Caught Between Museum and Prayer Hall
Aufbau vom 13. Juni 2002
The Surprising Controversy Around the Old Synagogue in Essen
By Adam Sacks
The surge in Germany's Jewish population in recent years has also meant a renaissance of synagogue building in the country, whose national bird is said by some today to be the construction crane. As the leader of the national council of Jews in Germany, Paul Spiegel puts it, "who builds, plans to stay." But what is to be done when there is already a synagogue in town, one with a rich tradition and long history, but which has been converted into a museum or educational center, as happened to so many synagogues still left standing after World War II?
The Old Synagogue in Essen represents such a case. With over sixteen hundred seats, the synagogue once served a Jewish community of five thousand. Although men and women sat separately, the congregation followed the liberal tradition and services featured an organ. Miraculously, it survived Kristallnacht, war-time air raids and attempts by the local fire department to start a fire which would burn down the entire building. During World War II, the vestibule of the building was used for air-raid drills. There is no definitive explanation as to how the mammoth structure survived, but after the war it remained like some lonely giant from a bygone era.
It was first bought by the city of Essen in 1959. The city redesigned the interior to create a purely functional space thereby destroying the original synagogue furnishings, such as the ark for the Torah. From 1961 through 1979, the building was used as an exhibition space for modern industrial design products and posters. The external structure, however, was left completely intact. In 1980, the synagogue was designated as a memorial and as a museum, housing political and historical documents.
As a consequence, Essen began efforts to restore the interior to its original state in 1986. The museum's permanent exhibition space features an exhibit on persecution and resistance during the Nazi era and an exhibit on contemporary Jewish life.
This former synagogue has not hosted a Jewish prayer service in over 50 years.
A few weeks ago, the mayor of Essen sent a reply to Chaim Guski, leader of the Egalitarian Minyan of North Rhine Westphalia, who requested that his prayer group be allowed to use certain sections of the synagogue for prayer services. According to Christian Komberg, a personal advisor to the mayor, the mayor told Guski that the structure is "about religion, but not of a certain religion, and it should stay that way." In other words, the mayor did not, in any way, wish to allow Jewish services to be reinstated at the former synagogue. Technical issues, such as facility management, he claimed, did not play much of a role in his rejection.
Instead, Komberg insisted on the neutrality of the site. While conceding that "Jewish culture has a special significance in the memory of the Old Synagogue," he explained that the attempt to appropriate the Old Synagogue for what he termed "specific political uses" has always been a problem surrounding this structure.
When the Sinti and Roma recently requested to use the site for political demonstrations, they were also turned down. "If special treatment were to be given to the Jews, the neutral character of the site would be lost."Komberg did, however, hold out the possibility that a Jewish religious group could buy back the structure from the city, in which case they could do with it "as they please."
When Edna Brocke, an Israeli and the Old Synagogue Museum's director since 1988, was contacted for comment, she declined any public comment. Brocke is also on the editorial board of the journal, "Church and Israel"and holds a doctorate from Church College in Neuendettelsau.
A representative from Essen's official Jewish Community responded to Guski's request with distance and skepticism. He said that "we have a big enough synagogue, and we do not think a lot about the Old Synagogue," which he maintained was "a museum, with other goals," Besides, he added, "95 per cent of the Essen community are Russian. The former members are gone."
Guski, whose mission to open the Old Synagogue for his Minyan has brought him into conflict with the city and with Edna Brocke, feels that the current use of the synagogue "makes it kaputt [destroys it]Ö for today's Jewish life." It is not being used for the purpose for which it was consecrated, nor, he contends, does it have the character of a "memorial site." And, besides, he points out that using portions of the building for services wouldn't interfere with its current uses.
The inaccessibility of the Old Synagogue is a "disturbance, but not an obstacle," for Guski and his Minyan. When asked whether there are other places to pray, he replies that "we receive offers from churches, but to meet in a church as a Reform group in Germany is to throw more oil in the fire." The Minyan, in which men and women sit together and both read from the Torah, currently uses a small rustic-looking synagogue constructed in 1818. Located in a rural village near a farm, the prayer hall was used by a coal dealer for storage after it was plundered on Kristallnacht. It was recently saved from demolition when it was placed on a list of protected memorials.
The Old Synagogue, on the other hand, lies in the center of the large urban town of Essen. Its use as a prayer hall for an Egalitarian Minyan would provide an opportunity to show as many people as possible an alternative to the orthodox Einheitsgemeinde (centralized community). Guski argues that a display of pluralism is essential to attracting the new Russian Jewish emigrants back to their Judaism. These Jews, who have trouble making the leap from complete secularism to Orthodoxy, "need positive, powerful examples from those who live Jewish, non-orthodox but observant lives," says Guski. Guski explains that the leaders of the Einheitsgemeinde dictate what goes on within Jewish life in the city and that city officials, "have no idea about Judaism. They think we are a sect or freaks." He feels that the synagogue's current use is an attempt to secularize it and to push aside its Jewishness as much as possible.
The conflict over the Old Synagogue stirs up the passions surrounding the central issues in Jewish life in Germany today. It may be a foreboding of conflicts yet to come. The mayor and the museum's director have lately been airing their positions publicly. It may be safe to assume that those, like Guski, who contend that "once a synagogue, always a synagogue," will pursue this issue further. In a country where synagogues have been used as air-raid shelters, animal barns, industrial design museums and coal storage spaces, it is not unreasonable to expect a special sensitivity to the past from all sides. What is at stake is the character of future Jewish life in Germany. There must be a balance between the revival going on in the present and the need to archive and preserve the past.