Eulogy for Jules Braunschvig, by his daughter Myriam, in Paris, marking twenty years since his death.
As Jules Braunschvig's rich, vibrant and very active life began to draw to a close, he decided that the time had come to hold an exhibit of the impressionist paintings he had created. The title of the exhibit was "To Paint the Joy, the Joy to Paint."
My late father z"l painted throughout his lifetime. This hobby followed him during rest periods and work breaks. It was his personal Shabbat. After weeks packed with activity, he liked to be alone in the heart of nature, wearing his ubiquitous cap. There, in nature, he imbibed the never-ending play of light and translated it into color.
But unlike Monet, his model, for which color was a "daylong obsession, joy, and torment", my father was not content with nature exclusively. He would let his eyes roam and look around, and went from nature to another type of nature - human nature.
Throughout his life, Jules Braunschvig would discover the special color, the unique spark in every person and every experience, and would try to give it its proper place and significance and make its presence felt. In the same way that he was able to capture the light and color in nature, he knew how to reveal them in human beings. He tried to get to know and to explore each person he met. He positioned himself at the place where listening, speaking and cooperation melded. Throughout his life, he tried to give this light and joy a place of honor, a place of eternity.
His journey, to use his language and to portray it, was like the movement of footsteps, footsteps toward a door that is in the process of closing, sometimes brutally. In such cases, Jules Braunschvig's extraordinary skill would enable him to find the key to the next door. The shut door always revealed the next door to open. Momentum and enthusiasm always propelled him toward the future, toward the promise. To the joy of the human essence that was revealed itself and that inspired him. This is what I would like to share with you this evening .
Facing Closed Doors
At the age of eight, Jules lost his beloved mother. The death of his mother, a gentle and sensitive artist, was his first experience of the chilling and immutable reality of facing a door that was permanently closed.
At the same time, he experienced his first steps toward color and painting under the caring and watchful eye of his aunt Fanny. These were also his first steps to an open cultural life, typical of the Jewish bourgeoisie pre-World War II.
It was during these years that his painting talent was discovered, leading to his winning first prize in a competition. But in response to his father's suggestion that he develop professionally in this field, he replied: "Are you joking? I have no intention of living a life of deprivation and poverty. I want to be a businessman, like you."
And, indeed, he was. He became a businessman and he joined the family business in Morocco, along with his brother Paul. Everything came easily to him: friendships, study groups, celebrations, and at the tender age of twenty-four, he became a member of the Alliance Central Committee in Paris. His life was stable and pleasant. But it all ended abruptly in June 1940, when he was captured and imprisoned in Germany. This captivity lasted for five years.
In prison, he suffered from cold and deprivation. He could have lost his vitality and joie de vivre, and waited passively for the coveted release, which did not appear on the horizon. Instead, he became close to an outstanding individual, Mordechai Cohen, an erudite and cultured person, who brimmed with profound knowledge and love for the Jewish heritage. During the five years they spent in jail, Cohen gave young Jews, many of whom lacked real knowledge, the gift of great knowledge. He gave them the gift of systematic and precise study of the Hebrew language, prayers and texts. He gave their weakened bodies, which suffered under the restrictions and difficulties, spiritual strength, along with the strength that he imbibed from the past, which they rediscovered and would become ever more significant in their lives and their future.
With tireless patience and persistence, over the years, Cohen dictated from memory, prayers, texts, rules of grammar; this would allow my father's vigilant and lively spirit to drink from the same water, yet his thirst was never quenched. This encounter added another layer to my father's identity, a layer that became for him a reason to go on living. Inside the gates of the prison camp, Jules Braunschvig was preparing himself to receive and to embrace a life devoted to what Mordechai Cohen taught him – to learn and to teach.
In the context of the infinite richness of the Jewish heritage that Mordechai disclosed, opportunity struck. From then on, Jules Braunschvig would be able to rise above the life that seemed to come to a dead end; he would see his strength increasing, his vision becoming more penetrating, and his eloquence getting richer.
Mordechai Cohen imprinted on him the words which, in later years, would constitute the foundation and basis of his home and activities. Words like "אחרי", "ערב", "חבר", "קרוב" and above all "תקוה".
All this in a world in which the meaning of this word had been lost. The door that Cohen opened could have shut when the camps were liberated. Together with his brother, my father went to Bergen-Belsen to help with survivors' medical needs and then discovered the silent tragedy. He could never have imagined what had transpired there. He could have then fallen into a bottomless pit. The words from the Shaharit morning prayer might have come to him then - to distinguish between day and night.
While facing the darkness, he remembered. When faced with night, he would choose day.
To Build the House of Israel
It was then that he realized and clearly understood that he would dedicate his life to sharing what he had discovered during his imprisonment.
Only humanistic Jewish education, only love and closeness to the heritage that forges us, that is part of us, can restore the inner strength to our uncertain lives, the spiritual integrity that can give us the means to see things from a transcendent perspective, from a higher point than we thought we were capable of. The means to transform despair into hope.
After the war, Jules Braunschvig found himself in a world that was destroyed. He himself was thin and debilitated, but burning with great inner strength and passion. This passion led him toward the new door that was opening - the door of activism - and the vision to bring it to fruition. He would try to empower young and flexible spirits: to give them the power of speech, of the right word, of clearly formulated thought. Powers that could not be taken from them. The power of the French ideal, combined with Jewish spiritual power – opening both the head and the heart toward the other. To help him realize this goal, what he learned from Mordechai Cohen once again came to his rescue.
