upworthy

holocaust survivors

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It's estimated that only a few hundred thousand Holocaust survivors are still living. Sadly, in the coming years that number will eventually make its way to zero.

Nazi concentration caps were liberated 74 years ago, so a twenty year old who made it through the atrocity is now 94. Elihu Kover of Nazi Victim Services for Self-help Community Service spoke of the conditions many of these elderly survivors face as they advance in age at a Senate hearing in 2013.


"Holocaust survivors are growing older and frailer. … She may be coping with the loss of her spouse and have no family to speak of. In addition to the myriad problems associated with so-called 'normal aging,' many survivors have numerous physical and psychological problems directly attributable to their experiences during the Holocaust. … And many of these problems only surface in old age, having been hidden during their working years when the survivors struggled and made a new life for themselves as productive citizens of this country."

This sympathetic view of the tragedy isn't as popular in the Arab world where Holocaust denial is rampant and many cynically accuse the Jewish people of exploiting Western sympathy surrounding the tragedy to establish the State of Israel.

However, in 2019 two Arab men in Haifa, Israel made a beautiful show of respect to a Holocaust survivor who found their gesture "uplifting." And with the ongoing conflict in the Middle East, it's a powerful reminder that good people are everywhere.

Simon and Salim Matari, who are brothers, were recently called to the home of Rosa Meir, 95, to fix a leak.

"When we got there, we saw there was a large blast of water and we started fixing it," Simon told the Times of Israel. "At some stage, while working, my brother Salim started to talk to Rosa about her life. She told us she's 95, a Holocaust survivor, and that she has a daughter."

"Her life story touched my heart," Simon continued. "At that moment, I decided I won't take a cent from her."

After the brothers finished their work, they gave Meir a bill that read: "Holocaust survivor, may you have health until 120, from Matari Simon and Matari Salim," adding that the cost of the service was "0 shekels."

"May you live until 120" is a Jewish blessing that carries the implication that the receiver live a happy and healthy life until the age of 120.

The gesture brought Meir to tears.

"The brothers really surprised me," she said. "It was so moving and uplifting, and I thanked them a lot."

The brothers also told the woman that if she needed anything else they would be by to fix it for free.


This article originally appeared on 10.9.19

The other night as the votes rolled in, I started to get really upset my parents were seeing what was happening.

It sounds weird, but those were my first thoughts. And they’ve been sticking with me. It’s partly my own damaged psyche, but I feel ashamed this happened.

My dad survived the Holocaust, lost his entire family, fought with the partisans, and is a full-fledged hero. My mom survived Kristallnacht 78 years ago. She escaped to a children’s home in France and eventually made her way to America, where she’s been working to help educate people and end prejudice against all types of people for her entire adult life.


They endured the absolute worst life could offer. They saw the worst in their fellow citizens right down to their next-door neighbors. Imagine bad — it was worse.

But somehow, they’re not angry people. They’re not hateful.

They are good, smart, deeply aware of international issues, and news junkies. They’ve never looked away from the world, no matter how bleak the view.

After all they’ve encountered, it pained me that they were home watching the same results as I was. I thought maybe their experiences could help put this election into perspective —  and maybe even make me feel a little better.

I called my dad, who's seen it all. He’s experienced loss; he crawled on his hands and knees from his town to the Polish forest where he survived alone for months; he fought back; he came to America with nothing; he made himself into a remarkably successful real estate developer and philanthropist.

After we shared our common disbelief at the choice Americans made, he told me he didn't understand how people could have voted for Trump.

I called my mom.

Her message was clear: “Yes, it’s a bummer, but the real message here is that we all need to become activists. Today.”

She thought back to her experiences as a child. “You know, maybe if we had organized and fought back against Hitler’s rise right from the beginning, we could have prevented what happened. We could have made it more difficult for him to do what he did if we hadn’t waited and just assumed that ‘this too shall pass.’”

I’m not arguing that Trump is Hitler. He’s not. I hate the constant comparisons and feel they are counterproductive. Trump deserves a chance to lead. But he can do a lot of damage to progressive values and important democratic institutions in a short time.

We can look forward to 2018 and 2020, but in the meantime, we should all become activists and make it as difficult as possible for him to enact policies counter to our values.

If we don’t, this too shall not pass.

At the end of the conversation, my mom said, “Sorry, I don’t think I did a very good job of cheering you up.”

Pretty amazing, right? She thought it was her job to cheer me up.

Don’t underestimate the resilience of good people. Don’t underestimate your own power to make things better.

And don’t forget to take my mom’s advice. She’s almost always right. It runs in the family.

Solomon Moshe was only 4 years old when Hitler's armies invaded his home country of Greece.

He recalls spending his childhood fleeing from house to house with his mother — never having friends, never having a home, and constantly seeing the fear in his mother's eyes.

Before long, 60,000 Greek Jews would be murdered in World War II, nearly 80% of the country's Jewish population. Moshe moved to Israel in 1956 to try to start a new life.


On Monday, May 2, 2016, Moshe got to celebrate becoming a bar mitzvah, finally, at the ripe old age of 79.

Photo by Ilia Yefimovich/Getty Images.

For Jewish people, the bar and bat mitzvah ceremonies are incredibly important.

Typically occurring around the age of 13, the ceremonies are holy events for friends, family, and communities that mark a coming of age in Jewish culture and a confirmation of faith. There's also usually a big party.

This week, 50 people, including Moshe, traveled to Israel to celebrate their bar and bat mitzvot. All of them are in their 70s and 80s.

All of them are Holocaust survivors.

Photo by Ilia Yefimovich/Getty Images.

To be born in Europe in the 1930s meant being born into a world turned upside down. Adolf Hitler's Nazi party invaded or occupied over a dozen countries and systematically murdered an unfathomable number of people, including 6 million Jews.

Even those who survived the horror of the Holocaust had their lives taken from them in other ways — from childhoods tainted by memories of fear and despair to families permanently torn apart.

The survivors were invited to host their ceremonies at the Western Wall in Jerusalem — one of Judaism's holiest sites — by the Israeli government.

Photo by Ilia Yefimovich/Getty Images.

They wrapped themselves in talits (Jewish prayer shawls) and affixed tefilin (small leather boxes containing sections of the Torah) strapped to their foreheads and arms.

They recited special prayers and read holy passages, all two days before Yom HaShoah, Israel's Holocaust Remembrance Day.

As they left, Israeli soldiers gathered to pay their respects.

Photo by Ilia Yefimovich/Getty Images.

"I am not embarrassed to say that I was moved to tears," recalls Moshe. "Soldiers were saluting us like we were heroes."

It's impossible to set right the wrongs of World War II.

Millions were killed, and those who survived still feel the effects of the war today. A coming-of-age ritual might seem like a small gesture, but it's a deeply significant one.

Photo by Ilia Yefimovich/Getty Images.

During the war, being Jewish was a crime punishable by death. Millions of families had to hide and suppress their faith for fear of being persecuted and sent away.

For these survivors, being able to become a bar or bat mitzvah now isn't just a gesture of kindness or a ceremony of faith. It's an act of healing.