Zsinagóga / Zsidónegyed
Great Synagogue (Nagy Zsinagóga)
Hungarian Jewish Museum (Magyar Zsidó Múzeum)
Tree of Life and Memorial Garden
Hungarian Jewish Archives (Magyar Zsidó Levéltár)
With an elegant history cut brutally short by the Holocaust, Pest’s Jewish Quarter is gradually restoring its once-grand sights and embracing its long-dormant heritage. Today’s Jewish Quarter is a ramshackle neighborhood—still quite run-down despite its city-center location—that contains several synagogues, Jewish-themed restaurants, and other remnants of a once-thriving Jewish community. And in the last few years, this neighborhood has emerged as Budapest’s most lively nightlife zone. Each year, there seem to be more and more distinctive “ruin pubs” (convivial, youthful bars with ramshackle furniture that sprawls through should-be-condemned buildings and courtyards), art galleries, fashion boutiques, and all the trappings of hipster culture. This means that two very different cultures coexist in these streets: traditional Jewish heritage, and cutting-edge, hard-partying trendiness. Somehow, it works.
The area’s main attraction is the spectacular Great Synagogue, which I cover in Part 1 of this tour. Some might find it worthwhile to also explore the nearby sights and monuments, including two other synagogues, which I’ve linked with a short walk in Part 2.
(See "Jewish Quarter Walk" map, here.)
Length of This Tour: 1.5 to 2 hours.
Dress Code: To visit the interiors of the Great Synagogue and the Orthodox Synagogue, men will need to cover their heads, and women, their shoulders (loaner yarmulkes and scarves are available at the door).
Getting There: The Great Synagogue is at Dohány utca 2, district VII. From M2: Astoria (or the Astoria stop on trams #47 and #49), it’s a five-minute walk—but it can be hard to find since the synagogue hides behind a line of modern buildings. Just follow the Small Boulevard (called Károly körút at this point) and keep an eye to the right.
Great Synagogue, Hungarian Jewish Museum, and Memorial Garden: 2,500 Ft includes all three sights or pay 500 Ft for just the garden; 500 Ft to take photos. Open March-Oct Sun-Thu 10:00-18:00, Fri 10:00-16:30—until 15:30 in March; Nov-Feb Sun-Fri 10:00-16:00; closed Sat year-round and Jewish holidays, last entry 30 minutes before closing, tel. 1/344-5131, www.dohanyutcaizsinagoga.hu.
Hungarian Jewish Archives and Family Research Center: Exhibit covered by Great Synagogue ticket, 1,000 Ft to use archives with some help from the staff. Open Mon-Wed 10:00-17:00, Thu 12:00-17:00, Fri 10:00-15:00, closed Sat-Sun, closes one hour earlier Nov-Feb. If you plan to do research here, it’s best to contact them in advance to let them know you’re coming: tel. 1/413-5547, www.milev.hu, family@milev.hu.
Orthodox Synagogue: 1,000 Ft, Sun-Thu 10:00-16:00, Fri 10:00-13:30, closed Sat.
Printa Café: Mon-Fri 11:00-19:00, Sat-Sun 12:00-18:00—except closed Sun Sept-May, Rumbach 10, www.printa.hu.
Synagogue at Rumbach Street: May be closed for renovation; otherwise 500 Ft, Sun-Thu 10:00-17:30, Fri 10:00-15:30, closed Sat.
Tours: Aviv Travel, with a kiosk just outside the Great Synagogue entrance, leads tours of the synagogue, museum, and related sights. You have three options: A quick 45-minute tour combines the Great Synagogue and Memorial Garden (2,850 Ft). A longer 80-minute tour covers the above, plus a guided visit to the Hungarian Jewish Museum (3,200 Ft). The 90-minute version includes the Great Synagogue, Memorial Garden, and the nearby synagogue on Rumbach Street, plus free time in the museum (5,650 Ft). Since these tours include admission, you’re paying only a small price for the guiding—making this an affordable way to really understand the place (shorter tours leave every 30 minutes during the Great Synagogue’s open hours, other tours depart less frequently, last tour departs one hour before closing).
