Valley of Thracians by Ellis Shuman Page A

“Unfortunately, some ten thousand Jews living
in Macedonia and other Bulgarian-administrated territories could not be
rescued, and they were transported to the death camps. But Bulgarian Jewry was
saved, and for this miracle and for the kindness of the Bulgarian people, we
are forever grateful.”
    “I didn’t know that,” Simon said, the
story distracting him from the reason he had come to the synagogue. “Are there
many Jews in Bulgaria today?”
    “We number about six thousand in total,
with some two thousand living in Sofia itself. I, myself, come from Israel and
am serving the Jewish community here at the synagogue. I assume you are
Jewish.”
    “Yes,” Simon replied, adjusting his
Chicago Cubs cap as he followed the rabbi past a wall of donor plaques into the
synagogue’s central hall. A guilty thought raced through his mind as he remembered
the grilled pork specialties he had enjoyed in Vratsa. “I have to admit, I
never knew that Bulgaria was so friendly to the Jews.”
    “Bulgaria as a whole is a very welcoming
country, mostly secular in nature,” the rabbi replied. “There is relatively little
anti-Semitism here.”
    The rabbi explained that the Central
Sofia Synagogue was the second-largest Sephardic synagogue in Europe, and Simon
recognized this term as referring to Jews with origins in Spain and Portugal.
The rabbi continued by saying that Friedrich Grunanger, an Austrian architect,
designed the building, and construction began in 1905.
    “Take a look at the brass chandelier,”
the rabbi said, pointing proudly upwards at the high ceiling of the main
sanctuary. “Manufactured in Vienna and weighing over 2,200 kilograms, it is the
largest chandelier in all of Bulgaria.”
    Simon was stunned at the synagogue’s
beauty. The rows of hard wooden benches were framed by alcoves marked by
colorful columns and archways, painted brightly in magnificent ornamental
designs. Above, Simon could see the partially hidden women’s section. And at
the front of the hall was the raised bimah ,
with its curtained aron kodesh safeguarding the holy Torah scrolls within.
    “During the bombing of Sofia in 1944,
our synagogue was hit several times,” the rabbi said. “The balcony was
partially destroyed, as were a number of these columns. Most of our Judaic
library was lost. Restoration work continued for many years, but I am proud to
report that this September we will celebrate the one hundredth anniversary of
the Central Sofia Synagogue. The president of Bulgaria and many other
high-ranking dignitaries will attend a special ceremony to mark this momentous
occasion. The synagogue is the symbol of Bulgarian Jewry and its secure footing
in this country.”
    “Thank you. You’ve been very
informative,” Simon said to the rabbi. “By the way, my name is Professor Simon
Matthews, from Chicago,” he said, wondering if this introduction would result
in a response connected to his missing grandson.
    “Nice to meet you,” the rabbi said,
shaking Simon’s hand again. “I invite you to attend our minyan on Erev Shabbat at eight o’clock. We don’t have enough daveners to fill the sanctuary, so we
use a study hall for our services. We could certainly use you in our minyan .”
    The rabbi turned to greet another
visitor. Apparently he wasn’t the one who had called the hotel with a hint of
information about Scott. Simon wandered around the sanctuary alone for a few
minutes and then went back outside to the gated courtyard.
    Who was supposed to meet him here? The
message had been quite specific about the time, but perhaps the hotel
receptionist had made a mistake when transcribing it? He was starting to worry
that he had missed the scheduled rendezvous.
    “Are you Professor Matthews?”
    “Yes,” he replied, turning to face the
security guard who had originally opened the gate for him at the courtyard
entrance.
    “This was left for you,” the guard said,
handing Simon a manila envelope.
    Simon’s hands shook as he