The End of Days

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Authors: Helen Sendyk

Tags: #Biography & Autobiography, #Historical, #History, #Holocaust, #test

BOOK: The End of Days
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Page i
The End of Days
Religion, Theology, and the Holocaust
Alan L. Berger,
Series Editor
 
Page ii
 
Page iii
 
Page iv
For my children: Zvika and Leah
Sharona and Alan
my grandchildren: Rebecca Tamara (
RIKKI
)
Daniel Ephraim (
DANI
)
Shlomo Yonatan (
YONI
)
Shaul Elchanan (
ELI
)
Zahava Adi (
ADI
)
Elimelech Mordechai (
ELI
)
and for future generations.
Remember the past and be wary of the future.
Copyright © 1992 by Helen Sendyk
All Rights Reserved
First Syracuse University Press Edition 2000
00 01 02 03 04 05     6 5 4 3 2 1
Originally published in 1992 by St. Martin's Press, New York.
All photographs courtesy of the author.
Design by Tanya M. Pérez.
The paper used in this publication meets the minimum requirements of American National
Standard for Information SciencesPermanence of Paper for Printed Library Materials,
ANSI Z39.48-1984.
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Sendyk, Helen.
The end of days : a memoir of the Holocaust / Helen Sendyk.  1st
Syracuse University Press ed.
p.  cm.  (Religion, theology, and the Holocaust)
Originally published : 1st ed. New York : St. Martin's Press, 1992.
ISBN 0-8156-0616-8 (pbk.)
1. JewsPersecutionsPolandChrzanów. 2. Holocaust, Jewish
(19391945)PolandChrzanówPersonal narratives. 3. Sendyk,
Helen. 4. Chrzanów (Poland)Ethnic relations. I. Title.
II. Series.
DS135.P62C53777    1999
940.53'18'092dc21
[B]                                       99-43226
Manufactured in the United States of America
 
Page v
"Know whence you came."
 
Page vii
Foreword
Alan Berger
Helen Sendyk, born in the Polish town of Chrzanow, had every right to expect that hers would be the traditional life of a traditional Jewish family. Her father, Symche, was a grocer whose clientele included many non-Jews. Her mother, Sara Miriam, was devoted to her husband and family. Both parents were observant Jews. The Staplers lived a decent life marked by integrity and love for each other and for their heritage. It is true, of course, that there were outbreaks of anti-Semitism in Poland, but with faith in God and trust in humanity, the Staplers believed that they had a future in their native land. Helcia, as she was then called, the youngest of their eight children, basked in the love and
 
Page viii
support of her parents, brothers, and sisters. The Holocaust, however, destroyed her parents, five of her siblings, and more than fifty other family members.
Helen Sendyk writes in order to bear witness to their memory.
Like Elie Wiesel, Sendyk rescues from oblivion the memory and images of family members and other victims who perished in the Shoah. She also tells of the horror and suffering which she and others experienced in the kingdom of death; isolation, slave labor, gratuitious violence, the agony of starvation, disease, and the omnipresent fear of extermination were the components employed by National Socialism in its efforts to destroy Jews and degrade familial bonds. Yet, Helen Sendyk's stark and powerful memoir attests to the fact that it was her love of family and desire to once again be united with her parents and siblings that helped her survive. She also writes of the extraordinary acts of friendship in the camps. Nachcia, Helen's older sister, constantly tried to protect her younger sibling during the punishing roll calls. Further, at great risk, the two sisters would smuggle extra portions of "soup" from the kitchen in order to give them to people in their barracks.
The
End of Days
is aptly titled. In Jewish history this concept conjures an apocalyptic struggle; the war of Gog and Magog, a time of judgment followed by the dawn of a new age. However, the Holocaust literally signified the end of days for the Jewish people in Europe. Here the judgment was cruel and unceasing. But above all else, it was unwarranted. It was a time when the living often envied the dead. Evil reigned unchecked. Yet even in the midst of the routinized terror of the Shoah, Helen muses about her present situation in relationship to the Exodus, the master narrative of the Jewish people. Recalling the family Passover seder and her father's admonition to try and imagine themselves as slaves in Egypt, Sendyk wonders "When will children solemnly sit around a table
 
Page ix
remembering what it was like to be Hebrew slaves in Europe?"
And what of the immediate post-Auschwitz period? Had the world learned a lesson? Sendyk recalls her post-war return to Chrzanow. Far from welcoming the remnant of returning Jews, passersby displayed great hostility. Their unfriendly faces seemed to say, "You too are alive? There are too many of you left." Her family destroyed, her life shattered, her property stolen, Helen Sendyk summoned the courage to build a new life in America. This entailed learning a new language, acquiring a profession, and raising a family. It also entailed bearing witness to her murdered family, and to a type of Jewish existence that is gone forever. Sendyk attests that, "If I did not write this book I could never forgive myself." Her multitude of readers would not have forgiven her either. Offering her memories to her children and to ours, Sendyk has made us all wiser.
 
Page xi
Preface
There were many thousands of families shattered by the Second World War, and a large body of literature has arisen to describe the military, political, economic, and social repercussions of a conflict from which we are still recovering fifty years later.
Even though the immense tragedy that particularly affected the Jewish people has been recorded, there are those even today who deny the millions their deaths. There could never, therefore, be too many films and books to document the Holocaust, and to brand it in the memory of a forgetful world.
Let me offer, then, my own family. Let me paint these familiar, beloved faces on all the blank textbook pages and
 
Page xii
freeze-frame forms. I knew them, lived with them, shared their desires and their frustrations, their joy and their anguish, their moments of terrible dread and transcendent courage. I alone carry their lives in me. I cannot let them vanish without a mark, a legacy, a new family to carry on their memory.
Besides the precious few members of my own immediate family of today, my husband and I have cultivated an extended family of other survivors. Now that almost half a century has passed, few members of this family are left. I am one of the youngest survivors who was old enough to remember; I am now left a survivor of survivors. My drive to record, remember, and remind comes from a need to articulate what these silent victims could not. I have tried to tell their stories.
I am being gradually orphaned from my second family, leaving me all the more eager to reach out to my small biological family and to a new extended family of readers. You can be my survivors. Hear my story; take this great stone and pass it on to your children. Let my family be yours. And let no one forget.

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