Weekly Chasidic Story #1045 (s5778-14/
1 Tevet 5778)
Nazi Prisoner # 7-4-1-6
Jerry gasped. Yehuda responded curtly: "Surely you've seen concentration
camp numbers on other survivors before."
Connections (2):
1) This week's Torah reading, Vayigash, features two dramatic reunions.
2) Next week, on Thursday, is the sunrise-to-nightfall Fast of the Tenth
of Tevet. It commemorates the onset of the siege outside the walls of Jerusalem
that led to the destruction of the Holy Temple on the Ninth of Av. In addition,
in our times it has become the date to say Kaddish for those martyrs of the
Holocaust (and all the others through the centuries) whose date of death is
unknown.
Nazi Prisoner # 7-4-1-6
Jerry Simon* first met Yehuda Finerman* at a kibbutz in Israel.
Jerry had fled there after a brief stint in the U.S. Army, where he had encountered
subtle and no-so-subtle forms of anti-Semitism. "Just a few short years
after World War ll," Jerry had thought in anguish, "and nobody seems
to have learned any lessons. What kind of world do we live in?"
One hot summer day, when the two were toiling side by side under the blazing
sun and Yehuda's shirtsleeves were rolled up high, Jerry couldn't help but notice
the numbers tattooed on his friend's forearm---7416. He gasped.
What's the matter, Jerry?" Yehuda asked.
"I
I'm sorry, Yehuda," Jerry stammered "I'm not trying to
be nosy or anything, but I couldn't help but notice the numbers on your forearm."
"Surely you've seen them on other survivors before," Yehuda responded
curtly.
"Of course I have. It's
it's just
Well, what struck me as odd
is that your concentration camp numbers----seven, four, one, six---just happen
to be the last four digits of my American social security number!"
'That's what you're so excited about?" Yehuda scoffed. "It's just
a meaningless coincidence."
"Look Yehuda," Jerry pleaded, "I know it's hard for you but I
care about you, deeply. Could you tell me how you got those numbers?"
Yehuda looked at Jerry thoughtfully. "Maybe it is a mistake for survivors
to hide their experiences from the rest of the world. Maybe we were meant to
serve as witnesses
All right Jerry. I'll tell you exactly what happened."
For the next hour, Yehuda told his story. "And then, we stood on line at
selection---my brother, my sisters, my parents, and I----and we were branded
with these concentration camp numbers, in numerical order. I was next to last,
followed by my brother. Afterward, we were split up, and I never saw any of
them again. I was the only one in my family who survived the war."
Jerry was silent when Yehuda's recital of the terrors he had suffered came to
an abrupt end. What could he possibly say in the face of such suffering? Now
he understood why survivors were loath to recount their stories. Their nightmare
was truly unutterable, unspeakable. But still, the story had to be told
didn't
it?
* * *
Many years later, Jerry had left the kibbutz and was working in the Jerusalem-Tel
Aviv area as a tour guide for wealthy Americans who wanted to be personally
chaperoned around Israel in a comfortable limousine. Most of his clients were
kind and amiable, and Jerry generally enjoyed his job. But one day, he picked
up a new client at the airport whose behavior was insufferable. The man was
domineering, rude and harsh. He was a control freak and continually shouted
orders at Jerry from the back of the car. Jerry clenched his teeth and made
an almost superhuman effort to remain polite. Finally, just when he felt he
couldn't take it anymore, the man inexplicably shouted: "Pull over to the
side of the road!"
"What?" Jerry asked, confused.
"I said, pull over! Look," said the man to Jerry, who had turned around
to face his tormentor, "you don't like me very much do you?"
Jerry was silent.
"I know sometimes my behavior is obnoxious, offensive. Sometimes even I
can't quite believe what I've become. I'm sorry, I apologize. It's just that
I'm
so alone in the world. I've endured so much. There are nights I think I just
won't make it through
." And then the man broke down and cried. "You
think I'm an arrogant, wealthy American businessman," he said. "What
I really am," he sobbed, "is a Holocaust survivor." He rolled
up his shirt to show Jerry the numbers.
7-4-1-7.
The last four digits of Jerry's social security number were 7416. He recalled
the conversation he had had long ago with another Holocaust survivor, as the
man cried: "I lost my whole family in the concentration camp, everyone
was killed except for me. I have no one in the world!"
Jerry stared at the American in shock and whispered, "My dear friend, you
are wrong. Number seven-four-one-six is very much alive
and I happen to
know exactly where he can be found."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
* Pseudonyms
Source: Reprinted from //chabadmineola.com .
Connections (2):
1) This week's Torah reading, Vayigash, features two dramatic reunions (plus
a few more minor ones!).
2) Next week, on Thursday, is the sunrise-to-nightfall Fast of the Tenth of
Tevet. It commemorates the onset of the siege outside the walls of Jerusalem
that led to the destruction of the Holy Temple on the Ninth of Av. In addition,
in our times it has become the date to say Kaddish for those martyrs of the
Holocaust (and all the others through the centuries) whose date of death is
unknown.
Yerachmiel
Tilles is co-founder and associate director of Ascent-of-Safed, and chief editor
of this website (and of KabbalaOnline.org). He has hundreds of published stories
to his credit, and many have been translated into other languages. He tells
them live at Ascent nearly every Saturday night.
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