Irena, Gabi, And Rivka

By Larry Gordon, Five Towns Jewish Tmes

A busy schedule doesn’t allow too much time to go to the theater or even to as many lectures as one would like to. But sometimes something special comes along requiring that a greater than usual effort be made to attend. During the last week, I summoned up some extra energy and time to attend two events that will probably reverberate in the minds of those who were there for a long time to come.

The play I saw, now running in a major Broadway theater, is the story of, as the narrator says, “the power of one”—one person’s ability to make a difference and the impact that he or she can have on their immediate surroundings as well as the greater world. It is the story of Irena Gut, a gentile Polish teenager who was captured by the Germans during World War II and forced to work in a munitions plant. She found herself in an unusual position that allowed her to save a dozen Jews from the Nazi onslaught that would have certainly meant death for them.

A few days after I saw the play, there was the monthly Far Rockaway–Five Towns rosh chodesh lecture series, at which the speaker was Rabbi Nachman Holtzberg. His son Gavriel and daughter-in-law Rivkie were Chabad emissaries in Mumbai, India, who were murdered along with four others in the Mumbai Chabad House as a result of a vicious terrorist attack six months ago. The elder Rabbi Holtzberg has taken on the mission to keep the names and the good work of his children alive, even though their work has been stifled and their pure and innocent lives prematurely snuffed out.

In a sense, both stories are tales of pain and adversity, triumph, and the tragedy of loss. Both speak to the very fabric and core of the history of the Jewish people, from 60-some-odd years ago during the Holocaust up to the dogged affliction of the terrorist scourg in these modern times. Both the experience of the Holocaust as well as the impact of terror has affected people we know and can reach out and touch us even today.

The Broadway play, Irena’s Vow, is important to see for a number of relevant and very contemporary reasons. Tovah Feldshuh, the veteran actress who has frequently appeared in shows with overtly Jewish themes, puts on a remarkable and stirring performance. In an age when the news media and some academicians try to flirt with the idea that the Holocaust was either greatly exaggerated or never really happened, the story of Irena Gut’s life goes a long way in putting those bubbe maisehs to rest.

In brief, Irena captures the attention of a high-ranking Nazi SS officer, Eduard Rugemer, who has her transferred from a laundry in a Polish ghetto to become his housekeeper in a palatial residence, where he goes on to hold high-level meetings and entertains other Nazi dignitaries with whiskey-filled all-night parties. At first Irena is reluctant to accede to the transfer (she really had no choice) because that would mean leaving behind her eleven Jewish co-workers who were doomed to be shipped out and eventually murdered.

The Rugemer estate was so huge that Irena hatched the idea to conceal her Jewish friends in this Nazi officer’s mansion, a location that those searching for Jews would be less inclined to look in. At one point in the story, a neighbor reports to the Nazis in the area that Rugemer is in fact hiding Jews, but the commandant himself challenges the junior officers to search the entire building if they genuinely believe that he is secreting Jews. Not looking to disrespect a senior officer, the search party decides to pass and go on trusting Rugemer. Rugemer ultimately finds out that Irena has in fact been hiding Jews in his home, but he decides to keep that fact secret.

In the end, Irena, Rugemer, and the eleven Jews survived. (This and the next part of the story are spoken by Ms. Feldshuh after the actual play.) After the war, Rugemer was accused of being a Jewish sympathizer and shunned by his friends; he was divorced from his wife and eventually ended up homeless.

Two of the Jews concealed in the basement were a married couple, the Hallers, who had a baby while living in hiding underground. They and their son, Roman, eventually moved to Israel. They would later search for their savior, Irena, who had moved to California, and also found the down-and-out former Nazi officer Rugemer, who they rescued from the streets and brought to live with them in Israel. The young Roman Haller grew up referring to Mr. Rugemer as “Grandpa.”

On the evening that I saw the show, Ms. Feldshuh explained that she had a special guest in the house for the audience that night: Irena’s daughter, Jeannie Opdyk, was present and would address the theater audience and answer some questions. Jeannie Gut Opdyk talked about her mother, who passed away in 2003, and how she really never spoke about her Holocaust experiences until after a random pollster asking whether she believed that the Holocaust ever took place confronted her on the phone one day.

She then took questions from the audience, an experience that was probably more enlightening than the content of the production itself. A questioner asked Jeannie what she thought her mother would think about the fashion in which Israel “oppresses Palestine” and about Israel’s “massacre in Gaza.” It was an explicitly provocative question that seemed to stun the audience, particularly directly after a program based on fact and truth had illustrated the historical victimization of the Jews.

Jeannie Opdyk’s response was as stunning—though in a positive and impressive way—as the question itself. “My mother was a devout Christian,” she said, “and she therefore believed that Israel should be secure and do what is needed and right to defend herself.” Her response added to an eye-opening educational and informative evening for all.

In 1982, Irena Gut Opdyk was named by the Israeli Holocaust Commission as one of the Righteous Amongst The Nations, a title given to gentiles who risked their lives aiding and saving Jews during the Holocaust.

To mark Rosh Chodesh Sivan, the community was privileged to meet and hear Rabbi Nachman Holtzberg. Gavriel and Rivkie Holtzberg resided in Mumbai for six years prior to the terror attack. Their Chabad center hosted businessmen, tourists, and travelers from around the Jewish world. Some were looking for a place with a hint of something Jewish to stay for a night, or for a Shabbos, a meal, a minyan or just to see a warm and friendly face.

Those who were present at Congregation Kneseth Israel last Sunday night bore witness to the delicate sensitivity, dedication, and warmth that defined Gavriel and Rivky. We heard details about their previously unsung life from Gavriel’s father, as Mrs. Holtzberg sat in the audience seemingly resigned to the sad disposition that accompanies the loss of children under such unusual and painful circumstances.

Their story is nothing less than a tragic human drama. They had been in Mumbai since their mid-twenties, always extending themselves and doing for others even though they were already burdened with their own personal tragedies, having lost a child to Tay-Sachs and with another in the grips of this fatal genetic disease. And then there was baby Moshele—robust and healthy but seemingly marked for a sorrowful end on that doomed day in Mumbai. His sudden and miraculous rescue looked like it came about directly through a Divine outstretched hand.

Nachman Holtzberg and his wife, cast into roles they were wholly unprepared for and certainly not interested in, were not asked what they thought. There is no time for thoughtfulness at this point. This is the time for action as Rabbi Holtzberg stands before a packed room pleading for help to reestablish Chabad of Mumbai so that the six years his children spent there are not forgotten. He expresses the hope that their ultimate sacrifice will someday produce something good and positive, though from the vantage point of today that vision is difficult to keep in focus.

Reflecting upon the last few days, it is as if the lives and experiences of Irena Gut and her family, Gavriel and Rivki Holtzberg, his and her parents, and their surviving child, baby Moshele, are pieces of a very large puzzle. The experiences and events of their lives are difficult to grapple with, yet we can see in the senior Holtzbergs as well as in Irena Gut’s family an innate and living vow and desire to carry on the legacy of their loved ones. It’s not possible to make sense of it. But somewhere down the road the undying hope continues to linger that somehow, someday, all that has occurred will bear some semblance of logic and there will be something to smile about, no matter how far away that now seems.