If You Prick Us...

"Surely God is good to Isreal, to those who are pure in heart." ~Psalm 73:1

Feb 21, 2013

On Thursdays and Fridays, I do not have class. I have a feeling that I could get used to this schedule by the end of the semester (not to mention it should give me ample time to travel and see the sites.)

When I got up today, I was surprised to see it was 11 o’clock. I had intended to get up earlier so that I could go to the area of town known as the Jewish Quarter. From everything I’d read, it would take the better part of a day to see all of the historic buildings.

I decided I might want to save that for a different day. A good family friend had emailed me some history about a church in Prague that was involved in the assassination of Nazi General Heydriech. I pulled up the email and checked my map to find it. Locating all of the transfers I set off to see the church.

On my way into town, I got off at the station for school to grab another slice of Pizza. I ate it on the walk back to the tram and rode into town. It seems to be becoming a habit for me, but I got off at the wrong tram station. I decided instead of getting back on, I would walk to find the church.

As I did, I passed the famous Dancing House. It’s called the Fred and Ginger house by most tourists and is artfully shaped to look like it is imploding. According to my books, there aren’t many dance shows there anymore, but the food is supposed to be great.

I wandered around a bit more and saw several churches. I finally came to the cross streets where I thought I’d find it. There was supposed to be a museum in the church’s crypt where the assassins had been hidden by my friend’s great-grandfather. The sign on the door read, “Krypta uzavrena kvuli rekonstrukci 18 Feb -16 Mar.”

 I could guess at the word “crypt” and “reconstruction.” My impression was it was closed for reconstruction from February 18- March 16.

A woman was walking by carrying some groceries. “Excuse me,” I said. “Anglisky?” That’s Czech for “English.”

“Yes,” she said, with a Czech accent.

“Is this church the site of the Heydreich assassination?”

“I think so,” she said. “Here.”

Walking around the corner, she showed me a remarkable site. Bullet holes littered the wall and a plaque commemorated the location. A few wreaths had been placed at the site as well and a white rose lay withered on the ledge.

“Is the church closed?” I asked.

“I think so,” she said. “But re-open soon.”

I was definitely coming back!

I initially went to find the Use-It office to pick up more of the free student maps that I could use for travel, but I discovered that the office was closed until summer.

It was only a little afternoon and I still wanted to see something today. It dawned on me that I was being a foolish American! I was seeing stuff. Everywhere I looked the views were amazing. Even if I just walked the streets all day, I would see millions of things I’d never imagined. But being a foolish American I decided to be productive. I caught the 17 tram headed north and decided to go tour at least part of the Jewish Quarter.

Getting there once again involved getting off at the wrong stop and retracing my route to where I wanted to go. I was definitely pulling out my map a lot more today than I had in the past but this part of town was new to me and the streets seemed circuitous and hard to differentiate.

Wandering up the street, the atmosphere began to become very somber. There were people mulling about, but they seemed very focused (and not in the straight-faced focus I have grown accustom to seeing.)  One of the buildings looked like it could be historic. There was a guard outside and a sign on the door that read “Tourists enter around block.” I wandered through markets and shops to the end of the street. I noticed the language around me wasn’t English, but it also was no longer Czech.

It was Hebrew.

The crowd was now filled with men who had large greying beards, and women dressed in modest clothes. The language sounded ancient, but also familiar. I’d heard it in movies before and was sure that I’d probably heard a Hebrew prayer somewhere along the way.

I asked one of the shop keepers, “Where is the Jewish museum?” That is what the series of historical buildings are called in most travel books.

The man was clearly disappointed I wasn’t interested in purchasing an “I heart Praha” t-shirt or an “I Czeched the beer” jacket. Either way, he pointed to a blue building across the street.

I walked over and began to turn the door knob.

“What you are doing!?!” a loud voice yelled. I was startled and jumped to see a man that looked something like a security guard coming towards me. He was clearly Jewish and did not look happy.

“I’m looking for the Jewish museum,” I said.

“It’s not this building. It’s all around. The synagogues and ceremonial halls can just be found up and down this street. There,’ he said pointing. “That is one there.”

“Thank you,” I said. “And what is this building?”

“This is community center. You must be Jewish to enter.”

I understood.

Walking around the corner to the building he had pointed at, I finally found an information window. Looking at the signs on the window (which were remarkably all in English) I found that a student ticket could be purchased to see many of the historical buildings. Presenting my student ID, I bought one.

As I learned the history, I found out that Jews had settled in the Prague region over 1,000 years ago. At one point, Prague had the third largest Jewish population in Europe. Some famous Czech Jews include Franz Kafka and Sigmund Freud. Prior to the 1800’s a wall had surrounded this particular part of the city and the Jews were not allowed to leave. The wall came down in the early 1800’s and in 1906, it was dedicated as “The Jewish Museum.” The quarter is currently home to the only remaining Jewish synagogues in the former Nazi regions. This is because the Nazi’s had intended to turn the Jewish Museum into what they called “The Museum of an Extinct Race.”

Photography was not allowed in any of the buildings and was frowned upon in general in some of the more historic areas. Men had to cover their heads to enter any of the synagogues or ceremony rooms. Head coverings were handed out at each entrance, but everyone told me my beanie satisfied the requirement.

