Meet Mr. Sol Lurie
"I want to thank Rabbi Yossi Kanelski for inviting this amazing local Holocaust survivor from Monroe Mr. Sol Lurie (he lost his family and siblings at 11, survived six concentration camps and his story is just one miracle after another) and giving my children an opportunity to hear his incredible story of survival ...I don't know what to say after hearing the story( esp. when German murdered his cousin -a 7 m old baby by throwing him in the air and piercing him with the sharp end of the weapon and spinning him so that his blood splatters everywhere in front of his mom and family ). I have no words..... just tears and heartache. And just lying in bed listening to my baby breathe. I do know one thing, I am very, very grateful to the very few who survived this evil, hell on earth and wanted to live and share their experiences with the world. We can't ever forget that the Holocaust happened, and we must teach our children about it. "
Photo of Sophia Chertog, 11 years old, from Marlboro, NJ who after hearing Mr. Sol Lurie's story, wanted to give him a hug.
‘OUTLIVING HITLER’: HOLOCAUST SURVIVOR SOL LURIE RECOUNTS ORDEAL AT AUSCHWITZ, PATH FORWARD
Holocaust survivor Sol Lurie, who was rescued from Auschwitz when he was 15 years old, shared his story Monday at the Levin Jewish Community Center. Holocaust survivor Sol Lurie revisited his traumatic experiences in Auschwitz Monday night. During the talk at the Levin Jewish Community Center—attended by about 80 people, including Duke students—Lurie recounted his ordeal at the Auschwitz concentration camp during World War II. His talk focused on coming to terms with the country that kept him prisoner and how he has coped with those memories. Lurie, his parents and his three older brothers lived comfortably in their town in Lithuania—which was about a quarter Jewish—when it was invaded first by the Soviets in June 1940 and then Germans exactly one year later.“ I’ll never forget June 22, 1941. It was a Sunday. My father and my brothers decided we knew what the Germans were doing to the Jews,” Lurie said. “In those days, we only had horse and wagon.”
Lurie’s family tried to escape but only made it as far as the next town before having to turn back. Lurie said they were helped by a German soldier, who advised them to avoid certain roads on the way back so they would not be killed. “I told you that story because I want to show you that not all the Germans were bad. There were good ones too. Not enough of them. But there were,” Lurie said. “People cannot believe I don’t hate all the Germans. And I tell them, if I hate all the Germans, I’m just like them—they hated all the Jews.” Lurie and most of the other Jewish people from his town were soon moved to cramped and dirty ghettos where his parents and older brothers performed forced labor. Because kids were not allowed on the streets, Lurie said that he would hide between houses. After being removed from the ghettos, Lurie was sent to five different concentration camps before arriving at Auschwitz, which was the largest concentration camp during the Holocaust. “You could smell flesh burning,” Lurie said. “Even now if I smell barbecue, my mind goes back to Auschwitz. We didn’t know exactly what it was, but you could smell the flesh.” Before being liberated, Lurie was one of nearly 60,000 prisoners who were forced to march from Auschwitz. “It was the end of December, January. The only thing we had were striped pajamas and wooden shoes. It’s a miracle that our feet weren’t frozen,” Lurie said. “We kept on marching, with people dying like flies. We didn’t have bread or water.
The only water we had was snow on the ground. We would pick it up and put it in our mouths. ”Lurie explained that he survived the brutal conditions by setting his sights on one goal—”outliving Hitler.” He was eventually liberated on his 15th birthday, and one of his brothers and his father also survived the Holocaust. After a few years at a French orphanage, Lurie came to the United States, where he learned English “from the movies.” “I came to the greatest country in the world. Even in the Korean War, I volunteered for the army,” Lurie said. “They sent me back to Germany. Two of us went to Germany. They needed interpreters.” When asked about how he felt going back to Germany so soon after after being liberated from German capture, he said he was not afraid. Lurie noted that he “can’t hate the children for what the parents did. ”During the talk, one member of the audience asked if God played a role in Lurie’s survival.“ God? He didn’t play a role at all. If he played a role, it wouldn’t have happened. How could a father allow his children to be killed like this? That’s why I don’t believe anymore,” Lurie said. “I believe, be a good human being, help one another.”And his message to school children, college students and adults was the same.“ People must love one another, respect one another.” he said. “And if we do that, we are going to have a beautiful world to live in.”
