" Alice Herz-Sommer, the world's oldest Holocaust survivor, celebrates her 107th birthday Friday, November 26th. She endured imprisonment in a Nazi concentration camp and the murder of her husband, mother and countless other family members. Only her love of music, she says, sustained her throughout those years of darkness and heartbreak..."
We have heard stories all our lives of survivors from every period of great turmoil in human history. We are ourselves survivors of our own internal & external hell and pain. Every time I hear a story like this one I pause for more than a moment. It is this one in particular, however, that reminds me of a man I met in high school--my violin teacher, Edgar Ortenberg. He was a violinist with the Budapest (Hungary) string quartet) who also escaped death at the hands of the Nazis. Coming here to the states was difficult but necessary for him. I had the privilege of studying violin under his tutelage for 4 years from age 16 to 20. I learned a lot, including the story of his bitterness. During my first year of instruction I brought him a gift for the December holidays. He told me point blank he could not accept it. I was in shock! Why, I asked, gingerly but honestly. " I do not worship God, Buddha or anyone else because if Edgar Ortenberg doesn't take care of himself, no one else will. " That was in 1971. ***
The year before he died(1995) our local paper ran a story about this gentleman. At the end of this interview he was asked whether he ever felt bitterness towards his persecutors. Without hesitation he offered a firm and truthful, " Yes, ". What followed was a bit of a surprise and a big relief, however, when he spoke of the students he had taught who studied with him under scholarship from the poor neighborhoods of Philadelphia (I was one of those). He spoke of hearing their stories of the difficulties of the street gangs while walking or riding public buses to and from school, sometimes leaving early in the morning to avoid having one's instrument stolen or smashed. He said that at some point when he realized that the children he had been sent to teach were also survivors that perhaps God had sent him here to teach them music and that his life had meaning again. ***
The day Edgar died I will never forget. I walked out to our car (we still had one then) to retrieve an item my youngest daughter had forgotten. The tree above the car was full of crows ! One noisy one flew to the ground very close to me and began cocking his head from side to side and cacked endlessly to me. I knew then that something important had happened. He walked right up to me so it was obvious that he was there to speak to me. Upon returning to our home I was greeted by my husband holding out the phone receiver. It was a call from another violinist who had studied and performed with Ortenberg...at age 95 a man who almost didn't make it to America 55 years ago had finally gone to his rest. I thank God every day for the opportunity to study with him and to have known his story.
More than anything I thank God for these stories of survivors and the courage and wisdom they offer us. Without these brave souls telling their tales we might think that life holds only bitterness and pain. It is their faith that sustained them and their optimisim that was the source of their courage and faith in the Creator of Music and all that is Good and Just in the world.
Here is the complete reference for the birthday girl who turns 107 today. I hope you will take a moment to read it and experience the awesome power of joy in the midst of pain:
Respectfully submitted,
Mother Nanhi Mary Morrow-Farrell, Granddaughter of Sheina, Great Granddaughter of Shrul of Valunsky, Ukraine.
