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I can’t forget what the Nazis did to my family, but I can be grateful to a repentant Germany
(JTA) — Picture a cute-looking, 6 1/2-year-old girl with curly braided hair. She is standing on a sidewalk, on a cold, dreary day in Leipzig, Germany, together with her parents and my wife and me. My granddaughter Vivi is staring intently at a 75-year-old worker, kneeling on the ground. He is digging a hole through the pavers to install several 4” x 4” brass plaques mounted on cement cubes — memorials to relatives who perished at the hands of the Nazis more than 80 years ago.
In February, we traveled 9,500 miles round-trip to dedicate 12 Stolpersteine plaques in memory of relatives I never knew, or even knew I had. (All 16 of my family members would have stood with us that day, but Germany’s airport worker strike canceled the others’ flights.) They were just some of my late father’s aunts, uncles and cousins who were murdered in the Holocaust, and we regarded the ceremony as a pseudo-levaya, a quasi-funeral that would be the final act of respect and farewell Hitler had denied my relatives.
I couldn’t have imagined, 60 years earlier when I first visited Germany, that I would ever return in a spirit approaching forgiveness, or that I’d feel a deep connection to a country that was once synonymous with brutality, pain, humiliation and suffering.
Stolpersteine, a German word meaning “stumbling block,” refers to a design brilliantly conceived by the non-Jewish German artist Gunter Demnig in the early 1990s. Installed in front of the homes where innocent Jewish victims last freely lived, the brass plaques simply and artistically memorialize, honor and personalize those brutally persecuted. On each plaque are engraved the victim’s name, dates of birth and death. As Demnig once said, “A person is only forgotten when his or her name is forgotten.” Hence, 100,000 of his plaques throughout Europe remind us that Jews are part of a shared history, and a common memory.
Whether consciously or not, the “stumbling pedestrian” instantly recalls the extraordinary evil unleashed by ordinary people, on once vibrant Jewish communities, and the terrorized Jewish neighbors who lived within them. This evil was driven by a blind loyalty to a gratuitous hatred of “the other,” meaning non-Aryans.
Who were these relatives I recently memorialized? Recently uncovered documents suggest my relatives were all decent, law-abiding citizens who contributed to Leipzig’s economy, enriched its cultural life and strengthened its social fabric. Sadly, being model citizens did not spare them from torturous fates.
One of those relatives, Elfriede Meyerstein, my paternal grandfather’s sister, was born Feb. 27, 1871 in Breslau. At 20, she came to Leipzig where her husband Menny ran a textile trading company with his family. They lived at the same address for many years. By 1931, after Menny’s death, she lived with her daughter Käthe Huth.
The Nazis, once in power, immediately expropriated Elfriede’s assets, comprising foreign stocks meticulously accumulated by Menny. The Nazi “Ordinance on the Registration of Jewish Assets” of April 26, 1938, forced her to surrender those securities to the state. In 1939, shortly after Kristallnacht on Nov. 9-10, 1938, the Nazis collected a “reimbursement tax” as “atonement,” from Elfriede and the rest of Germany’s Jewish community, for the damage Nazis did that night.
Just prior to her Sept. 19, 1942 deportation to Theresienstadt at age 71, Elfriede was forced to sign a “home purchase agreement,” the Nazis’ final act of expropriation. The document falsely and cynically promised her a “retirement home,” with free lifetime accommodation, food and medical care, but paid for by her, in advance. The Reich Security Main office confiscated 65,000 Reichsmarks ($300,000 in today’s currency). Her “retirement home” was in a ghetto with disastrous hygienic conditions, starvation, and no medical care. Elfriede died one month later.
After considerable soul-searching and three visits to Germany, spaced over 60 years, my attitudes and feelings today, vis a vis Germany and its citizens, are dramatically different from when I first visited in 1966.
