Bearing Witness

Today we learned what it meant to race sundown, as we dashed from sight to sight in anticipation of the Shabbat.

First thing on our agenda was a visit to Yad Vashem, the museum and memorial to the Shoah.  At the Visitors Center we were divided into 2 groups, supplied with electronic hearing device guides operational within the New Wing.  We were then assigned to a guide who would lead us through the museum.  Sarah, a young woman with the most elegantly clipped accent, was the guide for my group.  When asked the origins of her lovely accent, she told us she came from Germany.

Unfortunately our tour was at a very crowded hour and it was difficult for each guide to bring their groups through some narrow area of the museum at the same time.  But with a few hand gestures and careful wrangling on the part of the guide we did see most of the exhibits in the New Wing.

I asked Sarah if there was an exhibit dedicated to Emanuel Ringelblum (1900-1944), the archivist of the Warsaw Ghetto.  She told me we had just past it.  Luckily, as we were taking a few minutes break in our tour, I was able to go back and have a quick look.  Ringelblum is my particular hero, as he dedicated what remained of his life to chronicle the day to day existance of the Jews living within the confines of the Warsaw Ghetto.  He was able to store these diaries in 3 large milk containers used by dairymen and hide them beneath the ground of the ghetto.  Following the war 2 containers were found, alas the remaining one has not yet been uncovered.  Ringelblum, his wife and son, briefly escaped the ghetto following the uprising but were caught, brought back to the ghetto and summarily shot to death.  He was 44 years old - the same age I am now.

After viewing the New Wing and The Hall of Names, we came out on a balcony with a tremendous view of the Jerusalem hills.  Being confronted with death on such a massive scale, it was life affirming to take in the cool air and greenery of  Jerusalem.  I was renewed enough to go on to the next part of Yad Vashem; The Children's Memorial.

In the Research Center of Yad Vashem we had a brief lecture from a woman who survived the holocaust.  As a child she had this seemingly inexplicable ability to transform herself to any situation she found herself in.  Having lost her mother in the early days of the war, she was disguised for a time as a boy by her father.  Later following the death of her father, she found herself "adopted" by a series of mothers and fathers during and after the war both in Europe and the U.S.

Following her talk she led us through the Children's Memorial, a garden of stone into a darken cavern illuminated by thousands of lights, symbolizing the millions of children lost.  In fact, there are only a handful of lights which are reflected off mirrors creating the effect of a starry night.

We did not go to the Synagogue and the Hall of Remembrance.  I was told to try to come back, as I did not want to leave Israel without seeing them.

I should note that Yad Vashem is a frequent stop for dignateries visiting Israel.  At one point, I noted a group of Indian Army Officers being given a tour.  And as you'd expect members of religious communities are frequent guests.  As I was preparing to leave I glimpsed a small group of nuns in butter yellow dresses and white habits about to begin a tour.

That afternoon there were no planned activities for our group.  Some took the time to shop, sight see and rest.  But thanks to Jane, I spent this Friday afternoon (erev shabbat) in the company of two remarkable people, whose lives are a shining example of the best of mankind.

Following their lecture at Atlit, Jane approached Nechama and Emanuel Gutman to express her appreciation for them taking the time to meet with our group.  It was then that the Gutman's suggested Jane contact them when she reached Jerusalem.  Jane did just that and they extended an invitation to both of us (as Jane mentioned I was with her) to come to their home for coffee.

After purchasing flowers, we arrived to find Nechama waiting outside for us.  She led us up to the flat she and Emanuel have lived in for 50 of their 60 years of marriage.  It was a pleasant living room with wonderful view of Jerusalem, book shelves filled with scholarly volumes, an upright piano and family photos.

Nechama was a gracious hostess, and despite our protestations she made tea, cakes & hot hors d'oeuvres.  She strongly encouraged us to partake heartily in her delicious afternoon tea.

With jazz music floating up from the park below, we sipped tea and listened while Emanuel & Nechama told us their story.

Emanuel was born in Germany but came to Israel in the 1930's when he was a boy.  His grandfather had actually been born in America, and had been quite successful among the German-Jewish society that built Congregation Emanuel on Manhattan's upper east side.  However, at some point his grandfather fell ill and decided to return to Germany with his American wife and daughter.  Germany in the days before WW I was a thriving place for commerce and intellectual pursuits and this suited Emanuel's grandfather.  His mother later married a German-Jew and Germany remained their home until the Nazis came to power.

Like many of young people in Palestine, Emanuel joined the Haganah during the 1930's.  Longing to fight the Nazis, he took advantage of the opportunity to join British army when it was offered to Jews in Palestine.  He was sent with other Palestinian Jews to Europe to aid in the war effort.  After the war, he returned to his duties with the Haganah.  The Haganah sent him to Europe to lead Jewish refugees (Holocaust survivors) to Palestine.  This was a dangerous mission and he risked imprisonment or even death had he been caught trying to sneak refugees across the British blockade.

