By Rabbi Shaul Engelsberg, Derech Emunah Seattle Jewish Girls High School
My wife’s grandfather, Mordechai Szimonowitz, survived World War II. When the Nazis forced all the Jews of Budapest, Hungary to move into the ghetto, Zeide — as we called him — was able to procure false identification papers and remained outside the ghetto walls masquerading as a gentile. He managed to get a job working as a doorman at one of the city’s hotels. One day, a high-ranking Nazi officer arrived and Zeide held the door open for him. The Nazi stopped and ordered: “Look to the right.” Zeide complied while the Nazi stared at him intently. “Look to the left” he commanded. Again, Zeide obeyed.
The Nazi continued to study him, loudly boasting: “I can tell if someone is even an eighth Jewish!” Zeide was so scared he could hardly breathe. “And you — are not!” the Nazi arrogantly snapped and entered the hotel.
Zeide told us this story one Pesach during the seder. We had just read the words in the Haggadah: “In every generation they rise against us to annihilate us, but the Holy One, Blessed is He, rescues us from their hand.” We understood how real those words were to our grandfather.
In this week’s Torah portion we read that Yisro, Moshe Rabbeinu’s father-in-law, joined the Jewish people in the desert. Upon hearing of all the miracles that God had performed for Israel’s sake — all that He had done to Pharaoh and to Egypt — Yisro proclaimed: “Blessed is Hashem who has rescued you from the hand of Egypt and from the hand of Pharaoh” (Exodus 18:10).
Not much has changed. Today, as in all generations past, we continue to be mindful of our survival. As a nation, we are grateful to the Almighty for our people’s continued existence. As individuals, we hear the news from Israel and Europe, and remind ourselves how fortunate we are to not be in harm’s way. We pray to God that He keep our brothers and sisters safe and protected wherever they may be.
But in addition to feeling grateful and expressing our appreciation to the One Above, there is another thought to ponder.
Several years ago, I had occasion to hear a presentation from Rabbi Berel Wein, an American-born rabbi, historian, lecturer and writer, who currently serves as the rabbi of Bait Knesset Hanassi in Jerusalem. Rabbi Wein recounted that in 1945, when he was a young boy living in Chicago, the city was graced by a visit from Rabbi Yitzchak Isaac HaLevi Herzog, who later became the first Ashkenazic chief rabbi of the State of Israel. Rabbi Herzog had just returned from a trip to Europe, where he had met with Pope Pious XII.
Addressing the Chicago community, Rabbi Herzog told the audience: “I have just returned from meeting the Pope. I gave him a list of ten thousand names of Jewish children who were placed into Christian homes during the war. I asked him to give back those Jewish children.”
(Rabbi Wein explained that there were many more children who had been placed with Christians for safekeeping during World War II, but Rabbi Herzog’s list only included the ten thousand children who were known by name.)
Rabbi Herzog continued: “The Pope said he would not return the children because they had been baptized.” Rabbi Herzog then put his head down on the podium and wept. After a few moments he composed himself, and passionately exclaimed: “I cannot do any more for those ten thousand children, but what will you do for the Jewish people?”
Following the speech, as everyone greeted Rabbi Herzog, he kept repeating: “Remember what I said. What will you do for the Jewish people?”
We continue to be grateful to the Almighty for allowing the Jewish people to survive and flourish, and individually, we try to acknowledge God’s kindnesses to us each and every day. Yet in addition to being appreciative for our survival and continuity as a nation, let us also contemplate a call to action. We are most thankful to be here. But what are we here for? Rabbi Herzog’s rallying call still reverberates: “What will you do for the Jewish people?”
Rabbi Shaul Engelsberg is principal of the Derech Emunah Seattle Jewish Girls High School.