The Darkest Hour

by Roberta Kagan

  ‘What are they?’

  ‘Just novels. Fiction. Entertainment to make your days more pleasant.’

  ‘Fiction? Novels?’

  ‘Yes, romance . . . ’

  I blushed. ‘This is very forbidden,’ I said, not even daring to touch the book jacket but at the same time, longing desperately to open it and read the illicit words.

  ‘Ruchel, Ruchel,’ he smiled. ‘You are living in the past. All the Hasidum live in the past. Don’t you see, the past is gone, all you have left is now. You can’t bury your head in the sand. Come into the world, Ruchel.’

  He was right. Hadn’t I already made the decision to go forward? Gingerly, I took the books. The leather cover of the one on the bottom felt cool and rich against my palm. ‘Thank you,’ I said, my voice hardly even a whisper.

  ‘Come to the theater with me? There is a group of Jewish actors who live just a few streets away. They are using a storefront to put on a play.’

  ‘Oh!’ I gasped. ‘I am sorry . . .’

  ‘You can’t. It’s forbidden, right?’

  I nodded. Then I laughed. ‘This is taking some getting used to,’ I said.

  ‘Come. You deserve a night of entertainment.’

  A night out alone with a man at a theatrical production. All of this was terribly forbidden in the world of my past. And of course, it was hard to let go of things I’d believed my entire life. Yet, something inside of me stirred. I felt my face grow hot. The sensation was both pleasant and embarrassing at the same time. I could feel the heat travel up into my hairline and down my neck and into the high collar of my dress. Azriel’s eyes were enchanting. They danced with life. In his eyes, I could see what life could be. A husband, a house filled with happy children. Me, a wife, cooking, cleaning, and caring for her family. There was not much joy to grasp onto in the Ghetto, so this little fantasy suddenly became so precious to me. I boldly looked up at him and he smiled. This time I did not cast my eyes down. Instead, I brazenly stared at him. The warmth of his smile erased the pain and desperation I felt at being alone here in this terrible place. And, I am ashamed to admit this, but I had been carrying a heavy stone in my heart. You see I had been very angry with God for taking my family, my community, and my way of life. But now, standing there beside Azriel, I felt my rage soften. ‘All right. I’ll come,’ I said.

  We went to the theater that night and afterward we ate at a restaurant that I knew was not kosher. Another change for me. Outside, a man was taking photos. He snapped a shot of Azriel and me and told us that he would develop the picture and bring it to our apartment the next day. I had never had a picture taken before, and I couldn’t wait to see it. In fact, I had never had such a wonderful time in my life as I had on that first date with Azriel. It was as if the entire world were opening to me like the pages of a giant forbidden book. I could see that there was much that had been hidden from me in my old life. There was beauty and there was pain. But I was now willing to accept the pain to embrace the beauty. I wanted to experience everything. I would never again be satisfied with tasting tiny bits of the cake. No, now I longed to devour all of it. Of course, at first, the storyline of the play was shocking to me. But as I took it in, I was enthralled. It was wonderful and so very exciting. It was a tale of lovers whose love prevailed against all odds. Love was something new to me. You see as a frum girl, love was not something we ever discussed in the Hassidic community. A person didn’t marry for something so trivial as love. Love was for Goyim, non-Jews. Jews were to marry to procreate. There was no other valid reason for marriage. But I found that I adored the very idea of love. I was drunk with it. It struck a chord deep within me. My Hassidic parents and friends were afraid of Goyim. They didn’t trust them, and they put that fear in me when I was just a child. But as I began to embrace this idea of love, I also began to have a newfound respect for Christians. This respect would stay with me for the rest of my life. And consequently, during my time on earth, I would have many wonderful Christian friends.

  The next day, the photographer whom Azriel and I had met outside the theater brought the photo as he promised. Azriel paid him for the picture and gave it to me. I have cherished it all these years. From the time Azriel gave it to me until I was safe in America, I kept this photograph pinned to the inside of my shirt next to my heart. If you look closely you can see that the picture has a small pin hole in the top and there are some water stains from the sewage in the underground sewer. But, God was good to me. He preserved the picture so that the images are still clear enough to be recognized.

