An Unbreakable Bond

Book summary

In An Unbreakable Bond, survivors in Transylvania’s Jewish community, haunted by Nazi and Communist repression, struggle with isolation and scarcity. A transformative visit from two Scots in 1999 ignites hope, leading to a lifelong commitment of care. Sharon Mail shares how friendship and compassion uplifted lives, creating lasting change for a resilient community.

Excerpt from An Unbreakable Bond

Chapter 1: Târgu Mureș and Its Jews

Târgu Mureș – or Marosvásárhely in Hungarian – is the seat of government of Mureș County in Northern Transylvania, Romania. It has seen many changes of ruling countries, including Hungary, Austria and Turkey. It became part of Romania after the First World War. In 1940, it was ceded back to Hungary and in March 1945, it came under Romanian control again and has remained so since. Between 1947 and 1989, it was under Communist rule.

The first Jewish families settled along the banks of the River Mureș during the 17th century. By the following century, Târgu Mureș had the second-largest Jewish community in Transylvania, after the one in Alba Iulia. The first communities were established in Nazna and Sâncraiu de Mureș.

The admittance of Jews into Târgu Mureș was based on the 1850 laws. Before then, Transylvanian Jews lived in surrounding villages. They didn’t have the right to enter towns or stay in them overnight. If a Jew came to Târgu Mureș to attend to any business, they had to leave before sundown.

Gradually, the Jews appeared in the city, and in 1829 there were two Jews, József Vojtitz and Izsák Schwartz, officially registered living there. Although the city council still prohibited the settlement of Jews in the city, a census from 1850 showed that out of the 8,719 people who lived at the time in Târgu Mureș, 249 were Jews.

The first person to receive citizenship rights for Târgu Mureș was József Moricz who, in a request to the magistrates, said that he had been living there for 30 years and had settled as a citizen, paying all levies and duties. The first rabbi of Târgu Mureș, Rabbi Moses Furst, settled in the city around 1850 and served until 1870.

A revolution from 1848-1849 brought a favourable improvement in the lives of the Jews who, for the first time, assumed a collective role in the local society. In 1867, Hungary signed a political partnership with Austria, which included recognising the Jewish religion as equal to the other religions. These new civil rights led to the division of the community into two religious movements: Orthodox and status quo ante (more liberal-oriented). The separation included two different synagogues, each of them with its own rabbi. This situation continued until 1944. As more civil rights were obtained, voluntary assimilation grew. The Jewish population chose either Hungarian or German as the everyday language used.

The first synagogue was built in 1862 and the first Jewish public school in 1880. On 2 February, 1889, the building of the Great Synagogue, which serves the community today, began. It was designed by the Austrian Jewish architect, Jakob Gartner. The location selected for it was on Școlii (School) Street. It opened in 1900. Thanks to funds received from the Federation of Jewish Communities in Romania (FedRom), the building was restored in 2000.

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In 1850, the Jews lived mainly in the areas assigned to them, which at the time were undeveloped plots of land at the end of Sâncraiu Street and in neighbouring streets. Most of the Jewish businesses – mills, factories, shops and pubs - were in this area. After the first synagogue was built, two or three others were established in the following years. After 1944, the only one that remained operational was the Great Synagogue.

The community developed swiftly and spectacularly after 1850. As a result, the people who had come there became richer and began to build large, imposing homes, establishments, and whole industries.

An example of that was Albert Burger, a simple merchant who came from Alba County (adjoining Mureș County) and was the first brewer in Târgu Mureș but also involved in many other facets of life in the city. There were other families such as the Mestitz family, who were great furniture manufacturers; doctors, physicians and municipal councillors, and even deputy mayors of Târgu Mureș.

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As the Jews quickly assimilated, they left behind their Yiddish language and adopted Hungarian and German. Jewish merchants were very successful in Târgu Mureș and Transylvania. They adopted the language of their customers and answered questions in their own language. It was perfectly normal for them to greet people in Hungarian, German, or Romanian, and that was one of the factors in their success.

In 1918, when Târgu Mureș became part of Romania, the Jews had to face a new challenge – one they had never encountered before. Until then, they were a religious minority in a state. In the new Romanian state, Jews were considered a nationality rather than a religion. Being Hungarian speakers, they became a double minority.

In 1940, Jews had further obstacles and fears to face when Târgu Mureș passed back into Hungarian hands. By the end of 1938, into 1939, Romanian racial laws had prevented them from having Romanian citizenship, and marriages between Jews and non-Jews were forbidden. When Hungarian regent Miklós Horthy’s troops arrived in 1940, the Jewish laws in force in Hungary came into effect in Transylvania and the anti-Jewish laws eventually led to the Jews being deported. On 2 May, 1944, the gendarmes, army and police entered each home in the city asking if any Jews lived there. The honest, law-abiding citizens said ‘yes’ and were taken to the ghetto and then Auschwitz.