Jewish Quarter by Night: This walk—which you’ll presumably do during the day (when the sights are open)—leads past several streets that seem decrepit and sleepy in the sunlight, but 12 hours later are hopping with rollicking nightlife. Get your bearings in this neighborhood during the day, then consider returning here at night to experience this fascinating and accessible Budapest phenomenon. My self-guided “Ruin Pub Crawl” (see here) passes many of these same streets, but focuses on a very different slice of life.
Starring: Budapest’s rich tapestry of Jewish history.
Nearby Eateries: For restaurants in the Jewish Quarter, see here.
As the former co-capital of an empire that included millions of Jews, Budapest always had a high concentration of Jewish residents. Before World War II, 5 percent of Hungary’s population and 25 percent of Budapest’s were Jewish (the city was often nicknamed “Judapest”).
In the 1780s, the progressive Habsburg Emperor Josef II emancipated the Jews of his empire, allowing them to live and do business in the city of Pest. Because they were still not allowed to purchase property within the city, many settled in the area just outside the city wall (today marked by the Small Boulevard ring road), in what would become the Jewish Quarter. At the same time, many Jews (like other minorities) were compelled to undergo “Magyarization”—taking on Hungarian language and culture, and even adopting Hungarian spellings of their names. And many Jews were eager to win the acceptance of their Catholic neighbors—which might explain why the Great Synagogue, built in the mid-19th century, almost feels more like a Christian house of worship than a Jewish one.
The anti-Semitism that infected Europe around the turn of the 20th century also tainted Budapest. In fact, Hungary—and not Germany—was the first European country to enforce “Jewish laws” in the 1920s. A long tradition of resentment toward Jews had been amplified by a more recent perception of the Jewish connection to the “dangerous” influence of communism. Furious and humiliated after losing two-thirds of their territory in the Treaty of Trianon that ended World War I, the Hungarians sought a handy scapegoat—and Jews filled that role.
When Hitler was on the rise in Germany, Hungary allied with him, allowing local politicians some degree of self-determination. The Hungarians sometimes interned or deported their Jewish citizenry, but refused to execute them—even as the Nazis began to institute their “Final Solution” of Jewish genocide in the lands they controlled. On the other hand, Nazi-allied Hungary was hardly blameless. Military service was compulsory, but Jews weren’t allowed in the armed forces—so instead, many joined forced-labor brigades; tens of thousands died from the horrific conditions.
Hitler grew impatient and invaded Hungary in March of 1944, installing the Arrow Cross regime. Jews were forced to live in a small, walled ghetto surrounding the Great Synagogue, and allowed no contact with the outside world. By May—just two months after the Nazi takeover—trains began heading for Auschwitz; by the middle of July, about 430,000 Hungarian Jews had already been deported. (For more on the Arrow Cross, see the House of Terror Tour chapter.)
As the end of the war neared, Hungarian Nazi collaborators resorted to desperate measures, such as lining up Jews along the Danube and shooting them into the river (now commemorated by a monument near the Parliament—see here). To save bullets, they’d sometimes tie several victims together, shoot one of them, and throw him into the freezing Danube—dragging the others in with him. Hungary lost nearly 600,000 Jews to the Holocaust. Today, only 0.5 percent of Hungarians are Jewish, and most of them live in Budapest. But that still represents the largest Jewish population of any city in Central Europe.
After the Holocaust, the Great Synagogue sat neglected for 40 years. But since the thawing of communism, Hungarian Jews have taken a renewed interest in preserving their heritage. In 1990, the Great Synagogue was painstakingly rebuilt, largely with financial support from the Hungarian-American cosmetics magnate Estée Lauder. Theodor Herzl, a pioneer of Zionism, was born in a house next door to the Great Synagogue (now gone). Other people of Hungarian-Jewish descent include big names from every walk of life: Harry Houdini (born Erich Weisz), Elie Wiesel, Joseph Pulitzer, Tony Curtis (and his daughter Jamie Lee), Goldie Hawn, Peter Lorre, and Eva and Zsa Zsa Gabor. A visit to the Great Synagogue and surrounding Jewish Quarter offers insight into this vital facet of Hungarian history and contemporary life.
