Hetty Komjathy’s parents hid seven Jews in their Rotterdam church during the Holocaust. She is holding a ceramic image of Rembrandt’s second wife, which was given to her parents by some of the survivors who had hidden in the church. Photo by Jill Huber
May 06, 2008
From 1942 to 1945, Hetty Komjathy’s parents hid seven Jews in their Rotterdam church. All seven survived, and Komjathy’s parents, Gerrit Brillenburg Wurth, pastor of the city’s Dutch Reformed Church, and his wife, Gerda, were posthumously awarded the Silver Award of Freedom by the Israeli government in 1965.
A tree was also planted in Yad Vashem in Jerusalem in honor of the couple.
Komjathy, who now lives in Ocean Grove, told the story of her parents’ heroism during an address at Temple Beth El in Oakhurst on April 25. Her appearance was part of Beth El’s observance of Yom Hashoa, Holocaust Remembrance Day.
Komjathy was nine years old when the war came to Rotterdam in 1940. The city’s residents learned just how much the Germans wanted to capture the seaport city.
“We were bombed on May 12, 1940,” Komjathy told NJ Jewish News several days after her appearance at Beth El. “The next day, the Germans sent an ultimatum to our government — surrender or we’ll bomb four other major cities in Holland. The surrender came on May 14.”
In 1942, after the Dutch underground bombed a German transport train, there was another ultimatum from the Germans: reveal the names or there would be severe measures. Seven days later, 300 prominent men in Rotterdam, including Brillenburg Wurth, who was not involved in the incident, were taken into custody.
“Then came yet another ultimatum,” Komjathy said. “If we didn’t provide the names, five of the hostages would be killed. And they shot five men, but my father was not one of them.”
An incident of “persuasion,” as she calls it, eventually freed him from prison. Her mother’s brothers owned a cigar factory, and contacted the German commander.
“In exchange for 100 of the finest Dutch cigars, my father obtained his freedom,” said Komjathy. “That’s the value they placed on his life — 100 good cigars.”
In 1942, Brillenburg Wurth returned to his church, where he had served as pastor since 1931. During his imprisonment, the persecution of the Jews had intensified, and in 1943, he was approached by a neighbor, who was a city pharmacist.
“His friend, Chaim De Zoete, was the head pharmacist of Rotterdam,” Komjathy said. “He had been let go because Jews couldn’t work in government occupations. His wife, Fifi, was with him, but their three daughters had already been hidden in other parts of the city. My father was asked to find a place for Chaim and Fifi.”
The Brillenburg Wurths immediately agreed to help. When the pastor went to confide in the church custodian, he found that the man had been hiding four members of another Jewish family, the Kools, in the church since 1942.
“My parents may have been moved to help because my father had been imprisoned by the Nazis,” said Komjathy. “But I know they were brave people who believed in what was right. I can say they would have done this even if my father hadn’t been sent away.”
By 1943, the six Jews had been hidden in a two-room organ chamber at the top of the church. Komjathy, her sister, and brother never knew that the church, which was next to their own home, had six new occupants (the Kools became parents of a baby boy in 1944, which brought the total to seven) until the war ended.
“Black market purchases, the underground, and the custodian helped to care for the families,” said Komjathy. “But sometimes, I would see my mother preparing food at odd times of the day or night. When I asked her about it, she just smiled and said it was nothing. And I was just a child, asking a child’s question, so I didn’t pursue it.”
Losing a friend
On Saturday, April 14, 1945, German soldiers surrounded the block that included the church. Gerda Brillenburg Wurth ran into the church and clapped loudly — the signal that the enemy was near.
But the Nazis came to look for hidden weapons, rather than hidden Jews, Komjathy recalled. They found neither, she said — the Jewish families remained safe and the Dutch underground had already relocated the weapons. However, one brave Dutch citizen was arrested.
“The Nazis found a link between the church custodian and the underground,” said Komjathy. “They sent him to a camp in Holland until May 1945. Those who were hidden in our church lost a good friend.”
At the war’s end, some of the seven hidden Jews moved to Israel, others stayed in Europe, and the fates of still others are unknown, Komjathy said. In 1946, her father became a professor at a seminary near Rotterdam, and the De Zoates were guests of honor at the ceremony that was held when he took the position. Ten years later, Komjathy moved to the United States, while her parents and siblings remained in Europe. She now has four grown children.
After her mother died in 1962 and her father in 1963, Komjathy was notified about Israel’s decision to honor the couple with the Silver Award of Freedom. To this day, she has no idea who told the Israeli government about her parents’ heroics, but believes some of the Jews who had been hidden in the church told the story.
Last year, her niece and a granddaughter of the De Zoetes began work on a book about their families’ experiences during the war.
“People must not forget what happened,” said Komjathy, who retired in 1998 after a 27-year teaching career. She now speaks to school and religious groups and community organizations. “If we don’t tell this story, all will be lost. There are so many stories about what the Dutch people did to save the Jews, and I want to share those tales. I want to make my parents proud.”
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