Poland’s Jewish Legacy and the Spirit of the Abraham Accords

When it comes to Jewish history and identity, Poland stands as one of the most significant and controversial countries impacting the Jewish people. Where there were once sites of atrocities and human intolerance, seeds of hope and faith have been planted, growing into ten communities across modern-day Poland. My last visit to Poland was about six years ago, and during that time, I have observed the ongoing transformation within this country. It is gradually embracing more Jews, alongside those who chose to stay even after World War II. This evolving mosaic of respect and mutual appreciation inspired me to connect with Rabbi Michael Schudrich, the Chief Rabbi of Poland, who has an extensive history of involvement in Jewish communities across Eastern Europe and Asia.

After serving around the world, Rabbi Schudrich returned to Poland in 2000 as the Rabbi of Warsaw and Lodz, and in December 2004, he was appointed Chief Rabbi of Poland. Beyond his primary rabbinical duties, Rabbi Schudrich has uniquely contributed by counseling Poles newly discovering their Jewish identity.

Following our enriching conversation, Rabbi Michael was inspired to visit me in the Gulf. We enjoyed great discussions on interfaith dialogue, culture, the Abraham Accords, and the vast beauty the region offers to the world. It’s all about learning from each other.

Looking back on your first assignment as rabbi of the Japanese Jewish community, how has your perception of ‘respect for diversity’ transformed?

Japan taught me to think outside the box. The Jewish community in Japan was established after World War II, although its roots trace back to Russian Jews fleeing the Revolution of 1917-1918. Interestingly, these individuals fled to the East, not the West, ending up in China and reaching Shanghai. In 1947, when Shanghai was occupied or liberated (depending on one’s political viewpoint) by Mao Zedong, some Jews fled to Hong Kong, others to Palestine or the United States, and some to Japan. The establishment of the Jewish community in Japan was somewhat unusual, as the founders were families who already knew each other. Additionally, this community of several dozen families was bolstered by the presence of the U.S. Army. More precisely, several Jewish soldiers from Brooklyn, New York, were stationed in Japan. These young men found a home away from home in the Jewish Community of Japan, the first synagogue in Tokyo, which is still active today. Despite its unconventional beginnings, this community has stood the test of time and continues to thrive.

I began my service in the Jewish community in Japan in the 1980s. Upon my arrival, I found an expatriate community composed of diverse individuals. People from various backgrounds joined the Jewish community in Japan, mainly sent to Tokyo for business on short or long-term assignments. I encountered more than 150 families from about 13 different nationalities who comprised the Jewish community in the 1980s. The community was a blend of Orthodox, Conservative, Reform, unaffiliated, secular, Sephardic, and Ashkenazi individuals. This diversity taught me to find common ground and gave me a new perspective on the concept of “respect for diversity.”

Now, as a rabbi with over 40 years of service and international experience, you contributed greatly to the Muslim and Jewish Leadership Council (MJLC) in Europe. In your opinion, what are the foundations for promoting interfaith dialogue not only between institutions but most importantly between people?

The goal is to demonstrate to religious communities in Europe that Muslims and Jews have historically and theologically coexisted peacefully for centuries. Although there were tensions in the late 19th and mid-20th centuries, there is no reason why we cannot live together in harmony. Agreement on every matter is not necessary; just as rabbis and imams frequently hold differing views, the essential common ground is our zero tolerance for any form of hatred against any faith. This unites rabbis, imams, and priests alike. Whenever something adverse and inhumane occurs, we make a joint statement, though this has become increasingly challenging since the events of October 7th.

I’d like to share a story to illustrate the genuine challenges faced by imams and rabbis in Europe. Please approach this narrative with care, whether discussing it within this dialogue or outside. While collaborating on a significant and influential statement, an imam expressed his inability to participate. His background, coupled with a complex and impressive history, influenced his responsibilities both as an imam and a father. I understand his fears and hesitations; thus, his exclusion from the statement was respected and not questioned. We all experience doubt and take risks in our decisions, especially when making public declarations as rabbis or imams. Through this story, I wish to honor the courageous Muslim imams who collaborate with rabbis and priests in interfaith dialogues, even during the most challenging times in human history. They bravely face more significant risks than many of us.

This narrative highlights the distinct challenges and risks we face, yet imams and rabbis persist in working together for the common good. They facilitate interfaith dialogue not just between synagogues and mosques, but, more importantly, between people.

To conclude this theme of interfaith dialogue and mutual understanding, could you please share your thoughts on the Abraham Accord and its added value.

Bringing people together is always a great idea. Who could oppose peace? While there are certainly political reasons behind conflicts, anything that reduces tension, hatred, and violence is a positive initiative.

