Shap Journal 2001/2002

Living Community

A Tale of Two Cities  
Stockholm –  Warsaw:
A youth dialogue

Navah Harlow

The first sentence in Charles Dickens' classic
novel a Tale of Two Cities aptly describes my
tale of two cities. Dickens writes: "it was the
best of times, it was the worst of times." His
two cities were London and Paris in the year 1775. My
two cities are Stockholm and Warsaw at the present
time. Let me explain.

My tale is about the Youth Dialogue that we initiated in
1996, the reasons why we felt it was an important task,
how we set about doing it, what we did and what
remains to be done.

It was in 1996, when my husband Jules was serving as
Rabbi in the Great Synagogue of Stockholm. He received
an invitation from the then cultural attache of the Polish
embassy, Dr. Bohdan Michalski, to participate in a
conference that he and Dr. Michal Bron Jr were
organising. Participants included representatives from
the governments of Sweden and Poland as well as high-
ranking clergy, distinguished academicians and
journalists from both countries.

Three days of intense discussion and debate ended with
affirmations which included a call for ongoing dialogue.

One month after the conference, one of the keynote
speakers, Rabbi Jules Harlow, was invited by Father
Waldemar Chrostowski, a conference participant, to
address a seminar at the Academy of Catholic Theology
in Warsaw.

Because of my close association with Rabbi Harlow, I,
too, was invited. Rabbi Harlow's lecture was delivered to
a group of Polish men and women, most of whom had
been attending this monthly seminar over a period of
ten years because they were specifically interested in
learning about Jewish history and Judaism. A portion of
Rabbi Harlow's lecture was devoted to a review of the
horrors of the blood libel accusations that had befallen
innocent Jews throughout the centuries. He taught the
Jewish dietary laws of kashrut, which prohibit the
consumption of blood, any blood, all blood. As you
know the Blood Libel Accusations historically took place
around the Holydays of Passover when Jews were
accused of killing a Christian child to obtain blood
which Christians said was required for the baking of
matzoh. Jews were killed in retaliation. Savage pogroms
took place. Unbelievable as it is, only about 55 years
ago, in the Polish town of Kieice, after the horrors of the
Holocaust when the world was affirming. "Never Again"
a pogrom took place. A Christian child was missing,
Jews were killed. It was too late when they discovered
the true fate of the child who had been abducted by a
Christian neighbour.

But to return to the seminar at the Academy of Catholic
Theology on that fateful evening in Warsaw in 1996. At
the conclusion of his lecture, Rabbi Harlow invited
questions from the audience. One man raised his hand.
He was probably in his late sixties. He said, and I quote:
"Rabbi, we know that Jews do not drink blood - they
only need a little bit to bake their matzoh." How do you
know that?" asked my husband. "My priest told me," he
replied. Warsaw 19 96!

When we returned to our hotel that evening, I turned to
my husband and said, "We cannot spend our valuable
time with people who are over the age of fifty. There are
deep-rooted prejudices that never will be erased. And", I
added. "We, too, have prejudices and biases that we
must be willing to confront. We, too, are guilty of
stereotyping. Anyone who has lived through the period
of the Holocaust, even as a child, as we were, cannot
remain totally objective. Let us focus on our youth. It is
through them that we may be able to ensure a better
world."

It was on that night in Warsaw that the idea of a
Swedish-Polish Youth Dialogue project was conceived.
In the following months, with strong support from the
Polish Embassy and a firm commitment from the
leadership of the Jewish Community in Stockholm as
well as the Municipality of Stockholm, the project came
to life. To develop the goals and logistics of the
programme an advisory board was formed which was
chaired by myself and Bohdan Michalski, who was soon
to return to Warsaw.

The goal of the project was articulated: To promote
knowledge and understanding about Holocaust experiences of
both Christians and Jews in Poland, and to focus upon
current expressions of anti-Semitism in both Sweden and
Poland.

The Advisory Board developed the following method:

•   A group of high school students from both Warsaw
and Stockholm will be identified to participate in
this project. These students must make a
commitment to ongoing semi-monthly study
sessions to be conducted in their respective cities.

