In Germany, cooperation and competition
TOBY AXELROD
Jewish Telegraphic Agency
Chabad is becoming the most identifiable expression of Judaism in Berlin - and throughout Germany - partly due to the city's Chabad representative, Rabbi Yehuda Teichtal.
While the long-established German Jewish communities remain somewhat insular and publicity shy, Teichtal, who arrived here in 1996, pounds the pavement looking for new recruits and donors, and actively seeks the endorsement of public officials.
His style differs from that of Germany's first Chabad shaliach, or emissary, Rabbi Israel Diskin, who arrived in Munich 17 years ago.
Whereas Teichtal has opened several new institutions in Berlin, Diskin and his wife, Chana, work within the existing Jewish community.
The differences between the two are seen throughout Europe: While some Chabad rabbis compete with, and in some cases, try to supplant, existing communal structures, others choose to cooperate with them.
In the 15 years since the fall of the Berlin Wall, Germany's official Jewish population has nearly quadrupled to a postwar high of over 100,000, due to the mass immigration of ex-Soviet Jews.
But only a portion officially register with the Jewish community, which has implications for state funding, an important source of revenue for local communities.
Munich's Jewish community today has about 9,000 official members, while Berlin has more than 12,000.
Across Germany, there are only about 20 rabbis affiliated with the Central Council of Jews in Germany, the community's umbrella organization, available to serve more than 80 Jewish communities.
At the same time, there are 13 Chabad couples serving as emissaries in Germany, and new couples are settling in Nuremberg and Hanover. Despite the recent tightening of Germany's immigration law, which is expected to stem the tide of Jewish arrivals from the former Soviet Union, Chabad continues to expand.
Germany represents the biggest area for expansion in Europe, says Rabbi Moshe Kotlarsky, the New York-based development director for Chabad's international emissary network.
Some observers view Chabad's expansion in Germany as part of a larger political agenda. They criticize what they consider the group's pandering to the powers-that-be. Some say Chabad has an unfair advantage with its wealthy donors, while Germany's established communities are largely dependent on limited funds from the state religion tax.
Chabad and its supporters see the movement's growth as a sign that their product is wanted.
The contrast in relations between the established community and Chabad in Munich and relations in Berlin is stark.
Diskin, 40, and his wife Chana, 37, were sent to Munich as newlyweds in 1988. The Diskins are well integrated into the life of the Jewish community. They minister to the ill and help children prepare for bar or bat mitzvah. Both receive salaries from the Jewish community, and raise funds locally to pay for their own programs.
Although each Chabad rabbi maintains operational independence, as the country's senior Chabad rabbi, Diskin counsels his colleagues on questions of general import.
In the capital city of Berlin, Teichtal, 33, and his wife, Leah, are also busy ministering to Jews. They run a busy kindergarten and day-care center, both housed in a mansion reportedly used 60 years ago as a retreat for SS storm troopers.
Some call Teichtal's style chutzpadik: Recently he pulled strings in the office of German President Horst Koehler, and flew in the presidential jet to Krakow, Poland, for ceremonies marking the 60th anniversary of the liberation of Auschwitz.
Political connections are important, Teichtal says, to accomplish certain goals. Many Germans think Jewish life should be limited to memorials, he says, but "remembering the past can't be everything. You have to invest in the future and we have to show" the public that once again, "Jewish children are learning every day in Berlin."
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