(SEE "JEWISH QUARTER WALK" MAP, here.)
• Stand in front of the...
Also called the Dohány Street Synagogue, Budapest’s gorgeous synagogue is the biggest in Europe and the second biggest in the world (after the Temple Emanu-El of New York). A visit here has three parts: touring its ornately decorated interior; exploring the attached museum, which offers a concise lesson in the Jewish faith; and lingering in the evocative memorial garden, with its weeping-willow Tree of Life sculpture and other poignant monuments.
• You might see a long ticket and tour line to the left of the main entrance gate. You may be able to skip this line and buy tickets and tours inside the courtyard (at the far-right end, in front of the synagogue entrance)—ask at the security checkpoint.
Before going inside, check out the synagogue’s striking facade, which captures the rich history of the building and the people it represents: The synagogue was built in 1859 just outside what was then the city limits. Although Budapest’s Jews held fast to their own faith, they also wished to demonstrate their worth and how well-integrated they were with the greater community. Building this new synagogue was partially an attempt to impress the city’s Gentile majority.
The religious leaders commissioned the Austrian (and non-Jewish) architect Ludwig Förster to create a synagogue in Budapest that would top the Stadttempel recently built in Vienna (also designed by a Gentile). The synagogue is loosely based on biblical descriptions of the Temple of Solomon in Jerusalem. This explains the two tall towers, which are not typical of traditional synagogues. These towers—along with the rosette (rose window)—also helped the synagogue resemble Christian churches of the time. In fact, when it was built, the synagogue was dubbed by one observer as “the most beautiful Catholic synagogue in the world.”
• Now step inside.
Notice that the synagogue interior really feels like a church with the symbols switched—with a basilica floor plan, three naves, two pulpits, and even a pipe organ. The organ—which Franz Liszt played for the building’s inauguration—is a clue that this synagogue belonged to the most progressive of the three branches of Judaism here at the time. (Orthodox Jews would never be able to do the “work” of playing an organ on the Sabbath.) Of the various synagogues in this district, this one belonged to the Neolog Jewish congregation (close to Conservative Judaism in the US).
The Moorish-flavored decor—which looks almost Oriental—is a sign of the Historicist style of the time, which borrowed eclectic elements from past styles. Specifically, it evokes the Sephardic Jewish culture that flourished in Iberia; many Hungarian Jews are descended from that group, who fled here after being expelled from Spain in 1492.
In the ark, behind the white curtain, 25 surviving Torah scrolls are kept. Catholic priests hid these scrolls during World War II (burying them temporarily in a cemetery). The synagogue itself, while damaged, avoided being completely destroyed in the war. While it might have been luck, or divine intervention, it was likely also because the occupying Nazis protected it for their own uses: They put radio antennas in the two towers, stabled horses in the nave, and (according to some reports) might have even had a Gestapo base in the balcony above the main entrance.
The two biggest chandeliers are typical neither of synagogues nor of churches; they were likely inspired by concert halls of the day. During the war, the chandeliers were melted down and used to make bullets, but have since been recast. The pews are original, as are the kneelers—another borrowed Christian feature not typically used in Jewish worship.
The two-tiered balconies on the sides of the nave were originally for women, who worshipped separately from the men. (These galleries are accessed by separate staircases, from outside.) Today, men and women can sing together in the choir, but they still sit apart: men in the two inner rows, and women in the two outer rows. (Women sit in the balconies only on important holy days.) The service, attended by several hundred local Jews each Sabbath (and a couple thousand on high holidays), is still said in Hebrew. However, due to security concerns, people who are not members of the local congregation are generally not invited to attend.
• When you’re finished inside, exit through the main doors, turn right, and go to the opposite end of the front courtyard. Here you’ll find the entrance to the...