  I read the romance books that Azriel had given me. Devoured them, in fact. And as I did, I began to think that maybe there was a possibility that Azriel and I might marry. I began slowly to entertain the idea that maybe my secret thoughts of him could actually become reality. But a little voice in the back of my head reminded me of the past. Unheard of to choose one’s own husband! And a non-Hassidic man at that!

  But I didn’t care what that voice said anymore.

  Hush, I told it. Hush, I want to love. I want to be happy.

  I found that even though the Ghetto was harsh and terrible, my days had a rosy glow because I was consumed with thoughts of love for Azriel. And it was then that I understood God for the first time. I mean really understood. God was love; God was the rosy glow that I was feeling. Love had the power to descend over the blackest, darkest night and illuminate it until it was as bright as the sun. It had the power to turn misery into joy.

  Of course, Azriel had no idea what I was thinking. He had not even dared to try to hold my hand again since the day my parents died and he tried to touch my hand to comfort me but I pulled away. However, we still spent an enormous amount of time together. We attended concerts and more plays, as well as art exhibits. All of this was forbidden in my old life. Now, I couldn’t fathom why Mrs. Greenberg eyed me suspiciously.

  ‘You’re spending a lot of time alone with that boy,’ she said, wanting me to tell all. However, I didn’t say a word because I didn’t care what she thought of me. For the first time since the loss of my parents, I was happy. All the while, Azriel and I were attending secret meetings about the uprising that was being planned.

  One night, Azriel and I stopped at a café after attending a poetry reading. ‘Do you like me?’ he asked, looking directly into my eyes.

  I giggled, not because it was funny, but because I was uncomfortable and nervous.

  ‘You don’t have to answer,’ he said smiling. ‘I know you do. If you didn’t, you wouldn’t go out with me so much.’

  I smiled and nodded. He touched my hand. I knew I should pull away, but a tingle of joy went through me and instead I turned my palm up and held his hand.

  He looked down at my hand in his. Then he said, ‘You’re very pretty.’

  Now I looked away from him. I was shy and embarrassed. No one had ever called me pretty, even though I had always longed to be pretty. Inside, I was flattered and my heart was alive.

  ‘Don’t you think it’s remarkable that our people still create wonderful things, like theater, music, and art right in the middle of all of this horror surrounding us? We Jews are a brilliant and wonderful people.’

  I nodded, not knowing what to say.

  ‘The ghetto is riddled with disease. Children and old people are dying all around us. And I can’t say that the young and healthy are exempt either. Every morning like clockwork, the cart comes through our streets to collect those who died during the night. We are drowning in filth because of a lack of indoor plumbing, our stomachs rumble due to starvation rations. We are made to live stuffed like sardines in overcrowded apartments. Hitler and his Nazis threaten our very existence. They plan to kill us all. We know this and yet we sing and dance, create schools, theaters, art, comedy. Truly remarkable. That is why Jews must have a homeland of our own so that we can finally feel safe. Throughout history, our people have faced persecution. It is time for that to end. When I dream, Ruchel, I dream of Palestine. A land where it is fina
lly safe to be a Jew and raise children without worrying about the next pogrom.’

  He was right.

  Winter 1943

  We were freezing. Typhoid slithered in when we weren’t looking and then took hold of the throat of the ghetto and squeezed hard. Even more people than before were dropping dead every day. Mr. and Mrs. Greenberg lost both of their children within a week of each other. It was horrific to see such young lives snuffed out before they had even begun. After her children died, Mrs. Greenberg went into a deep depression. She hardly spoke. I tried to help her by going to the market for her and her husband but she refused to eat. The following month, she died. Everyone said it was Typhoid or malnutrition. I know it was a broken heart.

  Every day, more and more people were being sent away on transports. No one ever returned. It was hard to grasp that a mass murder on such a large scale was really happening. We heard from our friends in the Polish resistance that Treblinka was not the only death camp, there were others. There were other ghettos in Polish cities such as Lodz. Could the Nazis really be perpetrating a mass extermination of all of the Jews? Was that possible?

  As time passed and I became more involved with the resistance movement, I moved further away from my Hassidic roots and found myself embracing many of the Zionist ideals.

