Sprachlosigkeit umfasste mich. Hatte ich nicht erst am Ende der Lagebesprechung meinen polizeilichen Führungskräfte für das herannahende Wochenende einen Segenswunsch zugesprochen, der den Wunsch nach Frieden zum Mittelpunkt hatte? Stattdessen durchbrachen Nachrichten und Bilder eines iranischen Angriffs auf Israel die Stille des Sonntags, für mich eines Tages der Ruhe, Einkehr und Friedens.
Es ist, also ob wir uns als Menschen auf einer ständigen Suche nach Frieden befinden. Seit den letzten Monaten und Jahren durch den Krieg in der Ukraine und im Heiligen Land umso mehr. Es fühlt sich so an, als wenn die Welt an verschiedenen Orten in Brand gesteckt worden sei. Während die Politik und die Mächtigen um Wege ringen, ist es schwer für uns einzelne. Was gegenwärtig bleibt, ist mit unserer Sprachlosigkeit vor Gott zu treten.
Vielleicht kann uns dieses Gebet in all dem Hadern, Zweifeln und Flehen ein wenig aus der Sprachlosigkeit hinaus in Gottes Nähe und Geborgenheit führen.
My voice shock as I read the names of victims. I didn’t dare to look up and concentrated on their names hoping to pronounce them rightly.
Elyona Estpank
Emil Smoylov
Erez Ariel
Erez Biton
Eric Yehuda Marciano
Eti Zak
After a small pause I stepped off the stone paved plateau. Dustin, a young politician and German Jew, lit a candle in a red protective cover, which we set on graves and places of mourning to show our grief. With a whispered „Danke“ and a slight nod he laid it into my outstretched hands. I cradled the candle in my hands as I searched for an appropriate spot to set it into the sea of sorrowful lights.
We had gathered in the center of Bamberg to commemorate and mourn the victims of the terror Hamas had spread over Israel taking precious lives all in a sudden. Jews and Christians. Believers and Non-Believers. Young and old. Politicians and citizens. All were gathered to express the grief inflicted through the horrors inflicted on thousands.
Shirt Yam Amar
Shiraz Brodash
Shirel Mor
Shlomi Molcho
Ayelet Molcho
Shlomi Mathias
My throat felt dry as I red the next six of hundreds of names. As a German I couldn’t wrap my head around the fact that so many Jews had lost their lives through terror, hate and unbelievable evilness – the largest number since the Holocaust. My nations and family´s history had committed me to counteract Antisemitism. As my friend you know about so many personal stories I had entrusted you with. They have formed me into the person I am now.
A cold shiver ran down my spine as I suddenly had to think of you. I remember, when I broke the news to you that I would return to Germany. I was called to become a chaplain within the German Federal Police. The sadness was lightened by the fact that I would infuse the commitment to counteract Antisemitism through teaching and involvement in this important part of our German democracy and state.
Sahar Zion Machlof
Salman Abu Mar´i
Samdar Mor Idan
Segev Schwartz
Segev Shalom
Shachar Kedem
As I read the names on the last sheet that was handed to me little did I know, what would come just a day later. Last night a synagogue in Berlin was attacked with Molotov cocktails last. Tonight protesters erected burning barricades. Police officers are actively attacked while they try to ensure security to sensitive areas. The Holocaust memorial in the center of Berlin is protected by hundreds of police officers.
Violence is erupting around the world.
It feels as if the world is set on fire.
But be assured, together with thousands I have committed myself to stand strong. We will not back down and give in to hate. Not in Germany. Never again.
Everyone gathered around our large dining table. I glanced over the table to check if something was missing. Saturday mornings are my favorite days when our family is able to gather for a longer breakfast. These days usually start early for me with a bicycle ride to our baker, who has such delicious bakery products reaching from numerous kinds of rolls, which just have come out of the oven, to cheesecake on a stick covered in luxurious chocolate.
As I placed six different kinds of pretzels on the white serving plate I sighed. It would be so nice to share one of these breakfasts in Germany with you and your husband. The serving plate is a precious reminder of you and I am sure, you would love trying all these different freshly baked pretzels with sunflower seeds, pumpkin seeds, salt and pepper, or even in a sweet version.
Just weeks ago I visited a church the a small medieval city of Rothenburg ob der Tauber. As I admired the sanctuary of St. Jakob, I was astonished to see a glass window with pretzels. Angels distributed pretzels and rolls in traditional Francionian shapes from heaven to a mass of people below. From their appearance I could recognise that these might have been Jewish people. The shape of their hats and clothes were in the style of the mandated appearance of Jews in medieval Rothenburg. As I stood there in surprise it hit me: This was the story of Israel during their 40 year journey through the desert! Pretzels came down among them like manna from heaven. As folk might have found it difficult to understand what manna was, they certainly understood the picture of pretzels. Those were precious, delicate and special baking products. Like manna that saved the Jewish people from starvation. Special, necessary food.
I wish, we could someday have such a Saturday morning breakfast with delicious pretzels and go to visit these interesting windows. Until then pretzels will be on our breakfast table as a heavenly reminder of our friendship across miles and religions.
Miriam Gross 