Editor’s Note: This story was written by Anna Bedell for a Nov. 27, 2019, assignment for a Feature Writing class. Bedell dedicated the article to Bea Israel who has since passed away and to the Israel family.
By Anna Bedell
Blue and clear stain-glass windows glisten in the dim light. Archways carved out of oakwood, edge the pews as each row is higher than the next like in a theater.
The modest altar has a small broken glass window that shows the signs of age with its fractured veins – a delicate reminder of the frailty of humanity – in remembrance of two nights of terror many decades ago.
Not even a whisper is heard as the music slowly fades into a deafening silence.
Suddenly, the sounds of broken glass echo loudly from the speakers – shattering the quiet. There are a few gasps, along with the faint sound of whispers, yet most of the audience sits stoic – silent.
This moment is a critical one in the 18th commemoration Kristallnacht, “The Night of the Broken Glass,” held at the Charter Oak Cultural Center on Sunday, Nov. 10, 2018. The center is the oldest synagogue in the area located in downtown Hartford.
On that night in mid-November 1938, the Nazis descended on Jewish residents across Germany, destroying property, confiscating other properties and accelerating the march to what became the Holocaust.
The Kristallnacht remembrance led by Rabbi Donna Berman, Ph.D., is an evening of observation, education and thought-provoking stories, songs, dance and music that brought together a community infused with diversity.
From the podium, Berman addresses ethnic cleansing, genocide, the legacy of slavery, the disparity between the rich, poor, white, black, brown and even gender diversity. This “night of terror unleashed the horror of the holocaust,” Berman states over and over again.
But now a mother and son stand up and face the audience. They are Bea Israel, a 91-year-old Holocaust survivor and her 67 year-old son, retired television engineer Jeffrey Israel of Bristol, who are here to share their stories.
The younger Israel starts. He refers to himself as “second generation Holocaust survivor.” He discusses a recent visit to Germany with his brother, Steven.
They travelled to the small town of Großen-Linden, he says, where they met with the local town’s folk who welcomed them with open arms.
He continues.
They were invited by a group of historians and Mattias Weber, who is the great, great grandson of the family who harbored the Israel family, during those trying times.
“We weren’t sure what kind of reception we would receive,” says Israel. “They too weren’t sure what our reaction would be either.”
Israel recalls how he carried with him his family’s Shofar, an ancient musical ram’s horn, that his grandfather smuggled out of Germany. He says when he blew the Shofar, it had been 80 years since it had been heard in Großen-Linden.
“It was a very emotional day as my brother and I attended a ceremony in our mother’s hometown of Grossen-Linden, Germany honoring her Aunt Lina who perished in the Holocaust,” Israel says. “Over 100 people attended the laying of a ‘Stolpersteine’ in her honor, in front of her former home.”
The Shofar is over 200 years old, and it has been passed down through the generations in his family. He is now the caretaker of the horn.
After showing the audience the Shofar, he stands by his mother’s side, as she begins her own story.
The elder Israel, who was born March 31, 1928, describes what was considered the most horrific part of her life as a young girl living in a small town called Grossen-Linden, approximately 28 miles north of Frankfurt, Germany.
As a 10-year-old girl, she attended a public primary [elementary] school. One day, while in the fourth grade, her teacher asked her to stay after class and handed her a letter.
She took the letter home and handed it to her parents.
“I told my mother that I was good, I was good,” says the elder Israel.
It was at that moment her parents informed her that she was not allowed to go back to that school because she was Jewish. This letter changed the course of her life. She immediately felt isolated because she was the only one in her class that was given such a letter.
After that fateful day, she was forced to catch a train daily by herself, traveling a long distance to attend another school in a different town. This only lasted a few months until her parents secured a spot for her in a private Jewish school, near where they lived.
Knowing there was chaos happening in Germany, her father walked all night by foot to Giessen, avoiding the Nazis, to go see his family by train.