He recalled the exchange between Moses and his father-in-law, Jethro, who reminded Moses that he could not act alone, that he had to learn to be encompassed by others. That is what gives a person the power to continue to act. Throughout his life, my father elegantly and gracefully developed his talent for cooperation, delegating authority and working together. He would surround himself with colleagues, men and women in whom the same passion and faith also burned. These were friends that would become his close associates.
The decisive turning point in his new life took place in 1946, in New York, where he went to visit Haim Toledano and met his daughter Gladys. Her love and commitment to him were the embodiment of the words from the Song of Songs: "I am my beloved's and my beloved is mine". He found at his side a woman who was astonishing in her wisdom, her calm acceptance of reality and her stubborn determination to move forward.
Like him, she was a simple and sincere person - unpretentious and real. Like him, she did not become enmeshed in unnecessary words, but would say straightforwardly that which was true and authentic. Like him, she was driven by the desire to rebuild the House of Israel.
The Toledano family enveloped and embraced my father. In Gladys, his wife, he found the warmth that his war-sick heart needed. My mother knew how to give him domestic tenderness, along with the radiant splendor of the Sephardic tradition. With what enthusiasm they would together prepare the Sabbath evening meals, and what fragrances would greet the many guests who entered the open doors of their home, with whom they shared humor, wisdom and thoughts. Respected, well-liked and strengthened, Jules Braunschvig was ready for the great move forward.
For the Collective
Ever faithful to the teachings of Mordechai Cohen, in his mind he wanted to shape the House of Israel from an elevated vantage point - as a spiritual entity. When constructing a house, the Bible emphasizes the importance of building a railing to prevent people from falling. For my father the railing offered the possibility to see afar. The railing allowed him to lean forward in order to look out, and never lose his balance. The railing allowed him to continually initiate, to discover the potential inherent in another person and to give him the means to realize that potential. Yet, the image of the railing would never make him aloof or alienated. On the contrary, he knew how to find the people to accompany him on his journey.
When traveling throughout the world, he was never alone. He raised funds for his schools and for Holocaust survivors, and when he met a person of high quality, he would unequivocally invite him to accompany him on his journey. He constantly utilized his talent to forge close, meaningful relationships with dignitaries as well as with simple people, who accompanied him thereafter.
How many kilometers he strode together with his good friend and loyal partner, Elias Harrus, the Alliance representative in Morocco! The two of them pondered all the problems that need to be solved, all the schools that need improving. How many pleasant and evenings they shared tasting mimouna dishes and hamin!
For my father, everything was processed through speech and discussion. "Speech is expelled from the mouth", as his friend Emmanuel Levinas put it. His vision took shape through the process of listening and dialogue. Even if he was impatient with a letter that was poorly worded or an activity that wasn't carried out to the end, he was extraordinarily tolerant of the person facing him. He did not place himself on the sidelines, as a judge, but preferred to look him in the eye and use the art of conversation.
He did not orient himself to Levinas's "difficult freedom". More modestly, he oriented himself to the freedom of urgency.
For him there was no time to lose when something needed to be done. All his skills were primed to perform a specific task to completion, and he always girded himself with patience for that purpose. He never gave up or settled for a job that was less than perfect.
To the State of Israel
Later in his life, as Morocco became inhospitable to Jews and its Jewish schools shut down one after the other, my father pushed open the last gate of his life - a new dawn in the State of Israel. He expended all his energy and enthusiasm on his love for Israel, its people and primarily, its youth. With determination and devotion he took part in building his last dream – the Massorti school in Jerusalem.
I often meet people by chance, at the theater box office or the bank teller. As soon as they hear my name, they invariably ask, "Are you related to Jules Braunschvig?" In response to my nod, their faces without exception light up and they continue: "Those are the best memories of my school days". And then I think of the dedication written by Emmanuel Levinas: ''To Jules Braunschvig, who knew how to lovingly receive, to bless and to pass on to others.''
The Hope
I will conclude with another anecdote of an experience in Jerusalem, where I was priviledged to witness the extent to which my father's vision had been realized. A group founded by original minds at Kol Israel Haverim, the Israeli branch of the Alliance, took upon itself to bring together disadvantaged young women to study Jewish texts, and through study, discussion and exchange of views, to equip them with linguistic and other tools, to climb the steps of the social ladder and to break the glass ceiling.
It was hoped that through the work on the texts and on speech, they would be able to acquire durable strength, the capabilities needed for them to stand upright.
I participated in the first meetings and I could see the sense of frustration and impotence these women felt in a world that had rejected them. Two years later, I met the group again, but this time – a young woman who previously had difficulty expressing herself and was angry at her inability to be heard, spoke from a safe and stable place as she described with pride and excitement the process she went through. She had undergone a complete and total transformation. She stood erect and her open face radiated joy and confidence – in herself and in the future.
As she spoke, the artist in my father was reborn. His project of joy unfolded in front of my eyes. I could see the young woman's words in my mind as if they were merging with the words of another great Jewish intellectual.
"To which destination do the gates open?" Franz Rosenzweig asked himself.
"Don't you know?"
"To life".
