Corrie Ten Boom
Total Page:16
File Type:pdf, Size:1020Kb
Corrie ten Boom Under Hitler’s domination in Eastern Europe, conditions were created in which citizens of occupied countries were encouraged to turn against their fellow citizens and abandon them both legally and morally as neighbors. While many non-Jews chose silence and safety as bystanders during the Holocaust, a heroic few obeyed the greatest of the commandments: to love thy neighbor. During a period in history when it seemed as though the whole world had abandoned the Jews of Eastern Europe, courageous individuals stepped forward and risked their own lives as well as the lives of family members to shelter and rescue Jews during the Holocaust. In an era marked by apathy and complicity, these rescuers present a portrait of moral courage in their response to the Holocaust. Their sense of justice and profound goodness led these individuals to reject Hitler’s “Final Solution” and work towards the restoration of human dignity. Most were ordinary citizens who went to extraordinary lengths merely to do what they believed was right. Some rescuers hid Jews in attics or cellars or behind false walls within their homes, sharing their meager food rations with their Jewish “guests” in hiding. Other rescuers helped transport Jews to the safety of neutral countries via an underground railroad of sorts that trafficked in Jewish refugees fleeing Nazi deportation. There were rescuers who used their positions, political connections, or diplomatic ties to issue transit visas, false documents, or citizenship papers in order to smuggle Jews out of ghettos and occupied areas. There were even those who raised Jewish children as their own or hid them in schools and churches to protect them from Nazi genocide. Each of these rescuers is honored as a “Righteous Gentile” at Yad Vashem in Israel. These non-Jews have earned the distinction hasidei umot haolam or the “righteous among the nations,” a title derived from the Talmud to describe those who risk their own lives to save the lives of others. The Avenue of the Righteous Among the Nations is a monument erected at Yad Vashem to these non-Jewish rescuers who have earned a special place in Jewish history as well. The avenue is lined by carob trees—each tree planted as a living tribute to individual courage and sacrifice. There is a Talmud directive that states, “Whoever saves one life, saves the world entire.” Thus, through their courage and conscience during the Holocaust, these “Righteous Gentiles” preserved humanity and honored the sanctity of all human life. When the Nazis occupied Holland in 1940, many Dutch citizens risked their lives to shelter Jews, hiding them in their attics, cellars, and homes. In Haarlem, Holland, the ten Boom family witnessed Jewish persecution and the round-up of Dutch Jews destined for deportation to the concentration camps of Eastern Europe. Devout Christians, the ten Boom family responded to these organized anti-Semitic measures by providing a hiding place in their home for Jewish refugees. The ten Boom family ran a clock and watch repair shop on Barteljorisstraat within their home, which they called the Béjé. Casper ten Boom was a watchmaker, and he encouraged his daughter Corrie to learn the family trade. Corrie ten Boom lived in the combination family home and workshop with her father and older sister Betsie. Throughout the Nazi occupation, the Béjé became a center for underground activities by accommodating Jews in danger of arrest and deportation by the Gestapo. These Jewish refugees lived in hiding in the Béjé for varying periods of time until they could be smuggled to safety via the Dutch underground. By providing this safe haven and trafficking in human cargo, Corrie and her family risked their own lives. Their non-violent resistance against the Nazis was an act of faith. Deeply religious, the ten Boom family felt they were called by their love for God and their Christian duty to help their fellow human beings in need; thus their faith led them to shelter and rescue Jews. The family was betrayed, and the Gestapo raided the Béjé on February 21, 1944. Corrie, her father, her sister Betsy, and 33 other family members and friends were arrested during the raid. However, the Gestapo did not discover the secret room nor the Jews in hiding there, who escaped detection for several days and later managed to leave the Béjé and reach safety. The ten Boom family was deported to concentration camps where both Corrie’s father and sister died. Remarkably, amidst the horrors of camp life, Corrie continued to witness her Christian faith and worked tirelessly to help and comfort other prisoners. In January 