Christmas Eve...Eleanor's Version

Christmas Eve in Prague

There has been a significant Jewish population in Prague since the 10th century (by the 1700s they accounted for a quarter of Prague's population), but this history is a long and complicated one. In the 13th century, Jews were required to relocate to a specific area in town-- a ghetto. Although they were permitted some degree of self-administration, they were certainly not left to live in peace; the most brutal massacre this population was subjected to occurred on Easter Sunday in 1389, when 1500 people were killed.

During the Renaissance and afterwards, the Jewish quarter rose in wealth and influence. I wish I knew more about the nuances of its relationship with the rest of Prague, but the more I try to learn the more conflicting accounts I run in to. A huge part of the complication is just the split among both parties (Gentile and Jew) regarding assimilation, rights, and responsibilities. All I can tell you is that for a variety of political and social reasons- I do remember reading about Czechoslovak Jews performing outstanding service in the army-- the Jews of Prague were emancipated by Emperor Joseph II in 1781 with the so-called "Toleration Edict".

In the later half of the 18th century through the beginning of the 20th, a number of movements took hold to resolve the question of how the Jewish community fit into greater Prague. These included Zionists, who prepared both spiritually and practically to return to the Holy Land (helped along by others who also wished for them to leave Prague), as well as those who sought to assimilate into the outside culture through modified school curricula and other efforts. And, of course, there were countless instances of antisemitism.

The Jewish Quarter has been largely built over since it was renamed "Josefov" after Joseph II in 1850, but we were still able to get an appreciation for this complex that once housed over 18,000 inhabitants and was the birthplace of Franz Kafka. 

Statue honoring Kafka

Our first stop was the Spanish Synagogue, which was built in 1868 in the Moorish style.

Unfortunately, I couldn't really get good pictures without flash, but it was stunning.

Every inch was covered with intricate detailing.

Although the organ is not a traditional Jewish instrument, in the 1800s a religious reform was pushing Jewish services to resemble more closely those of Christian ones-- in some aspects at least-- in an effort to ease cultural assimilation. In Prague, this meant adding German as a parallel language of the liturgy in introducing organ and choral music.

Note the bent organ pipes! This is a trick a lot of organ makers use when installing tall pipes in small spaces. Turns out, all that matter is the length of the pipe-- not whether it's straight or not (physics!!)

I was touched by this photo of the synagogue being used as storage during World War II. Prague's Jewish population was decimated by the Nazis, and much of its architecture and heritage did not survive.

Next we headed down the street to the Jewish Cemetery, where we first entered a memorial to all those who perished in the Holocaust. It was... rough. To begin with, there were chambers upon chambers filled floor to ceiling with the names and dates of the Prague Jews who perished over the course of the war.

This is all very tiny writing.

Zooming way in, you can see the family names in capital letters, with each member identified by his or her first name following. 

It went on and on....

It was shocking to see the sheer numbers-- it's one thing to hear the statistics and quite another to see each victim listed with birthdays and death dates, somehow so much more personal. It truly was terrible to walk through; I wanted to read each person's name, acknowledge each person's life however briefly, but there were far, far too many to make that possible.

The next exhibit was truly heartbreaking; the cemetery had managed to obtain a number of children's drawings from the Terezin concentration camp and had them on display. I'll be honest, I don't have photos because I was not emotionally capable of documenting it. As a quick reminder, Terezin was a camp that was used largely as a temporary holding station for Jews being transported further westward (mostly to their deaths), but it also held a large number of artists from all disciplines. Although the creation of art, music, and performances was originally a clandestine activity the prisoners used to keep their spirits up (and to provide the children with some distraction from the horrors of everyday life in the camp), towards the end of the war the Nazis encouraged it for propaganda purposes. Propaganda reels from the time show happy children drinking lemonade and milk, dancing, and performing-- but in reality, the prisoners at Terezin were not being kept in better condition than elsewhere.

However, as a result of this prolific cultural activity a large amount of artwork was preserved. The cemetery had several hundred children's drawings on display, which depicted a huge variety of topics. There were the princesses and dragons, fanciful representations of biblical stories, and drawings of "my family", as you would expect. But there were far more images of the transport car, "life back home", bunks in the ghetto, even Death. That in and of itself was hard to process-- how do you answer a 10-year-old's childish sketch of himself being snatched and dragged in by the darkness? Underneath each drawing were four heartbreaking statistics: name, date of birth, date of drawing, date of death. Nearly all of them had been killed within two years of their creating these sketches.

I have to admit, I was glad to reach the relative cheerfulness of the old graveyard outside, which was active between 1439 and 1787. During this time, nearly 200,000 people from the Jewish Quarter were buried on the small plot, sometimes twelve graves deep.

Several tombstones had been partially swallowed by growing trees.

In Jewish tradition, when you visit a grave you leave a pebble rather than flowers.

Before lunch, we made a quick stop to the Jewish Ceremonial Hall nearby. This early 20th-century building housed the Jewish Burial Society, which filled a number of charitable roles (which, to be honest, I don't fully understand), and is now a museum.

I love the turret!!

Plates for banquets held by the society.

A collection box-- for poor brides!

We spent the rest of the day in less structured pursuits, namely wandering around looking for places to eat and shopping for Christmas presents. I spent the time admiring the architecture some more-- I just can't get over how every building is unique and charming in its own way!

The old Jewish Town Hall.

While they looked for lunch, I looked at diamond windows:

I love the shingling pattern!

Here's the Church of St. Nicholas (where we went yesterday) from the outside!

We got to see the Orloj (astronomical clock) on the hour, just in time for the "Walk of the Apostles":

I was pleasantly surprised that all of the shops in the Christmas market closed up around 4:00 on Christmas Eve, despite the droves of tourists still willing to spend money.

The trdel is a traditional rolled pastry, which we clearly needed to sample.

Here they are being prepared!

Some had the trdel filled with ice cream (which was more like frozen whipped cream than what we're used to) and some had whipped cream and strawberries. The whipped cream was, quite literally, whipped cream-- none of that canned stuff!

Speaking of food, at dinner I followed my mother's philosophy that if something on the menu sounds totally bizarre you should order it-- there's got to be some reason it's still there! After a broth-based soup, I had beef cheek with a red wine sauce, served in pumpkin puree with dried apple and butter. Crazy, right? It was delicious!

Sorry, I forgot to Instagram my dish before taking a bite. Still thought it was worth sharing.

Everything was still very active and festive as we headed back to the apartment after dinner.