  In January, a group of people in our resistance fired shots at the Nazis as they were rounding up another group to send to Treblinka. We were surprised to see that after a few days of fighting, the German troops retreated. This was encouraging. And for a little while, the transports stopped. But not for long.

  A few nights later, there was a meeting of the resistance. The man called Mordechi stood up and spoke to us. He said, ‘We now know, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that our people are being systematically exterminated. We are being wiped from the face of the earth. If it were up to Adolf Hitler, no Jew would ever see the light of day again. I want to take a vote. How many of you want to wage all-out war even though you know we will probably all die?’

  All the hands in the room went up; Azriel’s and mine did as well. I didn’t want a war. I wished that all of this could go away and Azriel and I could live our lives out in peace. But that was not in the cards for us. I understood why we needed to wage war. I didn’t delude myself into believing that we had the power to stop the Nazis’ plan to destroy us, but at least we wouldn’t go down without a fight.

  ‘All right then.’

  Mordechi raised his hands to quiet the chatter in the room. Then he continued. “If we are going to do this, then we must give everything we have to our cause. We need all of the money you can spare. We need everything that you have of value to trade for weapons. Because, my fellow Jews, the time is coming for us to rise up against them. On the morning of April 19th of this year, the night before Hitler’s birthday, we will begin our fight to the death.’

  The death? I knew that death was to be the outcome, but I was so young and the thought of dying or of losing my precious Azriel was devastating. Yet the Nazis left us no other choice. We had no other options. This was like an avalanche. There was no stopping it.

  When my parents died, they left a little bit of money that was kept under my mattress. But this money was my only security. I pulled it out and held it in my hands and looked at it. Security for what? I asked myself. For the future? There is no future for us. It was then that I decided to give everything I had to the resistance. When I gave Mordechi the money, he showed me the collection of guns and ammunition we already had purchased.

  I heard my father’s voice whisper in the back of my head. ‘Jews don’t fight. We don’t kill. We don’t use guns. We follow Hashem and he leads us and takes care of us.’

  But where is God now, Papa? Where is God when we need him most?

  After I returned home, I remembered that I had my parents’ wedding rings. They were gold. I knew that for sure. I also knew my parents would never approve of me selling their rings to buy weaponry that we planned to use to kill people, even if they were Nazis. I did not mention the rings to anyone, but I agonized over this dilemma all night. Live in the past and pray for help, or sell the rings and kill the enemy.

  In the morning, I walked to Mordechi’s apartment and handed him the rings. ‘These belonged to my parents,’ I said. ‘Sell them. Buy as many guns as you can with the money.’

  He nodded. ‘Thank you, Ruchel.’

  ‘I’m surprised you know my name.’

  Mordechi laughed. ‘I make it my business to know everyone here in the resistance. I can’t take any chances of letting people in who can’t be trusted. You’re a good friend of Azriel and Seff, right?’

  ‘Yes, they brought me in.’

  ‘Before I allowed them to bring you to a meeting, I had to know all about you. You’re from a Hassidic sect, but you seem to be leaning in our direction.’

  ‘Yes,’ I said again.

  ‘Thank you again, Ruchel. Please know that these rings along with the money that you gave us yesterday will make a difference. They will help to show the world that the Jews will not go like lambs to the slaughter.’

  I mustered a quick smile and nodded. Then I left. My parents would have been appalled by what I just did. But in my heart, I knew my decision was the right one.

  Chapter 5

  That night, as soon as Azriel came home from work, he asked to speak with me. We walked outside, away from the rest of the group so we could speak privately.

  ‘Mordechi told me about the rings,’ he said. ‘Are you sure that this is what you want to do?’

  ‘I’m sure.’

  Without warning, he put his arms around me and hugged me close to him. I trembled. Old voices in my head said This is so forbidden. But so was everything else I had done lately. I had changed. In fact, I had changed so much that I embraced him back.

  ‘Ruchel, I know that you grew up in a world where love and marriage were not related and where fathers and matchmakers decided who could and would be wed. But I am going to tell you something and I don’t know how it will make you feel.’ Azriel seemed timid, so unlike him and yet . . .

