NARRATOR: This is the story of a little tattooed Torah.

It was always little, but not always tattooed.

Many, many years ago, before you were born, the little Torah lived in a handsome wooden ark with an embroidered velvet curtain.

Next to the little Torah stood several big Torahs wearing soft velvet mantles of scarlet, purple, and blue.

For thousands of years, the Torah has been the most precious possession of the Jewish people.

It is a collection of hand written laws and stories rolled up onto a big scroll.

The Torah is cherished and loved, and passed down from generation to generation.

Torah's come in many shapes and sizes.

Some are tall and some are short.

Some have silver crowns and look like kings and queens.

Others have silver bells that make gentle jingling sounds when they are taken out of the ark on Shabbat mornings and ot Shabbat after Shabbat, holiday after holiday, year after year, the little Torah was held by a pr marching in the procession.

There was one little boy who especially loved the little Torah He always held it during the holidays alongside the grownups.

The little boy's earliest memory was of his grandfather, whom he called Zayde, the town scribe, finishing the little Torah in his workshop.

There was so much joy in the community the day the little Torah was brought into the synagog All of the children fell in love with it, and the grownups did, too.

A few years later, the little boy was learning how to read from the little Torah for his bar mitzvah.

A bar mitzvah is the celebrat a Jewish child growing up.

He and his Zayde were practicing together for weeks.

All of a sudden, there was a loud pounding on the door.

Scared by the noise, the little boy st Nazi soldiers entered the synagogue, and nailed a large sign on the wall, then slammed the door shut as they left.

It was a sign announcing a curfew, which meant that all Jews had to be home by nighttime.

Zayde was concerned, but only smiled and told the little boy not to worry, and that this would all be over before his bar mitzv Then one day, everything changed.

There was a different kind of marching sound.

It was not the sound of Jewish people marching into synagogue to pray.

It was not the sound of people marching in the Torah service procession singing Hebrew songs It was loud, mean marching with loud, mean talk.

An evil man named Adolf Hitler had started a war.

His Nazi soldiers marched into Brno, Czechoslovakia, the little boy's town.

They closed down all of the synagogues.

They took all of the Torahs, mantles, and other religious items, and loaded them onto trucks head The Nazis forced the little boy, his Zayde and father out of their home, as they did with all the other Jewish people in the town.

As they passed by the synagogue, the little boy froze.

He saw a Nazi soldier throw the little Torah into the back of a t He thought, "How could such a terrible thing As the little boy waited in line to board another truck, he was scared, and imagined how scared the little Torah must have been when the Nazis came into the synagogue.

The little boy wanted to hold the little Torah in his arms, to know where it was going, to know where he and his family were going.

All the little boy had really known until then was that a war had started.

But he didn't understand what that meant until the truck rolled out of Brno with his little Torah.

A part of him and his family was gone.

Many hours later, the truck stopped outside a The workers were ordered to sort out many objects, including books like the ones the little boy's father would read Menorahs, like the ones he lit with hi Kiddush cups, like the cup his Zayde used to bless the wine on Friday nights.

And Torahs, many, many hundreds of Torahs.

from all over Czechoslovakia.

They assigned the little boy, his Zayde, and his father to the group numbering the Torahs.

They were forced to tattoo a number onto each Torah, and then record that number in a large book along with the location from which each Torah came.

The Torah's were tagged and then taken through a back door and into a dark room.

Day after day, they tattooed and recorded more and more Torahs.

The little boy was so angry at first, he thought, "They have no right to tattoo a Torah.

"A Torah is the most precious possession of the Jewish people."

But before long, he forgot about his anger, as they numbered and recorded, numbered and recorded, like a machine.

Every day, the little boy saw Nazi soldiers march into the warehouse, and deliver truckloads of Torahs and other religious items.

By winter, the Nazis began taking workers out of the warehouse.

The little boy's father was on His Zayde said they were only relocating him to a different warehouse, and that they would see him again soon.

They went back to work, but the little boy was worried.

What could he do?

They had taken his father.

Just like they had taken his litt His Zayde was worried, too, though he tried not to show it.

But as he painted the next number on the Torah, his brush slipped, and left a long streak of white pain as he tried to hold back his tears.

War is tough.

It is lonely and it is cold, and you're hungry and thirsty all th It is hard to keep hope, but this was more than just a war.

What they were forced to do in the warehouse was really terrible, and made the l think about what was going on outside.

Were the Nazis making his father and all the other people do things that were just as bad?

Or even worse?

