Open Arms and Bold Visions

by Olaf Glöckner

Jüdische Zeitung, Werner Media, Number 2
October 2005

It was friendship at first sight. Rachel Dohme, the then 40-year-old American from Pennsylvania, living in the Lower Saxony town of Hameln met the then 55-year old Ukranian immigrant Polina Pelts. That was 1992. It was the period of immigration in Germany. Jews from the FSU were invited to immigrate to Germany in order to support the development of German-Jewish life.

Polina Pelts and her family came from the Ukranian city of Odessa—known as the seat of Jewish culture and religion in the 19th and early 20th century. Seventy years of communism, civil strife, the trauma as a result of WWII and the Holocaust, were more than enough reason for the Pelts family to pack their bags and leave when opportunity arose. Today, only remnants of the once-proud Jewish life in the Black Sea city can be found.

“We were aware of our Jewish heritage, thanks to our parents. We celebrated Sabbath, understood the importance of the Pesach Seder, and could also speak a little Yiddush. We didn’t have the opportunity for a stronger connection to our faith than that.”

The first weeks in Germany were most certainly surreal for Polina, her husband, Josef, her daughter Faina and husband Felix, and their six-year-old daughter, Inna. They left their home in a metropolitan city and arrived in a rural village in Germany. Left on their own with the other newcomers in the transitional home, few Jewish helpers offered assistance. An exception was Rachel Dohme. She recognized the new residents as a chance for a Jewish community for herself and her children—at that time, the only Jews in Hameln. She began visiting the newcomers regularly and began celebrating Shabbat and the holidays with them. She established contacts with the local U.S. Air Force Base and organized a base-wide clothing collection, which, loaded on a large Army vehicle, was driven out to the transitional homes and distributed among the residents. Another contact was with the local Lion’s Club. They collected used bicycles and distributed them to the grateful residents. After a period of adjustment, the new immigrants needed assistance in finding apartments in the nearby city of Hameln. Slowly they began to realize that they had not only left home but had arrived in a totally different world. Everything was different and new, and it would take time to adjust to the new mentality and culture of this place. Homesickness and unemployment would be major stumbling blocks, but a few safe harbors were in view.

200 members — 5 nationalities

The friendship between Rachel Dohme and Polina Pelts grew stronger. In February 1997, together with 16 men and women, the Jewish Congregation of Hameln was re-established. After more than half a century, Hameln, a city with a population of 30,000, had a Jewish community again. It was a beginning—a new, optimistic beginning. The congregation belongs to the Reform (Liberal, Progressive) movement.

Today, eight years later, 200 members from five nations make up the congregation. Besides many FSU Jews, a few German Jews , an American president and her children, a few Israelis and a South American—all have found their way to the community center in the Bahnhofstrasse. “We’re almost all foreigners here in one way or another, but the language of the congregation is German,” explains Rachel Dohme. “We try to help those who are not yet fluent in German. Our religious material is available is tri-lingual—German, Russian, and Hebrew.” At the moment, the congregation has no full-time rabbi. Rabbi Dr.Walter Homolka helped the congregation in it’s early days, and Rabbi Dr. Henry Brandt was also always available when needed, for example, when the congregation needed to dedicate their new cemetery. Over the past three years, Rabbi Irit Shillor served the congregation, thanks to a generous grant from the World Union of Progressive Judaism. She has since taken a pulpit in England and can now visit the community only sporadically.

The opportunity to receive the services of rabbinical students is afforded by the newly established liberal rabbinical seminary, Abraham Geiger College in Berlin. A rabbinical student visits Hameln once a month, leading services and teaching religious classes for children and adults.

Erev Shabbat—not an empty seat to be found

It’s Friday evening and rabbinical student Gabor Lengyel has arrived to lead services. He enters a packed sanctuary. He is assisted by young cantor, Rebekka Dohme. Three generations sit next to one another during the service and are delighted as the youngest runs up to the bima after the final song, “Adon Olam,” for the children’s blessing under the Talit. As in many other congregations, everyone concludes at the Kiddush table. A long table is laden with food but there are not enough chairs. “Just another reason why we need to build a synagogue!” said member Dieter Shmuel Vogelhuber, who offers the Russian members a German language class.

Almost everything offered in the Hameln congregation is the result of active volunteer work. The spectrum of services is large. There was no question that a Chevra Kadisha and Bikur Cholim group were the first order of business for the young community. Naturally, religious classes for children and a youth group are also in place. The extensive cultural programming is thanks to the many members from the FSU. Valerij Friedmann and four other members established a congregational music group, “Shalom,” which has become regionally well known. Heir repertoire includes modern and liturgical pieces in Hebrew, Yiddish, German, and Russian.

Other Russian-speaking members offer their talents to the congregation. Volodymr Pesok teaches an “Introduction to Judaism” class, Emma Lebidinska offers a guided meditation group, and Josef Pelts runs the congregational library.

A Synagogue for Hameln

No one in this newly established congregation is expecting manna from heaven . . . but then again, why not? A few months ago, the papers were full of headlines about the ambitious project to rebuild a synagogue on the historic land where it had once stood. The congregation had purchased the land from the city fathers in 2001. Could it be that this small community, one of 20 Reform congregations in Germany, could build the first Reform synagogue in post-war Germany?

There a good omens. The project has the full support of it’s members but also of the local civic leaders. The design architect is Arnold A. Oppler, none other than the great grandson of Edwin Oppler, the architect who built the original Hameln Synagogue. Edwin Oppler was the most famous Jewish architect of his day and had built many synagogues in Germany. Arnold Oppler, who lives in Silver Spring, Maryland, found out about the project and contacted Dohme. It is what she calls “the finger of God.” Oppler is thrilled to carry on the family tradition. The synagogue building project is administered by a foundation and in their fundraising brochure, Oppler writes, “It is an honor to follow in my great grandfather’s footsteps.”

Contributions are needed so that pluralistic and active Jewish life can have a home in Hameln once again. The citizens, city leaders, and churches have all been very supportive of the project. Oppler’s plans see the new community center with integrated synagogue as just that—a community center that will open its doors to all citizens of Hameln. Oppler envisions a multifunctional sanctuary, a Museum of Tolerance, and a library.

The Jewish congregation of Hameln aspires to strengthen the positive ties it enjoys with the Lutheran and Catholic churches and local governmental and civic leaders, and this not only for inter religious and cultural events. For example, last winter when Neo Nazis planned a to hold a conference in Hameln, over 1,000 citizens took to the cold and rainy February streets and joined hands with the Jewish residents building—a human ring around the city. The Neo Nazis never came.