Emanuel was happy to speak about his time on Cyprus when he was with the Haganah.  He has been back many times since the Detention Camp closed and has developed relationships with various Cypriots.  As a professor of Political Science you will not be surprised to know that he is well versed and communicated the current political situation on Cyprus with a candid eloquence.  It was easy to see why he held a rostrum at Hebrew University all these decades.  Although he is retired (officially) he still does work at the University.

Nechama was born in Palestine.  Her parents and her grandparents had come to Palestine and she was born in Jerusalem in the days of the British mandate.  She was trained as a Nurse and volunteered to go to the British detenation camps to help the war refugees being held there.  She only learned Yiddish during her time on Cyprus working with the refugees.  She told us about the pain of the refugees who even after the war found themselves behind the barbed wire and being guarded by armed soldier from guard towers.  She also reiterated that the normal parts of life went on in the camps; babies were born and couples married, people even fell in love.

She first saw Emanuel when he came through the gates of the camp as a part of Golda Meir's retinue when she visited the refugees.  Golda was greeted by children with hand made paper flowers, that she treasured because these children had barely seen a flower in their lives.  Nechama said that when Golda came through the gates, she appeared a queen to the detainees.  They longed to touch her and she in turn swore to bring them to Palestine.

Nechama and Emanuel decided to marry while on Cyprus, but agreed to wait until they were back home.  When they returned home, they did so as citizens of the newly created State of Israel.

In the 1950's Emanuel worked in the Israeli Consulate in NYC.  They lived in Washington Heights, at the tip of Manhattan.  As it is always a small world in Israel, Jane had an old family friend who also worked in the Consulate at the same time and was well known to the Gutmans.

Later I asked Emanuel about Joseph Klausner, the renowned chairman of Modern Hebrew Literature at Hebrew University (and the great-uncle of noted Israeli writer Amos Oz),  Emanuel stated that Klausner was his teacher.  I once again felt I was touching history, as I had read in Oz' memoir about Klausner and how he had led an intellectual salon in 1920's Jerusalem.  Klausner's most famous work, which Emanuel reminded me, was Jesus of Nazareth which discussed the life of Jesus as a Jew of his time.  Klausner a practicing (but not strictly observant) Jew was not only a scholar of modern Hebrew, but of Talmudic law as well.

After my remarking on her lovely family photos, Nechama showed me the album of her grandson's wedding.  It was quite moving to me, as this handsome young man and his beautiful bride were reminiscent of Nechama and Emanuel.  The love on their young faces was echoed in the faces of their grandparents.

At the end of our visit Emanuel took us on the roof to see an unparalleled view of Jerusalem.  I was delighted to pick out so many famous sights along the skyline while Emanuel explained the current real estate boom and the encroachment of high rise towers.  He indulged us by letting us take a few photos with him.

Soon it was time for us to prepare for shabbat, so we bid Nechama goodbye and thanked her for her hospitality this afternoon.  Being an old-world gentleman Emanuel walked us back to our hotel.

This was without a doubt the most memorable afternoon in Israel.  I have so few heroes, and I am not fond of the term "role-model", but I can say that Nechama and Emanuel are both.  They embody everything that I esteem:  kindness, intellectual pursuit, courage and love that has stood the test of time.  They are truly a blessing to their family, friends and the people of Israel.

We reached the King David and quickly got ourselves washed and dressed.  Disappointed because my new skirt was wrinkled, I reminded myself that this was one occasion where my wardrobe should not be a primary concern.  With that I raced down to the lobby and boarded the bus to go to the Kotel (The Western Wall aka The Wailing Wall).

We entered from the south side at the Dung Gate and proceeded up the walk.  We passed through security and proceeded to the plaza just above the Kotel.  We approached the Women's section (separated from the men by a thin temporary partition - "Mechitza").  It was not extraordinarily crowded and each of us had the opportunity to approach, touch the stone wall and leave a prayer in the form of a small note folded into a tiny piece of paper and placed within the crevices of the wall.

I had not planned what I would do at that moment and relied only on instinct.

I recited the shema (Hebrew prayer), placed my hand to my lips and placed my hands on the stones that were once the outer walls of the courtyard of the 2nd Temple that had been destroyed 2000 years ago when the Romans captured Jerusalem and thus sent the Jewish people into exile.  Forty years ago, the Israelis took the Western Wall and the Old City following the 6 Day War, allowing the Jewish people to once again worship at their holiest site.

Now I was here and I placed my small notes, and a note my mother had given me in the wall and stepped away.

Much of my reason for coming to Israel was in this very moment.  Not just for me, but for my parents and for their parents, and my aunts, who never got to have this moment.  Most especially this was something I wanted for my maternal grandmother, whose life was lived facing Jerusalem and whose dream was Eretz Yisroel.

I am not a great believer in the hereafter, but I remember reading that when you die there is still a particle of energy that stays behind.  Maybe this is the spirit or the soul --- I wouldn't venture to guess.  All I have from my maternal grandmother is the name we share and a pin she was given in commemoration of her fundraising work for Hadassah Hospital.  Although it remains in my jewelry box 99.9% of my life, I had taken it with me to Israel and I wore it tonight.  I thought this is something she touched, wore against her body, and maybe a microscopic bit of her is still within it.