This small but informative museum illuminates the Jewish faith, with artifacts and succinct but engaging English explanations. Pick up the audioguide as you enter (included with ticket). In the long hall, you’ll find descriptions of rituals and holidays, from Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur to Passover and Chanukah. The exhibit also explains the symbolism of objects such as prayer shawls, the mezuzah, and so on.
The next room focuses on family life, tracing the Jewish lifeline from birth to marriage to death. The marriage contracts posted on the wall show the relative equality between the sexes: Like an old-fashioned form of “prenups,” they provide for how property would be divided equitably between both spouses in the event of a divorce. In the funeral section, notice the bowl filled with wooden knobs: If a person died without kin, the Jewish community would provide proper burial. This bowl was a sort of lottery system for randomly determining which person was responsible for burying the deceased.
The final room holds a small, powerful exhibit about the Holocaust. Follow the exhibit chronologically as it wraps clockwise around the room: The first few panels are a reminder that the roots of the Holocaust existed in Hungary long before the Nazis took over. In one photo, Hungarian leader Miklós Horthy shakes hands with Hitler—the two nations were allied early in World War II. As the war raged on, the Hungarians proved more benevolent toward their Jewish population than the Germans, but some Jews were still forced to leave the cities and move to the countryside. Then came the horrific time after the Nazis invaded Hungary and installed the Arrow Cross regime, which swiftly began to send Jews to death camps. One display case shows drums made out of Torah scrolls (see photo, facing page). In another is a bar of soap made of human fat—a grotesquely “efficient” use of “resources” from the Nazi concentration-camp system. In the same case is a menorah made by a resourceful inmate out of scraps of bread. Then comes a series of disturbing images of this very neighborhood during World War II, including bodies lined up waiting to be buried in the park next to this synagogue (we’ll see that area soon). The final photo shows the hanging of Arrow Cross leader Ferenc Szálasi, who was executed in 1946. In the middle of the room is an exhibit honoring non-Jews who risked everything to rescue Jews during this dark time. (We’ll find out more about some of these people later on this tour.) Stairs lead down to a small Holocaust memorial. (For more about this tragic chapter of the Hungarian Jewish experience, don’t miss the outstanding Holocaust Memorial Center—see here.)
• Exiting back into the front courtyard, go down the passageway between the synagogue and the museum (straight ahead from the security checkpoint, past the gift shop).
As you walk alongside the Great Synagogue, notice the small park on your left. During the Soviet siege that ended the Nazi occupation of Budapest in the winter of 1944-1945, many Jews in the ghetto here died of exposure, starvation, and disease. Soon after the Soviets liberated the city, a mass grave was dug here for an estimated 2,281 Jews. The trees and headstones (donated by survivors) were added later. The pillars you’ll pass have historical photos of the synagogue and Jewish Quarter.
At the far end of the cemetery, look for the small, angular sculpture on the pedestal by renowned artist Imre Varga (for more on Varga, see here). This represents a forced march—with clearly defined figures at the front, melting into a blocky form at the back. When the Nazi-puppet Arrow Cross regime took over Hungary, they wanted to quickly transport as many Jews as possible to death camps. The trains couldn’t take the Jews away fast enough, so the Arrow Cross made them march hundreds of miles to their final destination. Among the victims was a poet named Miklós Radnóti, who was compelled to fight with the Hungarian Army, and then forced to march back to Hungary after a defeat. He died and was buried along the way. A year and a half later, his body was exhumed. In his pocket was a notebook with poignant handwritten poems about his experience. In one, Radnóti daydreams about a life to which (he seems to suspect) he would never return:
If only once again I heard the quiet hum
Of bees on the veranda, the jar of orchard plums
Cooling with late summer, the gardens half asleep,
Voluptuous fruit lolling on branches dipping deep,
And she before the hedgerow stood with sun-bleached hair,
The lazy morning scrawling vague shadows on the air...
Why not? The moon is full, her circle is complete.
Don’t leave me, friend, shout out, and see! I’m on my feet!
The building just past the garden is the Heroes’ Temple, built in 1929 to honor Hungarian Jews who had fought in World War I.
