BERLIN — For Jewish partygoers in Berlin, Purim is more than an opportunity to express their faith.
The Purim celebration at Karneval de Purim at Renate, a club in Berlin’s Friedrichshain neighborhood, offered Israeli Mai Yaary a chance to freely celebrate for the first time since Oct. 7, 2023.
“I haven’t celebrated Purim for three years, and the first time I’m celebrating is here,” said Yaary. “I’m excited because it’s like celebrating my Jewish culture, and there are a lot of people here who are Jewish, it makes me feel very empowered.”
Mai and her sister Romi Yaary recently moved to Berlin from Israel because of their growing discontent with the Israeli government, Romi said. For the former Israeli Defense Force soldiers, who both said they lost friends during the Oct. 7 attacks, Purim in Berlin was their first true holiday celebration in three years.
But, feet away from the overwhelming excitement and giddiness in the line — stretching three city blocks — the street told a different story. A horde of police officers and cop cars, a reminder of the continuous threats faced by the Jewish community, watched idly as partygoers funneled into Renate. For the Yaarys, this guarantee of safety motivated them to attend the festivities.
Though safety for Jews in Germany has been a priority for decades, security significantly ramped up after a 2019 shooting at a synagogue in Halle, a city roughly two hours away from Berlin. Nils Lange, press officer for the Central Council of Jews in Germany, said security for the Jewish community reached the highest level possible after this tragedy.
“After Oct. 7, there was hardly no room to upgrade [security],” Lange said. “We talked on Oct. 8 with the Ministry of Interior and they said, ‘We will be cautious, but it is the highest level already.’”
Renate employed typical club security, in addition to the police presence outside the club, as well as additional line and inside-the-club security.
The club’s website states that these individuals were there to make sure no large bags made it inside the event and that “no antisemitic provocation would occur.”
Romi Yaary said she heard from other Jewish friends that undercover police would also be inside Renate.
“We’re safe,” said Romi Yaary, who, like her sister, dressed as the devil. “Finally, we can talk in Hebrew — it’s OK.”
Mai Yaary added, “It’s nice that there’s a place that is safe. It’s like home.”
Devoting enormous resources to Holocaust education, Germany teaches its children about the atrocities of World War II and antisemitism. It’s also a staunch supporter of Israel and one of the nation’s most loyal allies. But despite Germany’s efforts to account for its Nazi history, German Jews still report feeling unsafe, specifically after Oct. 7, said Lange.
According to Germany’s Federal Association of Departments for Research and Information on Antisemitism (RIAS), antisemitic incidents rapidly increased following Oct. 7. In 2022, RIAS reported an average of seven incidents per day.
Since Oct. 7, 2023, that number has increased to 32.
The definition of antisemitism varies for Jewish people in Germany as it does worldwide. Some say it encompasses anti-Israel demonstrations or wearing keffiyehs, while others do not. Since the beginning of the conflict, many Jews globally fear harassment, violence and other antisemitic acts.
Despite those fears and anxieties, Jewish life continues.
“We do not celebrate holidays because of antisemitism,” said Jeremy Borovitz, chief programming officer for Hillel Deutschland, which hosted its own Purim celebration on March 13. “We have faced many tragedies over the generations, and consistently, our response has been not only to mourn, but also to increase joy. Purim is the story of a near tragedy which almost befell our people. Our response is to throw a party.”
Borovitz added that in the 18 months since Oct. 7, he’s witnessed increased participation in Jewish events in Germany, including Purim.
At Purim celebrations across Berlin, some Jews wear costumes à propos for the holiday — Queen Esther, who saved her people, or Haman, who plotted to kill the Jews. Others dress up as they would for Halloween. By walking around the city in costumes, Jews are openly displaying their religion for all to see.
Another club attendee, Nelly Eliasberg, is a Jewish activist, speaker and self-proclaimed “Ruhestörer,” or “disturber of the peace.” Eliasberg attended with a non-Jewish friend, dressed as the sun and moon. Together, they held stickers stating “F**k Hamas.”
The duo decided to attend the Purim celebration at Renate because they were looking for a “safe space to enjoy Jewish life.” Outside of synagogues, Eliasberg said she doesn’t feel that there are secure places to express Jewishness in Germany. Karneval de Purim offered them an opportunity to do so without any fear for their safety.
As a vocal pro-Israel activist, often providing German newspapers with quotes from a Jewish perspective, Eliasberg also believes that it is important for Jews to publicly defend and celebrate their identity.
“I believe that each and every one of us — in a time like this — has an obligation to actively stand for ourselves, to defend our identity, our community, our right to be in this world,” Eliasberg said. “Especially as a community in Germany, it’s important for all of us to actively celebrate our identity,”
Other partygoers, however, were there for different reasons. Marc Sitbon and his friends, Jewish travelers from France, aren’t too connected to their Jewish identity but used Purim as an excuse to socialize with Jewish people from around the world.
“I’m not involved a lot in the Jewish community, but the fact that I’m abroad allowed me to get to know more Jewish people,” Sitbon said. “It’s really helpful to know Jewish people and to know that wherever you are in the world, you can have a Jewish community.”
However, it’s not just about integrating into the Jewish community.
For the Yaarys, after the last year and a half of Israel’s war in Gaza and public resistance towards Israel’s government, Purim in Berlin became a day — and a weekend — of refuge in their new home.
“If you’re talking about Israel and Tel Aviv, I really hate Purim,” Mai Yaary said. “But here I feel like I really have to enjoy it — in a good way.”