It Should Again See Light
Several years ago, a physician from southern France contacted me. His granddaughter had taken ill with a disease that baffled the physicians there. He called after reading several of my articles on disorders of the autonomic nervous system. His granddaughter’s symptoms seemed to match those I had described, and he asked me if I could help. I readily agreed, and for many months I collaborated with the child’s French physicians by telephone and by fax, directing their diagnostic testing.
At last we came to a diagnosis, and I prescribed a course of therapy. During the next several weeks, the child made a seemingly miraculous recovery. Her grandparents expressed their heartfelt thanks and told me to let them know should I ever come to France. In the summer of 1996, I was invited to speak at a large international scientific meeting that was held in Nice, France. I sent word to the physician I had helped years before. Upon my arrival at the hotel, I received a message to contact him. I called him, and we arranged a night to meet for dinner. On the appointed day we met and then drove north to his home in the beautiful southern French countryside. It was humbling to learn his home was older than the United States.
During the drive he told me that his wife had metastatic breast cancer and was not well, but she insisted upon meeting me. When introduced to her, I saw that despite her severe illness, she was still a beautiful woman with a noble bearing. After dinner, we sat in a 17th-century salon, sipping cognac and chatting. Our conversation must have seemed odd to the young man and woman who served us because it came out in a free-flowing mixture of English, French, and Spanish. After a time the woman asked, “My husband tells me you are Jewish, no?” “Yes,” I said, “I am a Jew.” They asked me to tell them about Judaism, especially the holidays. I did my best to explain and was astounded by how little they knew of Judaism. She seemed to be particularly interested in Chanukah.
Once I had finished answering her questions, she suddenly looked me in the eye and said, “I have something I want to give to you.” She disappeared and returned several moments later with a package wrapped in cloth. She sat, her tired eyes looking into mine, and she began to speak slowly. “When I was a little girl of 8 years, during the Second World War, the authorities came to our village to round up all the Jews. My best friend at that time was a girl of my age named Jeanette. One morning when I came to play, I saw her family being forced at gunpoint into a truck. I ran home and told my mother what had happened and asked where Jeanette was going. ‘Don't worry,’ she said, ‘Jeanette will be back soon.’ “I ran back to Jeanette’s house only to find that she was gone and that the other villagers were looting her home of valuables, except for the Judaic items, which were thrown into the street. As I approached, I saw an item from her house lying in the dirt. I picked it up and recognized it as an object that Jeanette and her family would light around Christmas time. In my little girl’s mind I said, ‘I will take this home and keep it for Jeanette, till she comes back,’ but she and her family never returned.” She paused and took a slow sip of brandy. “Since that time I have kept it. I hid it from my parents and didn’t tell a soul of its existence. Indeed, over the last 50 years the only person who knew of it was my husband. When I found out what really happened to the Jews, and how many of the people I knew had collaborated with the Nazis, I could not bear to look at it.
Yet I kept it, hidden, waiting for something, although I wasn’t sure what. Now I know what I was waiting for. It was for you, a Jew, who helped cure our granddaughter, and it is to you I entrust this.” Her trembling hands set the package on my lap. I slowly unwrapped the cloth from around it. Inside was a menorah, but one unlike any I had seen before. Made of solid brass, it had eight cups for holding oil and wicks and a ninth cup centered above the others. It had a ring attached to the top, and the woman mentioned that she remembered that Jeanette’s family would hang it in the hallway of their home. It looked quite old to me; later, several people told me that it is probably at least 100 years old.
As I held it and thought about what it represented, I began to cry. All I could manage to say was a garbled “merci.” As I left, her last words to me were “il faudra voir la lumiere encore une fois”—“it should once again see light.” I later learned that she died less than a month after our meeting. This Chanukah, the menorah will once again see light. And as I and my family light it, we will say a special prayer in honor of those whose memories it represents. We will not let its lights go out again. By Dr. Blair P. Grubb”
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