The amazing story of P/N Kondrat, a new Jew in Poland

Lily Galili

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Born Catholic but with a vague sense of not belonging, he converted – and immediately felt persecuted

Late this June, P. Nathan Kondrat celebrated his birthday in his hometown, not far from Warsaw, Poland. Not the kind of birthday that marks one’s day of birth, but rather the Catholic version, the day of one’s saint. A remark by a Jewish friend that “Jews do not celebrate this kind of a birthday” was answered with a similar amused-serious response: “It’s not Nathan who is celebrating; it’s Piotr.”

Piotr and Nathan, as you must have guessed by now are, one and the same: a 52-year-old prominent Polish actor best known for his monodramas, mainly Shakespeare. Now you already know about Kondrat more than most of his colleagues and even family: that the man they’ve known for decades is actually a Jew. A new-born Jew.

Several years ago Kondrat converted. It was a Reform conversion that included one year of Judaism studies, some basic Hebrew, history of Israel and a circumcision. Kondrat is not the only Pole to find Judaism: some actually learn late in life about their hidden roots and come out of the closet in a rather accepting atmosphere; others simply make it up, mostly to acquire some exotic flavor or possible financial gain from being associated with the world Jewish community.

Kondrat is different. Not only did he choose to go down this bumpy road alone, but strangely enough, he immediately adopted another Jewish characteristic – a profound sense of persecution. He has become not only a Jew, but a persecuted one. “People here have anti-Semitism under the skin,” he says in an interview with i24news in Warsaw. “If I make it public in my circles, I’d be ridiculed. I encountered it even in my own family: a friend of my former mother-in-law explained to my children that Jews killed Jesus ( I made sure she doesn’t come to visit them again), and I’m afraid to tell my cousin that she’s of Jewish origin herself. She’s so anti- Semitic.”

He’s absolutely convinced that he can detect a change in attitude on those rare occasions people find out about his transformation. “Some distance themselves from me, some just have this weird look on their face when they realize I’m a Jew. When asked to spell my name (P.N Kondrat), I’d rather say ‘N’ like ‘Nathalie’ and not ‘N’ like Nathan. ‘Nathan’ doesn’t get a lot of empathy here.”

It all started many years ago, with a nagging feeling, when Kondrat worked in a Jewish theater in Poland. The director often asked him why he chose to work there and Kondrat explained that his grandmother grew up in Buchach (now Ukraine). Kondrat clung to that history of Jewish Buchach, wanting it to be his. No signs pointed in that direction: his father spent years in orphanages run by the Church, became a devout Catholic who forced his own sons to attend church religiously. Like all kids, Kondrat resented the coercion, but sensed something more. While playing Hamlet on stage, he had long discussions with the ghost of the father; as Piotr Kondrat, he continued those discussions with his real father – off stage. To no avail. All he heard from his father was that his own father died when the boy was two, an answer that seemed to close that chapter.

In 2008, he started to attend the synagogue in Warsaw. The first Jewish ceremony he attended was a traditional Passover meal. Kondrat was impressed – both by the endless waiting for food to be served while the story of the Israelite exodus from Egypt was read, but also by the concept of passing down the story from generation to generation. So he came again. For Shabbat, for holidays. And then he stayed. A rabbi from Berlin, another one from London and a woman rabbi from Budapest certified his conversion. Israel’s ambassador to Poland, Zvi Rav-Ner, attended the ceremony. Kondrat feels happy. When he lights candles with his twin boys, whenever he makes a blessing over the wine. For now, it’s his secret. He will let his boys choose later in life between the two traditions – Catholic and Jewish.

But the real closure came much later. Kondrat’s father died recently at the age of 87, not knowing his son has become Jewish, information that wouldn’t have made him happy. His death was for Kondrat a signal to embark upon a more profound search. And he did. In the process, he came across some documents waiting to be discovered: his dead father was actually the out of wedlock son of a Jew from Buchach by the name of Maler. Everything fell into place. ” We don’t come out of nowhere,” says Kondrat. “It brings me immense pleasure when we mention the forefathers, our ancestors. No one is born the moment he or she come into this world; we are a link in a long chain and it matters who preceded us. The silent conversation I’ve been carrying on with my father for years – has been answered. There was a cloud hanging over me – and now it’s clear. I found peace.”

Not everybody, even in his immediate family, shares his enthusiasm. His brother warns him that now no one is going to see him as theirs – neither the Jews, nor the Catholics. Kondrat says his brother is actually concerned about his own daughter. Having a Jewish uncle is not a great asset in many circles in Poland. But it’s certainly an asset for him. Last month, Kondrat was invited to play the role of Shylock, a Venetian money lender in Shakespeare’s “Merchant of Venice”. He went there, this time, knowing who his grandfather was. “It gave me, as an actor, a greater freedom and clarity”. And in between, Kondrat almost became a rabbi. He enrolled to study rabbinical studies in Berlin. “Luckily I didn’t go,” he says; “otherwise, I wouldn’t have been here to find those documents proving who I really am.”

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Lily Galili is a feature writer, analyst of Israeli society and expert on immigration from the former Soviet Union. She is the co-author of “The Million that Changed the Middle East.”

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