Diary of the Chief Rabbi, 4 May, early morning.
It has been a quiet few days for me since my last diary entry. I haven’t had ‘Free Palestine’ hurled at me any more often than usual. Although the world is in turmoil, I was in Arcen on Sunday. For the sake of convenience, I assume that the average reader of my diary may not be entirely sure where Arcen is, but for me, as a ‘Media Stomper’, it is certainly not unfamiliar territory. Arcen is, in fact, a ‘suburb’ of Venlo. On Sunday 3 May, yesterday, four Stolpersteine were unveiled. The initiative came from the Arcen Local History Foundation and was dedicated to commemorating Jewish residents who were persecuted and murdered during the Second World War. The unveiling took place at two locations in the village. My attendance was announced on Venlo.nieuws.nl as follows:
A special feature of the gathering is the presence of Chief Rabbi Jacobs, who will attend a large part of the programme and will also be present at the unveiling of the Stolpersteine. His involvement underlines the importance of these commemorations, particularly for current and future generations.
The memorial stones without graves were laid for Otto Sternheim on Koestraat and for Hugo and Julie Terhoch-Levy and their daughter Ilse Lina, on Grensweg, where their last home stood. With these stones, the victims – more than eighty years on – were once again given a name and a place in the community. The chair of the Arcen Local History Foundation said: “Even in a small community like Arcen, these stories are close to home. That is precisely why it is important that we continue to make them visible. With the Stolpersteine, we are bringing history back to the streets and giving the people behind that history a place in our village once again.” It is now 3 am on the morning of 4 May. In a few hours’ time, I will be picked up to go to the Loenen National War Cemetery, where the War Graves Foundation is holding its annual 4 May commemoration. Hundreds, including many VIPs, will be in attendance. The official ceremony begins at 1.30 pm with contributions from, amongst others, former NATO Secretary-General Jaap de Hoop Scheffer, President of the War Graves Foundation Jaap Smit and Timian Horst. He will tell the story of his great-great-grandfather Willem van Boven, who was a forest ranger in Loenen during the war and hid people in hiding, English pilots and escaped prisoners of war in the woods. Big names like Jaap de Hoop Scheffer and Jaap Smit will be no strangers to you. But who is Timian Horst (I hope I’ve spelled his name correctly!)? And I’m taking the liberty of assuming that you’ve never heard of his great-great-grandfather either. Following this grand commemoration, I will be present at 4.00 pm when Mayor Bolsius of Amersfoort lays a wreath at the Jewish light monument on Borneoplein, where on 4 May all 360 lights will be lit, in memory of the 360 Jewish men, women and children from Amersfoort who ‘did not return’, as we so coldly put it. And then the National Commemoration on Dam Square in Amsterdam.
You are probably wondering, my faithful diary reader, where I am going. And I do not mean where I am physically going, but what am I saying, what is my message on the eve of 4 May, when this year ‘Free Palestine’ will ring out loud and clear, Jews will be branded as child murderers, and via social media it will be demonstrated in a ‘scientific’, misleading and hate-mongering manner that not six million Jews were murdered at all, but merely two hundred and seventy thousand, and probably, if Auschwitz ever existed at all, it was not an extermination camp but a sort of holiday resort. And almost certainly, we Jews will be accused of having hijacked the 4 May commemoration, because 4 May is actually meant to… Fill in the blanks yourself.
Many years ago, I was criticised for warning of rising anti-Semitism. A rabbi should bring joyful messages, not whinge about misery of which there was then no visible sign. And indeed, in hindsight, my years of warnings were utterly pointless.
Tonight, 4 May, Lag Ba’omer begins on the Jewish calendar, the 33rd day of the so-called Omer counting. After the Exodus from Egypt, the Jews journeyed through the desert to Mount Sinai, where on the 50th day they would receive the Ten Commandments. But to be spiritually ready for this, spiritual preparation was needed: self-reflection. The Jews had left Egypt, the epitome of immorality, but Egypt had not yet left the Jews. The forty-nine days between the Exodus from Egyptian slavery and the receiving of the Torah and Tradition, the Word of God, were and are days of self-examination: what of my own less virtuous inclinations? And in the midst of this somewhat less cheerful period, Lag Ba’omer, the thirty-third day of that period, is a day of great joy associated with Rabbi Shimon bar Yochai. If you are not familiar with Lag Ba’omer, feel free to pause reading my diary and have a quick Google search. On this day, thousands upon thousands make their way to the grave of this great rabbi in Miron, northern Israel, to pray and light bonfires. The Sephardic Chief Rabbi of Israel, David Yosef, has strictly forbidden travelling to Miron this year. It is irresponsibly dangerous. Travelling to Miron is a ‘custom’, putting oneself in a life-threatening situation is a ‘prohibition’, and a prohibition carries far greater weight than a custom.
So I was in Arcen, clearly visible as a Jew. Should I start hiding my Jewishness? Should I advise people not to wear the Star of David in certain places in our ‘liberated Netherlands’?
What should we do? Why am I jumping from one topic to another? From the National Remembrance Day ceremony on Dam Square in Amsterdam to local Stolpersteine in Arcen? Because the only way to truly liberate the Netherlands is through education, from the national government and, above all, simply at a local level, in schools, through dialogue with one another, with those who think differently, with the parents of young people, who usually have a non-Dutch background, who shout abuse at me because I am a Dutch Jew. The police have now found the owner of the moped who, last week as Shabbat was ending, felt the need to call my guest a ‘cancer Jew’. According to the police, his parents were very upset; they hadn’t expected this from their sweet, innocent little boy who races through the streets on a fat bike at around eleven o’clock at night. I’m glad the parents were shocked, but my guest hasn’t received a bouquet of flowers or an apology yet. I’m willing to have a conversation with the parents and their dear son. Not to lecture, but to build a bridge. But I am almost convinced that privacy laws will not allow that bridge to be built and will instead encourage the defacement of the National Monument on Dam Square.
And yet there is hope, and there are many bright spots. The number of words of encouragement and expressions of support reaching me is impressive. Never before have I been greeted with ‘shalom’ so often on the street, and the understanding looks speak volumes. And you know, I’ve even been offered places to go into hiding.
