Part 33 (written 2004)

(Continued from previous week)

Lest the reader think that I have related only that which was rosy and good in my life, and left untold the disappointments, which are always part of life, let me continue “My Stories” with a tale of a great disappointment. I agonized a long time over whether to write it at all here, having never told it to anyone before. My family was aware of it, as it unfolded, and it was discussed here and there, and I have sought advice from others. I hesitated to write it down, because I do not want the reader to feel that I am bragging about it. But as Esther said, anybody who doesn’t know me yet from all the previous pages is not going to form an opinion of me just from this section.

So here goes.

I have changed the names of most of the participants to protect their privacy.

The B. Family

In August, 1993, my wife and I went on a group tour through Scandinavia, guided by Chana Scharfstein, an Orthodox woman, originally from Sweden. We spent two weeks travelling in Denmark, Norway, Sweden and Finland.

On the Shabbos that we spent in Stockholm, during the morning prayer service in the synagogue, I happened to notice a boy of about 13, struggling first with the Siddur (prayer book), and then with the Chumash (Torah reading). It was obvious to me that he wanted to follow the service but had great difficulty in finding the right page and then keeping up with the congregation. Since he was sitting directly in front of me, I leaned forward and helped him a number of times. Each time I was rewarded with a grateful and sincere smile. Since he was sitting alone, without any family next to him, I wanted to speak to him after the services. Intuition told me that there was something unusual there. Unfortunately, he was quicker than I, and he was gone before I had a chance to start a conversation.

Since Chana Scharfstein knew “everybody” in Scandinavia, I told her what had occurred and she immediately knew who the boy was. Since we were leaving Stockholm the following day, there was no further opportunity to meet, but Chana, who also knew the mother of the boy, promised to call her and tell her about my interest.

Shortly after our return to the US, I received a fax from the mother, S., telling me about her family. She was at that time a single mother, with an almost 18-year-old son, Ba., and a 13-year-old son, Be. who wanted to become a writer/journalist with a side line of ba’al tefilah or ba’al kore (reader during Jewish services). She herself was employed by the Jewish congregation in Stockholm, also teaching Judaism and was giving bar/bat mitzvah instructions. She stated that she had come from a completely assimilated family of German origin, and only during her adult years had developed a very strong commitment to the Jewish faith and tradition. Although S. never talked about who her husband was, and I did not think it was any of my business to question her, we were subsequently told (probably by Chana Scharfstein) that her husband, from whom she was divorced, was Catholic and took no interest in the boys.

A lengthy correspondence developed over a period of several months, with the result that, following my invitation, Be. became very much interested in coming to the US to continue his schooling but he wouldn’t come by himself. That suited me fine, because I did not want the responsibility of taking a 13-year-old away from his family. I had seen the results of such separations during the war years in my own family, and I did not want to repeat it with someone else.

For the family to come to the US was a question of finances. Over a period of a few months, everything fell into place. S. obtained financing from the Swedish government to continue her studies in Judaism in the US, and Ba. received a college scholarship to study in the US. Be., being too young for any Swedish financing, was taken care of by my offer to pay for all of his high school, dorm and living expenses as long as he was in the US, and as long as he would go to a school that met my approval.

Unfortunately, my inquiries with two Jewish day schools in Bergen County were met with negative replies. There is no point in going into the details as to the underlying reasons why Be. was found to be unacceptable for admission to these schools. At the same time I also tried to find a family, preferably in Bergen County, who would be willing to take in Be. I also here had no success despite my offer to pay the costs.

In February 1994, S. and Be. came for a visit to New York to try to finalize everything for their move. S. gave the impression of being a very sincere, Orthodox and dedicated woman, and Be. of being a very shy boy, very much interested in learning and improving himself in his commitment to Orthodox Judaism.

In May 1994, Be. went to Israel on a field trip, and he seemed to love it there, judging from the letters he wrote to us. In one of the letters he wrote, “To go to the kotel [western wall] was one of the most incredible moments of my life. It was really amazing. I felt really close to Judaism, which I also do now, but I, in some way, felt my roots.”

(To be continued next week)

By Norbert Strauss

 Norbert Strauss is a Teaneck resident and Englewood Hospital volunteer. He frequently speaks to groups to relay his family’s escape from Nazi Germany in 1941.