Discovering My Roots: Unveiling My Parents' Holocaust Survival

Hannah Rothberg had a happy childhood. Her memories are filled with family trips, fun summer vacations, and a loving household. Growing up in Antwerp, Belgium, in a traditional Jewish family, she never imagined her seemingly normal upbringing was meant to be different.

Unlike other children of her time, whose parents' past loomed like a shadow, Rothberg's family never had any secrets. Only years later, as an adult with her own children, did Hannah realize what her parents, both Holocaust survivors, sacrificed to provide a normal upbringing.

Her father, Rabbi Shalom David Horowitz z''l, endured Auschwitz and the Death Marches, the stuff of nightmares. Her mother was also a survivor. They never spoke of their past, not even a word.

"Did I know there was a war? Of course," she reflects when asked if they ever discussed the Holocaust. "My father talked about the times before the war, but the term 'Holocaust' came later. We knew we had no grandparents or other relatives, but that seemed normal as it was the case for many families around us. It was only when I read Holocaust books that I understood it had happened. But I never made the connection between those horrors and my strong, joyful parents."

Me - As a Cheerful Baby

"Don't Talk About the Holocaust if You Want to Stay Sane"

Years later, after marriage and motherhood, Hannah discovered her parents' wartime experiences, marking a turning point in her life and leading her to write a bestselling book titled "How Did I Not Know?"

In her book, Hannah describes her innocence in simple terms. "We all knew about the Holocaust and the extermination, and we even knew there were camps," she writes. "But it wasn't personal. It was like reading about the Inquisition – torture tables, dark dungeons, and masked inquisitors."

Unlike other homes, Hannah's didn't treat crumbs on the floor with reverence. Her mother didn't chase after her to eat another spoonful of porridge, and school trips with overnight stays were routine. It was a completely normal childhood.

How do you explain not knowing anything?

"I believe my parents had tremendous divine assistance," she says. "After traveling with them to Poland, I asked my mother if it was an intentional decision not to tell us anything. She replied that she and my father never discussed it. It was understood that they wouldn't talk about the Holocaust to raise sane, normal children. Today, I understand that their decision was both unique and very wise."

Roots Journey with Parents (Summer 2005) at the Study Hall in Gur

As a child, didn't you try to talk about the war with your parents?

"It's not that we didn't hear stories. My father shared experiences from cheder and we knew what games my mother liked as a child, that there were no grandparents, and that everyone used to live in Poland, but we just didn't bring up the war. There was an unspoken agreement that was very convenient for both parties: they wouldn't tell, we wouldn't ask. I was curious, but here I felt it was better not to ask, not to know. That agreement lasted a long time."

Even as Hannah read about the Holocaust, she struggled to connect the atrocities with her parents. She never felt the need to delve into their past. "For us, it all belonged to the past," she reflects.

The first time she learned of her father's story was at her eldest son's Bar Mitzvah. By then a married woman and mother, the tale was new to her. "My father recounted a story about smuggling tefillin into the Birkenau camp," she recalls. "His friend asked, 'What will I do with them?' and my father replied, 'Let’s hide them.' Each morning, a few people who knew took turns laying tefillin before the dreaded roll call."

"The first time Grandpa shared this was during his eldest grandson's Bar Mitzvah. He recounted laying tefillin opposite the chimneys spewing ominous smoke, telling Hashem, 'I know every moment with tefillin risks my life; a Nazi could shoot me any minute. But Hashem, I know you are beyond the smoke, and that’s why I'm taking this risk.' For eight miraculous months, he laid tefillin each morning in Auschwitz."

This emotional recount left few dry eyes at the event, but the true transformation came later, once Hannah heard her parents’ full testimonies.

"I truly became their daughter only after my children were grown. Then, it hit me like an atomic bomb: my parents survived the Holocaust!"

In 1994, her parents participated in Steven Spielberg's Holocaust testimony project. Hannah encouraged them to share, yet she hesitated to watch the tapes.

"I kept putting it off," she says. "Every day I'd promise myself to watch them tomorrow, but days turned into weeks, then months. The tapes sat hidden until the Nine Days of that year. I resolved to stop postponing. I secured a VCR to watch the testimonies and locked myself in a room, pressing Play."

My Parents on Their Wedding Day - Antwerp 1946

"Listened to My Parents’ Testimonies, Felt My World Turn Upside Down"

That moment, Hannah says, changed her life forever.

