The Remnant - Stories of the Jewish Resistance in WWII by Othniel J. Seiden Page A
Book: The Remnant - Stories of the Jewish Resistance in WWII by Othniel J. Seiden
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Authors: Othniel J. Seiden
Tags: WWII Fiction
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cellar is truly emptied."
Satisfied, they drove off to the next farm.
Ivan turned to Sosha as the sound of the truck dwindled into the distance and chuckled.
18
Pain If Conscience...
His church was full on Sunday.
Father Peter didn't know quite how to interpret it. Were they there because they were in sympathy with him? More than likely, they were there out of curiosity. Would he speak out against the Germans again? He wondered who in the gathering had reported to the Germans last week. His eyes picked out a stranger in the crowd. He's too well dressed to be a Ukrainian, Father Peter thought. They're not going to depend on my congregation to tell them. German! Well, if they want fresh material for charges and arrest, they'll all be disappointed today.
The sermon was no more inflammatory than the mass itself. As the worshipers departed the church, the traditional line of parishioners formed to compliment the priest on his service.
The well dressed man was in the line. He spoke Ukrainian, but with a German accent. "A fine service, Father. I especially enjoyed your sermon. I want to continue attending your services while I am stationed here. It will be wonderful to hear such a sermon each week!" He tipped his hat and departed without waiting for an answer.
Father Peter was relieved. He had feared the Germans would demand a public retraction of his stand. He could not have done that. He hoped the German's superiors would be satisfied. But all this was only a stall. Sooner or later, he knew, the matter would arise again. The Germans were not going to change. Every day the wind carried their message. He could not continue to ignore that sound. He'd eventually be forced to restate his feelings. He would have to do that much, regardless of Church policy.
Days passed. No reply came to his letter. The gunfire continued. He could not escape it. From dawn to dusk Father Peter heard each report as a life snuffed out. How many shots could be fired in a single day? "Thank God the days are getting shorter," he mouthed, crossing himself. If each day is even a few minutes shorter, how many lives will that save? How many times can a machine gun fire in twenty to thirty seconds? How many march out in front of those guns each time? Ten-twenty-fifty? Yes, even a few minutes less light each day would be significant. And if a few minutes less daylight can save fifty lives-for another day-then how many are dying each day from dawn to dusk. "Oh dear God, no! This can't be happening! We can't close our eyes!"
But it is happening and I am closing my eyes. He began feeling responsible for the deaths of all the people who died each day of his silence. "Silence condones the crime," he said to himself over and over. But what good will speaking out do? It will only add me to those in the pit.
Still there was no reply. How much longer could he continue waiting? If he didn't get answeres soon, the pressures of his conscience would force him to act. If the Church did not show him the way, perhaps God would.
19
Gregor...
Three days later, God replied.
A man appeared at Father Peter's door. It was Gregor Kirtzof, a congregant for as long as Father Peter could remember.
"Good morning, Gregor. How pleasant to see you."
"Father," Gregor interrupted, "I must come directly to the point. I heard your sermon two Sundays ago."
"It seems the whole world did!"
"We all know your sentiments. I want to tell you there are a number of us who feel as you do. We realize you are in danger from the Nazis if you speak out again. You must say no more than you have. We implore you not to speak out again. There is a small but growing group of us who intend to act against the Germans. If there is any way we can serve your cause-I will be happy to be your contact-so you are not endangered further."
Father Peter was so eager for a sign-some approval to act-something that could free him of his guilt. He was sure this was divine guidance, but, he had to be careful. It
Satisfied, they drove off to the next farm.
Ivan turned to Sosha as the sound of the truck dwindled into the distance and chuckled.
18
Pain If Conscience...
His church was full on Sunday.
Father Peter didn't know quite how to interpret it. Were they there because they were in sympathy with him? More than likely, they were there out of curiosity. Would he speak out against the Germans again? He wondered who in the gathering had reported to the Germans last week. His eyes picked out a stranger in the crowd. He's too well dressed to be a Ukrainian, Father Peter thought. They're not going to depend on my congregation to tell them. German! Well, if they want fresh material for charges and arrest, they'll all be disappointed today.
The sermon was no more inflammatory than the mass itself. As the worshipers departed the church, the traditional line of parishioners formed to compliment the priest on his service.
The well dressed man was in the line. He spoke Ukrainian, but with a German accent. "A fine service, Father. I especially enjoyed your sermon. I want to continue attending your services while I am stationed here. It will be wonderful to hear such a sermon each week!" He tipped his hat and departed without waiting for an answer.
Father Peter was relieved. He had feared the Germans would demand a public retraction of his stand. He could not have done that. He hoped the German's superiors would be satisfied. But all this was only a stall. Sooner or later, he knew, the matter would arise again. The Germans were not going to change. Every day the wind carried their message. He could not continue to ignore that sound. He'd eventually be forced to restate his feelings. He would have to do that much, regardless of Church policy.
Days passed. No reply came to his letter. The gunfire continued. He could not escape it. From dawn to dusk Father Peter heard each report as a life snuffed out. How many shots could be fired in a single day? "Thank God the days are getting shorter," he mouthed, crossing himself. If each day is even a few minutes shorter, how many lives will that save? How many times can a machine gun fire in twenty to thirty seconds? How many march out in front of those guns each time? Ten-twenty-fifty? Yes, even a few minutes less light each day would be significant. And if a few minutes less daylight can save fifty lives-for another day-then how many are dying each day from dawn to dusk. "Oh dear God, no! This can't be happening! We can't close our eyes!"
But it is happening and I am closing my eyes. He began feeling responsible for the deaths of all the people who died each day of his silence. "Silence condones the crime," he said to himself over and over. But what good will speaking out do? It will only add me to those in the pit.
Still there was no reply. How much longer could he continue waiting? If he didn't get answeres soon, the pressures of his conscience would force him to act. If the Church did not show him the way, perhaps God would.
19
Gregor...
Three days later, God replied.
A man appeared at Father Peter's door. It was Gregor Kirtzof, a congregant for as long as Father Peter could remember.
"Good morning, Gregor. How pleasant to see you."
"Father," Gregor interrupted, "I must come directly to the point. I heard your sermon two Sundays ago."
"It seems the whole world did!"
"We all know your sentiments. I want to tell you there are a number of us who feel as you do. We realize you are in danger from the Nazis if you speak out again. You must say no more than you have. We implore you not to speak out again. There is a small but growing group of us who intend to act against the Germans. If there is any way we can serve your cause-I will be happy to be your contact-so you are not endangered further."
Father Peter was so eager for a sign-some approval to act-something that could free him of his guilt. He was sure this was divine guidance, but, he had to be careful. It
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