The Righteous: Rescuing Marc Chagall from the Nazis

Marc Chagall once commented if he wasn’t Jewish, he might not have been an artist. His faith profoundly influenced his works like “The Praying Jew,” for example, as well as a never-before-seen work that Chagall gave to his granddaughter, Bella Meyer.

“He tells the story of Shabbat, from back of his memories,” Meyer said of the drawing.

She recalled watching her grandfather work: “I watched him paint, and I loved it. I adored him.”

But her grandfather’s faith also got him in trouble. In Russia where he was born, Chagall was jailed for not having his Jewish residency papers. He later moved to Paris. “France, for him, meant freedom,” said Meyer – freedom, that is, until the Nazis marched into Paris in 1940.

“For him he was French, rather than Jew,” Meyer said.

The Nazis didn’t see it that way. They considered Chagall’s work “degenerate art.” In 1941, the Vichy police tracked him down in Marseilles in the south of France and detained him yet again. Had it not been for the courage of strangers – non-Jews mostly, who risked their own lives to help smuggle him and his paintings to safety – that might have been the last we ever heard about Marc Chagall.

Yad Vashem, Israel’s official memorial to the victims of the Holocaust, has a name for such rescuers: The Righteous Among the Nations. There weren’t that many righteous rescuers, however; it’s easier to discount horror with blind eyes than it is with eyes wide open. Compared to six million murdered Jews, there are fewer than 30,000 non-Jews who have been recognized for helping. 

Using taped and transcribed interviews from the U.S. Holocaust Museum, filmmaker Nick Davis brought 45 extraordinary stories of those non-Jews who did help to life.

“One of them said, you know, he didn’t care whether they were Jewish or Catholic or Eskimos; they were persecuted people, and you had to help,” Davis said.

His film is called “This Ordinary Thing.”

“We have paid enough attention to the bad guys – Hitler, Himmler, Göring – and we don’t think as much about the good people who helped.” – Tina Strobos, The Netherlands

“On a sort of superficial level, I felt like, ‘Ugh, haven’t we seen enough Holocaust films?'” Davis said. “But when I looked at the stories that we were going to be telling, real goodness is what you do when no one’s looking.”

Oscar-winner Hellen Mirren voices the sacrifices of Irene Gut Opdyke, of Poland, who was forced to become the mistress of an elderly SS officer to buy his silence after he discovered that she was hiding Jews in his villa.

“I won’t tell you it was easy. Not only because he was an old man, but I knew there were 12 lives depending on me … I never talked about what I did during the war. And I still wouldn’t, had I not read that article in the newspaper that said the Holocaust didn’t happen.” – Irene Gut Opdyke

Alex and Mela Roslan sheltered three Jewish brothers in Warsaw. They couldn’t call a doctor if things were bad for fear of being discovered. What happened with them, and far too many others, is dramatized by Jeremy Irons:

“He says, ‘I would feel better if you held me.’ I picked him up, and he died in my arms. We buried him in the basement sitting up, because someone told me that was the way to bury a Jew. ” – Alex Roslan, Poland

Dwork believes whatever the motivation of rescuers was, in the case of the Holocaust, the end often justified the means.

I asked, “So, there really isn’t necessarily a line that connects them all, other than the fact that they must’ve had good souls?”

“Sometimes they didn’t even have good souls!” said Dwork. “Sometimes greed motivated them. And I say three cheers for greed, because it was thanks to the greed that they put their lives at risk, or put themselves in harm’s way.”

Her latest book, “Saints and Liars: The Story of Americans Who Saved Refugees from the Nazis” (W.W. Norton), is about American relief workers who helped save Jewish refugees. Most of the Americans you’ve likely never heard of. “Think about it: The best known of the Americans is Varian Fry, and very few people know about him,” she said.

Varian Fry brings us full circle, for he was the man who helped organize Marc Chagall’s escape from France. He was the first American to be given the title of The Righteous Among the Nations. His son, James, accepted the honor on his dad’s behalf.

Asked why he thinks his father wasn’t recognized more, James Fry replied, “I think the country wanted to move on, and focus on rebuilding, getting life back to normal. People didn’t want to remember, I guess.”

Varian Fry rarely talked about his time during the war, although Chagall paintings sometimes mysteriously appeared in the Fry household, presumably as a thank-you.

In retrospect, James says his dad suffered from outsized bouts of righteous indignation, to the point he believes his dad’s bravery may have sprung in part from his being bi-polar. “I think he harnessed sort of his manic energy to do something that most people would’ve thought not worth trying,” he said.

And it’s that – the not worth trying part – that haunts any discussion of these Righteous Among the Nations. What would you do?

Nick Davis said, “I have a wife and two amazing daughters, and I don’t know that I would risk their lives for a perfect stranger. Let me correct that: I know I wouldn’t risk their lives for a perfect stranger.”

Bella Meyer said, “I wish I would have the courage to do even a little ounce of it.”

We’ll never know how many there were – those hiding Jews in attics or basements or crawlspaces rarely survived their generosity. But those who did, did more than save a life; they created opportunities for life, and art, and beauty for years to come.

Asked what she would say to Varian Fry if she could have a conversation with him now, Chagall’s granddaughter replied, “I would just hug him, and thank him for existing.”

To watch a trailer for “This Ordinary Thing” click on the video player below:

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Story produced by Amiel Weisfogel. Editor: Steven Tyler.

      
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