The Abraham Accords, like any pioneering effort, come with their own challenges. It’s fair to acknowledge these obstacles. Firstly, Israel is a strong democracy, albeit with its own set of problems, especially in recent years. However, it remains a democracy. In contrast, some Middle Eastern countries involved in the Abraham Accords or peace treaties with Israel are not democratic, often governed by monarchies. If peace were to be made only with democratic nations, it would be an impossible task. Therefore, the goal should be to make peace with neighboring countries, regardless of their political systems.

Currently, the Abraham Accords represent a hope and aspiration for the future. They aim to foster people-to-people connections that transcend politics and governmental boundaries.

Important positions come with great responsibility. Now, as the Chief Rabbi of Poland, what do you consider your primary responsibilities?

As we’ve discussed, I wish to understand more about what it’s not (laughs). First and foremost, I am a rabbi – the rabbi of the synagogue – responsible for the spiritual and social life of the community, much like any other rabbi. In my role as the Chief Rabbi, I extend my duties to Jewish communities throughout Poland. There are ten active communities here; some are small, but nevertheless, they are vibrant. My responsibility is to be present with these communities year-round, especially during holidays like Passover, to help organize events and logistics, and to enrich them spiritually.

A distinctive aspect of being a rabbi in Poland is the continuous rediscovery of Jewish history. Before the war, about 3.5 million Jews lived in Poland. Five years post-war, 90% had been killed by the Nazis, leaving only about 350,000 survivors. Where are they now? The majority left Poland over the 25 years following World War II. Declaring “I am a Jew” meant leaving post-Holocaust Soviet-occupied Communist Poland – a concept encapsulated in “Stay Jewish, leave Communist Poland.” Most left, though not all. Those who remained had to conceal their identity to the extent of not telling their children about their Jewish roots. This deep, dark secret persisted from 1939, the onset of World War II, until 1989, with communism’s collapse, when tens of thousands of Poles learned from their families that they were, in fact, Jews. This is the tale of Polish Jews, a narrative entwined with the discovery and blessing of democracy. As Chief Rabbi, I see one of my primary responsibilities as exploring this history for myself and the community. In this regard, I want to object the idea that “Being a Jew is hard”, I would say that it is even harder to stop being a Jew.

The Institute for Jewish Policy Research estimates that the number of Polish Jews is around 10,000. What will be your remarks?

Counting Jews presents unique challenges, and determining their precise number globally, or even within Poland, is difficult. Moreover, the Torah advises, “When you take the census of the people of Israel, each shall give a ransom for his life to the Lord when you number them, to prevent any plague among them.” Traditionally, a half-shekel offering was used to calculate the temple’s populace, but this method doesn’t account for the global Jewish population.

Population censuses have been conducted over the years, yet Jews are often not specifically tallied, reflecting the difficulty in counting them accurately. For instance, in Poland, Jewishness can be indicated as an ethnicity in the census. Thirteen years ago, 7,000 individuals identified as Jewish, while a year ago, that number grew to about 17,000. Despite no significant migration in that period, it indicates that these 10,000 individuals were in Poland all along but only recently felt comfortable identifying as Jewish publicly. This topic could be discussed at length to demonstrate how these numbers are often imprecise and don’t truly reflect reality.

The Nożyk Synagogue is the only surviving pre-war Jewish house of worship in Warsaw. Here, I would like you to reflect on how the ‘survival’ of synagogues strengthens the congregation’s faith. Is it about the walls or the chronicles that these walls carry?

Preserving, protecting, and respecting history while addressing the needs of the current Jewish community is a unique challenge. The Nożyk Synagogue serves as the middle ground that enables us to maintain traditions and customs, as taught by the oldest Jewish community members who chose to remain in Poland and preserve the synagogue even after the war. It is now our responsibility to honor these traditions and safeguard the community.

What is your perspective of modern Jewish education and its vital components?

I would say that Jewish education consists of three important aspects. First, there are Jewish children. Second, there are Jewish adults who often grew up knowing nothing about Judaism. Third, there are non-Jews. These are three distinct groups.

For Jewish children, we have the Lauder-Morasha School, which provides preschool, primary, and secondary education for both Jewish and non-Jewish children. An important component of the curriculum is teaching Jewish traditions and history. For adult Jews, we offer several classes a week where they are introduced to Judaism and certain sections of the Torah. Regarding non-Jews, I acknowledge that educating them is important, but it is not my top priority. Although, immediately after the fall of Communism, a comprehensive program on the Holocaust was developed and taught in some schools, I believe this program should not be limited merely to the Holocaust but should also cover what the Holocaust destroyed – Jewish culture. It obliterated Jews and Jewish life. It is vital to educate people about Jewish culture so they can gain a fresh perspective. To achieve this, more in-depth teacher training is required. The more teachers know, the better and more profoundly they can teach Jewish history, culture, and tradition to both Jews and non-Jews.