Choosing Judaism

7/28/2019 Choosing Judaism

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Summer 5766/2006 JEWISH ACTION 11

Today in Israel, there are voices in society

demanding thatgeirut(conversion) be

viewed as a tool for social integration. This

is most unfortunate sincegeirutis a serious religious

act. Indeed, Chazaldescribe theger(convert) as a

newborn, leaving his former self behind. A most diffi-

cult transformation indeed!

We have previously had occasion to discuss the

technical requirements ofgeirut(winter 2003). In the

pages ahead, we present the life stories of converts

from different nationalities, cultures and backrounds

who found their spiritual home in Judaism. We hope

that the lives of these extraordinary individuals, all of

whom demonstrate the true meaning of genuine

geirut, will serve as a profound source of inspiration

to all of our readers.

CHOOSING ISM

TheJewishWorld


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12 JEWISH ACTION Summer 5766/2006

B Y Y I T T A H A L B E R S T A M

Its said that the truth will set you free,

but when an intrepid Israeli reporter brow-

beat Dr. Daniel Brown* into going public

five years ago, the aftermath was traumatic.

I had always been open about my identitywith both my family and friends, he recalls,

and no one had ever been less than sup-

portive and warm. But this particular Israeli

newspaper misrepresented its agenda to me.

I didnt know that it intended to publicize or

sensationalize my interview the way it ulti-mately did. The story was printed in the

weekend edition of the paper, and all day

long on Thursday and erev Shabbat radio

commercials continually blasted every fif-

teen minutes: Hitlers nephews grandson

right here in Israeland a Jew! The reper-cussions left my family shaken.


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IN ALLTHEDARKPLACES


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Browns sonsenrolled in aModern Orthodox yeshivah in

Jerusalemwere spat upon by several oftheir classmates and called Nazis. Ahandful of neighbors studiously avoidedBrown when they encountered him onthe street. And in shul the Shabbat afterthe story aired, a number of social

acquaintances who normally greetedhim with hearty handshakes turned theother way. To these people, who hadknown me as Jewish for twenty-fiveyears, I had becomeovernightapariah, says Brown. I thought I wassharing a valuable lesson with others:that the past canbe recreated and that aperson always has the opportunity tochange. But actually, it was Iwho wastaught the lesson: Some people willneverlet you change. (Not surprisingly

Brown wanted to use a pseudonym inthis article.)

Still, the incident becoming a lit-mus test for the varieties of humanbehavior, the responses were notuni-formly negative. In the same shul thatShabbat, I was also the recipient of aclearly symbolic act of acceptance, saysBrown. I was given the first aliyah.This told me in no uncertain terms thatthe majority of the shul membersregarded me as a full Jew and an accept-ed member of the community. Sadly,however, the decency of the majoritydidnt nullify the crude conduct of theminority. We were badly wounded by

what happened.Now I understand why most of

my counterparts hide their identities,says Brown. Many Israelis are uneasyabout our genealogy; they dont knowhow to react or what to do with us.

Perhaps that is why in a country

still scarred by the Shoah, a country

whose very existence still trembles onthe foundations of the ash and bone ofthe Six Million, very few people areaware of what I like to call ThePenance Movement: a subculture ofhundreds of children of Nazis who haveembraced their own dark past in themost extreme possible way. They have

not only aligned themselves with thegroup of people their parents sought toannihilate, they have cast off their for-mer identities and themselves becomemembers of that very group. The major-ity of them have converted halachically,live as Orthodox Jews and reside inIsrael. This, I believe, is one of the lastgreat, untold chapters of the post-Holocaust era. Its a story that speaks tohumanitys quest for meaning in life,our capacity for goodness and ourpotential to reshape identity and des-tiny. Yet, when I contact governmentofficials, rabbinic courts and Israeli jour-nalists themselves asking about this phe-nomenon, most seem shocked by myinquiries. Are you sure? they ask, somesurprised, others skeptical. Its an urbanlegend, many insist. How could it bethat children of Nazis live right here inIsrael and no one knows about them?Impossible! 1