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Although Hungary and Romania are neighbours, their treatment and the conditions of the Jews in the two countries varied considerably. Jews of Hungary were assimilated, whereas Jews of Romania varied greatly in the extent of their assimilation. Although antisemitism increased in both Hungary and Romania between the wars, the Jews of Transylvania remained loyal to Hungary even after the territory was ceded to Romania. Following the German invasion of the Soviet Union in June 1941, Romania saw pogroms and the deportation of the Jews of Bucovina and Bessarabia to Transnistria.

The Romanians, however, refused the demands of the Germans to turn over their Jews to Germany for deportation to the killing centres in the East.

Synagogues were desecrated and religious Jews were regularly attacked. Following the German occupation of Hungary on 19 March 1944, incidents against Jews and Romanians became daily occurrences.

The Jewish population of Târgu Mureș in 1930 was 5,193, 15% of the total population. In 1939, anti-Jewish laws were brought in and Jews were stripped of their Hungarian citizenship. In 1940, severe restrictions were placed on Jews in trade, industry, professions, and the arts, and a quota was established for students.

Between 1941 and 1944, 1,200 Jewish males were forced into labour battalions. More than half of them perished in Hungary, Ukraine, and Poland. On 21 March, 1944, the Germans occupied Târgu Mureș. Jews were made to wear the Yellow Star, Jewish businesses were quickly closed down, and all communal activities were banned. Jews were attacked and spat at in the streets.

On 3 May, 1944, 8,638 Jews from Târgu Mureș and the surrounding area were put into three ghettos, the main one being in a brick factory in the city. From 29 May, 6,953 Jews were deported from the Târgu Mureș ghetto to Auschwitz, and only 1,200 survived.

The majority of the men who had been forced into labour battalions and survived ended up being taken prisoner by the Russians and sent to work in the coal or salt mines. This delayed their return after the war until 1948.

After the war, Transylvania once again came under Romanian rule and became a Communist state in 1947. For the Jews who lived there, life was much harder for most than it was before the 1940s. They lost their properties, and many were moved into Soviet-style tower blocks.

One member of the community, Toma Szántó, born in 1938, was hidden amongst the Roma people and avoided deportation. He recalled:

“I had a wealthy uncle who had a huge home in Târgu Mureș - we should have inherited it, but it was confiscated.

During my national service, I ended up in the army football team in Cluj. I rose up through the ranks to become a colonel. Afterwards, I played for the Sibiu football team and in 1956, the goalkeeper and I from Târgu Mureș were chosen for the Romanian top division. However, I wrote on one of the forms that I was Jewish and it never happened. Because I was a Jew, I was demoted to the ‘C’ division instead.”

Members of the community were scared to reveal that they were Jewish. However, unlike in other Soviet satellite states, there was a comparative degree of leniency towards them. In 1948, Moses Rosen became Chief Rabbi of Romania, and he led the community throughout the Communist era, not only on the spiritual front but also as lay leader of Romanian Jews from 1964.

Chief Rabbi Rosen managed to develop a mutually beneficial relationship with the Romanian dictator Nicolae Ceaușescu, who came to power in 1965. He was able to secure the rights of Romanian Jews to emigrate and negotiated the exit of almost 400,000 of them to new lives in Israel and elsewhere. He was also able to reach agreement for synagogues to function and for the Jewish aid organisation the American Jewish Joint Distribution Committee (JOINT) to operate in Romania (though they did little for the remaining community in Târgu Mureș).

A London man, Viv Kelly, visited Târgu Mureș in February, 1967. He was there with a colleague to sell a computer to the local power station. They were booked to return to London on a Friday but as could happen when Soviet bloc officials wanted a better deal, they said there was a mix-up with their flight so they could carry on negotiations. On Saturday, Mr Kelly skipped the meeting and looked for a synagogue.

“Someone directed me to a derelict, crumbling building, stripped of identification but with clues that once it was an imposing synagogue. Climbing over the rickety fence, and trudging through knee-high snow, I stood on rubble to peer through a broken window. It was a sad sight. Wrecked pews covered in thick dirt and litter. Birds flying around inside. Animal droppings everywhere.

Footsteps in the snow led to a hut with a smoking chimney. Inside the ramshackle hut with an open stove, six old Jews in yellowed, patched prayer shawls, huddled round a makeshift desk, reciting the service for Shabbat Rosh Chodesh (New Moon) as if they had a full minyan [quorum of Jewish men aged 13 and over required to conduct an orthodox prayer service], nervously pretending not to notice the business-suited, 30-something stranger.

Nobody looked as I came in, but it was obvious my presence was disturbing. Hoping to reassure, I davened [prayed] audibly and inspected the luach [religious calendar] pinned to the wall. The service ended. They left quickly, still ignoring me.

Minutes later, walking back to the town centre, Mr Kelly overtook an old man he had seen in the hut. Slowing down to his pace, he greeted him in broken Yiddish. He responded briefly and warily at first, but later at greater length. They walked side by side for about half an hour, pretending not to be with one another. The old man showed Mr Kelly the other, long desecrated and ruined shuls.