a spate of disagreements between the community at large and Chabad has led to two totally separate communities which do not interact in any way whatsoever. The Chabad Rabbi is unwelcome in the Choral Synagogue and they therefore conduct their services elsewhere. This seems extremely sad in a community, which, if they have learnt anything from 70 years ago, it should be tolerance. Perhaps this should give me cause to not be so proud to be Jewish...

Probably the most famous Jew to emerge in Lithuania was the Gaon of Vilna who lived in the 18th century. The Vilna Gaon Museum comprises of a number of sections in different buildings. The Tolerance Centre was my first stop. The only real fascinating part of this museum is an extremely detailed exhibition on the history of the Jews in Lithuania from the 14th century onwards, illustrated with photographs where possible. It really is the kind of thing you can read in a book, but being here 'made' me read it. However, the sad part about the trip to this museum was the lack of knowledge by locals of the museum's existence. I soon discovered that many Jewish locations are very poorly signposted here (not all, but many), including this museum. I happened to be almost directly across the road from the museum when I asked two separate groups of locals if they know where the museum is. They had no idea what I was talking about (and it was not the language difficulty). For a key part of their history, this surprised me. I am aware though that anti-Semitism still exists here, many Lithuanians are not the Jews' biggest fans.

The second part of the museum that I visited (with incredible difficulty due to lack of signage) was the Holocaust Memorial Centre. This exhibit was amazingly done, yet extremely hard to walk through. It did, importantly, restore some faith in some parts of the human race. Inside the museum there is a section about Yad Vashem's Righteous Amongst the Nations award and the various Lithuanians who received the award for helping to save their fellow humans in their time of need. Importantly, outside the museum is a memorial to a Japanese diplomat who despite instructions from his superiors in Japan to stop, issued over 2,000 visas to Lithuanian Jews to help them escape death by the Nazis.

It was inside this museum though that the reminders of what people can be capable of. I still have trouble fathoming how people (I actually think the term 'human' does not apply to Nazis). The spectacular precision and planning that went in to the total destruction of a people is unbelievable. The work of the Nazis was something which is as hard for me to understand as the meaning of life.

An enlarged copy of the The Jäger Report (on the left) was enlarged on the wall in this museum. It was created by Karl Jäger, commander of a killing unit
of the Einsatzgruppen operating in Lithuania. It is an extremely precise account of the killings that took place up to the end of 1941. It contains a chilling tally of Lithuanian towns, with exact numbers of adult male Jews, women Jews, children Jews, and Communists (often counting Jews as Communists). It sends a shiver down your spine looking at it and realising that a person treated their job of 'murdering tends of thousands of people' in the same way as an economist would analyse numbers.

The report happens to discuss Rokiskis (my next stop, and the source of my family in Lithuania) as an example.

Tombstones (with Hebrew writing clearly visible) found less than 10 years
ago as pillars in buildings in Vilnius. On the very right is a grinding mill
with the round part made from a tombstone.

The museum talks a lot about the way the Jews in Lithuania, as opposed to many other European countries, were primarily killed on the spot rather than being sent to labour and death camps. On the spot often meant a few kilometres out of town where there was space for the Jews to first dig themselves mass graves. A very interesting exhibit is about the treatment of the Jewish cemeteries after the war by the Soviets and the locals. The cemeteries, like most Jewish institutions, were almost totally destroyed and sadly enough, over the years, the tombstones became building material for more modern constructions.

There was also a lot about ghetto life - primarily in Vilnius and Kaunus. One can hardly begin to imagine what this must have been like for people at the time. Disease was rife and life was almost unbearable - yet people tried to make the most of it: concerts, theatre, music, singing and continuing whatever Jewish traditions they could. Most of the old Jewish Quarter in the Old City became part of the ghetto (in fact, there were multiple ghettos, but all around the same area). Walking down those streets is like taking a step back in time, and I can only imagine how it must be to live in that area amongst the ghosts of 70 years ago. Most of the buildings are the same ones that existed before the War, some with enhancements or a fresh coat of paint, but very often, they have not changed much. The cobble-stone streets which once felt the footsteps of thousands of Jews in the period before their murder, now sees cars passing by as if nothing ever happened there. There are but a few reminders of years gone by, some plaques and signs showing where the ghetto borders were and what the buildings once housed when the Jewish community was thriving. And then there are some more 'real' reminders, such as on Zemaitijos Street where the original paintwork reveals Yiddish signs reminding passers by what merchants once occupied the shops.

It wasn't just the Jews that have suffered in Lithuania. Like all ex-Soviet states, every day locals who wanted freedom, suffered. Many were tortured, humiliated, deported to the gulags, murdered and imprisoned. Many more just had their lives turn into hell. The most popular museum (and for good reason) in Vilnius is the Genocide Museum, also called the KGB Museum. It is housed in the building that was used by the KGB as a headquarters, prison, torture and execution chamber during the years of Soviet rule. Although also used by the Gestapo during the short break in Soviet rule in the early 1940's to also perform genocide, this fact is almost totally ignored.

One of the more luxurious looking cells

The basement of the museum houses prison cells. These range from 0.6sqm holding cells, to average cells like the one in the picture that would hold 15 men at times (and they weren't allowed to lean against the walls or sleep more than 5 hours), torture cells in which there were pools of freezing water with a small pedestal in the middle that the prisoner would have to balance on for days on end wearing nothing but their underwear. The solitary confinement cell is a bit harrowing, as is the padded cell that would stop the screams of the prisoner being heard from outsdie. Most of the cells are still in the same condition they were when the KGB finally vacated the building with the breakup of the Soviet Union. At the back of the building is an execution chamber which supposedly saw the murder of thousands of political and other prisoners. The reality of this place, and the imagery it evokes is mind-blowing. Seeing this, and reading the stories of what happened, how the KGB treated the citizens of the Lithuanian Soviet Socialist Republic reinforced what I wrote earlier - about me being ashamed of being a member of the human race. The saddest part though, is that the sort of things that the KGB was about, probably still exists in this world - the CIA and other secret service and foreign intelligence organisations are probably just a short step away from this kind of animal like behaviour.

There are many signs and plaques in Yiddish throughout Vilnius (mostly there is an English translation along with Lithuanian). Using the same characters as Hebrew, it is immediately recognisable to me, even though I don't understand a word. It does at least bring back some warm and fuzzies of my grandparents, but the plaque on the building above, has a very sad sense of irony attached to it. I just happened to walk past the above building in the Old Town when I stopped to read the plaque. Note what the building was once used for, and what it is now used for.

Current use of the building: Austrian Embassy