Odeya Rosenband: Finding Home in the Czech Republic

Odeya Rosenband is a journalist. In the 

past school year of 2022/2023, she spent ten months assisting English language teachers at Gymnázium Čajkovského in Olomouc. With a BA from Cornell University in Government, English and Near Eastern Studies, Odeya quickly became a popular English conversation teacher, a creative music educator and a sought-after companion for any cultural event in the regional university hub of the city of Olomouc. With family heritage in Czech lands and intimate familiarity of Klezmer music, Odeya was excited about the opportunity to explore Jewish community in her host town. This  personal part of her Fulbright mission turned out to be one of the highlights of her grant: "I didn’t fall in love overnight... I would sit around the table with people whom I had nothing else in common other than this one thing… and that was more than enough. We didn’t need to be the same age, speak the same language or be born in the same country to feel so deeply and intimately understood because our values were the same... I didn’t only find a home but I also found a family." After she finished her Fulbright grant, Odeya wanted to experience more of a European lifestyle and worked on farms throughout Switzerland, Austria and Moravia. Now, back home in New York City, Odeya pursues a career in Jewish community life.   

I had never visited the Czech Republic before I moved in. Like any other place, there is a lot you can learn about it from afar, from its culture. You can picture Prague with the calculated strokes of Kafka and Kundera, you can feel the weight and honesty of Czech love through Dvořák and Janáček. But to really know a place, to really live there, is to be a part of a community.

In the American university system, there are a lot of shortcuts to finding community: through your dormitory, your major, the extracurriculars you join, the libraries you frequent, the list goes on. These shortcuts, largely, are a byproduct of a little bit of interest and a larger bit of luck. In college, for better and for worse, it can be easy to find yourself in a community where you don’t even have any deep commonalities with the other members. So when I moved to Olomouc in August 2022 and I didn’t know anyone or anything, all the shortcuts were gone. “Community” wasn’t waiting for me with open arms at every corner, demanded by every quarter card or flier. Hard to believe but living in the Czech Republic was the first time I had to actually rely on my true self — and not whatever constructs were being imposed upon me — to feel out the nooks and crannies of where I felt I best belonged.

Photo: Odeya with her students at Gymnázium Čajkovského, Spring 2023, Olomouc.

Beyond its incredible tradition, one of the main reasons I applied for a Fulbright to the Czech Republic was because I wanted to be a part of the country’s Jewish community. Not only because of the deep roots Jewish life has had in the region overall, but also because it is a history which is my own. I craved the opportunity to be myself in a place where my family historically couldn’t, to reimagine and to rebuild. When asked how I planned to “engage with the host community and share [my] own culture and values,” one of the very first questions on the Fulbright application, I explained how important it would be for me to feel connected to a center of local Jewish life. Understandably, however, this was a topic mentors of mine had warned me against writing about. In a country with not that many Jews even remaining, especially outside of the bigger cities where Fulbright ETAs are not placed, why would I limit myself?

Photo: Odeya's great-grandfather's immigration card. At the top it says "Issued in Prague" in Hebrew. 
 
But if there is one piece of advice I have for incoming applicants, it is to be as honest as possible — with your application and with yourself. Really think about what it takes for you to feel at home, reflect on how you will realistically connect with people who might not speak your language. The incredible efforts and lengths the Czech Republic’s Fulbright Commission went to in order to place me in a town with an active Jewish community validated, for me, the mission and success of the Fulbright Program as a whole.

Photo: Preparing Hanukkah foods in Olomouc, December 2022. 

 
I fell in love with my host city of Olomouc, a city with one of the Czech Republic’s largest remaining Jewish communities (there are a little over 100 members registered with Olomouc’s Jewish Kehilla). I didn’t fall in love overnight, but through holiday meals and prayer services, Shabbat dinners and Hanukkah activities, Holocaust memorials and anniversary commemorations. Every Friday night at the Jewish community center, I would sit around the table with people whom I had nothing else in common other than this one thing… and that was more than enough. We didn’t need to be the same age, speak the same language or be born in the same country to feel so deeply and intimately understood because our values were the same.

Most of the Czech Republic’s surviving synagogues are now museums — and throughout my grant, I made it a point to visit every single one of them. In significant part due to the Holocaust and later the communist regime, there is a heavy air of devastation and fear understandably surrounding the community. Many of the Jewish families I was lucky enough to feel a part of practice in secret. Towns where Jewish people once lived in the thousands now don’t have any Jewish residents remaining, and the fact is that Olomouc soon won’t either. The community is aging out and because of this, I found it even more vital and urgent to be a part of it, to hear their stories and learn from them.

Photo: Odeya visited her fellow grantee placed in Holešov, and of course she could not miss the local  synagogue, Spring 2023.  

My engagement with the Jewish community in the Czech Republic was the absolute greatest part of my Fulbright. I can’t capture in words how truly special it felt, how it made me never feel far from home and how it taught me what I need to feel fulfilled. Every moment around a holiday table felt like a glorious act of rebellion; each time I entered a synagogue I felt like the omnipotent leader of a revolution. As cheesy as it sounds, I didn’t only find a home but I also found a family. And expressly because of my experiences in the Czech Republic, I have chosen to pursue a career in Jewish community life back in New York now that my grant has concluded.

Photo: Rosh Hashanah holiday dinner in Prague, September 2022. 
 
Being a part of this minority community also, of course, came with the expected burdens of being a part of most any minority community. In my case, moments were extremely overwhelming and lonely due to instances of antisemitism I witnessed. I walked past numerous swastikas on my way to work everyday, some colleagues would tell me about the “greedy Jews” and how “Hitler wasn’t that bad.” One teacher even told my students not to crack any Nazi jokes in front of me… they could wait until I left the room. It would have been easy to go the other way and hide, but I found a lot of comfort in leaning on the new community I had found. When teachers asked me to teach about Easter, a holiday I knew nothing about, I snuck some Passover slides into my presentation. I was honest with people I met about the reasons why I wanted to be in the Czech Republic (at the intersection of their natural pride and innate skepticism, a question Czechs love to ask). Intensely, I found the Czech Republic an incredible place to be Jewish. 

Photo: Odeya with fellow grantees, ETAs Charlie, Julia and Cassandra, September 2022, Prague.  

I wanted to be an ETA in the Czech Republic because as a means for understanding people who are different from ourselves, the pursuit of language is the most striking antithesis to my ancestors’ experience. At heart, the Fulbright fellowship is all about community — being a part of a community you would otherwise never have the opportunity to be a part of. For some people this is a badminton team or swimming club, an orchestra or dance group. For me, it was the Jewish community. A community that has found home in the Czech Republic for hundreds of years, a community that has been through unimaginable devastation and a community that, despite ongoing discrimination, has persevered and knows how to celebrate the happy moments. I just got lucky to be a part of it.

Photo: Odeya with her Fulbright friends, Fall 2022, Brno.