Then, I came with unprocessed emotional baggage. In 1939, my father, Ralph Meyerstein, fled Dusseldorf and my mother, Cecily Geyer, fled Dresden, both for England. My paternal grandparents, Alfred and Meta Meyerstein, were deported from Dusseldorf on Nov. 8, 1941, to Minsk, where they were killed. My maternal grandmother, Salcia, was deported to Riga in January 1942; in November 1943 she was sent to Auschwitz and murdered.
My parents met in Ware, a small town north of London, where some German Jews took refuge. They moved to London where they married during the Blitz and we came to the United States in December 1947.
The German-issued ID card of Max Israel Meyerstein, the author’s great-uncle, who was murdered by the Nazis in 1942 at the age of 80. (Courtesy Michael Meyerstein)
As an only child, I shouldered much of my parents’ guilt over abandoning their parents, even though it was their parents who, thankfully, had urged them to flee Germany. When retelling their survival story, my eyes still well up with tears, revealing a lifetime of trauma I’ve absorbed on their behalf. That first visit felt almost adversarial in tone. It was I, representing my parents’ personal losses and those of the Jewish people, versus Germany and Germans. I reacted viscerally to hearing guttural Deutsch being spoken. I eyeballed Germans on the street and asked myself: How old are they? Did they commit heinous crimes against my family and my people?
By 2018, when I dedicated a Stolpersteine in my maternal grandmother’s memory, my judgmental attitudes and harsh feelings had softened. Maybe I realized that 75 years later, the ordinary citizen on the street could not be held responsible for the carnage of the Holocaust. Also, working with non-Jewish German volunteers in planning the ceremony showed me their humanity, sensitivity and outright remorse for Nazism’s impact on my family and their German state. Their kindness was an atonement for a past not of their making.
My visit in February shed further light on my evolving relationship with Germany and Germans. Today’s Germany is doing teshuva, or repentance, by strengthening democracy, creating an inclusionary society, responding resolutely to far-right extremism, educating its young about the Holocaust, offering sanctuary to Jews fleeing Russia and Ukraine and being a true friend to the State of Israel. It also is supporting Jewish communal institutions, paying reparations to Israel, to individual victims and their descendants.
My relationship became much more nuanced upon learning that Germany was once home to five generations of my family, as far back as 1760, in the small town of Grobzig where Matthias Nathan Meyerstein was born. On our visit to its mid-17th-century Jewish cemetery, I gazed incredulously at the graves of Meyersteins. I saw schutzbriefen, documents issued by the reigning duke, that assured my ancestors protection, commercial privileges and religious rights. In the old Leipzig Jewish cemetery, I visited 12 relatives’ graves from the 1800s and 1900s, which reflected much about their secure socio-economic status.
Before my retirement, I never knew that Grobzig or Leipzig or other towns were in my family’s history. This discovery led to one conclusion: Unquestionably, 1933 to 1945 was a tragic anomaly in human history, and especially Jewish history. However, I must also gratefully acknowledge the Germany that sustained my family for over 300 years, and Jewish communal life for 1,700 years.
Nazi Germany’s ill-treatment and intolerance of “the Other” still affects me today as I mourn my relatives’ death. On the other hand, I feel heartened by this sentiment written by a non-Jewish German who funded research about my family: “For me, as I am part of this country and its history, it will be a never-ending task to find ways to deal with this horrible past and most importantly, never to forget,” she wrote.
Navigating this complex relationship with Germany and Germans is intellectually and emotionally messy for Jews. My engagement with “the Other,” however, has been profoundly satisfying.
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Poland returns 91 Jewish objects to Greece, decades after they were stolen by the Nazis
(JTA) — A trove of sacred Jewish objects from Greece that was stolen by the Nazis and displaced for decades in Poland is finally heading back home.
Poland returned 91 religious and ceremonial artifacts to the Greek government at a ceremony in Warsaw on Wednesday. Among them were Torah scrolls, a Torah mantle and silver finials that adorned a scroll’s wooden rollers — fragments of a rich Greek Jewish heritage that was nearly wiped out.