  ‘Go on,’ I said, boldly letting go of him and straightening my blouse. I know it was only a hug, but no man had ever touched me before. My heart was beating wildly. I felt tingling sensations rush through my body. This was all happening so fast.

  ‘I care for you,’ he said. ‘I think . . . I think, maybe, I love you.’

  ‘Love?’ Like Goyim? I giggled inside. If this wonderful feeling of flickering lights dancing in my stomach and my head and heart feeling light as a feather was the love that Goyim talked about, well . . . all I can say is, it was wonderful.

  ‘Yes, love,’ he said, his voice cracking while he was wringing his hands.

  ‘I think, maybe, I love you too. And . . . ’ I took a deep breath. ‘I like the way it makes me feel.’

  He laughed. Then I laughed too. Then we embraced again. My whole body was alive with joy.

  ‘Marry me?’ he asked.

  There was no Papa to ask for permission. Only him, only me, only this moment. As we stood there, looking into each other’s eyes, we were both sure that we had very little time left on this earth.

  ‘Yes,’ I said. ‘Yes, I will marry you.’

  ‘I don’t know if a Hassidic rabbi will marry us. But will you accept Rabbi David? He is reformed and a Zionist but he is a good person and I know he will perform the ceremony.’

  ‘Yes, I will accept him. Will you ask him if he will marry us? I know Rabbi David. I’ve seen him at the meetings.’

  ‘I’ll ask him tonight.’

  It was the end of February. The date for the uprising seemed to be coming upon us very quickly. We couldn’t help but notice that the transports to the dreaded Treblinka were growing even larger and more frequent. It was a manic time for Azriel and me. We were happy beyond words and yet, we felt death and destruction looming as close to us as our own breath.

  The following day, Azriel asked Rabbi David to marry us. He
was not a Hassidic rabbi and I knew my parents would never approve. But, then again, I knew that I was a far cry from the religious girl I had been when we lived in our little village. And I was also certain that I would never be a part of that world again. Too much had happened to change me. Azriel and I both wanted to be married as quickly as possible because we knew that time was precious. Any hour, any minute, in fact, could be our last. I did my best to release all of the fears I had that what I was doing was wrong. I was also terrified of the wedding night. After all, I had been a very sheltered girl. I was never engaged so no one told me what to expect. I didn’t even know what went where. That was how it was for religious girls. Unless a girl was engaged, she had no use for sexual knowledge. All I knew was that sharing this night with my husband was something very special in the eyes of God. In fact, I had heard that to reproduce was man’s holiest way of honoring God. We were married quietly. We didn’t have a chupa as I had always dreamed I would but it was wonderful to know that Azriel was my husband. He kissed me on the lips and I felt breathless with happiness. I didn’t know what I was supposed to do when Azriel came to me that night. He entered the little area where I slept. I was trembling. He held me in his arms until I was calm. Then he kissed me and told me he loved me. Azriel was patient, kind, gentle, and understanding. I felt the power of his love and his gratitude to God for me, his wife, as we joined together in the holiest of moments. I too was very grateful to God for my chazen, my wonderful husband, and I was swept away by the power of love as Azriel and I knew each other intimately for the first time as husband and wife. An ancient voice within me sang as our love culminated in jubilant bliss. Then Azriel and I lay together. I was weeping for joy and weeping with sorrow in my beloved’s arms. When I thought of the beauty of our union, I was afraid I might become pregnant. In any other circumstances, this would be the most precious gift Hashem could bestow upon a young couple. But sadly, it would be a curse to Azriel and me right now. Our wedding night was the most tender and earthshattering night of my life. I suppose the contrast of sweet love and of the beauty of life against the finality and uncertainty of death made every second precious, beautiful, sad, and valuable. Neither of us held back a single kind word or gesture. We said, ‘I love you,’ a thousand times. We held each other’s naked bodies close, not merely for sexual satisfaction. It wasn’t as basic as that, it was more for the warmth and closeness that being in each other’s arms brought to us. To feel the heartbeat of my very own husband against my own desperate heart was enough to bring tears to my eyes. Azriel didn’t ask why I was crying; he just kissed each tear away and whispered my name.