The rush of the air, the squeak of the brakes; I had safely landed. The hardest part of this journey is
over, I thought to myself. Little did I know that this journey – with all the highs and lows of a proper
adventure – had just begun. Six days later, what I am most struck by are the sounds.
The sound of:
pattering rain on the glass outside of an exhibition examining the history of German
Chatter in English, Hebrew, and German as we introduce ourselves to each other over lunch.
Laughter as parents told their children to “say Reichstag” as they snapped a photo in front of
Isolating silence inside the Memorial to the Murdered Jews of Europe.
Soft rushing wind through ivy and leaves in a Jewish Cemetery.
Aching silence of Sauschenhausen
Cacophony of voices during afternoon discussions – each exploring and questioning.
Many and one, chanting the Sh’ma.
Laughter of young and old over Shabbat dinner.
The past and present combine into a swirling new being. Like rivers joining, we are finding answers
each on our own and together here.