This marks the first time Poland has repatriated cultural property held under its care that was illegally taken from another country.
The Nazis stole the objects from synagogues in Thessaloniki, a port city once known as the “Jerusalem of the Balkans.” Jews made up half of Thessaloniki’s residents in 1919. Some 59,000 Greek Jews, over 83% of the country’s Jewish population, were killed in the Holocaust.
These items were seized by the Einsatzstab Reichsleiter Rosenberg, a Nazi agency dedicated to looting Jewish valuables, as it plundered homes, synagogues, cemeteries and cultural institutions across Greece in 1941. The objects were transferred to Nazi depots in southwestern Poland and rediscovered at a castle in Bożków after the war. In 1951, the Polish Ministry of Culture moved them to the Jewish Historical Institute in Warsaw, where they remained until now.
This return follows years of advocacy and provenance research. The Greek government formally requested the collection’s restitution in 2024, and the World Jewish Restitution Organization coordinated with Greek and Polish authorities to facilitate it. Now, the objects are headed to the Jewish Museum of Greece in Athens.
About 5,000 Jews live in Greece today.
Poland is the only member of the European Union with no comprehensive legislation to address the restitution of property seized by the Nazis and later nationalized by the communist regime. Since the country became a democracy in 1989, several bills have been proposed to return private property to Holocaust survivors and their descendants, but none became law.
In 2021, Poland passed a law that prevented people who sought to claim property from challenging administrative decisions more than 30 years old. This time limit made it virtually impossible for former owners, including Holocaust survivors and their descendants, to recover properties that were appropriated during the communist era.
In a statement, WRJO president Gideon Taylor and COO Mark Weitzman said the return of the Greek Jewish collection represented a milestone in international cooperation for Holocaust-era restitution.
“While Poland has broader restitution issues to address, we hope this historic act marks the beginning of a consistent, systematic approach to historical justice,” they said.
The post Poland returns 91 Jewish objects to Greece, decades after they were stolen by the Nazis appeared first on The Forward.
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Israel shoots down Iranian fighter jet; Iranian drone targets Turkey as war enters 5th day
(JTA) — Two unprecedented developments took place in the U.S.-Israel war against Iran on Wednesday, as fighting entered its fifth day.
First, Israel said its forces had shot down an Iranian plane over Iranian territory, in the first-ever direct combat between the two nations.
Second, Turkey says an Iranian drone headed toward its airspace was shot down by NATO’s missile defense system, marking the first apparent attack on a NATO country other than the United States.
In an apparent effort to ignite Arab and Muslim countries against Israel, Iran has struck even countries that historically have shared elements of its opposition to Israel, including in Qatar, which has housed Hamas leaders, and Turkey, which cut off trade with Israel as it sided with the Palestinians in the war in Gaza. It has also struck Oman, which was brokering negotiations between Iran and the United States until hours before the war began.
“They were actually acting in a way that would have benefited Iran. Despite this, Iran’s bombing of Oman as a mediator, Qatar, Kuwait, Bahrain, Saudi Arabia, the United Arab Emirates, Jordan — all of these places without making any distinction — is, in my view, an incredibly wrong strategy,” the Turkish foreign minister, Hakan Fidan, said on Tuesday.
The developments come as Israelis continue to experience intermittent sirens warning them of incoming missiles — including, on Wednesday, at the same time from Iran and its proxy in Lebanon, Hezbollah. Two people were injured in a strike in central Israel on Wednesday.
Iran has said it plans to name a successor imminently to its supreme leader, Ayatollah Ali Khamenei, whom Israel assassinated on Saturday. His son is reportedly a top contender, a signal that that hard-line forces that survive in the government are prevailing. President Donald Trump, meanwhile, indicated that airstrikes had killed some of the leaders the United States thought could take over and also pooh-poohed support inside Iran for Reza Pahlavi, the son of the king deposed in the 1979 Islamic Revolution who has sought to return. Many Iranian Jews who fled at the time of the revolution have backed Pahlavi.