•   Qualified teachers/facilitators will be recruited in
both cities.

•   A bibliography of books, articles and films (in
English) will be compiled which both groups will
read, view and discuss.

•   Both groups will convene in Stockholm in the
spring of 1998.

•   Swedish youth will provide home hospitality to
their Polish counterparts.

•   Recommendations will be made to the Bureaux of
Education in Sweden and in Poland with the aim of
reviewing history textbooks that relate to teaching
about the period of the Holocaust.

•   Similar recommendations will be made for the
analysis of Church textbooks in both countries
with regard to teaching about Jews and Judaism.

We stated that our responsibility was to ensure that the
next generation be given the opportunity to explore its
history objectively and to reflect upon shameful
injustices and acts of inhumanity, so that the motto
"Never Again" will be realised. It was our opinion that
this can be best achieved through study and personal
encounters which confront the realities of deep-rooted
scepticism, hatred and fear of the stranger among us.
Our future lies with the next generation.

Preparation for the project included a trip to Warsaw at
the invitation of the then Deputy Speaker of Parliament,

Aleksander Malachowski, who arranged for meetings
with leading government officials which resulted in
affirmations of full support for the project.
Arrangements were also made for us to visit two high
school classes in Warsaw.

It was mind boggling for us to realize that for most of
these students, this was the first time that they had met
a Jew, or at least one who identified strongly as a Jew. It
was certainly the first time for them all to have met a
Rabbi... in this city of Warsaw, where before the
Holocaust, one in every three persons you passed on the
street might have been a Jew.

We were inspired by the open and frank discussion that
took place with the students. One girl confided that no
matter what she said, her grandmother always preached
hatred of the Jews. Another student told us that her
grandmother hid a Jew during the war. When I pointed
out what great courage that took on the part of her
grandmother, knowing that she was putting the lives of
her children and the rest of her family at risk, I
confessed that I did not know whether I would have had
that courage; though I hope that I would have. At the
conclusion of the class two students came up to me, put
their arms around me and told me, "Don't worry. We
know that you would have done the right thing."

Rabbi Harlow told the class that for him Poland was one
huge Jewish graveyard. A student raised his hand in
protest: "I don't like you to call Poland a graveyard. That
is history. We don't have to look back, we must move on
and look to the future." Before any adult had a chance
to reply another student shouted out: "We must always
look to our history. We have to remember what
happened so that we will make sure that such evil
things will never happen again."

At that moment our project became a reality. We knew
we were on the right road.

Two high schools in Stockholm and two in Warsaw
participated in the project. Naturally, there were
modifications to the original method. The goals
remained constant but there was an expansion of the
focus on prejudice and discrimination. We decided that
it was important to confront the contemporary
experience of racial and ethnic discrimination in the
lives of our students in both Sweden and Poland. Could
they identify any xenophobia in their own societies?
I must interject a personal thought here. When my
husband and I first came to Stockholm, where we lived
off and on over a period of four years, we were stunned
by the monochromatic look of the people whom we
passed on Strandvagen and other main thoroughfares.
There were only different skin shades of white. Where
were the coloured people? We had the same reaction in
Warsaw. Remember, we come from New York, which is
described as a melting pot for all nations. We later
learned that immigrant populations, which had been
encouraged to come to Sweden when manual laborers
were needed, were living in communities which had
been designated for their housing long ago in the
outskirts of Stockholm. The multi-ethnic community in
Rinkeby is an example. We were delighted, therefore,
that one of the schools chosen to participate in the
project was a secondary school in Rinkeby.

When we asked people in Stockholm whether they were
aware of any problems in Sweden regarding racial
discrimination, the answer was most often, "No. We are
a very tolerant country." When we later asked the same
question of the participating students from both cities,
we learned otherwise. They were very aware of
intolerance and unjust treatment of the Gypsy
population, for example, in both countries.

