It was the fall of 1938. Rabbi Dr. Solomon Schonfeld was
a young rabbi of twenty-six who had taken over his late
father’s positions as rabbi of a small congregation and
principal of a small day school – the first in England. News of
the persecution of Jews in Germany and Austria began to filter
in, especially the day after the terrible pogrom of Kristallnacht
on November 9-10, 1938.
Sitting in his modest office, Dr. Schonfeld could not settle
down to his daily work. A sensitive man, he understood the full
impact of the tragedy. He had thought that such things could
only happen in the Middle Ages, not in our age of progress.
Here he sat, safe in his cozy room, while his fellow Jews on the
other side of the Channel languished in concentration camps.
What could he do to help them? He had no money. His father
had never been money-minded. Whatever he had managed
to save from his own modest salary he usually gave away
when confronted with an emergency among his congregants.
So the only thing left was compassion for his brethren, but this
was clearly not enough.
Dr. Schonfeld’s thoughts were interrupted by the sharp
ring of the telephone. It was a Mr. Julius Steinfeld calling from
Vienna. Dr. Schonfeld had talked to this man in Austria several
times. Steinfeld, a courageous communal leader in Vienna,
had been doing his utmost for his brethren in Austria without
regard for his own safety. Briefly and carefully, so as not to
run afoul of the censors, who he was sure were listening in
on the telephone conversation, Mr. Steinfeld now told Dr.
Schonfeld of hundreds of children whose parents had been
arrested or killed in the pogrom and who were now left on their own. Could Dr. Schonfeld help them? His voice choked
with emotion, Dr. Schonfeld promised to try.
A council of members of Dr. Schonfeld’s congregation
was hastily summoned to grapple with the problem. The
gentlemen decided, for a start, to raise money to bring ten
children over to England. Dr. Schonfeld left the meeting in
a depressed mood. They were good men, but they didn’t
understand that it would take weeks, even months to raise
the large amount they thought would be necessary to care
adequately for the children. Meanwhile, hunger, sickness and
the threat of further pogroms would take a heavy toll. Ten
children indeed!
Something much more drastic had to be done. But Dr.
Schonfeld did not dare spell out his plans. He was afraid he
would be put into a straitjacket. He knew his congregation;
they were a well-fed, well-housed community. The troubles
on the Continent still seemed very far away. Bombs and
war appeared highly unlikely. Perhaps the people of the
congregation were a little too complacent.
After a sleepless
night, mulling everything over again and again, Dr. Schonfeld
went to the British Home Office.
The impressive figure of a handsome six-footer with
gleaming eyes and a winning smile gained ready access to
one of the most important officials at the Home Office. Dr.
Schonfeld told the official what had happened in Austria. This,
of course, was no news to that gentleman. He, too, had read
the newspapers. Then Dr. Schonfeld unfolded the details as
he himself saw them, and reported what Mr. Steinfeld had
told him on the telephone. The official muttered that he was
very sorry but there was nothing he could do to help.
Then, for the first time, Dr. Schonfeld revealed his plan. He
said he wanted to bring three hundred Jewish children from
Vienna to London and care for them personally. The British official was stunned. How could one rabbi provide for so
many children; to house, feed and clothe them? Dr. Schonfeld
told him he had neighbors who would be willing to help; he
personally would guarantee with whatever assets he himself
possessed that the children would not become burdens to
the British government. All that was necessary was that the
children should be given permission to come to England.
The British official sized up his petitioner with growing
admiration. This was a young man, not yet thirty years old,
with a pure soul, a good heart and a tremendous will to help
others. Could he send this man away? Would he ever be able
to sleep peacefully again if he said no now? Thinking of his
own children and his own home, he was ready to give his
approval. But his duties as an official of the British government
forced him to hold back. “Tell me, Rabbi, where will you put
the children to sleep the first night they are here?” he asked.
Dr. Schonfeld fell silent, but suddenly he had an inspiration.
“I have two schools of which I am principal. I will empty the
school buildings. I will house the children there,” he replied.
“I want to see for myself where there is room for three
hundred children in your school,” said the man behind the
desk.
The rabbi and the British government official went out
together, hailed a taxi and drove off to North London. Before
the eyes of the startled pupils, the two men measured the
length and width of each classroom. They began to figure
in terms of so many children and so many square meters. It
would have been barely enough, but there was one large room
which could not be used. It had to be left clear as a dining
room for the students.
Forty children would still be without shelter. “Well,” said the
official, “in view of the circumstances, I can give you passports
for only 260 children.”
But the official had not reckoned with Rabbi Schonfeld.
“Wait! I own the house in which I live!” the rabbi exclaimed.
“I will empty that out, too, in order to make room for the
children.”
Back Dr. Schonfeld went, the government official in tow,
to his private home. Again, the yardstick came out. Defeated
by the overwhelming humanity of this man, the official
diffidently asked Dr. Schonfeld where he himself would sleep.
Dr. Schonfeld took him upstairs to a tiny room in the attic
filled with bric-a-brac. “I can sleep here,” he said. The official
had tears in his eyes as he shook the rabbi’s hand and asked
him to submit the names of the children to whom he should
issue the permits to enter England.
Immediately, in the presence of the official, Rabbi Schonfeld
telephoned the leaders of Vienna’s Jewish community. He
asked them to draw up a list of names and admonished them
to see to it that the children on this list would be ready to
travel as soon as possible. Two days later he was back at the
Home Office with all the data about the children. A passport
official began to prepare the individual papers. He was only
halfway through when it was closing time at the office. He
told Dr. Schonfeld to come back the next day; he would finish
the remaining passports then. But on being reminded of the
joy which these papers would bring to three hundred families
in Europe, this kind man disregarded closing time and worked
on the papers until midnight. Then he helped Dr. Schonfeld
pack the papers and carry them to the post office to speed
them on their way to Austria.
Now that the first step had been taken, the real worries
began. Upon an urgent call from Dr. Schonfeld early in the
morning, his friends assembled at his home. He told them
what he had done and asked them to help him. A search for
beds began. The local Boy Scout troop had a sufficient number of beds and blankets at their summer camp. They were only
too willing to lend them for such a purpose. Several trucks
were sent out to the scout camp to bring these, as well as
many dishes and large pots and pans which were necessary
to cook for the refugees.
Meanwhile, a cable reported that the children had left
Vienna. Then disaster struck. A blizzard, the heaviest in eight
years, blanketed London, and the schools were snowbound.
But this did not deter Dr. Schonfeld. Together with a group
of youngsters, he went out with shovels to clear the way
for the trucks that would bring the refugee children. This
accomplished, the school and his own home ready for the
children, he hurried to the port of Harwich to greet his three
hundred new charges.
What he saw moved him deeply. Here were ragged, starved,
frightened youngsters, the remains of once proud families. He
shepherded them into the hired trucks to bring them to their
new shelters. Neighbors were waiting there. Everyone was
willing and ready to help feed and wash the children and put
them to bed on this, their first night in a new country.
The rabbi was close to exhaustion, but he stayed on duty
until all the children had been settled. Only after that did he
go home for his first good night’s sleep in a week. Entering his
house, he heard a little six-year-old refugee girl crying for her
mother. He took the child in his arms, talked to her about her
new country and promised to bring her mommy to join her
soon. Then Dr. Schonfeld went up to his attic chamber for a
well-earned rest.
-----
Heroes Of Faith