The next morning, he arrived at the train station and while standing on the platform, a Nazi recognized him and yelled out his name “Theisebach.” Her father’s fate was sealed as he was hauled away and sent to Buchenwald prison camp.
Israel, her sister Hilda and her mother Henriette stayed with their friends, a German family who risked their lives, until they were able to free her father.
Her mother, a soft-spoken woman, went to Buchenwald and begged the guards to release her husband. She showed them papers that had been previously filed, that showed he was approved to leave Germany with his family.
Three months after Kristallnacht, they fled to the safety of America. Those years will forever haunt her life.
“It is a privilege to be an American,” says Israel. “I feel it is even more important that people learn about the Holocaust, otherwise we will be doomed to repeat it.”
Israel has spoken to young people, for instance, at East Hartford High School, where she was treated with respect and students hugged her afterwards. However, she refused to travel to groups to speak after receiving an anonymous letter stating – the Holocaust never happened.
As Israel sat down, Grave from Sonata No. 2 A Minor for Solo Violin, by Johanne Sebastian Bach, is played by violinist Hyeyung Yoon.
The program continues with prayers for peace and justice, as one by one an audience member stands up and reads them in different languages – a unification of different cultures.
Improvographer, Bonita Weisman, gives an emotional performance as she dances to Sweet Honey in the Rock.
An elderly Jamaican woman, Louise Douglas, stands up and heads to the podium. She reads the poem, Let There be Peace on Earth.
“I was totally, totally overwhelmed by the idea of what a group of people went through,” says Douglas. “In our present-day politics, we’re in a slippery slope. I read somewhere that Hitler started to dehumanize the Jewish people and it seems the same thing is happening now.”
Douglas says she was invited by Rabbi Berman, whom she met at the local YMCA. She didn’t know what to expect but is surprisingly moved and overwhelmed by the commemoration.
Rabbi Debra Cantor officiates the final part of the evening’s program. Ironically, this year marks the 30th anniversary of the fall of the Berlin wall, Cantor reminded the audience.
“Tonight, with the power of candles and prayer, let us start our own peaceful revolution,” says Cantor. “From the lessons of the Holocaust, may we have the courage to stand up for justice today!”
Andante from Violin Sonata No. 2 in A Minor BWV 1003 HICO is played by Yoon, while the lighting of candles was spread throughout the synagogue, as one by one the audience members lit their candles.
The crowd proceeds with their candles outside and down the front steps of the synagogue, with one last prayer ending the evening of remembrance.
There was a small dinner of soup and bread being offered after the event, in the basement of the synagogue. Some people went home, while others stayed to share their own stories and reflection on such an important event.
During the dinner gathering, the younger Israel who sat beside his mother mentions that there are only 12 states in the U.S. that mandate teaching about the Holocaust. He has made appearances, teaching about the Holocaust at the Museum of Jewish Civilization located at the University of Hartford.
With her petite frame, his mother sits unwavering with her walker by her side. Her sparkling blue eyes are full of hope. For all the atrocities Israel has witnessed, she remains a positive person.
Israel was willing to continue with her stories the following week in her home.
To this day, she continues to stay in touch with the great, grand children of the same family in Germany, who risked their lives to safeguard them. She attributes having lived a long life to God, having gratitude and having hope.
“We were only eight Jewish families in our town,” said Israel. “I remember the firehouse near my house, there were no bathrooms. I remember everything so clearly, even at my age.”
She was visibly shaken while describing the day her father came home. After having a full head of hair and a beard, he was unrecognizable with no hair, no beard while walking towards her – she cried.
Remnants of her past were displayed in her home. Vintage cars and a train sat quietly on a railroad track. Black and white photos of her family frame the walls. An ancient oil lamp hangs in one corner, but her proudest display is the German Iron cross her father wore during his stint in the army before the Holocaust.
“My father was proud to serve in the army even though he was mistreated during the Holocaust,” said Israel. “It is still a part of our heritage. After all, we are Germans too.”
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