Then one day as the little boy stood there sorting through Torahs, something amazing happened.

The little boy pulled another Torah from the stack as he'd done so many times before, but this time he felt his heart poundi It felt familiar.

He looked down and in his hands he saw the unmistakable blue velvet mantle of the little Torah.

He looked up at his Zayde and th The mantle was dirty and torn, but the little boy had seen the Star so many times, and held this Torah so many times befo He knew it was the little Torah, and his Zayde knew it, too.

Tears welled up in their eyes.

The little Torah had found them.

-(door slams) -One of the guards walked over and barked at them "Why are you moving so slowly?

More shipments are on the way.

Schnell!"

As the guard walked away, his Zayde looked at him.

He told the little boy that no matter what happened, when the war ended, he had to find the litt just like it now found him.

The little boy agreed.

His Zayde wrote a quick note on a scrap of paper, and tucked it inside the scroll.

That way, when the little boy found it again, he would know for sure that this was the littl His Zayde wrote the number 32804 on one of the rollers, and then wrote it down next to the name Brno in the catalog book.

The little boy watched sadly as the little Torah was taken into the guarded b and the door slammed shut behind it.

The little boy would never forget how he felt in that moment.

The little Torah had found him, and he hoped that one day he would find the little Torah a ## The months passed.

Less and less Torahs and religiou came into the warehouse, and so the Nazis took more and m His Zayde was among them.

But they made the little boy stay.

They didn't even have time to say goodbye.

He went with a group of people onto a truck the same way the little Torah did, the same way his father did, and the truck rolled away.

Where was he going?

Would the little boy see him again?

He was left all alone with the remaining workers.

## And then one day, the Nazis were gone.

The war was over.

The other workers told the little boy he was free to go.

But he wasn't going to lea He had made a promise to his Zayde.

The little boy ran to the door of the back room where all the Torahs were stored, but when he opened the door, he was shocked to se everything was gone, including the little Torah.

Realizing we would never find his family after the war, the little boy began a long journey to America.

But he never forgot the promise he made to his Zayde to find the little Torah.

As the little boy grew up, he spent years and years foll in search of the little Torah.

Many times, he felt like he was so close, but each lead met with disappointment.

This made the little boy very sad, but he never gave up hope.

Then, one morning, he was in his kitchen reading the paper, and saw a story about which were collected and carefully restored at the Westminster Synagogue in London.

After so many years of searching for the little Torah with no results, he felt like he still had to follow this lead.

So he booked a ticket to London.

When he finally arrived at the Westminster Synagogue, the little boy was led into a big room.

There in front of him were more than 1500 Torahs It had been so many years since the little boy had worked in the warehouse numbering the Torahs, and yet, these Torahs felt so familiar to him.

He imagined that he could even recognize his Zayde's handwriting on the bottoms of the rollers.

Overcome with emotion, he stood there, amazed at what he was Th at number was the one his Zayde had written on the Torah when the little boy's father was taken away.

The little boy thought to himself that if this Torah was here, maybe the little Torah could be here, too.

## Grandpa Arthur, did the little boy Is n't that our name?

Yes, Tommy, that is our name.

The little boy did find the Torah and that little boy was me.

That day in the Westminster Synagogue, as I searched the shelves, I found the little Torah.

I took it off the shelf, and was helped to take the worn blue cover off.

We unrolled it and right there I saw the note my Zayde had written all those years ago.

When I saw the note, I couldn't hold back my tears.

I stood there crying for a long time.

I told the manager my story, and afterward, she agreed to let me take the little Torah back to America.

I wrapped the little Torah in brown paper to protect it.

After boarding the plane in London, I buckled the little Torah into the seat next to me.

"From now on," I whispered before takeoff, "we will always take good care of you."

But when I got home from London, I couldn't part with the It was my Torah that I had found.

And being with felt like being with my Zayde an But, Tommy, I am telling you this story now because it is time for me to say goodbye t The little Torah needs to be back in the arms of Jewish children.

Back in Chicago, I had this new red velvet mantle made for the Grandpa, it still has the number tattooed on it.

That's so sad.

Shouldn't we take it off No, Tommy.

The number must stay on.

This is how we never forget what happened.

How we lost everything but endured and overcame, and never gave up hope.

This little Torah is the story of our people, tattoos and all.

I never got my father or Zayde back, but I got my little Torah back.

And I'm forever grateful.

## And now, children, the little tattooed Torah is yours.

May it dwell forever in this house of love and learning.

-ALL: Amen.

##