Sydney Jewish Museum

It was too nice a day to Morlock away inside, so as soon as the housework was done I boarded a bus for the city. After a long wander in the sunshine, I ended up at the Sydney Jewish Museum. It's kinda tucked away, but I'd looked up the location ages ago and been meaning to visit ever since. (At the time, I'd just read Oliver Sacks' wonderful, science-centric autobiography "Uncle Tungsten: Memoirs Of A Chemical Boyhood" and was curious to know more about Jewish culture.)

The strict security at the entrance (understandable given the current situation in the Middle East and tensions it's caused here) was in contrast to the friendliness of the staff inside. The fellow on the front desk was sincere in his welcome and, on my way out, seemed genuinely interested in my thoughts. The tour guide didn't mind escorting a lone visitor; rather than rattling off a spiel, he related things in terms of my (limited) knowledge. I don't generally like being guided but was endeared by the way he'd describe a holiday or custom then talk about how it's done in his family today.

The S/J/M feels like a temple inside, with split levels gradually spiralling upward to the roof. The ground floor tells the story of Jewish people in Australia from the 16 convicts who arrived on the First Fleet. The space above is devoted to the events surrounding the Holocaust (including the Nazi war trials and formation of modern-day Israel). These exhibits move from general information to personal memoirs until you reach the memorials.

It goes without saying the Holocaust material was extremely moving; I can't imagine how much more so it must be for a Jewish person whose family was involved. For me, it was surprising to learn of the huge number of concentration camps in countries other than Germany (with Denmark being a heroic exception in their refusal to hand over citizens to the Nazis). Some of the photographs - such as one of Lithuanian nationalists publicly beating Jews to death with iron bars simply for being Jews - made me ashamed to be human. Some shots I glimpsed from a distance and couldn't bear to look at up close.

For all the cordiality downstairs, the Sydney Jewish Museum had a deep sadness at its spiral heart - as I knew it would. I left feeling troubled, still wondering how six million could have been systematically slaughtered and if, had I been alive back then, I would've had the courage to do or say a thing.