Yellow Star

I am a Jew. When I lived in Paris I was issued a yellow star of David and told to wear it pinned to my clothing at all times. The Nazis wanted to shame all of us by having us wear these stars, but my father saw things differently. He told me I should wear the star with pride because it meant I was a Jew and that was nothing to be ashamed of. I tried to remember what he said when people gave me dirty looks when they noticed the star or when they gave me more than enough room to pass them on the sidewalk so they wouldn't risk touching me. I tried to remember to be proud of who I was, but I usually forgot.

When I was twelve my parents found out about a way to get my little brother Andre and myself out of Paris. They knew we would have a better chance of surviving if we were out of the city. There was an underground network of Resistance fighters who were hard at work throughout France. They were unwilling to bend under the German occupation. They were willing to risk their lives so that people like my brother and me could have a chance to make it through.

I remember the night my brother and I left our apartment. We were to meet someone we had never even seen before at the corner at 7:35 and go with them we didn't know where. We said goodbye to our parents and my mother cried. Andre didn't understand that we might not ever see our parents again, but I knew, and inside I was crying even harder than my mother. We took our stars off because from this point on we were to pretend that we were Gentiles. My father took Andre's star, but he told me to keep mine. I must keep it hidden, but it was to remind me of my heritage. It was to help me remember that being a Jew was nothing to be ashamed of.

I can't even remember all the places we stayed and all the roads and paths and alleys we took with the Resistance fighter as we made our way southeast out of Paris. It was a terrifying time. Eventually we met up with other Resistance fighters and sixteen other Jewish children. We ended up at the home of three wealthy, unmarried siblings in the south of France. The Resistance fighters hid us children in the woodshed while one of them went and told the Beaumont siblings that we were there and were in need of a safe house. The Beaumonts agreed to take us in, even though their house was already full of twenty-two Parisian children whose parents had sent them to the country to be away from the fighting. They weren't Jews, but the war was real for them, too.

I still had my star, but I buried it in the garden at Beaumont House because I knew it was dangerous for me to have it out where it could be discovered. One night I crept out and dug the star up because I wanted to see it again. I sat there holding it and thinking and remembering, and didn't notice Henri, the Beaumont's gardener, until he sat down beside me holding a yellow star of his own. He hadn't told any of us that he was a Jew.

“You, too, Henri?” I asked.

“Me, too.”

“Who knows?”

“Only the Beaumonts know. That’s why they hired me as a gardener--to keep who I really am a secret.”

I told Henri that sometimes I started feeling like maybe there was something wrong with being a Jew after all. I asked him if there was.

“Marcel,” he said, “there’s nothing wrong with being French, there’s nothing wrong with being German, and there’s nothing wrong with being a Jew. Nobody decides what kind of person they are born, but we all decide what kind of person we become.”

“I’m afraid some of the other kids and myself haven’t exactly been as nice as we could be to the Beaumonts,” I told Henri.

“I’ve noticed,” he said. “I know you have a lot of anger and hurt inside, but it’s not fair to take it out on them. They’re the ones who are helping you.”

“I know,” I said. “I’m sorry, Henri. I’ll try to do better, honest I will. I hate war.”

“We sure could use a savior right now,” Henri said. “Someone who’s stronger than Hitler who would come in and wipe out the Nazis and become king and let us live in peace again.”

Just the idea of it got me excited. “We sure could!” I said.

“He’s already come, Marcel.”

“He has?” I asked. Then I remembered the Bible stories the Beaumonts had read to us. They were Christians. “You mean Jesus, don’t you?” I asked Henri. He said yes. “I wondered if you believed in Him. But Henri,” I said, “we’re Jews.”

“So was Jesus.”

“But Henri,” I continued, “what about my family and who I am and who I’m expected to be?”

Henri held his star out beside mine. “You used to wear your yellow star on your coat and it told everyone that you are a Jew. People who believe in Jesus have a yellow star inside their hearts and it glows and burns and tells everyone that they are a Christian.”

I asked Henri if he had a star like that in his heart. He said yes. I had already guessed that he was a Christian. I reburied my star and Henri put his back in his pocket and we went inside. We didn't talk about it anymore.

Pretty soon it was Christmastime. As Jews, most of us had never celebrated Christmas before. But here we were in a Christian house and we had to do things their way. They decided to have a big Christmas party and invite the whole village. All of us children were to take part in a nativity play. It felt pretty strange as we practiced acting out the story of Jesus, but we all went along.

Christmas Eve came and the villagers arrived. Some uninvited guests arrived, too—the Nazis. They had heard about the party and decided to come themselves to see if anything was going on that they should know about. It certainly cast a dark shadow over everything, but we continued as rehearsed and the Nazis stood by and watched. We went through it all—the angel visiting Mary, Mary and Joseph going to Nazareth, the innkeeper telling them they could stay with the animals, Jesus being born, the angels telling the shepherds, and the wise men following the star. Everything was going perfectly until we got to the part about the star. My little brother Andre ran out of his place in the nativity scene and blurted out,

“Hold it, everybody! We don't have a star!” We tried to get him to be quiet, but it didn't work.

“But we need a star!” he said. “Wait! I know!” He bolted out toward the garden and I knew immediately what was coming. Andre knew about my star's hiding place, and that's where he was going. I was horrified. I tried to run after him to stop him, but I was too late. He got the star, ran back to the nativity scene, and proudly held it high above Mary and Joseph and baby Jesus. Two of the Nazis sprang forward, but their commander grabbed them and pulled them back and told them to let us finish. No one knew exactly what to do, but eventually the play continued and somehow we made it to the end. When it was all over the Nazis walked over to Andre and the commander held out his hand for the star. We all thought this was it. They were going to arrest every one of us and that would be the end. Andre gave the star to the commander who looked at it, folded it up, and put it in his pocket. He started to leave. One of the other Nazis asked in disbelief,

“What are you going to do about the Jews?”

The commander looked back at him and replied, “What Jews?” And then they left.

There was a long pause. We were all overcome. Could all that really have just happened? Was it possible that the light of Jesus' star was beginning to pierce the darkness in that Nazi commander's heart? We didn't know why he gave up the opportunity to arrest all of us and maybe even get a promotion, but sometimes we don't have to know why.

Andre broke the silence when said to me, “Marcel, they took your star.” He knew how special and important that star was to me.

“It's okay, Andre,” I told him. “I have one in my heart now.”

We have a story to tell,
A story of peace and love,
Of hope and joy, harmony,
Sent to us from above.

Tell of Mary, humble girl,
Who brought a babe into the world.
Tell of shepherds in the field
Trembling at what they hear.

Tell of angels in the sky
As they sing praise to God on high.
Tell of wise men traveling
Bringing gifts to their new King.

Tell of how the star that led
The wise men to the Baby’s bed
Still shines in the darkest parts
Bringing light to human hearts.

Tell of how a star can shine
Within your heart and within mine.
Whether you are near or far
You can have a yellow star.

We have a story to tell,
A story of peace and love,
Of hope and joy, harmony,
Sent to us from above.

We have a story to tell,
A story of peace and love,
Of hope and joy, harmony,
A story of a star.