“Why is a Shabbat table
behind glass?” My daughter looks at me in shock, confused.
“How come Shabbat is a museum
exhibit?’ my son asks.
My kids are peering at a table
adorned with a white tablecloth and two silver candlesticks. Two plastic braided
challahs peek out from an embroidered cloth. We are visiting The Great Synagogue
in Florence, which is now a museum.
My children are confused as
their own living Jewish culture and traditions look like they have been neatly
stuck behind a piece of plexiglass for the world to peer in at.
As for me, I recently went
through this same queasy feeling when I visited what was left of Prague’s once vibrant 700-year-old Jewish world. Now extinct, there were a few synagogues, a
cemetery and a museum with similar exhibits.
So what happened to Jewish
Florence? The community in Florence dates way, way back, being formally established
in 1437. The Jewish story here is similar to that of other European Jewish
communities: expulsion, forced confinement in ghettos, persecution and
destruction.
An abbreviated history of
Jewish Florence starts in 1571, when, under the rule of Cosimo de’Medici, Jews
were forced to wear badges and to live in a Ghetto. This lasted until 1799 when Napoleon awarded
the Jews civil rights, however, in 1814, when the grand dukes returned to
power, Jews were forced back inside the
ghetto. It was only in 1861, when Florence became a part of the kingdom of
Italy, were Jews freed from the Ghetto.
After 400 years of living in
a Ghetto, being persecuted and banned from entering many professions, Jews
finally received equality in the constitution, becoming inspired to build a
beautiful, grand synagogue. They did not waste any time, and in 1868, a
Florentine Jew named David Levi bequeathed his possessions in order to build
the ‘Tempio
Maggiore Israelitico.’
This
impressive Moorish-style synagogue was built in travertine and pink palmetto
stone with a green copper dome that is distinct on the horizon of Florence’s church
domes, clock towers and spires. The synagogue’s interior is painted in
arabesques of red, blue and gold.
It is a
miracle that this synagogue stands after the Holocaust decimated Jewish life in
Florence. During the occupation, it was used as a garage by the Nazis and when
they retreated, they mined the building.
Most of the Florentine Jews
were murdered in the Holocaust, while some were saved by righteous Italian Catholic
families. By the end of the war, only
1600 Jews remained.
And today? There are an
estimated 1,400 Jews living in Florence. There is a Chabad here and a
progressive minyan. Given the tight
security around The Great Synagogue, most of the Jews must surely walk around
incognito.
In fact, the security around
this synagogue was tighter than anything I have ever seen, except for the World
Trade Centre Museum in New York City. We had visited some of the world’s most
beautiful treasures over the past few days of touring Florence and had seen
surprisingly little security.
Being from Israel, where you
cannot enter a grocery store or a post office without being checked out by the
watchful gaze of a security guard, we were actually feeling a little
vulnerable.
Going up the narrow winding
stairwell of the Duomo’s cupola, without our bags being checked by security,
made me a little fearful. The 460 steps were narrow and dark. There were so
many people going up, we were often stuck in the humid darkness of a narrow
stairwell. This was not an outing for those with claustrophobia.
We finally exited at the top
of this magnificent cathedral dome and circled the cupola within arm’s reach of
the paintings that adorn the roof. The milling masses of people below looked
like ants from this height. We marveled at the mastery of the floors, the ceilings
and the sheer will that created such an architectural feat.
We walked outside above the
skyline of Florence, treading atop the rooftop of this famous landmark.
Unbelievable that there was
no security here.
The Accademia, which houses
Michelangelo’s sculpture David had an x-ray machine for checking bags. The
Uffizi had no security at the entrance.
The Pitti Palace, with its rooms full of art treasures, had no security
at all.
Many, many churches, each an
incredible masterpiece of its own, were open to the public without anyone
scrutinizing the visitors or their bags. Maybe I have lived in Israel for too
long and am paranoid, but I do know that the world has changed and is a much
darker place. Europe is under threat, but no one in Florence could conceive of
this.
That is, until we went to The
Great Synagogue. An army jeep was parked
outside. The perimeter was fenced in by a thick chain. A high iron fence
surrounded the synagogue while a glass triangle jutted out from the wall with
bulletproof glass. Inside this outpost stood four armed Italian soldiers.
We walked in the kiosk of the
synagogue. A woman behind bulletproof glass asked us to place all of our items
in an x-ray machine and then place them in a locker.
“No phones, no cameras,” the
woman at the ticket booth warned.
Next, we had to step one by
one into a full body scanner, the kind they have at the airport, but rarely
use. We stepped in one by one and exited though a glass door into the quiet
garden of the synagogue.
From seeing no security
outside the world’s finest treasures to this heightened security outside a
100-year-old synagogue in a place where few Jews live seemed absurd.
Unfortunately, it is our new reality.
We toured the inside of the
shul where fellow travelers played Jewish geography and then visited the Jewish
‘museum’ upstairs.
“Why is there a havdalah
candle on the Shabbat table?” my daughter asked, pointing to the table in the
display case.
“You would never have Shabbat
candles and havdalah candles on a table together,” my sons comments. “It
doesn’t make sense.”
Yes, this world does not make
sense. Here again is a perfect example of how the world is slowly trying to
erase us from the world map (just like Air France did a few weeks ago), placing Jews into a secure box for all to see, so museum
visitors can press their noses against showcases and wonder what Jewish life
was really like.
What they fail to understand
is that we are still here, leading vibrant lives in many places across the
globe, especially in a country called Israel. This is where our tables are set with
the best china and silver each Friday night, laden with freshly made challahs
and where Shabbat is ushered in with song. It is only after Shabbat ends that the
havdalah candle comes out.
Tell that to the museum. Tell
that to the world. We are still here and we refuse to be put behind a glass
showcase.
