I went to Major Reinhold and said, “Herr Major, we are not on the frontline. You are in charge of this district, responsible for the life and death of these people. Why kill the innocent? These are peasants who provide themselves and our army with provisions.” Major Reinhold and I were on good terms, so I could allow myself this sort of liberty. He replied, “Fine, then find those who helped the partisans in the field. That will be enough.”
I was in great difficulties. I went to the village elder and explained that somebody had to die, and that if he could find two it might save the life of twenty others. He needed to point someone out. The elder immediately understood the situation. He summoned the local fool, a mentally backward lad of about seventeen, and the forester. This forester, a few weeks before the incident, had betrayed a boy who had been shooting at Germans from his house, which was some way outside the village. The police had found the boy, found he had a rifle, and shot him. I was present at this event and had to translate the order to execute him:
“In the name of the Great German Reich …”
Now this informer had himself become the victim. I remember thinking at the time that justice had triumphed. The forester fell to his knees and began imploring me, “Mein Herr, tell them I am not guilty. I am prepared to show them where the partisans are hiding.” The situation was appalling both for him and for me. For him, because the country people had heard what he was saying and would certainly take revenge on him. For me, because I had to translate what he had said and there might be Silesians among the German soldiers who had understood him. I took a risk. I needed to be sure to use the word ‘partisans’ in my reply, and I told the police chief, “He says he is not guilty and did not show the partisans which way the soldier had run.”
The police chief said, “Waste him.”
At this the forester began begging the chief of police, promising to take them all right now, if they wished, to the partisans’ camp. I again translated falsely. Then they were shot, the forester and the idiot. The forester’s house was burned down, but only one house, not the whole village. I later learned that he had eleven children; and the idiot was completely innocent. To this day that memory is a heavy burden on my heart. It is a terrible memory.
Yes …, a joyful memory? Forgive me, right now I can’t think of any. Perhaps those hours I spent with Marysia Walewicz. It was the first time I had fallen in love and there was such a powerful sense of joy at the beauty of a woman, a woman’s charm. Yes, probably that.
CHRISTOPH ECKE. Do you like our town?
DANIEL STEIN. Freiburg I find very touching. The day I arrived here I noticed a stream which winds all round the town in a stone channel. I thought how much this modest stream beautifies it. I assumed it was one of the sights of the Middle Ages which have survived to our days, but then I came to the town square and was shown the new synagogue, built in place of the one destroyed during the war. I found that the stream originates as a fountain beside the synagogue, a fountain symbolizing the tears of those who mourn the Jewish people of your town who perished. Some two thousand of them were taken to France and died in a death camp there. I think this is the most beautiful memorial to the Shoah I have seen. The stream really is a very beautiful feature of Freiburg.
ANDREAS WIEGEL. Could we come to Israel in the holidays for you to show us your favorite places?
DANIEL STEIN. Yes, of course. I conduct tours all over Israel. Being a monk is not a profession. My profession nowadays is that of a tour guide. I will leave you my address. If you write in advance we will be able to show you around, but do be sure to write in advance, because sometimes a lot of tourists arrive at the same time and I don’t much enjoy showing large groups around.
ELISABETH BAUCH. How do you get on with the Jews? I mean, what is their attitude toward you?
DANIEL STEIN. The Jews are my brothers. My own brother has a family and they long ago got used to the fact that they have a weird relative who is a Catholic priest. I have very close, warm relations with my three nieces and nephew. There are scholarly Jews and even rabbis with whom I have friendly and indeed profound relations. When I came to Israel I was welcomed as someone who had fought Fascism, even as a hero. Some have accepted the fact that I am a Christian while others find it bothersome, but I have no sense of hostility toward me personally. Of course, there are pages in the history of Christianity which one would like to tear out, which, alas, is not possible. If Jews fear and mistrust Christians there is a historical basis for that. After all, the Catholic Church often organized pogroms against the Jews.
FATIMA ADASHI. What is your attitude to unbelievers?
DANIEL STEIN. Dear Fatima, I have to admit that I have never in my life come across an unbeliever. Well, almost never. The majority of people, apart from those who completely and unconditionally accept the faith they have chosen or inherited from their parents, have their own ideas about a Supreme Power, a Mover of the world which we believers call the Creator. There are also people who deify some idea of their own, proclaim it God, serve and worship it. That idea can be anything at all. This type of person includes convinced Communists and Fascists. Sometimes it is a very modest idea, for example, about extraterrestrials or vegetarianism, but human beings are capable of deifying any idea. In the case of vegetarianism there is no danger to other people, but in the case of Fascism there certainly was.
Among my friends there was a doctor who, in theory, rejected the presence of God in the world, but he lived a life of such selfless service to the sick that his verbal non-recognition of God was of no significance. I have exactly the same attitude toward believers and unbelievers. The only difference is that I am particularly ashamed of Christians when they commit crimes.
THOMAS LÜTOW. Next time you come to Germany, which town will you go to? I would like to hear you again. It seems to me I have a lot of questions, but right now I can’t think of a single one. Oh, I have a question! Have you not written a book about all your adventures?
DANIEL STEIN. I do not know when I will next come to Germany. I have a lot of work at home and it is always difficult to get away. It is good when a person has a lot of questions. When a question ripens inside someone, it begins to disturb them and the answer invariably appears in one way or another. I am not writing any books, I am a very bad writer. In addition, I speak so often that I really have no time for writing. I barely manage to reply to letters.
40. 1994, Haifa
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ILDA’S DIARY
A few days ago I was tidying up after the children’s group, scraping off plasticine, washing dishes, and was sure I was alone in the house. I went into the room which we ceremoniously call “the Office” and saw Daniel sitting in the semidarkness on a chair in the corner with his eyes closed, his lips moving, and his fingers darting to and fro. He had knitting needles in his hands. He was knitting! Or did I imagine it? He didn’t even hear me come in. Actually, his hearing is going, I’ve been noticing that for a long time. I went out again quietly, feeling a little sad. It was a bit comical, too, as if I had caught him doing something improper.