By Brigitte B. Nussbächer
A true story of friendship during World War II and a timeless mission—and of a woman who saved the lives of her Jewish friends. While German officers kissed the lady of the house's hand in the drawing-room, her Jewish friends waited in the cellar for her to come and care for them. After the war, the story took a turn, and the woman owed her survival to these very same Jews.
It's a beautiful building in the heart of Jerusalem, bearing the sign "FOZ." And it houses an absolute gem: The Friends of Zion Museum at 2 Yosef Rivlin Street in Jerusalem tells the inspiring stories of extraordinary women and men who saw it as their mission to be a blessing to Jews and Israel. They were even willing to risk their lives to save others and contribute to the miracle of Israel.
But this mission wasn't limited to these historical figures, nor is it tied to a specific time. It is timeless and applies to us all – and it holds a wonderful promise within it:
“Blessed is he who blesses you (Israel).” (Genesis 12:3)
My grandmother's story is an example of this blessing.
My family during the Second World War
During World War II, Romania was initially one of Germany's allies. Ion Antonescu, the then Prime Minister and Marshal of Romania, established a military dictatorship in 1940. He entered into a military alliance with Hitler, from whom he hoped for material and personnel support in building up the Romanian army. As a result, Hitler sent a German military mission to Romania. Many German soldiers were stationed in Transylvania, which had been part of Romania since 1918. Antonescu's policies were characterized by radical antisemitism. During his rule, hundreds of thousands of Romanian Jews fell victim to the Holocaust through massacres and in labor camps.
My grandmother belonged to the influential family of Dr. Carl Ernst Schnell, the former mayor of Kronstadt in Transylvania. Thanks to their factories and wealth, the family wielded not only political but also economic influence. My grandmother's house on Burggasse had always been a social hub and center of activity. This remained true even during the period of German troop stationing. Since Transylvania had belonged to the Habsburg Monarchy for centuries and was only assigned to Romania after the end of the First World War, both my grandparents were born in Transylvania as Austrian citizens and had studied in Austria and Germany. German officers who came to Kronstadt were pleased to encounter German culture and be able to speak German in my grandparents' house.
The secret
What the German military didn't know was that my grandmother had Jewish friends and wasn't prepared to give up those friendships. When she realized how threatening the persecution of Jews was becoming in her own community and what fate awaited them was becoming clear, she acted.
In great haste—because every day of delay could mean the deportation of her friends—she had a hidden room partitioned off in the cellar of her house. This was closed off with a door disguised as a shelf. Then, piece by piece, she moved small pieces of furniture, folding beds, mattresses, blankets, dishes, clothing, and everything else necessary into the room. Fortunately, this didn't attract much attention in the large house. Once everything was ready, she sheltered her friends in this room.
Somehow she managed to do all this without anyone else noticing. From that point on, she secretly provided for the Jewish family. I don't know what fears she harbored; she never spoke about them later. Of course, she was aware of the danger she was putting herself and her entire family in. But it seemed only natural to her to be there for her Jewish friends who were being persecuted and were in danger.
A risky double life
My grandmother led a double life. Outwardly, she was a socialite, a mother of young children, and a hostess to many—but secretly, she was someone who dedicated her strength and creativity to protecting her friends. While in the drawing-room of her house, German officers kissed her hand and praised her wonderful hospitality in the guestbook, saying they "forgot the business of war," her Jewish friends waited in the cellar for her to come and provide them, as they did every night, with food, news, reading material, and everything else they needed.
Although—or perhaps precisely because—German soldiers were regularly coming and going from the house, no one suspected anything. The fact that more food was being consumed also went unnoticed among the numerous guests. The Jewish family was not discovered and survived.
What a blessing! But this is only the first part of the story…
The great turning point
Everything changed in 1944. The defeat of the German Reich was looming, and on August 23, King Michael of Romania ended Ion Antonescu's military dictatorship and thus the military alliance with the German Reich through a coup d'état. Romania switched sides in the middle of the war and fought on the side of the Allies; the Soviet army invaded. With Antonescu's overthrow, the systematic persecution of Jews also came to an end.
