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Travel Piece  by Ida Nasatir

Letter from Paris  by Ida Nasatir,  July 20, 1951

July 20 1951—Ida Nasatir, "A Letter from Paris,"  Southwestern Jewish Press, page 5:  Dear Julia and Mac:. The name of Sir Isaac is associated with things majestic.  He must have been able to project his vision far into the future; in fact, he might even have been aware of the coming unique gathering of East European rabbis in Paris in the year 1951, when long ago he said: "Knowledge is the accumulation of vision. If I have seen further, it is by standing on the shoulders of giants." For giants indeed are the 160 rabbis, housed on the outskirts of Paris, brought to this haven by the money and efforts of the people of America.  It was a gray and dreary day when Abe and I, together with JOINT officials, traveled 30 miles outside of Paris to see how these rabbis live. We first stopped at a large house—one of the major yeshivas for young boys and men, presided over by the rabbis.  In this same house, Jean Jacques Rousseau was born, here Rousseau lived until he was twenty-one years old, and here were found over 100 boys studying the age-old books of their ancestors—huge volumes of the Talmud. As I looked about one of the large rooms where some 30 boys were studying in unison, each bent over his large book, quite oblivious of the "American visitors," I kept wishing that the room was warmer, less drab, less in need of repairs, with fewer holes in the walls showing crumbling plaster. I wished the boys themselves  were dressed less shabbily, that their faces were less lean and taut. But as I listened to them studying Talmud in their sing-song fashion now and then swaying back and forth in contemplation, stopping occasionally to "prove a difficult point" with a partner; as I watched their faces, especially attracted by their magnificent eyes, I forgot their dismal surroundings, as they have forgotten it. Later, when I asked one of the supervising rabbis why the rooms of the boys (they sleep in barren dormitories) were so cold he quietly answered: "The Joint which brought all of us here to safety, which sustains us now, has no more money for additional heat and repairs. But winter will pass, and when summer comes it is lovely here—see the trees and the wide fields beyond—in the summer it will be good."  I did not answer, but in my heart I knew that the soft, indulgent American way of life and not equipped me with the courage and fortitude necessary to shiver through long, cold months, to eat and sleep in cheerless rooms, awaiting the summer "which would be good." Perhaps I should have known better, and not asked another fine, elderly white-bearded rabbi whether it was right to deprive the boys of elementary comforts and needs.  For a moment the rabbi looked at me with soft, blue eyes, then he said, "We who come from the hells of this Continent, we have always to ask ourselves: not who is right, but what is right."  I thought of that answer far into the night, as I also thought of the beautiful melodious voices of the boys—I shall never hear such melodious music again. Of this, I am sure. One is not often privileged to see a large group of rabbis and students pour forth all their sufferings and yearnings via the medium of study. It is not given to many people to emerge like this.  Two of the younger boys, neither was more than 8, sat off in a corner by themselves discussing an intricate tract. The smallest eager to prove he was right, interrupted his friend rather abruptly. Quietly a rabbi came by and softly said: "Josef, my child, be more patient, you know we have to be less conscious of our rights than of our duties."  In one brief sentence, this "giant" had given the boy a whole philosophy of living.  These rabbis, many of them bereft of kin and any material possessions, do not live in an ivory tower. They do much (more) than study the word of God. They translate that word into every-day living. They are making tremendous efforts to reach the assimilated children of French ancestry; they travel to Ireland, England, Canada, America--there to hand on the rich and magnificent legacy for which they paid such a terrific price. I went to visit the home of these rabbis seeking crumbs of comfort on a day filled with ominous rumblings of war and hate, of battle and strife; I found so much more than crumbs; all the days of my life I will know this to be true: "Knowledge is an accumulation of vision.  If I have seen further it is by standing on the shoulders of giants." Julia and Mac—these are the "giants"—all that are left on the whole continent of Europe—"giants" which the Jews of San Diego have helped to rescue.   Fondly, Ida Nasatir.