I'm taking a break from writing about Torah this week to write about
my family, how it was affected by the Holocaust (The Shoah), and to
share a few incredible stories.
The information I know about my Grandfather, Benjamin Taub's youth is
quite sparse. I know that he was born in Romania,in a city called Bitczkev, near a city called Sziget (about amile or two from where Elie Weisel was born). You can see where that is on the map - it's the red marker.
According to my grandfather,one day he went to school and they said,
"Jews don't go to school." That was the last day he was enrolled in an educational
setting for the rest of his life (he lived till his 70's).
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My Zeidi (grandfather), Ben to the left.
His twin brother, Sam, on the right. |
Upon reaching Auschwitz, he and his twin brother, Sam (who, sadly passed away about a month ago) were told that the Nazis were looking for twins, and if they were found together, that would be the end of the road. The two made a pact not to be seen with one another, or speak to one another, ever. For years they lived in the same few block radius, and did not speak. It's unbelievable.
After the war my grandfather was relocated to a displaced persons camp in Italy.
He remembered fondly being called "Binjamino", and eating a lot of macaroni. Initially, these camps were funded by the Allies. Later on the American Joint Distribution Committee - AJDC funded them. To the right you can see a pictures of just such a camp on this page, and on their website. I'm honored to be an employee of AJDC. For the last three years I have written curriculum about exactly these moments in Jewish history.
 
AJDC ran orphanages after the war.
Photos with permission of USHMM Photo Archives |
From Italy he participated in what's called "Aliyah Bet"- a tounge-in-cheek term for 'Plan B'. |
Plan A was move to then Palestine legally.
When that was not an option
(the British blockaded Palestine and did not let refugees in), organized movements including the Haganah arranged for boats to bring in survivors illegally. My grandfather's boat was stopped, as were many others, and rather than returning to Europe (which had cost him nearly his entire family) he jumped off the boat, and swam to shore. Unfortunately, he was tracked to land, and promptly picked up by the British military, and put in a detention camp / jail.
From one camp (Auschwitz), to another (the DP camp in Italy), to another (prison). It's unbelievable what some people of that generation lived through.
The story goes that a cousin had left Romania before the war, and they somehow were notified that a person with the last name Taub was being held in jail. That person, Efraim Taub (who had settled in Rehovot in the early 1910's) either bribed a guard or paid some amount of money to have him released. No more camps for my Sabba (Hebrew for grandfather), now he had freedom, now he had to figure out what to do with his life.
In Rehovot, Binyamin tried his hand at key making, and even worked as
a bricklayer. That would not last long.
Being above 18 (read: of army age), Benyamin joined the Haganah - the predecessor to the IDF - the Israeli Defense Force. There he fought for Israeli independence in 1948, alongside his new brother in law, Moshe.
After a few decades, a few more wars, and having had two of his three children (my mother Sarah, and my uncle Howard), Binyamin and his wife Rachael moved to the Goldene Medinah -"The Golden Country" - America.
In America my grandfather was a member of and helped support the Supinker Relief Association - a landsmanschaften - a group of people from a country now living in America, cooperating to make their lives better, jointly.
 |
Green Road Synagouge traces its origins to a
handful of immigrants from Marmaresher Sziger,
Hungary, who established the Marmaresher B'nai
Jacob Society in 1910. |
My grandfather was a member of a temple, referred to now as Green Road Synagogue. But if you look at the name on the building, it's officially "Shearit Marmoresh" - the remnant of Marmoresh, the area in Romania near the Carpathian Mountains that the founders were from - a lasting monument to the family they lost, the lives that were taken from them, and the relatives they'd never again see again -
The Jews of Romania that were killed in the Holocaust (nearly 85% of all Romanian Jews were killed in the Holocaust).
In retrospect I feel like I grew up going to shul (synagogue) with the grandchildren of all those scarred survivors, in Beachwood Ohio - of all places.
I'm not sure what lessons can be drawn, other than the intense loss and fragility of life.
Perhaps Yom Hashoah should be a day to reflect and feel thankful
for all that we have, all that was built on the backs of those survivors
with stories like my grandfather's.
Perhaps it should also be a day of introspection -
Are we living up to the creed: Never Again?
Not just for us, but for anyone fighting for their right to live -
literally for the right to be alive, and also to live the way they see fit -
be in it in Syria, Darfur, Sudan, The State of Israel, or here in America.
I'm not sure. I know that we do have a responsibility to educate -
Here are some of the curricula I wrote on the Holocaust, if you are interested in learning more or in teaching this material.
I do feel that if we only look back and mourn, we might be missing the point - the point these people figured out quite quickly:
Freedom has a price, responsibility. Whether it's building a nation, founding a
landsmanschaften, or creating a community and a temple with like-minded people - they knew it was time. Time to heal, and time to grow. And they did - My grandfather had 6 grandchildren and now would count 4 great grandchildren.
What will we build?
How will we use the memory of those who were cut off to make life anew? And perhaps most importantly, will we not just learn about, but also ACT upon our collective understanding: that evil unabated will thrive?
I'd love to hear your thoughts /comments.
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