Berl Glazer
“I am 84 years old and close to God.”
Berl is a blind widower who lives alone. He attends synagogue twice daily. At the onset of war, he escaped to the Latvian border on his bicycle and bribed a soldier with a cigarette; “God and a cigarette saved my life.” He joined the Lithuanian 16th Division and is a decorated war veteran. Before he lost his sight, Berl was tasked with the upkeep of the Vilna Gaon Mausoleum at Seskine Cemetery, a memory he holds dear. He has a helper provided by the Jewish Community Centre who escorts him to Choral Synagogue, a thirty-minute walk he makes in rain, hail or shine. Berl passed away in 2010.
“It’s hard to keep going (to the synagogue) but I must. You see, I am 84, and I am quite close to God. You have to believe God is here. You have to know, there is only one God.”
“I am 84 years old and close to God.”
Berl is a blind widower who lives alone. He attends synagogue twice daily. At the onset of war, he escaped to the Latvian border on his bicycle and bribed a soldier with a cigarette; “God and a cigarette saved my life.” He joined the Lithuanian 16th Division and is a decorated war veteran. Before he lost his sight, Berl was tasked with the upkeep of the Vilna Gaon Mausoleum at Seskine Cemetery, a memory he holds dear. He has a helper provided by the Jewish Community Centre who escorts him to Choral Synagogue, a thirty-minute walk he makes in rain, hail or shine. Berl passed away in 2010.
“It’s hard to keep going (to the synagogue) but I must. You see, I am 84, and I am quite close to God. You have to believe God is here. You have to know, there is only one God.”