Interestingly, a disproportionatenumber of the German converts are dis-tinguished academiciansmost notably,in the field of Jewish studies. Brown hasfollowed this trajectory himself andchairs the Jewish studies department atone of the countrys leading universities.In his engagement with rabbinic andTalmudic literature, Brown is joined byRabbi Dr. Aharon Shear-Yashuv (for-merly known as Wolfgang Shmidt and

one of the few converts who grants mepermission to use his real name), chair-man of Jewish studies at Bar-IlanUniversity, and many others includingthe chairman of the Jewish studiesdepartment at a Southern university inthe United States and a professor of rab-binic literature at an Ivy League collegein the United States. But it is clearlyBrown who possesses the most interest-ing antecedents of all.

My grandmothers name was

Erna Patra Hitler, says Brown. (Afterthe War, she dropped the t, changingher name to Hiler.) Hans Hitlerhersecond husbandwas the Fuhrersnephew, but he didnt resemble him inany discernible way. He was soft andgentle. But what my step-grandfatherlacked in vitriol was more than made up

by the fierceness of my grandmotherwho was a sworn Nazi. She believed inthe Nazi ideology before, during andeven afterthe War. She was proud thather father-in-law was Hitlers brother,although he kept away from politics.Instead, he managed a caf in Berlin,and because everyone knew that he wasthe Fuhrers brother, all the Nazi elitepatronized his establishment. This madehis family and himincluding mygrandparentslocal nobility.

When [my grandparents] visitedus, they arrived in a black Mercedes,

which was then a novelty and statussymbol. It was a big deal when theMercedes arrived in the working-classneighborhood where my mother and Ilived.

Brown was born in Frankfurt in1952 to Protestant parents who hadboth served in the Wehrmacht. Hisfather, an ardent supporter of the Naziparty, divorced his mother shortly afterhis birth, and promptly disappearedfrom their lives. Brown was raised by hismother, who scrambled to make a livingin post-War Germany. She received nei-ther financial nor moral support fromErna Hitler, whom Brown describes asindifferent to the pain and suffering ofothers. Browns childhood years weremarked by deprivation and hardship, ashis debt-ridden mother struggled tokeep them afloat. They were constantly

on the go, moving from one apartmentto another, leaving when frustratedlandlords forced them out for lack ofpayment. Still, in one respect that

would have profound reverberations forhis future, Brown was fortunate. Hismother always told him the truth.

Today, there are Germans whocomplain that they are sick and tiredof the endless talk about the


Yitta Halberstam is the author and co-authorof eight books, including the best-sellingSmall Miracles series (Cincinnati, 1997-2003) andHoly Brother: Inspiring Storiesand Enchanted Tales about Rabbi ShlomoCarlebach (New Jersey, 2002). Her mostrecent book is the anthologyChangingCourse: Womens Inspiring Stories ofMenopause, Midlife, and Moving ForwardCincinnati, 2004). *Name has been changed.


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Holocaust, but in the immediate yearsafter the War, there was only silence anddenial, explains Brown. In school, his-tory teachers taught German historyonly up until World War I, in accor-dance with governmental legislation,he says. The government was afraidthat if these teachers had a Nazi past or

had been supporters of Hitlers regime,they would not be objective in the class-room. So, actually, this law was borne ofgood intentions. But as a result, weremained largely ignorant about whathad happened only a few yearsbefore. I remember having conversa-tions with classmates who refused tobelieve in Germanys accountability.Their parents had glossed over thedetails or lied outright. But my ownmother hadnt.

Instead of the elaborate fabrica-tions concocted by his friends parentsto conceal the truth, Browns mothershowed her son her cache of docu-ments (which bore seals of the Reich

with accompanying swastikas), lettersand photographs of family membersincluding herselfwearing Wehrmachtuniforms, which testified to their com-plicity. She told him that she had beenstationed in the Polish city of Lodz,

where they hung Jews in the center ofthe city. It was awful, his mother toldhim. I needed to pass through the cen-ter of town everyday in order to getfrom my house to headquarters andback. But I couldnt bear to see the Jewsstrung up like that, so I took a longdetour around the city each day toavoid this terrible scene. I never gotused to it.

