Feature Stories
Volumne 17 Number 5
May/June 2001
Iyar/Sivan/Tammuz 5761
Through the Eyes of a Child. (Part II)
By Dr. Hannah M. Plaut
Dr. Plaut’s story picks up as her family is on a ship fleeing from Nazi Germany.
Ten days later, as we steamed into New York harbor and nearly everyone was looking at the New York skyline, mother pulled us to the other side of the ship. I was awed at the fiery red sun setting into the ocean just behind the Statue of Liberty. As the sun set, the light in the torch came on - a symbol of hope in a new and strange land! It was good to see Dad again after a ten month separation, but my now 4 year old brother had no idea who ‘this Werner’ was. He’d forgotten his father. What a traumatic time for both of them! Soon I was back in school trying to understand English. One evening I spent hours trying to find the meaning of ‘Ker-plunk’ in a story about a bear who fell out of a tree. Never did find it! By 1939 war broke out in Europe. Suddenly playmates called me ugly names, tore my clothes, and told me to go back where I came from. I was totally perplexed! One day we were friends and the next I was shunned. It made no sense to me. Surely I was no different. Being a German Jew was being in the wrong place at the wrong time - and there was no right place or time to be found for years! I felt rejected, inadequate, unlovable. I was deeply hurt.
I thought America was the land of the free and a melting pot of the world’s oppressed immigrants. How wrong I was! Again life became terribly confusing. I seemed to have no acceptable, usable identity. Oh, how I hurt!! And there was no one to listen. Increasingly I withdrew and became depressed. All I got for that was scoldings for my attitude and lack of energy. My parents were too pre-occupied with their own anxieties to even recognize my pain. Along with this pain I became increasingly angry at Hitler and his Nazis. That anger, over a lifetime, nearly consumed me. After High School graduation I entered nurses’ training, one of a mid-year class of eighteen. One of the first girls I met was Irma, a warm, friendly, and accepting classmate with a great sense of humor. I was drawn to her without really knowing why. We did have birthdays just one day apart and enjoyed celebrating them together over the next three years. About 6 weeks into our training was the ninth anniversary of our coming to America. Irma and a handful of my other classmates put together a little party with ice cream and crackers in the lounge on our dorm floor. We all needed a break from trying to memorize the 206 bones of the human body! As we sat around enjoying our break, one of the girls asked me why we left Germany. I was not prepared for such a question. Should I tell the truth and risk being rejected again? I hesitated only a moment. Gathering my courage I told them the truth, that we are Jewish and Hitler kicked us out of the country. Their mouths dropped open, as they had not anticipated this answer. Before they recovered and could ask more questions, Irma spoke up with delight and announced, “My Best Friend is a Jew.” Now we were all speechless! Finally I asked who this friend might be. Irma simply responded, “My Lord and Saviour, Jesus is Jewish.” - You could have heard a pin drop. None of us had expected that for an answer. We returned to our rooms to study, but Irma knew that a spark of interest had been kindled in me. Over the year that followed we had many deep discussions about the need for personal salvation, confession of sin, and accepting Yeshua’s (Jesus’) sacrifice of Himself for that sin. I learned it was by faith that we believe. So what is faith and how do I get it? It remained a mystery to me.
Periodically I would go to youth meetings and/or Church with Irma. People at her Church were so very accepting of me. That kept me coming back for more. Finally one Sunday night I heard a sermon on John 9 about the man blind from birth who was miraculously healed by this Yeshua (Jesus). Periodically I would go to youth meetings and/or Church with Irma. People at her Church were so very accepting of me. That kept me coming back for more. Finally one Sunday night I heard a sermon on John 9 about the man blind from birth who was miraculously healed by this Yeshua (Jesus). The account demonstrated faith in a way I finally began to understand. Still I refused offers of prayer. Yes, we are a stubborn, stiff-necked people. So at age 20, on the brink of suicide and alone in my room, I challenged God that if He existed would He please get through to me right now, because I couldn’t stand the hurt anymore. It was self-destruct or find a God who cared. In response to my desperate cry God reached out to me and I experienced His love and complete acceptance. God gave me hope. In my late sixties I’ve at last, with God’s help, accepted who I am. The larger task was realizing that I had never given God all that anger, hate, fear, and pain that had infected me during life in Nazi Germany and our narrow escape as Hitler’s noose tightened around the neck of every Jew. As I prepared to visit Israel in 1993, God, over a period of months, prepared me, one step at a time, to seek His forgiveness and in turn to be able to forgive those who had oppressed us and annihilated some of our relatives among the 6,000,000. Such was the preparation by a holy God for my first visit to Israel. There was one more step before the inner healing could be complete. On Monday morning, May 17, 1993 we went to Yad VaShem. I knew this could be a difficult experience, but was not prepared for my reaction. As I stepped off our bus I began sobbing uncontrollably for a time. At that moment God provided a friend who firmly held my hand and silently walked with me as I wept and slowly made my way through this simple, dignified memorial to those whose lives had been sacrificed in the holocaust. Entering the Children’s Memorial, I instantly became the child I was in the 1930s, and but for the grace of God which allowed me to be part of the remnant, I could be one of those names! How I grieved for the 1,500,000 children who died so needlessly! As we walked through the other exhibits, the only image that stayed with me was that of a little boy, perhaps 10 years old, emaciated, in coat and cap, with his hands and arms raised and looking right out of that picture at me. His eyes were so dark and haunting! Life and death through the eyes of a child.* My tears still flow at the memory. In that place and at that moment I was suddenly overwhelmed by the love God has for His people! I found myself remembering that “whom He loves He chastens!” (Proverbs 3:12) What a very great Love! No, that does not explain the Holocaust, but it did help me to rediscover His love despite pain and suffering. God does still love me and my people. Then I felt enveloped in His love too. Suddenly I was so free. In the flood of tears and memories and commitment to obedience to God, my God healed me. I forgave and I am forgiven. Through the eyes of a child He brought me to the acknowledgment that He is Adonai Eloheinu, the LORD our God. He still cares about His people. Adonai Rophe! The LORD heals. Amen!
(Pray for Dr. Plaut as she speaks throughout Europe this
summer)
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