Tuesday, January 13, 2026

Righteous Among Nations


This Image from the Visit Assisi Website
On the last day of our Pilgrimage in Assisi, we went to visit the Bishop’s house- the same place where St. Francis had, 800 years before, stripped off all his rich garments and handed them back to his father, renouncing his life as a wealthy merchant’s son. The bishop was there to affirm Francis’s choice to turn his life fully towards his religious calling.

 

This same site was the residence of the Bishop in the 20th century, when world war 2 reached this small mountain town and is now the home of the Museum of Memory, Assisi 1943-1944. The museum’s founder (2011), Marina Rosati met us at the door, and showed us a video of Don Aldo Brunacci, parish priest in Assisi, who described the day he was called into the office of Bishop Nicolini Giuseppe  He told the priest that he had received instructions from the pope that they were to help refugees in any way they could, but would have to do it quietly.  Father Aldo Brunacci headed up The Committee for Assistance , which began to collect clothing and other things the refugees would need, and a workshop was set up right there in the bishop’s residence. [i]

And indeed refugees began to arrive in Assisi, some drawn by the reputation of St. Francis. 

Right by the front door of the museum there is a big old printing press.  
The Refugees needed documents to receive their food rations, and Jewish refugees would be arrested if their identity was known. Marina told us about Luigi Brizi, who ran a small souvenir shop who with his son Trento began to forge documents for refugees, giving them Christian names, and addresses in a part of southern Italy that was not occupied.[ii] 


 As we heard in the story of Lea and her sisters, the new documents meant freedom and safety for the many who received them.[iii]

  

In one nook of the museum was a bike, and a photo of a man famous for winning the famous Tour de France cycling race twice, Gino Bartali. He hid those forged documents in his bike and would deliver them to the refugees eagerly awaiting them. Because he was a famous biker, who had to bike great distances for his training, the guards waved him through when he asked them not to search his bike which was “carefully calibrated” for racing.  

 

Mariana told us about Father Rufino Nicacci*, the Franciscan priest and Father Guardian of San Damiano convent”[iv] He helped hide 100 Jews within 26 monasteries in the small mountain town which had only about 5000 residents at the time. Bishop Nicolini headed the underground movement in Perugia province, because “Under his authority, even those religious institutions categorized as “clausura,” which were shut off from the world, were opened up to accommodate them, dressed as monks and nuns, in order to save their lives.”[v]

 

If you were here last spring you may remember the story of St. Clare, who grew up in Assisi and founded an order of women religious who take a vow of strict poverty, and of seclusion. This is how the order she founded, the Poor Clares, live even today. [slide 5] They cloister themselves off form the world, to not go out, and if they do see visitors, they do so behind a grate. [Slide 6] 

It was in one such cloister that Mother Biviglia stood before the German army and said with faith and a bit of cheeky shrewdness “here, I am ready; show me the permission because I am a cloistered nun and I cannot abandon the cloister without authorization!”

We walked, after touring the museum, down the hill to the Basilica of St. Francis, where our guide pointed to the bell tower where some refugees were hidden, then he pointed to the historic hotel next door- this was where the German officers were staying. The refugees living in the bell tower must be very quiet, waiting until the bells tolled to stretch and move and do the necessary things of life.

Imagine, the bravery it took to for the refugees, imagine the bravery of the priests and nuns and lay people who protected them, and imagine to keep all that a secret from the army occupying your city.

“One day local Fascists, who suspected church leaders of harboring Jews, stormed into Father Brunacci’s home to arrest him. [2 refugees] were visiting at the time, but the priest acted quickly, pushing them behind an open door, where they were shielded while he was taken away.

Father Brunacci was imprisoned for a time, then released to the custody of the Vatican.”[vi]

As our group of pilgrims heard the stories we could not help but see the connection to our own time and feel challenged by the bravery of this community who truly lived their faith in those dark days. We wondered if we could be so brave if a refugee journeyed to our church, having heard that we were good people hoping would offer them help. In our time, I wonder not only refugees from other countries, but people of color fleeing ICE, women in need of reproductive care, trans* and queer folks seeking the freedom to simply be who they are.