Brown was horrified by his moth-ers account. He felt the room go black

as he rifled through the physical evi-dence of her past, but his mothers gen-uine remorse provided him with somesmall measure of comfort. When Iasked her why she kept followingorders, why she didnt resist, sheanswered simply, but with deep shame,I was afraid. I believed her, saysBrown.

Although Brown tried to share hismothers revelations with his school

friends, they couldnt accept them astrue; they told him that he was makingit up. So I tried to block it from mymind, says Brown.

But when he was a high schoolstudent his destiny came calling againby way of an inheritance from his bio-logical grandfatherhis grandmothers

first husbandwho had willed him acarton of books, among them his per-sonal copy ofMein Kampf. I had neverseen Hitlers infamous book before, andI read it thoroughly, says Brown. I was

absolutely enraged by what he wrote. Ikept on writing comments in the booksmargins, comments that counteredHitlers claims. I still have this book inmy library, because it served as a majorcatalyst in my life. I couldnt remainapathetic to what I read. I know myencounter with it shaped my future to alarge extent.

The future of every youngGerman in the post-War period includ-ed a mandatory stint in the army, butlargely as a result of his encounter withthe Holocaust, Brown had become apacifist. I was expected to join thearmy as soon as I graduated [from] highschool, so I cast about for ways to getout of this civil obligation, he says. Ilearned that the two groups that were

exempt from military service were theclergy and students of the CatholicChurch. So when I opted to become atheology student, it was originally out ofopportunism, not spiritual concerns.But way leads on to way, and thats pre-cisely what happened to me.

Theology students are requiredto take several courses in Judaism andHebrew, and I became increasingly fas-cinated by what I was learning, says

Brown. While studying Judaism, I sawmore and more things that troubled meabout Christianity. For example, theconcept of the Holy Trinity botheredme a lot how [could] God be three?

Another thing that I didnt understandwas the idea that a Christian has to suf-fer in order to be redeemed. The Jewish

approach manifested by Yom Kippurmade much more sense to me.The vast theological differences

between Judaism and Christianity creat-ed a schism inside myself, and I wasbeginning to feel schizophrenic, Browncontinues. In 1977, I decided to go toIsrael to further my studies at HebrewUniversity where I took classes inHebrew literature and Jewish philoso-phy. I fell in love with Israel andlengthened my stay from one year to

two. Ultimately, Brown ended upstudying at Yeshivat Mercaz HaRav.

Brown makes short shrift of myPenance Movement hypothesis

that children of Nazis convert toJudaism as atonementmaintainingthat he converted for theological rea-sons, not out of penance for his parentssins. Maybe there are unconscious psy-chological reasons that drove me to

Judaism, he allows, but since I am acritical thinker and very cerebral, on aconscious level at least, I believe that Icame to Judaism from a place of pureintellect. He does, however, concedethis: I believe that whoever is willing totake this step [conversion] must have avery deep identity crisis preceding theconversion itself. Hes not able to returnto the identity that he was born into. Iunderstood that I was not happy in theplace where I was born, and I made adecision to go to another place.

The fact is that during the seven-ties and eighties many young Germans

who wanted to detach themselves fromthe previous generation, the generationthat was complicit in the Holocaust, leftGermany. And the percentage ofGerman converts in Israel is notinsignificant. I converted mainlybecause I had a theological criticism ofChristianity. Is this a rationalization Igave myself? My grandfather didnt have

Howcoulditbethat

childrenofNazislive

righthereinIsraelandno

oneknowsaboutthem?


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any educational or cultural influenceover me, but it still makes me feel awfulthat this is the background I comefrom. It sharpens the identity questionsthat I am so busy with.... My identity isnot taken for granted. It is somethingthat I must continually deal with.

