Silent Night: A Short History through the Eyes of a Lonely Jew in Germany

I have to tell you something on this Christmas Eve, writing from my little village of Balkhausen. Germany is a very Christian country. I walk thru my village and every window has an advent candle holder. The first year I did a double take every time I saw one. What the!!! A menorah???? My mistake, it’s advent candles!

I decided to tally up the number of Germans who live in cities (any urban area of 100,000 or more). About 27% of Germans are urban residents. The rest live in smaller towns and in even smaller villages, numbering 100–700 people. Drive through Germany and, about every 2 km, one arrives at the next small village. The homogeneity of all these places, from the schnitzel and spätzle (homemade German pasta) restaurants, the bell-tolling churches, surrounding rolling green landscape, and down to the strict rules around house renovation, is a bit shocking to a gal from Los Angeles. And, to tell you the truth, it feels like, even those who live in the cities often still carry with them the small town mentality of the place where they were born. Even in Berlin, communities divide themselves up into Kieze, neighborhoods, which feel like their own insulated little villages.

Why do I say all this? Because I am a Jew in a country where I am the first Jew many Germans have met. I am a Jew in a country in which many have not even heard of Chanuka. I am a Jew who grew up in Israel, New York and LA, the 3 most heavily populated communities of Jews in the world. I am a Jew who is definitely missing my Jews.

My FB feed is sparkling with Christmas Well Wishes and Blessings and Greetings. This is beautiful. But, for me, it also feels not inclusive. It’s not that they don’t want to include everyone in their blessings. It’s just that they have simply forgotten there are others who are not Christian. For god’s sake, Angela Merkel’s majority party is called the CDU — The Christian Democratic Union — and no one even bats an eyelash!

How could this be? Well, let’s see: There are about 6 million Turks here, enlisted as cheap labor during the Wirtshaftswunder years in 1960’s Germany — to rebuild the country after the war. They weren’t supposed to stay. But many of them did, and, for the most part, they continue to stay isolated in their own communities, mostly by choice, but not always. The third generation is growing up and integration is finally happening, despite the outward appearance and the Muslim traditions. Still, there is a prejudice against Turks.

Muslim refugees? Standing at 1.7 million. Also, mostly segregated, many striving to learn German, but not yet able to integrate into the working world due to many legal obstacles. Their presence has sparked a growth of the AFD, the right wing political party in Germany

Germany tried to sprinkle refugees throughout the country and many were installed in the small villages. But mostly, Turks and Muslim refugees live in the big cities.

Asians? Black folk? Negligible.

And that leaves us with around 60 million Germans who live, and whose families have lived, in the same village for hundreds of years, working the same piece of land, and, later, going to work every day in the same factory that was built to sustain the village or the town — car parts, toilets, plastics, medical equipment, pharmaceuticals, whatever; and celebrating the Christian traditions handed down from generation to generation.

That leaves us with around 60 million Germans who have never, unless they have gone out of their way to do it, met a Jew because, well you know why, and associate with no one but their families, relatives, friends with whom they grew up and work colleagues. And guess what? They are (mostly) all steeped in Christian traditions, even if they don’t believe in Christ.

Of course, they travel, they meet people from other cultures, they study and are curious, they consider themselves to be diverse and inclusive. They often still shun any demonstration of national pride. Many are Buddhist, or atheist or Osho followers(!) There are also incredible human beings who are passionate about transforming the world, climate change, organic farming, intimacy, communication and yes, inclusiveness.

And I HAVE met Germans who have gone out of their way to meet living Jews and to preserve the memory of those who were killed, or social workers who choose to work with refugees, or Germans who have married Turks. And Döner! Who doesn’t love Döner (Turkish schwarma)?

Many are stark critics of Christianity. But even that feels weird to me. A few years ago, I attended a wonderful festival (near Berlin, of course!) called Liebeskunst (The Art of Love). Open, sex-positive, ready to break taboos. One night, they created an evening in which people could go from station to station, having all sorts of experiences. One of the most popular was the “confession booth”, where a Catholic priest, naked under his vestments, carried out his kinky absolutions. The evening was punctuated by the occasional reprimands of two lovely East German women, dressed as Stasi, threatening to arrest anyone in the crowd who was disobeying orders. Not so funny.

Is there an undercurrent of residual self-hatred and self-deprecation that runs beneath what is a thriving German society? If there is, this constant whisper can be used for good, and for evil. To me it seemed that the reactionary attitude to Christianity and authoritarianism at that festival was one that was still trying to excavate a thousand years of fossilized tradition out of their bones. But maybe it’s just me.

And so, what about me? I have become used to a country that splatters “Happy Holidays” all over their malls and airwaves, instead of “Merry Christmas”; of Fox news starting up with their War on Christmas diatribes, right after Black Friday; of my community of Jews all going to see a Fiddler on the Roof singalong on Christmas Eve. America is messy, but it is nothing if not diverse. Kwanzaa anyone? Diwali?

Sure, we Jews litter the internet with our Chanuka blessings and pictures of latkes and gaily lit menorahs and jokes (always with the jokes!) about Jews and Chinese restaurants on Christmas. But I do believe that most of us are quite aware that we are a minuscule minority among minorities. We never ever forget, even when surrounded by our peeps, that there are 4.5 billion Christians, Muslims, and Hindus. To our 16 million.

I suppose, on some very deep level, I am jealous. I am jealous of the deep rootedness, the connection to the land that has been tilled for generations, the feeling of Christmas cheer all around, the advent candles and calendars, the special Christmas gutz’le (cookies) the annual gluhwein (mulled wine) celebrations, the Christmas markets (all closed this year. sigh). The feeling of belonging.

The feeling of belonging. You belong without even knowing it, like the proverbial fish in water. And you exclude without even knowing it, because we’re not around to remind you that we’re here.

So, I tell you now, good German people, I am here. I will always only be a guest in your country, and I thank you for your hospitality. But I will never belong. Not until you can brush up against me in the market and say: “Oh, Entschuldigung! Happy Kwisnakali to you and yours!”