"Their testimony lasted nine hours. My father's was six hours; my mother's, three. I felt the sky falling. Everything I thought I knew crumbled. Hearing them speak, in measured words, about their experiences, I realized I didn’t know them at all. My strong, loving parents had raised us wearing masks."

For the first time, Hannah learned of the horrors, the extermination camps, and the immense loss. She heard the pain in their voices, describing the destruction of their world. The memories were terrifying, incomprehensible, hard to reconcile with the loving parents she knew. She suddenly understood she was truly a second-generation survivor. Her parents, spiritual heroes, did the unimaginable and gave their children the childhood they themselves never had.

The Tisha B'Av following her discovery was one of her saddest. The shock lingered. "I broke, for the first time in my life, the pact we’d kept so rigorously," she writes about the aftermath. "Don't ask, was the deal, and we won't tell. The silence protected our sugary, round world. And I shattered that world... Now it wasn't sugary anymore. Everything I'd built in my mind shattered with a thunderous crash."

In the days that followed, Hannah found a new purpose. "Watching those testimonies was a turning point. After viewing them, I felt compelled to know more, to learn every detail about my parents' past. I began reading books, academic articles, taking courses. I devoured every Holocaust book I could find, delving into testimonies and immersing myself in the subject."

Father at Auschwitz Gates - Showing the Number on His Arm

How did your parents respond to this change after years of silence?

"It was natural and beautiful, like a river slowly breaking free from a dam. It was a gradual process, without any explicit plan. As they began telling their stories from those years, it felt natural and healthy, with much divine assistance. Sharing experiences with children is essential for passing stories to future generations. I have no regrets for not listening more before my father passed because he shared everything."

After hearing their testimonies, Hannah convinced her parents to join a family roots trip to Poland. It was moving but restrained, and Hannah knew she wanted to return. In 2008, the Jewish Soul organization, which arranges student trips to Poland, invited her to join a group of secular female students.

"Initially, I was hesitant," Hannah recalls. "What could I share? I’m not a Holocaust survivor and didn't have a classical second-generation childhood. My childhood was enviable. But during the trip, I was amazed by the students' connection to my stories. They wanted to hear more about my parents, their childhoods, their spiritual resilience, and their faith during the Holocaust. I realized I had a unique story."

"There Wasn't Just Suffering in the Holocaust, There Was Light"

The students, despite being distant from Judaism, were deeply moved by Hannah's narratives. For the first time, they heard about Jewish heroism during the Holocaust, of people risking their lives to lay tefillin and uphold mitzvot under dire conditions. Hannah shares how the journey impacted the students profoundly, with many experiencing significant changes.

In her book, Hannah recounts how one student, Miri, decided to embrace Judaism after the Poland trip, eventually marrying and raising a large family in Jerusalem. This wasn't an isolated case; others were similarly inspired. Hannah understood her story's impact through multiple successful trips.

The Book

When did you decide to write the book?

"After the third trip, I knew I had a story worth telling. My children and grandchildren encouraged me to write it down. At that time, I began formally teaching Holocaust studies, focusing on Rabbi Esther Farbstein's method: emphasizing the light, the spiritual heroism of Holocaust martyrs. I wanted to tell a different Holocaust story, one not solely about camps, ghettos, and gas chambers, but also about the light within. I decided if I wrote a book, it wouldn't be the usual Holocaust narrative. I wanted a luminous book with messages, one you could read on Shabbat and leave uplifted."

After searching for the right author, Hannah found Miriam Applefelo, who beautifully captured and edited her journey into a stirring, heartfelt book. "It was crucial for me that the book focused on light and goodness," she explains. "Thank Hashem, my connection with Miriam was immediate. The writing process took over a year, filled with deep interviews and intensive editing."

The result was "How Did I Not Know," a non-linear narrative weaving between Hannah's Belgian childhood, the Polish journey years later, and her parents' Holocaust experiences. It's a unique Holocaust book, filled with warm childhood memories and written in a nostalgic, loving tone.

"Since the book's release, the feedback has been consistent:" Hannah says, "Readers are touched by the survivors’ stories, the spiritual giants who rebuilt their lives after devastation, driven by faith. I feel it's my mission to pass on that during the Holocaust, there was not only suffering but also immense spirit and belief. My parents never saw themselves as heroes. They simply lived, raised children, and built the next generation, giving us the happiest childhood imaginable."