In the garden behind the synagogue is the Tree of Life, also created by Imre Varga. This weeping willow, cast in steel, was erected in 1990, soon after the fall of communism made it possible to acknowledge the Holocaust. The willow makes an upside-down menorah, and each of the 4,000 metal leaves is etched with the name of a Holocaust victim. New leaves are added all the time, donated by families of the victims. Notice that at the end of each branch is a Roman numeral, to assist people in finding their relatives’ names. The large black-marble gateway represents a temple; the Hebrew inscription reads, “Is there a bigger pain than mine?” The plaques embedded in the base of the sculpture bear messages (many in English) from donors.
In the center of the garden is a symbolic grave of Raoul Wallenberg (1912-1947). An improbable hero, this ne’er-do-well Swedish playboy from a prominent family was sent as a diplomat to Hungary because nobody else wanted the post. He was empowered by the Swedish government to do whatever he could—bribe, threaten, lie, or blackmail—to save as many Jews as possible from the Nazis. He surpassed everyone’s low expectations by dedicating (and ultimately sacrificing) his life to the cause. By giving Swedish passports to Jews and admitting them to safe houses, he succeeded in rescuing tens of thousands of people from certain death. Shortly after the Soviets arrived, Wallenberg was arrested, accused of being a US spy, sent to a gulag...and never seen alive again. Russian authorities recently acknowledged he was executed, but have not revealed the details.
The grave is also etched with the names of other “righteous Gentiles” who went above and beyond to save Jews. According to the Talmud, “Whoever saves one life, saves the world entire.” The small stones placed on graves are typical of Jewish cemeteries: Each stone is a sign of remembrance, indicating that someone has visited the grave. Surrounding the grave are four rose-colored pillars with the names of other non-Jews who saved individuals or families. The list is still growing, with periodic new additions. In the big stained-glass window that stands near the grave, the fire symbolizes the Holocaust (the Hebrew word is Shoah, literally, “catastrophe”), and the curling snake represents fascism.
Along the back wall behind the stained glass, find the little alcoves labeled for victims, with lights that go on after dark. The alcoves—like other memorials in this garden—are filled with small stones.
• The building that defines the far end of the memorial garden is the...
This facility, worth a visit only for those with a special interest, has a prayer room on the ground floor and, on the first floor, the Family Research Center—with birth, marriage, and death records for Jews from Budapest and much of Hungary. For 1,000 Ft, you’re welcome to use their archives. They’ll point you in the right direction and can help with basic translations. (Ideally, bring not just your family name, but also—if possible—ancestors’ birth and death dates, and any other data you have. It’s also best to notify them a few days ahead of your visit—see contact information at the beginning of this chapter.)
Upstairs on the second floor of the same building is a small virtual exhibition about the Jewish Quarter, with a few historical artifacts from everyday life, touchscreens with maps and documents to help you learn more about topics of your choice, and a screening room for English-subtitled films about the local Jewish experience, past and present.
• The exit is through the fence, near the Tree of Life.
If you’re interested in exploring the rest of the Jewish Quarter, consider the following sights.
• Exiting the Great Synagogue grounds by the Tree of Life, turn right up Wesselényi utca. After two blocks, you reach the intersection with Kazinczy utca. If you’re curious about Budapest’s burgeoning ruin-pub nightlife scene, detour here a half-block to the right to see Szimpla, the first and best of those ramshackle nightspots. (While it’s pretty dead—and often closed—during the daytime, the space hosts a farmers market on Sunday mornings.)
To head for the next sight, turn left on Kazinczy utca. Where the road curves, on the right you’ll see the...
Built in the Vienna-inspired Secession style in 1912, damaged and deserted for decades after World War II, and now renovated, today this temple invites visitors to see its colorful, sumptuously decorated interior (completed in 2006). While grandly opulent, this place is far more typical of synagogue architecture than the Great Synagogue.