In Israel there is another museum of memory: Yad Vashem – The World Holocaust Remembrance Center. It documents the lives of the ordinary Jewish people who lost their lives in the Holocaust, and it also has a special section for people who risked their lives to save Jewish people without thought of payment or reward.

Their website tells us: “The mainstream watched as their former neighbors were rounded up; some collaborated with the perpetrators and many benefited from the expropriation of the Jews’ property. But in a world of total moral collapse there was a small minority who mustered extraordinary courage to uphold human values, risking their lives to save Jews by hiding them in their homes, providing false papers and assisting their escape…

The Righteous Among the Nations come from different countries and nationalities, and from all walks of life. They teach us that each and every person can make a difference.”[vii]

7 people from the town of Assisi were so honored. The Brizi’s and their printing press, Gino Bartali and his bike, The Bishop Giuseppe Placido Nicolini, Father Rufino Niccacci, Father Aldo Brunacci, Mother Superior Giuseppina Biviglia, Mother Superior Ermella Brandi of the Suore Stimmatine convent[viii]. Many others in that small town were surely just as brave, but with secrecy so important, many acts of compassion were not documented, and the bravery lives on only in the people they helped survive.

We have among our UU ancestors so recognized, Martha Sharp and her husband, the Rev. Waitstill Sharp who were empowered by the Unitarian Association to go to Europe and see how they could help the refugees there. They were supported by the organization that became the UU Service committee[ix], which helped as many as 3,000 people escape Europe during WWII.

As we have listened to the news this week, we have been shocked, angered, saddened by the actions of our government. We fear for those most vulnerable, we fear for our own families, our own lives. We wish there was more that we could do. These stories of those righteous souls in Assisi not only inspire me to be brave, but remind me that the small acts of ordinary people do make a difference; a cyclist hides documents in his bike. A souvenir shop owner uses his printing press to make life saving papers. Nuns who vowed to spend their lives in seclusion care for refugees hiding among them. Churches take up a collection for food and clothing for refugees. I don’t know what will be asked of us in these times, but I believe that each and every person can make a difference.


The Story of Lea and Her Sisters

This story is shortened and adapted from the exhibit at the Museo della Memoria, Assisi 1943-1944  from an account of Lea Baruch, remembering her childhood.

My family lived in Flume, in Italy (today Rijeka Croatia). Until 1938 we had a normal and quiet life. My father, was a trader. My sisters Mira and Hella and I attended public school. We saw no contradictions between Italian Patriotism and Hebraism. Up to that time the Jews were completely integrated in the Italian society and they enjoyed full and equal civil rights.

In 1938 Mussolini, under the pressure from Hitler, introduced the Racial Laws that meant that Jews were to be purged from the party, armed forces, civil service, school and University and to be deprived of Italian passports. My father, who imported goods from abroad, was forbidden to travel and this seriously damaged his business. My sisters and I could not go to school with the other children; we went to school in the afternoon, when all other pupils were at home.

On June, 1940, a few days after Italy entered into the war on the side of Germany, my father was arrested and sent to an internment camp. Some months later, he was released... After a period spent in a small village in Southern Italy, he was allowed to reside in Trieste, so in 1942 all my family moved there.

My uncle Edo’s brother Hinko had managed to escape from Yugoslavia, but when he and his friends arrived in Italy, they were arrested and sent to Perugia. There, Hinko met a Franciscan friar, Father Michele Todde. Hinko asked if, in the case of extreme difficulty, he could help us. Father Todde agreed to do what he could. That’s the reason we decide to seek refuge in Assisi when the German occupation began.

We moved first to Perugia and there, in two rented rooms, we waited for our documents to move to Assisi. At the end of November a notice was published announcing that all the Jews resident in Perugia had to report to the police headquarters before December 8. We couldn’t wait any longer. We left for Assisi.

