We all have certain moments that are forever embedded in our memories from childhood. I can still remember vividly where my mother was standing—right in front of our stove in the kitchen—when she said to me, with tears in her eyes, “It’s all Hitler’s fault!” My mother, of blessed memory, was a miraculous person. She gave of herself to so many people, and was truly a dedicated and kindred spirit. She was loving to her family with true devotion, but sadly passed away at the age of 50. The honor which she showed to her parents was exceptional, modeling for her sons the true respect every parent deserves. My mother was a child of survivors. Her father, my maternal grandfather, had been married with five children before the Holocaust. His entire family was lost, and when he married my Bubbie a”h, he began to rebuild. They came to America with their son and daughter and were determined to put the pain of the war behind them. They learned the skill of pearl stringing and with much hard work over many years they achieved success. But the emotional scars of the Holocaust would never go away. For the majority of my childhood, my grandparents lived upstairs from us in our Brooklyn home. It was a decision my father and mother made together. It created wonderful memories from my childhood, but also had its very challenging moments. I remember watching the emotional struggle that my mother experienced on a regular basis. Who could blame my grandparents? They never intended to cause my mother pain in any way. Who could blame any survivor?
Each time I officiate at the funeral of a survivor, I lament the fact that we are losing so many precious and extraordinary examples of perseverance. But there has also been collateral damage that is often overlooked. The Holocaust has left its mark on the second generation of survivors as well. It was this indelible mark to which my mother was referring in our kitchen on that day. The children of survivors were and are in certain cases the unintended victims of role reversal. Instead of growing up as children, they had to serve as “parents” to their parents. On the surface, their children were given an American education and therefore served as translators for their survivor parents who had difficulty grasping the English language. It was the children of the survivors who were tasked with caring for their parents at an early age in a society that was challenging for immigrants given their tragic past experience. There was a deep lack of trust for that which was foreign, although most, if not all, survivors in America were and remain deeply grateful to this country for its kindness. But the word “trust” was a difficult one for survivors, and all they were able to rely upon was their own children. Most survivors were deeply emotionally scarred on some level and their children at times may have struggled as a result.
The children have had an extraordinary task of caring for their parents, and have done so with an associated feeling of guilt which stemmed from fear of ever causing their parents pain. The reasoning, of course, was that their parents had suffered far enough pain in their lives already. On a deeper level, this emotional struggle has impacted the second generation and has, at times, even trickled down to the third generation as well. Some children of survivors have had difficulty cultivating and sustaining their own healthy relationships.
Take David, for example, who was a dedicated son to his parents who were survivors. When David married Rachel he insisted that they live close enough to his parents so that he be able to take care of them when they were in need. During the early years of their marriage, David and Rachel would eat Shabbos lunch with his parents every week. When it came to Yomim Tovim, they rarely went to Rachel’s family since David felt the need to stay close to his parents so that they would not be alone. As a young newlywed, Rachel admired David’s honor of his parents and went with his plan, although over time her feelings began to change. Although David had two sisters who also lived nearby, he felt that with all his parents had experienced they deserved to have David and Rachel spend the Yamim Tovim with them. While Rachel was respectful of her in-laws, she slowly began to resent them. When Rachel wanted to go away on vacation, David’s first concern was who would take care of his parents. Rachel started to feel that David was more concerned about his parents’ happiness than hers. When Rachel tried speaking to David about her concerns, asking him why he was scared to disappoint his parents but not her, he responded in a defensive fashion and accused Rachel, whose parents were not survivors, of being heartless. Slowly, over time, David made it clear to Rachel that conversations about his relationship with his parents were off the table. He reasoned that these types of discussion would only cause marital strife and it was better to avoid the subject completely. As a result, Rachel began to turn inward. She not only resented David’s parents but had developed deep anger toward David as well. As the years passed by, David and Rachel had several children, many simchas to celebrate, yet emotionally they grew apart.
When David’s parents passed away and their children grew up and left home, David turned toward Rachel and asked her why she seems so angry at him all the time. “Why can’t we ever have a conversation without you ever getting angry at me? David said. Rachel answered, “You won’t understand.” David went on to explain to Rachel that he always looked forward to the time when the kids would be out of the house and that they can enjoy each other’s company. Rachel, on the other hand, has given up hope of ever being able to enjoy time with David. Her sadness, anger and resentment have worn her out. Where does their marriage go from here?
In any marriage, it is critical for each spouse to understand one’s role, and the allegiance to each other is a priority over any other familial or any other foreign relationship. There are situations where children are so dedicated to caring for their parents that the necessary natural boundaries have eroded, and by the time a survivor leaves this world, the marriage of the child has suffered terribly. When a couple is united in any mission from the beginning of their relationship, their marriage is bonded with an understanding of growth together, and they are united and supportive of each other, through whatever challenges they may face. When survivors’ children intermarry (with each other), their marriage is often strengthened by their common experiences, and view the responsibility of caring for their parents as a dual obligation. The problem, however, is most tenuous when a child of survivors is married to a child of non- survivors. It is extraordinarily difficult for non-survivors’ children to understand what is deemed by survivors’ children as being normal. At times, survivors’ children may place the care of their parents before the allegiance to their spouses. As the generation of survivors sadly ebbs away, and the children of survivors become “empty nesters,” some find that their marriages have missed out on the most critical and formative years. In the best-case scenario, they have not reached the level of growth in the relationship that they may have once desired. In the worst case scenario, they have grown apart from their spouses. Deep anger and resentment may have penetrated into the relationship, and delicate care and review is needed to rebuild or recreate a marriage that on many levels was never emotionally established and respected.
If there is one overarching message that the generation of survivors has left us, it is one of perseverance. They persevered to start again and to never give up hope. When it comes to the children of survivors and their marriages, the message should be the same. It is never too late to recreate, reshape or repair a relationship. May we all continue to strive to improve our marriage bond, thereby improving our own lives and teaching a powerful lesson to the next generation.
Rabbi Eliezer Zwickler is rabbi of Congregation AABJ&D in West Orange, NJ, and is a Licensed Clinical Social Worker in private practice. Rabbi Zwickler can be reached at [email protected].
By Rabbi Eliezer Zwickler