Inside, the green pillars at the front flanking the ark evoke the Torah scrolls, and the red columns (with Zsolnay tile decorations) echo the Temple of Solomon. The seat on the left was filled by the synagogue’s first rabbi, Koppel Reich (1838-1929), who was a pillar of the community: He advised Habsburg Emperor Franz Josef and was a member of the Hungarian Parliament. Out of deference to him, nobody has sat in this seat since his death. The temple is still used by a small but dedicated local Orthodox congregation of about 50 people.
• From the Orthodox Synagogue, turn right onto Kazinczy utca. At the end of the block, turn left onto Dob utca. After about a block and a half on your right, just past the Lokál ruin pub, is the easy-to-miss entrance to...
This long series of courtyards burrows through the middle of a city block, between Dob utca 16 and Király utca 13. When this neighborhood hosted a fast-growing Jewish population and space was at a premium, courtyards like this one were filled with community life: restaurants, shops, and other businesses. After decades of neglect, this passage was recently spruced up and opened to the public. This genteel space—which evokes the Golden Age of Jewish life in Budapest—is filled with cafés and bars, and after hours it’s a bustling nightlife hub.
• A few steps down from the courtyard, on the right side of Dob utca (where the street widens), keep an eye out for the...
Born in Switzerland and educated in the US, Carl Lutz (1895-1975) became a Swiss vice-consul to Hungary during World War II. After the Nazis invaded and began sending Hungarian Jews to death camps, Lutz set up safe houses around the city (which he formally registered as “Swiss soil”), and issued permission for tens of thousands of Jews to emigrate. In the monument, the figure on the side of the building (representing Lutz) is extending a lifeline to the vulnerable figure lying on the ground below him. Lutz is credited, ultimately, with saving 62,000 Jewish lives.
This monument also marks the edge of the WWII-era Jewish ghetto.
• A few steps beyond the Lutz monument, on the left at #9, notice another long series of courtyards like Gozsdu Udvar—but this one’s still deserted and under lock and key.
At the end of the block, turn right on Rumbach utca. Just before the synagogue, on the left at #10, is the creative...
This inviting design shop/silkscreen studio/art gallery/coffeehouse offers a perfect glimpse at the hipster culture that’s taking over this area of Budapest—designer fair-trade coffee, local artists exhibiting their works, and a wide array of “trashion” accessories made from reused materials (stylish bags made from old leather jackets, belts made from discarded shirts, and so on).
• Across the street is the...
This synagogue’s colorful but faded Moorish-style interior survives from the Golden Age of Jewish culture in Budapest. The late-19th-century building was designed by the great Viennese architect Otto Wagner. It was abandoned for years, and rumor has it that Yoko Ono nearly bought it as a studio space—but backed out when she realized its proximity to the tram tracks would cause unacceptable background noise. Today the building awaits a desperately needed renovation. In the meantime, if it’s open and you enjoyed the Great Synagogue, it’s worth a look. You’ll wander through the relatively small but very tall space, and peruse a few scant posted plans (in Hungarian only) about what the renovated synagogue will look like someday.
• From the synagogue, turn right and walk to the end of the block. On the left, you’ll see a giant ceremonial gateway built into a drab red-brick apartment building. Pass through here into...
This gateway was designed to be the entrance of an elaborate boulevard that would have connected the Small and Great Boulevards (similar—and parallel—to Andrássy út). But this great road was never built, leaving this impressive gateway to an underwhelming, narrow street with a parking garage and office building. However, the zone in front of the gateway—formerly a jumble of parked cars—has recently been turned into an inviting plaza where locals enjoy lounging and relaxing on sunny days.
• Our tour is finished. You’re facing the Small Boulevard (the former city wall). The Great Synagogue, where we started our walk, is just two long blocks along here to the left.
From here, you have several options. Diagonally across the busy street (and past the tram stop in the middle of the parklike strip) is Deák tér—a handy Metró hub (where lines M1, M2, and M3 intersect) and the starting point for the 
Andrassy Út Walk. The tram stop is the terminus for trams #47 or #49, which zip around the Small Boulevard to the National Museum, Great Market Hall, and Gellért Baths.