Both Israeli and U.S. officials say the war is advancing faster than they expected though that they cannot put a timeline on its completion. But Secretary of Defense Pete Hegseth dismissed reports that Iran might be parceling out its missiles judiciously in an effort to ride out the U.S.-Israeli barrage and emerge with an arsenal intact.
“Iran cannot outlast us,” Hegseth during a press briefing on Wednesday morning in Washington, D.C.
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Tensions in Israel loom large in these Oscar-nominated shorts
Despite a ceasefire between Israel and Hamas, two Oscar-nominated short films show that the deep division that the war sowed in Israeli society will take a long time to mend.
Butcher’s Stain, a nominee for Best Live Action Short Film, is the debut of Israeli director Meyer Levinson-Blount, who based it on an experience he had working at a supermarket. Samir, a Palestinian employee at an Israeli grocery store, is accused of tearing down hostage flyers in the breakroom. A single dad who can’t afford to lose his job, he sets out to find the real culprit, only to find himself betrayed by his Israeli friends.
The 36-minute documentary Children No More: “Were and Are Gone,” directed by Israeli filmmaker Hilla Medalia, follows a group of Israeli activists who silently protest the war by going to public spaces and holding photos of Palestinian children killed by the Israel Defense Forces. At the beach and on the street, they are yelled at and physically threatened by passersby who call their acknowledgement of Palestinian death an endorsement of Hamas.
Neither movie particularly stands out in its style or structure as something revolutionary. However they both capture how difficult — and sometimes impossible — it has been to have civil discourse since Oct. 7. People are quick to make assumptions about others’ motivations for sympathizing with either or both sides. Friendships fall apart. Blanket statements alienate people from one another.
The shorts also demonstrate how emotionally charged images have been during the conflict. Both the Israeli hostage posters and the Palestinian flyers showcase the victims’ humanity, hoping viewers will empathize with the subjects regardless of their politics.
But protesters across the world have called the hostage posters Zionist propaganda and tearing them down has been likened by some to a form of anti-colonial resistance. In Children No More, some Israelis respond to the faces of dead Palestinians with the middle finger. In Butcher’s Stain, Samir is accused of supporting terrorism because he posted about children dying in Gaza on social media. To recognize the humanity of someone you may not agree with has become a politically incorrect act.
Reactions to the shorts have further demonstrated the polarizing climate they capture. Israeli culture minister Miki Zohar lambasted both films as being “against Israel,” saying they “amplify our enemies’ narratives.” When I watched Butcher’s Stain at the IFC Theater in New York, the woman two seats down from me became visibly agitated, her knee bouncing up and down as she scoffed disapprovingly before loudly whispering to her partner that the “fucking film” was “antisemitic” for portraying the Israeli employees as bigoted.
There were similar reactions when the Israeli-Palestinian documentary No Other Land won best documentary last year. The film about Israeli forces destroying the Palestinian village of Masafer Yatta was accused of being anti-Israel propaganda. Conservative commentator John Podheretz congratulated “Hamas for its Oscar win” on social media.
Clearly, the Academy was not swayed by last year’s critics to back away from films about Palestinian suffering. In fact, Butcher’s Stain’s selection feels pointed, as it’s the only political drama among the five live action short competitors this year (compared to last year’s lineup that included films about poaching, immigration, child labor, and the Bosnian War). Another Oscar nominee is The Voice of Hind Rajab, a dramatization of Palestinian emergency workers efforts to save the titular five-year old, up for best international feature.
Regardless of whether or not the shorts take home trophies on March 15, they leave audiences with pressing questions about the future now that there is a ceasefire: Can people with different views — in Israel and elsewhere — learn to talk to each other again? Will images of human suffering always be seen as political propaganda? And will Israeli society ever be able to move on?
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