Brown converted to Judaism in

1979, and married another Germanconvert who is also an academician.Although his wifes parents in Stuttgartcut off all contact with their daughter,his own mother (who died seven yearsago) accepted him as a Jew and visitedhim several times at his home in Israel.Perhaps she was afraid that if she didntaccept my conversion, she would loseher only child, says Brown. Whateverthe reason, she dealt well with my

Jewishness. She attended my three sons

Bar Mitzvahs and participated in ourPesach Sedarim. I once even suggestedthat she come live with us in Jerusalemand not remain alone in Germany, butshe said, You dont plant an old tree ina new place. But up until her death, weremained very connected.

Brown is strictly halachic, identi-fying with Centrist Orthodoxy. Still, asa German convert, there are a few areasthat give him pause, such as participat-ing in Yom HaShoah ceremonies; emo-tionally it is too turbulent for him. Iusually stay home.

Brown and his wife have workedhard to create a home that is warm, lov-ing and supportive. I wanted to makesure that my children have a path, adirection, a value system, not the mud-dled and complex dysfunction I myselfexperienced as a child, he says. But asmuch as Ive tried to protect them fromtheir schizophrenic legacy, there are

things I cant control. For example,when my son Yisrael traveled to Polandwith his school several years ago, hisreaction was completely different fromhis classmates. Everything felt weird,he told me. I stood in the camps andthought about how the grandfathers ofall of my friends had been inside, whilemygrandfather had been outside. Myclassmates came to those camps withtheir pasts; I just came to watch. I was

caught in the middleit felt screwedup.

I also feel utterly helpless whenmy sons classmates say mean and hurt-ful things to themcomments whichhave accelerated since the interview inthe Israeli newspaper was first pub-lished, Brown says. Last year, for

example, during a ceremony on YomHazikaron, several students whisperedto my youngest son that they weregoing to beat him up because hes aNazi. I refused to send him to school

for a week until the principal tookcare of the problem.

Brown has had his share of uglyrun-ins himself. I have always tried tobe open and honest about my roots; Ihave never hidden my background likemany converts from Nazi backgrounds,he says. Most of the time, people areaccepting and tolerant. Once in a while,though, someone will say somethingoffensive. Recently, after sharing somebiographical details with my universitystudents, one of them told me:Imagine! Your grandfather might haveturned mygrandmother into soap.

Brown guesstimates that there areapproximately three hundred Germanconverts in Israel, but most are averse topublicity and remain relentlessly reclu-

sive. Still, as the Holocaust recedes intohistory, an increasing number of theseconverts are coming forward with theirstories. Recent newspaper articles pub-lished in both Europe and Canada havedetailed the extraordinary metamor-phoses of people like Matthias Goering,great-nephew of the notorious LuftwaffeChief Hermann Goering, who keepskosher, celebrates Shabbat and wears ayarmulka; Katrin Himmler, great-niece

of SS Commander Heinreich Himmler,who married an Israeli and Oskar Eder,a former member of the Luftwaffe whochanged his name to Asher, married aHolocaust survivor and currently worksin Israel as a tour guide. The astonishingtrajectories of these personalities, andpeople very much like them, demon-

strate for Brown the powerful messagethat nothing is immutable. The mean-ing of my story, of my counterparts sto-ries, is that things canbe changed: Youcan change your behavior, your loca-tion, your faith. Being and becoming is

what we are doing every day. JA

Note

1. Interestingly, it is inGermany where there is someheightened awareness of the subject

due to the occasional article that hasappeared in mass-circulation maga-zines such as Sternand Der Spiegel,and to the publication of a fewbooks in German. These books

include Rabbi Dr. Aharon Shear-Yashuvs autobiography and an antholo-gy by Antje Eiger entitled Ich bin JudeinGeworden: Begegnungen mit DeutschenKonvertiten (I Became a Jew: Interviewswith German Converts)(Hamburg,1994), in which a caustic essay byHenryk Broder, Zum Teufel mit denKonvertiten (To the Devil with theConverts), scathingly denounces theGerman converts as opportunists who

wish to attach themselves to the rightside of the victims.

MygrandmothersnamewasErnaPatraHitler.HansHitlerhersecond

husbandwastheFuhrersnephew.

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