In the October of 1997 our project got underway, thanks
to the financial support of the Polish Commission for
Christian-Jewish Understanding, The Municipality of
Stockholm and The Jewish Community of Stockholm.
Six months of study and meeting culminated in a retreat
for all the participants at Glamsta, the campsite of the
Jewish Community of Stockholm, which is located in the
beautiful Swedish countryside. Approximately 50 youth
and 10 adults participated in this retreat; 20 youth from
Warsaw and 30 from Stockholm. Of the participants
there were 13 who were Jewish, all from Sweden. We
spent five days living, learning and relaxing together.
The days were tightly scheduled with inter-active
workshops led by a facilitator whom we invited from the
Anti-Defamation League in New York. Issues addressed
included Polish-Jewish and Christian-Jewish relations;
xenophobia against immigrants: discrimination against
the Roma (Gypsies); sexism and homophobia. In
addition, larger concepts relating to bias and
discrimination were addressed, including stereotyping,
scapegoating. inclusive vs. exclusive behaviour.

The highlight of the four days together was perhaps one
of the most painful sessions. It was Friday afternoon,
just before we were to due to prepare for the Sabbath. A
Polish student tearfully asked a Swedish Jewish student:
"Why do you hate me? I did not kill your grandmother?
I was not even alive when she was killed?" After four
days together, the group was finally ready to confront
the question.

We were deeply moved by the mature manner in which
this emotional confrontation was handled. There was
not a dry eye in the room. There was a very sombre
feeling as Polish-Swedish-Christian-Jewish students and
teachers embraced each other as they filed out of the
meeting room. We were all ready to be enveloped by the
peace of the Sabbath.

The Sabbath meal was particularly festive: lots of
singing and a very special feeling of camaraderie
prevailed.

On Sunday the group returned to Stockholm. Home
hospitality was extended to the Polish visitors. We met
as a group one more time in the Great Synagogue. We
could see that new friendships had been forged. We felt
that in one week a group feeling had indeed been
created. I led the last discussion. Two moving
testimonials remain vividly in my mind. In response to
my question, "Has this experience in any way changed
your point of view?" Nicholas from Warsaw, stood up
and said: "When our dear Rabbi Jules told us that he
was now beginning to understand Polish pain..." I recall
the poignancy of that moment, not only the content but
the very fact that Nicholas, who had never known a
Rabbi before was now referring to our dear Rabbi...

Another student from Poland quietly shared with the
group his concern that he knows he is only a kid, not
an influential politician. So how could he make a
difference in the world? "Well - he said - I have lots of
friends. Most of the time we talk about inconsequential
things. I am going to talk to all of my friends about what
I have learned here. Maybe I can make a difference in
my small world. I know that I will no longer stand by if
I see something happen to someone that I think is not
just. I will speak up. The world is composed of many
small worlds. If we each make a difference in our own
small world, then maybe we can make a difference in
the world, after all."

The next day the Polish group returned to Warsaw. Both
groups of students and teachers continued with the
curriculum.
 
We came together again in October in Poland in the
town of Kazimierz at a lovely teacher conference centre.
It was heartwarming to see how happy we all were to be
together again. There was no need to spend time on
inter-active workshops. We were a cohesive group ready
to get "down to business." We talked about memory:
collective memory and personal memory. We had a
collective memory. Time and time again reference was
made to the days we spent together at Glamsta, the
campsite where we had first met in Sweden. We had
given everyone an assignment: to speak with a friend or
family member who remembered the war and to ask
that person what it was like for him or her during that
period.

We broke up into small groups and then brought back
some of the memories to the large group. One Swedish
girl told us that she asked her grandmother: "What was
it like for you during the War?" Her grandmother
replied: "I remember I did not like it. We could not have
parties."

Agnieszka, a Polish teacher, shared her grandfather's
story. He was a train engineer. He was commandeered
by the Nazis to bring a trainload of Jews to Auschwitz.
He knew what their fate was. He did not want to do it.
He felt he had no choice. On the way, he devised a plan.
He would detach the last two cars from the train.
Perhaps, in that way, some of the prisoners could escape.
Perhaps he could save their lives. And that is what he
did. He detached the last two cars. He soon found out
that German soldiers were in the last two cars. He saved
no lives. He returned home a broken man, and went
into a deep clinical depression from which he never
emerged until his death.