With that thought, I stepped back to the wall, touched the pin to the wall and held it there a moment.  I said to myself (& to my grandmother), "This is the only thing I can l think to do.  You are finally here, together with me and I hope you are at peace".

As we left the kotel, I put a shekel or two into the hand of an old woman.  I don't know what she said, I think it was a blessing.

We took a group photo on the plaza and left through the same gate we entered.

We were heading to another part of Jerusalem to kindle the shabbos candles with Tali's grandmother "Ima (Mother) Dina".  Ima Dina greeted us as we came through the doors with a shower of candy.  This is a tradition, practiced most often following a child's completion of his/her Torah portion during his/her Bar/Bat Mitzvah.  Almost invariably followed by his mother shouting "don't hit him in the eyes".

Ima Dina was seated in her living room at a table filled with candles, cookies and cake (all prepared by her).  She is in her early 90's and she has lived in Jerusalem all her life.  Her mother came to Israel from Turkey as a young, pregnant, widow.  Her husband (Ima Dina's father) was a soldier in the Turkish army, who'd been killed when his gun accidentally went off.  They were only married 20 days.

It was a brave thing to make that journey 90 years ago to this backwater of the Ottoman Empire which had only recently been sought by young Russian Zionists as a refuge and a new homeland.  Ima Dina's mother married again and she has many brothers and sisters.  Ima Dina married when she was very young to another Turkish Jew, who became known to his children and grandchildren as Abba (father) Aaron.  In her living room is a photograph of Ima Dina, as a girl of 14 years old dancing in traditional Turkish dress, while on the floor in front of her also robed in Turkish attire and playing the drum is Abba Aaron.

Ima Dina can rival almost anyone in descendants, and later in the evening we would meet the youngest of them, the daughter of Tali's sister.  She has seven children, grandchildren, great-grandchildren and great-great-grandchildren.  Needless to say she is adored by and adores them all in turn.

Ima Dina had recently taken a bad fall, which is why she remained seated for the length of our visit.  Otherwise, she was very lively and happy to speak to us in her lovely Hebrew which her granddaughter, Tali translated into English for our benefit.  Tali's Mother joined us at Ima Dina's and it was lovely to see 3 generations celebrating shabbat together in Jerusalem.

We each had a turn to light a candle with Ima Dina, wish her shabbat shalom and receive a blessing.  It was a very sweet time for us and I think for her as well.

We dined in a very old home in Jerusalem that had once belonged to a man named Horowitz.  Horowitz had offered it to Ben Gurion as the Prime Minister's residence in Jerusalem.  BG turned it down, not wanting to be continually faced with Western Jerusalem, then in Jordanian hands.  This beautiful old home is decorated in 20th century art and dotted with photos (and letters of thanks to Horowitz) of illuminaries of the 20th century (Einstein, Maestro Arturo Toscanini & Hadassah founder, Henrietta Szold), and row upon row of great literature.  It is now used almost exclusively for catering purposes.

We dined on traditional sephardic & ashkenazi shabbos delights.  Most memorable was Ima Dina's chicken soup with turkish dumplings and a buffet of sweet desserts of pastry, pudding & sugared cookies.

During dinner we met Tali's father, mother, sisters, brothers-in-law, niece and nephew.  Her nephew stood next to his grandfather and together they intoned the blessings over the wine and bread, as is traditional on Friday night.  Tali's little niece, was passed from aunt to uncle to mother to father and handled all the attention very well for someone so small.

A sign that Israel has matured is the fact that the discrepancy that once existed between the Sephardim and the Ashkenasim is mostly irrelevant.  The Sephardim were once considered the newcomers (most having come post 1948 as refugees from Arab nations) to the Ashkenazis who came in the first wave of aliyah in the late 19th century.  Tali's family is of Turkish descent but she & her two sisters have all married Israelis of Ashkenazi descent. One brother is a doctor and the other is an IDF Pilot.

We were lucky enough to have a representative of the KKL and his wife attend our event.  He spoke glowingly of the work being done by the JNF and the Sapphire Society in particular.  It was a wonderful moment when his wife, also a KKL representative announced that during Israeli Independence Day schools would teach about the Ethiopian Jews and their miraculous journey from Africa to Israel.  Especially wonderful for us was to hear that the young Ethiopian woman who stole our hearts in Tel Aviv during the Women's Forum would be contacted to take part in this project.

I was seated next to Sharon from Newport Beach, California and JNF Board Member Terry Katz.  Sharon and Terry are prominent founding members of the Sapphire Society.  They have been to Israel innumerable times and as such were lucky enough to see JNF projects from just board room ideas, become reality.  Something Sharon said stayed with me.  JNF has become such an integral part of her life that when her grandson greets her it is usually with "How's the JNF, Grandma."

We ended the evening tired but I believe very fulfilled.  Hard to believe that tomorrow would be the last day of our Mission.