1945, she was freed, apparently through an administrative error. When World War II ended, Corrie traveled around the world, visiting numerous countries to testify to God’s love and to bring his message of brotherhood and compassion to those in need. The excerpts that follow profile the extraordinary life of Corrie ten Boom and other altruistic rescuers. The first selections are taken from Corrie ten Boom’s memoir The Hiding Place and testify to the courage of this quiet Christian spinster whose life was transformed by her response to those in need during the Holocaust. The concluding excerpt, “Links in a Chain,” explores the altruistic personality during this dark period in history and the motivation required for such ethical responses to Hitler’s regime. During the Holocaust, Corrie ten Boom—as well as all “Righteous Gentiles”—bore witness that the small voice of conscience and compassion could still be heard over the Nazi cacophony of racist rhetoric and oppression. They did, indeed, follow the commandment to love thy neighbor. The following excerpts have been taken from: THE HIDING PLACE By Corrie ten Boom with John and Elizabeth Sherrill. Copyright © 1971 by Corrie ten Boom and John and Elizabeth Sherrill. Reprinted with permission of Chosen Books. From: Chapter 6 “The Secret Room” And one morning soon afterward the first customer in the shop was a small thin-bearded man named Smit. Father took his jeweler’s glass from his eye. If there was one thing he loved better than making a new acquaintance, it was discovering a link with an old one. “Smit,” he said eagerly. “I know several Smits in Amsterdam. Are you by any chance related to the family who— “Father,” I interrupted, “this is the man I told you about. He’s come to, ah, inspect the house.” “A building inspector? Then you must be the Smit with offices in the Grote Hout Straat. I wonder that I haven’t— “Father!” I pleaded, “he’s not a building inspector, and his name is not Smit.” “Not Smit?” Together Mr. Smit and I attempted to explain, but Father simply could not understand a person’s being called by a name not his own. As I led Mr. Smit into the back hail we heard him musing to himself, “I once knew a Smit on Koning Straat. .” Mr. Smit examined and approved the hiding place for ration cards beneath the bottom step. He also pronounced acceptable the warning system we had worked out. This was a triangle-shaped wooden sign advertising “Alpina Watches” which I had placed in the dining room window. As long as the sign was in place, it was safe to enter. But when I showed him a cubby hole behind the corner cupboard in the dining room, he shook his head. Some ancient redesigning of the house had left a crawl space in that corner and we’d been secreting jewelry, silver coins, and other valuables there since the start of the occupation. Not only the rabbi had brought us his library but other Jewish families had brought their treasures to the Beje for safekeeping. The space was large enough that we had believed a person could crawl in there if necessary, but Mr. Smit dismissed it without a second glance. “First place they’d look. Don’t bother to change it though. It’s only silver. We’re interested in saving people, not things.” He started up the narrow corkscrew stairs, and as he mounted so did his spirits. He paused in delight at the odd-placed landings, pounded on the crooked walls, and laughed aloud as the floor levels of the two old houses continued out of phase. “What an impossibility!” he said in an awestruck voice. “What an improbable, unbelievable, unpredictable impossibility! Miss ten Boom, if all houses were constructed like this one, you would see before you a less worried man.” At last, at the very top of the stairs, he entered my room and gave a little cry of delight. “This is it!” he exclaimed. “You want your hiding place as high as possible,” he went on eagerly. “Gives you the best chance to reach it while the search is on below.” He leaned out the window, craning his thin neck, the little faun’s beard pointing this way and that. “But . this is my bedroom. .” Mr. Smit paid no attention. He was already measuring. He moved the heavy, wobbly old wardrobe away from the wall with surprising ease and pulled my bed into the center of the room. “This is where the false wall will go!” Excitedly he drew out a pencil and drew a line along the floor thirty inches from the back wall. He stood up and gazed at it moodily. “That’s as big as I dare,” he said. “It will take a cot mattress, though. Oh yes. Easily!” I tried again to protest, but Mr. Smit had forgotten I existed. Over the next few days he and his workmen were in and out of our house constantly.