Despite switching sides, Stalin demanded reparations from Romania in the autumn of 1944 for the reconstruction of the Soviet Union: as compensation for its former alliance with Germany, specifically in the form of 100,000 "volunteer" workers. Members of the German minority in Transylvania were a particular target.
From January 1945, able-bodied Romanian-German men between the ages of 16 and 45 and women between 18 and 30 were rounded up by Russian and Romanian military forces and deported in cattle cars for forced labor. The entrances to the towns were sealed off by the military and police, telephone, telegraph, and rail services were cut off, and mixed Romanian-Soviet patrols went from house to house with prepared lists. This usually took place at night. Those targeted were given one hour to prepare for transport—without knowing their destination or how long they would be gone. Only one piece of luggage was allowed. No consideration was given to those left behind during the roundups, even children who were left orphaned.
My grandparents were both part of the German minority. My grandfather was still at the front at the time, my grandmother was 28 years old and lived in Kronstadt with her three young children (six, two, and just over one year old). Every night meant fear, every day was just a reprieve. And then one night the patrol stood at her door, and she too had to pack her suitcase. But at the same time, she did something else: she sent her Hungarian maid to that Jewish family friend who were living in freedom again since Romania had switched sides.
rescue at the last minute
Within a very short time, her Jewish friend appeared. He spoke with the Romanian and Russian military officers and told them how my grandmother had saved his family's lives and supported them for years. Only he knows what words he used to convince the men. But he succeeded in having my grandmother removed from the list—without actually being deported. Although she and her family lost all their possessions through the expropriations carried out by the Romanian communists in the following years and were forced to live in a tiny backyard apartment, they themselves remained unharmed, and their three children did not have to grow up without parents. What a blessing! "Blessed is he who blesses you (Israel)."
The Jewish family emigrated to Israel shortly afterward, and direct contact ceased. But there was a blessing that continued for years to come. During the years of scarcity that followed in Romania, meat was only available to select circles, such as members of the Communist Party. Another special group that also received meat rations were the survivors of the Jewish community in Brașov. And they regularly provided my grandmother with beef for as long as she lived in Romania. She prepared it and invited her children and grandchildren to a monthly feast, the true hosts of which were her Jewish friends. That is how I grew up, and that is how we experienced the truth of the verse, "Whoever blesses Israel will be blessed!" in a very practical way.
I am fully aware that there are other stories where the blessing wasn't so immediately apparent. But I am convinced that God bestowed his blessing in these cases as well, even if it only became recognizable later.
The legacy
Decades have passed since then. My grandmother never saw Israel and never met the friends she rescued. And yet, she too contributed a tiny piece to the miracle that has unfolded in Israel over the past 100 years.
When I walk through the streets of Israel today and see the joyful faces of the Israelis, the cheering children, the energetic young people, and the expressive features of the elderly, my heart is filled with warmth. Zechariah 8:4 has been fulfilled: “Once again, old men and women will sit in the squares of Jerusalem, each with a staff in his hand because of his advanced age, and the public squares will be filled with boys and girls playing there.”
My grandmother contributed what she could and thus left me a legacy. I want to continue this line of blessing and, like her, be a blessing to Israel!
Israel needs blessings
Even today, the situation in and around Israel remains volatile. Hatred of Jews and antisemitism have not disappeared. Today, they are directed not only against the people but also against the State of Israel: in the regular condemnations of Israel by international bodies, as well as in the recurring rocket attacks on Israeli territory. The horrific terrorist attacks that brutally claim the lives of children, fathers, and young women month after month seem to have become frighteningly commonplace for many.
Especially in these times, it is so important to offer a counterpoint. Israel celebrated its 75th anniversary this year on April 26th – and the story continues. Everyone can contribute. Even today, the saying holds true: Whoever blesses Israel will be blessed.
This is what the men and women whose stories are told in the "Friends of Zion" Museum have experienced. Their testimonies are an inspiration to follow in their footsteps and their example, just as my grandmother's story was and is for me.
God's call to bless the people of Israel remains. The question is whether we are ready to answer: "Hineni!" Here I am!
