Just back from a trip to Europe, with its charming cobblestone alleys and enduring traces of anti-Semitism.
Jewish life is enshrined in museums as a tourist attraction, and when I peer at the kiddush cups and Torah pointers I wonder if the other tourists realize that objects like these are still in use and the rituals explained in museum placards are still practiced today. Hey, look at me! I’m one of the Jews whose culture you’ve paid to see!
In Prague, I went to the famous Altneuschul (gosh, I even got the Levi aliyah!), saw Rabbi Sidon’s recently published chumash with Czech translation, and visited the rest of the well-preserved Jewish sites. Prague started a Jewish museum in the early 1900s, and perhaps that’s why Hitler left the Jewish quarter intact, as a theme park to commemorate “a vanished race.” The Jews haven’t vanished, but you can’t tour the Jewish quarter without thinking of Hitler’s heinous legacy. Can I celebrate the survival of Prague’s Jewish Quarter–must I thank the Nazis for this relief while I mourn the millions of people and thousands of communities they murdered?
In Nuremberg and Regensburg, I wanted to see the Judensau sculptures on the cathedrals. They’re on the outside, a couple of dozen feet off the ground, not at all easy to see. Should these offensive sculptures should be retained and acknowledged as a moral failing in medieval art, like the Prioress’s Tale in Chaucer’s Canterbury Tales? Nuremberg Cathedral staff found a brochure for me all about the anti-Jewish artwork in the cathedral, and in Regensburg a plaque explained that the Judensau sculpture faced the ghetto. Some online commentators complain that these explanations are “only” in German; to me this seems an arrogant complaint, as if English is the only language that counts, and it means a great deal to me that explanations are aimed at the locals who feel that the cathedral–with all its imperfections–is theirs.
On the Charles Bridge in Prague is a crucifix with Hebrew words around it. A plaque in Czech, English and Hebrew explains the anti-Semitic history behind the sculpture. Apparently, a 16th-century Jewish resident was accused of showing disrespect to the cross, so the locals forced him to pay for decorating it with large gold Hebrew letters saying “Holy, holy, holy, etc.” Some Jewish commentators are indignant that sacred Hebrew words could decorate a cross, and I could imagine Christian commentators indignant that the words are in Hebrew instead of Latin. Perhaps it’s a good lesson that all religions should share the sacred, and let it guide them to do good.
(While I remember Jewish suffering, I also remember think of the suffering of other religious communities, such as the Waldensians. Whenever one feels victimized, the Wikipedia article on the Waldensians is healthy reading.)
So that’s Europe: Judaism breathes again where once it was most threatened; Jewish history and tradition are tourist attractions; traces of anti-Semitism are still to be seen but publicly deplored. The cobblestone alleys are charming, the coffee and cream cakes delicious, but there’s a bitter aftertaste for the Jewish traveler.
Sharing Jewish Tradition 
Fascinating journey, one day I hope to do a similar one.
My parents visited Prague several times in the late 70’s & 80’s. It was still the communist era, before many western tourists let alone jews visited. They went as dad was importing fabrics from Checklosvakia into Australia. They planned their trips, so if they spent shabbat in the country, they’d be in Prague, and would go to the Altneuschul. I wish I could remember their comments. At the time, mainly elderly people and I can’t recall if they were able to go anywhere for shabbat meals. Somewhere in the many boxes of unsorted photos we will no doubt have some from these visits.
I don’t know about “traces of anti semitism”. It may be publicly deplored, but anti-Semitism is still strong in Europe.