The first building I visited was the Pinkas Synagogue. It was built in 1535. Now, it has been turned into a memorial to the Jews from Bohemia that were killed in the holocaust. All along the walls of the sacred building are names, birthdates, and estimated death dates. The camp names like Bergen-Belsen and Krakow were painted in large bold letters. It is estimated that 80,000 Czech jews (and around 183,000 Slovak Jews) were murdered in camps across Europe.

In the upper level of the Pinkas Synagogue was a display of children’s art. Some of it was from the camp Terezin (which was in the eastern Czech Republic) and some of it was from modern kids. The art that was modern was created through a national project that followed a similar craft used in the concentration camps. Kids in the camp had used magazines and crayons to create art expressing either their feelings in the camp or their hopes for the future. Elementary kids across Prague had been given a similar task and now their art was displayed alongside that of the Jewish kids from years ago.

The pictures—both past and present—were haunting. There were crude drawings of what looked like very immodest showers. There were pictures of men with guns shooting large crowds. Some of them were also hopeful, showing people walking out of the camp down long scribbled paths to home. The modern art was just as emotional. It showed things like kids wanting candy or wanting to go home from school. One of the pictures was of “heroes” and in the center had a magazine cutout of the 9/11 firefighters. I have to admit, it gave me chills.

Just outside the synagogue was the Jewish Cemetery. Again, photography was not allowed here. Most tourists will skip the cemetery, although others do try to sneak photos of it. It is a rather unusual site. Because the Jews were unable to leave the city walls for 800 years, this cemetery was the only location they could bury the dead. As a result, it is estimated that there are over 100,000 people buried in the small plot of land. The tombstones date back to the 1500’s and now look like misshapen and jagged rocks. Moss grew on many of them, and the falling snow made them seem especially lonely.

As I exited the cemetery, I wasn’t sure where to go next. I asked the security guard if the building he was standing in front of was part of the museum.

“Is closed synagogue,” he said in Jewish accent.

“Closed?”

“No, Closen,” he said.

“I’m sorry,” I said. “I don’t understand.”

He ripped my map from my hands and pointed at a blue dot. “Is Klausen Synagogue.”

“OH!” I said, realizing where I was. “Thank you!” He nodded and smiled. I stepped inside.

The Klausen Synagogue was built in 1573 to commemorate the visitation of Emperor Maximilian II to the Prague Ghetto. While it originally burned in the fire of 1689 (which seems to have damaged many things in Prague, including the Castle and the Astronomical Clock) it was reconstructed later that year.

Throughout this synagogue was a display on Jewish customs and traditions. It talked about beliefs involving birth, circumcision, first born children, bar mitzvahs, and marriage. It amazed me how much of the Jewish culture permeated our culture today. Things that we still practiced, especially with marriage—such as rings or veils—even in secular society took the roots from Jewish tradition. The Ten Commandments truly make up the code of conduct across Western Europe and the United States (a fact the museum boasted proudly.)

Right next to the Klausen synagogue was the Ceremonial Hall. This was where bodies were prepared and funerals were held. Reading about the Jewish funeral and burial process was a very humbling display. It was very rooted in the psalms and quite beautiful and tragic.

After I exited this hall, I went to the Old-New Synagogue. This was the synagogue that was still used by Jews in Prague today. I walked around it a few times trying to find the entrance. I finally realized that the knocker on one of the doors actually was the door knob. The entire thing turned and the door pulled open.

The inside was dimly lit and a bit dingy.  As soon as I entered, I went down a few short steps. The woman at the bottom asked to see my ticket, as someone had done in each of the other buildings. I knew this wasn’t included in my student version so I asked where I could go to buy one.

“The bookstore across the street,” she said, also with a Jewish accent.

I went back up the stairs and outside. There was a sign on the bookstore that said “Tickets.” I went inside. The girl behind the counter looked younger than me. She sold me the ticket and, after paying my bill yesterday, I was glad I still had enough money.  With my new ticket in hand, I went back into the synagogue.

After the woman scanned it, she pointed to a small wooden display rack. “Information,” she said. I took a pamphlet that was printed in English and read about the history and architecture of this building.

It truly was beautiful, but in a very different way from the churches. The whole city of Prague felt like I’d stepped a few hundred years back in time. This building felt like I’d gone back a few thousand. It looked like some sort of temple. It wasn’t ornate or decorative, but the passion and the spirit of it were breathtaking. The room felt significant—from the ark in the center that housed the Torah, to the eternal flame facing Jerusalem—every detail looked sacred. In some way, the spirituality felt more authentic than it had in the cathedral.

I visited one more Synagogue (the Maisel Synagogue) on my way out of town. It was built in 1590 and now housed a display on the history of Jews in Bohemia. This building too was amazing. What struck me about it were the ancient prayer shawls and crowns that were displayed. The looked so wonderfully made and yet so ancient at the same time.

With that I headed back home. It was a little after 5pm and the sun was pretty much set (I’m assuming there actually was sun today—again the sky was pretty overcast.) I decided to navigate the subway system back to Wenceslas and catch the 9 from there. As I walked along the Vltava River to the subway station, I took in the great views of Prague Castle and Mala Strana.

Catching the subway and transferring to the 9, I made it without problems. When I got back, I thumbed through my travel book and picked out my Friday activity. I will be venturing away from the city for a day, but I look forward to sharing the excitement of this trip with you when I get back.