STEVEN PLAUT: THOUGHTS ON HOLOCAUST MEMORIAL DAY
After Israel was created, there was intense debate as to what
would be the appropriate date for Yom Hashoah, Holocaust Memorial Day.
The decision to hold it several days after Passover, near the end of
the Jewish month of Nissan, struck many as inappropriate. Nissan is
the month of Passover, of liberation, of rejoicing. Even minor
expressions of grief, such as some of the prayers containing emotions
of sadness, are not recited in Nissan. So holding Holocaust
Remembrance Day was flying in the face of millennia of Jewish
tradition. Some suggested that the 10th day of Teveth was a more
appropriate day. It is the traditional day in which Jews mourn those
whose date of death or circumstances of death are unknown. And
holding it then would avoid the ambiguity of a date in Nissan.
On the other hand, the second half of Nissan already holds some
emotional ambiguity. Aside from the joy of Passover liberation, there
is the period of the counting of the Omer, beginning the evening after
the Seder, which begins in Nissan and also is a period of sadness and
commemoration. So more ambiguity.
Being Jewish is so complicated!
And this year that ambiguity is taking place in exaggerated measures.
It is Yom Hashoah in Israel. When the sirens went off at 10 AM I was
in a minibus with other riders. The Christian Arab driver of the
minibus pulled over and politely invited all passengers to get out for
the two minute siren and stand at attention in silence, the unique
expression of commemoration of the Holocaust that has been Israel’s
since it was created.
But of course today was also the day of celebration of the elimination
of Osama bin Laden. I feel as much elation about that as any of the
people in the crowds of celebration across the US.
More emotional ambiguity!! Perhaps it is the true Zeitgeist, the
inevitable experience of all Jews in the 21st century.
2. There are so many stories and documentaries related to the
Holocaust that fill the Israeli media this week, so I will not bore
you with any retelling.
There was one story that I found intriguing, and I doubt you have
heard of it. It appears today in Haaretz, of all places. It is not
exactly a story of great heroism or partisan battle or horror or
suffering. Actually it is a story of a simple fellow, a quiet guy.
It is just a strange story, one that illustrates how bizarre and
multifaceted the modern Jewish experience is.
I will summarize the story, because it is a bit too long to translate
the entire Haaretz report.
It is the Holocaust story of Yisrael Tzubri, a Jew in Yemen. He lived
in the capital city of Yemen, Sana‘a. He became a small merchant back
before World War I, where he sold eggs to Turkish soldiers stationed
in Yemen. Later he opened a clothing store and after that opened a
hotel, the only one at the time operating in Sana’a. Being the only
hotel, European merchants, diplomats and spies frequented it. Tzubri
spoke about 10 languages fluently, including Middle Eastern and
European ones.
The ruler of Yemen at the time, the Imam, shopped in Tzubri’s store
and had close personal connections with him. Tzubri was a frequent
guest in the palace and sometimes served as an informal advisor. A
Hungarian historian who visited Yemen at the time described him as the
only person in the country who did not try to cheat the historian.
Prof. Yosef Tubi (from the University of Haifa – literature, who has
written about Yemenite Jewish poetry) wrote a book about Tzubri (in
Hebrew) titled “A Jew in the Service of the Imam.”
In the mid-1930s, the ruler, the Imam, decided to expand and
strengthen his military. To do so he sent Tzubri as procurement
liaison and representative to Germany, which was already under Nazi
control. Based in Hamburg, Tzubri purchased weapons and other
products on behalf of Yemen and arranged for their shipment. He kept
careful documents, today preserved in Yad Vashem, the main Israeli
museum of the Holocaust. As World War II approached, Germany was
unsafe for him, and so was Yemen, where cronies of the ruler were
whispering in the Imam’s ears against Tzubri. While most foreign
Jewish merchants who were still in Hamburg for one reason or another
were seeking ways to escape to the US, Tzubri and his daughter chose
to go to Israel. He arrived in 1939, just as the war was breaking
out.
He ran a small hotel in Tel Aviv, had a house in Jerusalem. He worked
as a small merchant. Other family members from Yemen rejoined him in
Jerusalem. He died in 1967.
Comments are closed.