The next day we went to Krakow and from there to
Auschwitz. I began my remarks with the first sentence
of Charles Dickens' Tale of Two Cities: "It was the best of
times, it was the worst of times." The day that we spent
together at Auschwitz-Birkenau was one of the worst
days of my life. I will give brief snapshots of the events
of that day.

•   We walked through the arched gate Arbeit Macht
Frei. The barracks were laid out symmetrically one
lane after another. I recognised it all, not only from
photographs but from Primo Levi's descriptions.
We had all read his account Survival in Auschwitz
in preparation for this day. It was a rainy, gloomy,
chilly day. I felt cold. I remember thinking: how
dare I feel cold? I was wearing shoes and stockings,
long pants, a coat, a scarf. Primo Levi described
how he walked every day from his barracks to his
work assignment in his thin striped pajamas, no
stockings, shoes that did not fit. He was shivering
all the time. The wind was howling.

•   We came to Birkenau. I held fast to the trembling
hand of my dear friend Eva. Her family had been
sent from Hungary to Birkenau where they
perished.

•   We walked to the crematoria. A busload of
schoolchildren had come on a class trip. They were
taking photographs with their teachers in front of
the crematoria; posing with arms around each
other, smiling as if they were on a trip to a Luna
Park.

•   Our guide brought us to a spot and told us that
here is where the ashes were buried. Rabbi Jules
chanted the Prayer for the Dead for all who
perished, both Jews and non-Jews. He recited the
Mourner's Kaddish, the ancient words which
affirm God's presence in our lives. We responded
together with a hushed Amen.

•   Our guide bent down, picked up something from
the ground, held it out and said: "This is a human
bone. Do you want to take it as a souvenir?"

•   I looked down at my shoes. They were covered with
mud. I thought: I will never wash this mud away. I
will walk with it until it is no more.

When we returned to Krakow, we learned that a Jewish
cemetery had been desecrated that morning. Our kids
informed us they would be late to the next morning's
lecture. They could not stand idly by. They had to react
formally as a group. They stayed up half the night
writing a statement that they would read by candlelight
in the early morning hours at the site of the desecrated
tombstones in the Jewish cemetery of Krakow.

Later that day they came to us once again with a
request. They asked that we cancel the lecture scheduled
for that evening. They said they had a conversation that
had to be concluded... the conversation that they had
started that Friday afternoon six months ago in
Glamsta. They asked that we be present in case they
needed us; but they wanted to conduct the conversation
by themselves.
 
And so it was that night in Krakow. The group gathered
in the meeting room. They sat in a large circle on the
floor. We, the teachers, sat outside of the circle, ready to
help if called upon.

"Why do you hate us? Do you hate us? We weren't even
alive when your families were killed?", they repeated the
question that had been asked in Glamsta.

The conversation continued. How can the same things
be happening in the world again? Rwanda, Kosovo,
Bosnia, Serbia... "what should we be doing?, we're only
kids, but we can do something. We can talk about these
atrocities, write articles, collect money for the victims.
We cannot be bystanders. Too many people were silent
when innocent people were burned in the crematoria."
They talked and talked for almost an hour.

And then it happened. In a voice that was breaking with
emotion, a Polish girl looked across the quiet room and
said: "I am sorry for what happened in my country. I
want to apologise for things that happened before I was
born; for what was done and what was not done. Can
you accept my apology?" There was a long silence. Many
eyes glistening with tears. A Swedish Jewish boy
hispered: "Yes." And then it was over. Everyone was
hugging and kissing and crying.

I have described some highlights of our Youth Dialogue
experience. It is a model that we think can be replicated
in cities throughout the world.

We have come together in dialogue in this great city of
Stockholm in a country which has made a major
commitment to educate its youth about the Holocaust.
Many important concepts have been set out. Let them
not end up just on the printed pages of a Proceedings.
Only if we translate our words into actions can we make
a difference.

We all know in our hearts what those actions are.

This article first appeared in Bron, Michal Ed. (2001)
Jews and Christians in Dialogue 2 - Identity Tolerance and
Understanding, Almquist and Wiksell International,
Stockholm. ISBN 91-89315 -07-3 We are grateful to the
author, editor and publisher for permission to reproduce
it here.