So, we were the world, everyone else became a strange, alien medium. Jews, with whom I had no particular experience, belonged to this alien environment. Just some news about them arrived to me ... They have a big nose, they are deceptive and such… The more mystique they were, the more interested I was. This was one of the subjects what my mother discussed secretly with my father after saying: “nicht vor den Kindern” (not in front of the children). When we heard this German text, we started to pay attention more.

Those days, there was no net, just a phonebook. I opened it at the page of the Israeli community and found an interesting name: chevra kadisha. Since I had no idea what that word meant, I decided to solve the mystery and go to Kazinczy Street, where his headquarter was. I reached in a tight, wornout office where a long, white-bearded rabbi was sitting. And now, what should I say? Suddenly it came out of my mind that I wanted to learn Hebrew. Can you help me? The rabbi raised his eyebrow and asked me back (asking back is an ancient rabbi custom): meeeeeee? I'm a funeral contractor!
How should I teach you Hebrew? Otherwise even I don’t speak Hebrew! From this answer I learned what chevra kadisha means. The rabbi sent me to Síp Street, where I met the leader of the community that time, László Salgó, Chief Rabbi. I also told him the story of "learning Hebrew", but in a good rabbi way he also asked me back: why do you want to learn Hebrew? Because, I study church music, I said, and understanding the Jewish cantor songs requires language. László Salgó sent me to Emil Ádám, conductor of Choir of the Jewish University. When I met him, we found out that we had common acquaintances, including many temple organists and the language of music started to build a bridge between us. Emil Adam took me to the Choir and since then I have been singing here for about a year. At that time Sándor Scheiber was the director of the Jewish University. He was a man of great knowledge and I am thankful retrospectively for opening to me the internal world of that very important house of wisdom. Beyond singing in different communities and in the Goldmark Hall, I was able to read many books and a different world opened in front of me.
At that time, I had a long, red beard, no one thought that I don’t belong there. I remember even today the Vo Shomru and Kall Nidre songs. This one year washed away everything out of my brain about the big nose and the deceptiveness of Jews. Maybe they are like that, but I haven't seen these qualities anymore. Just as every community has a sort of quality that blurs when you live in that medium.
I received theological, thoughtful essences that taught me not to accept exclusively any information what comes from one side. Perhaps this was the greatest lesson of this year, together with many figures and historical events from their books. And one more thing: prejudice has disappeared from me. Because it was there previously! As is the case with everyone who grows up in an inclusioncommunity.
What has caused the end of my singing in the Choir of the Jewish University?
After singing, the young Choir members spent some time in a downtown café and deepened their friendships or potential love stories between each other. On such a cafe night, a pretty black girl sat next to me. She said her brother was a rabbi. I listened her with wide open pupils, but said nothing.
Then she continued: we also have a hairdressing shop. I moved my head commendably. I had no idea she was expecting a similar debut portfolio from me. She asked me impatiently: which community do you belong to! To the one in Máriaremete, I said foolishly. Are there Jews, she asked? No, there are no Jews, I replied and it turned out that I was not Jewish. For Sándor Scheiber and Emil Adam my identity was known, but not for choir members. I was ashamed of myself and left the Choir. But I took something with me what I use in my life till today.
Today, I myself am an inclusion community looking out of my head blankly. I understand what Jews, Christians and Muslim say, but really don’ understand: why the hell are they fighting for, when they say the same thing?