Sabbath in Sofia

I was walking alone through the darkening streets of downtown Sofia, homeward from a sidewalk supper with my colleagues. As I passed Alexander Nevsky Cathedral, I reflected once again on how beautiful Bulgarian culture was, but then began to brood on the fact that it once also included a large Bulgarian Jewish culture, which is now gone. Before the war, one fifth of Sofia's residents were Jews. They were not killed in the Holocaust, to Bulgaria's eternal credit. But almost all chose to emigrate, to the new state of Israel, after the war.

Just as I was feeling sad about this, about how great a cultural loss this was, I became aware of being surrounded on the sidewalk, otherwise almost deserted at this hour, by a small parade of rather elderly men and women. I looked up from my brooding, and noticed next in the gathering darkness that the men were all wearing yarmulkes.

Of course. It was Friday evening. The Sabbath had begun. As orthodox Jews, they could not drive or ride—they had to walk to the Central Synagogue, once the largest Sephardic synagogue in Europe, still standing a few blocks away, for the sundown service. Shabat Shalom.

Judaism, it seems, is still here in Sofia. And, while this trickle of old mn and women may be the last generation there, perhaps not.

The overall population of Bulgaria is declining, though its economic future seems rosy. Israel's future looks less and less secure. I think, if I were a young Israeli, I would think very carefully about the possibility of emigrating here, where there is no tradition of antisemitism.

Indeed, all across Europe, populations will soon be declining. They could use the Jews back. In what may after all be their God-given role, as a leaven among the nations, not just one more nation among all the others.