Christmas Eve souvenir

(Baonghean) - A few years ago, a doctor from the South of France contacted me. His granddaughter had a disease that doctors there had not found a cure for. He called me after reading my research on central nervous system disorders. His granddaughter's symptoms seemed to match what I had described. And he asked me for help. I immediately agreed and cooperated with the doctors treating the child in France via phone and fax for many months to check. Finally, we came to a diagnosis. A few weeks later, the child made a surprising recovery. The grandparents thanked me wholeheartedly and told me to let them know if I had the chance to go to France.

In the summer of 1996, I was invited to speak at a major international scientific conference in Nice, France. I informed the doctor I had helped many years ago. When I arrived at the hotel, I called him and we arranged a dinner at his home.

That day we met and then drove north to his home in a beautiful countryside in the south of France. It was amazing to learn that his home had a history older than America. On the way, he told me that his wife was very ill but that she was very anxious to see me. When I met her, I still recognized her as a very beautiful and elegant woman despite her serious illness.

That evening, I was treated to the most delicious meal I have ever had, accompanied by excellent wines. After dinner, we sat on a 17th-century sofa, sipped cognac and talked. Our conversation must have seemed a little strange to the two waiters who served us, as it was a comfortable mixture of English, French and Spanish. After a while, the woman asked me, “My husband told me you were a Jew, is that true?”

I replied: “Yes, ma'am, I am a Jew!”

They asked me to tell them about Judaism, especially the holidays. I tried to explain because they didn't know much about Judaism. She was especially interested in the festival of Hannukah...

After I had finished answering her question, she suddenly looked into my eyes and said, “I have something to give you.” She went inside and came back a moment later with a box wrapped in cloth. She sat down, looked at me sadly, and spoke slowly.

“When I was about eight years old, during World War II, the army came to my village, searching for Jews. My best friend was about my age, her name was Jeanette. One morning, I went to her house to play and saw the Nazis threatening her family with guns and taking them all into a truck. I ran home and told my mother what had happened and asked her where Jeanette had gone. My mother reassured me, “Don’t worry, she’ll be back soon.” I went back to her house to make sure she had left. The villagers were taking everything valuable from Jeanette’s house, except for the Jewish items, which were thrown out into the street. I saw one lying on the ground. I picked it up and realized it was the one her family used to light at Christmas. I said to myself, “I’ll take this home and keep it until Jeanette comes back,” but she and her family never came back.”

She paused and took a sip of wine. “I’ve kept it ever since. I hid it from my parents and told no one about its existence. In fact, for the past 50 years my husband was the only one who knew about it. When I learned what had happened to the Jews, and how people I knew had collaborated with the Nazis, I couldn’t bear to see it. Yet I kept it, waiting for something, although I wasn’t sure what. Now I know what I was waiting for. It was you, the one who cured my nephew, and I entrust this to you.”

Her hand shook as she placed the box in mine. I slowly lifted it from the cloth. Inside was a menorah, but it was unlike any I had seen before. It was made of brass, with eight slots for oil and eight candles, with the ninth candle in the middle. There was a ring on the top of the menorah, and she said Jeanette’s family used it to hang the menorah in the hallway of their home. Many people told me the menorah was at least 100 years old. As I hung it up and thought about what it meant, I started to cry. All I could do was say thank you. When I left, her last words to me were, “Here it is again, lit!”

Phan Nguyen Lam Suong(Translated from English version)