When we arrived, we were housed in the guest room of the Monastery of Santa Croce. The Nuns observed a strict enclosure. Contacts with the outside world were maintained by nuns who didn’t make vow of seclusion. One of them, Sister Fidele welcomed us and from that moment onwards, she provided for our needs. Shortly after we entered the convent, we met with Reverend Mother in the parlor. We were separated by two grilles. My mother thanked her for the hospitality. The old nun blessed us and expressed her hope that peace might prevail on earth.
At Christmas, the nuns invited us to attend Midnight Mass. Some German soldiers were seated in the first rows. We didn’t know what to do. We tried to imitate people seated on the other side of the chapel. Without the documents, we spent our days in constant fear of being discovered and we could not receive rations. The nuns gave us a delicious bread soup every morning. At lunchtime, my sisters brought some food from another convent.

Finally we received our documents. We became the Bartoli Family from Bolan, a small town in Southern Italy in the hands of the Allies. My new name was Leana Bartoli. The Bishop kept our original papers. With the new documents, we moved to the convent of the Stigmatines. Thanks to the false identities we were able to leave the convent for a walk. I didn’t go to school. Don Aldo provided to my studies, so I didn’t miss a school year.

On June 17, 1944 Assisi was liberated by the Allied troops. After the liberation, we decided to move to Israel. I left Assisi at the end of January. I was excited, but at the same time sad, because I was leaving all the people who had helped us.

During the period we spent in Assisi, no attempt was made to convert us to Catholicism. Bishop Nicolini, Don Aldo, Father Rufino and all the others who helped us, risking their lives, did it only because they believed it was the right thing to do, as men and as religious. 

Sister Maria Giuseppina Biviglia - Righteous Among Nations


This story is shortened and adapted from the exhibit at the Museo della Memoria, Assisi 1943-1944

Sister Maria Giuseppina Biviglia first entered the Monastery of San Quirico in Assisi on May 13, 1922 to teach to the community how to use an electric loom, but in 1927 she made her final profession giving herself to God for all of her life. Maria Giuseppina guided the community as Abbess from 1942 – 1948.

During the years from 1943 -1944 the community saved numerous persecuted Hebrew families and political refugees from the Nazi persecution. The most dramatic day in this event was February 27, 1944 when the officials of the Gestapo presented themselves at San Quirico in order to do a search of the monastery. 

 Sr. Giuseppina recounts the situation within the cloister where refugees were staying: "Time by time these poor people were moving, some going into other lodging and some others coming to replace those moving. These were precautionary measures to lose their traces in the case of police search. But on February 27, 1944 everyone suddenly left the guest house- frightened by the following event. The day before, two of our young boys had escaped from their refuge to meet up with friends and go on a bicycle race to Perugia; but on the return trip, all the small group was suspected by certain agents of the R.S. because of the foreign accent of the young Croatian and so the entire group was arrested. During interrogation, the young Croatian, in the words of Mother Biviglia, “did not know how to act cleverly in declaring his place of living, our monastery, and so the next morning the agents appeared to do an Investigation on site, having surrounded the Monastery with their armed forces. The officials of the R.S. entered the guest rooms for the inspection after which they wanted to see me at the grill. After a painful colloquia during which the entire community were gathered together in the choir to pray, it was convenient for me to show the big dormitory that was the private place of refuge of the refugees.”

At that time 2 young Jewish brothers and Colonel Gay were sleeping in the dormitory. We had just time to let the two brothers enter the Cloister where there was a trap door that lead to an underground grotto. Meanwhile the Colonel tried to exit but was stopped in the small orchard and was conducted by the officials to the dormitory so that he could give personal information on himself and on his companions and on his motives for his presence in that place."

Besides the bed of Colonel Gay who appeared to be the sole refugee on that day, the officials found another warm bed that of one of the two brothers had abandoned it in a hurry with only time to reset the bed. Only the temperament and cold blood of Sister Giuseppina could save the two young Hebrew brothers. She recalls, "the exasperated officials threatened to bring me to prison: I responded with unusual frankness; here, I am ready; show me the permission because I am a cloistered nun and I cannot abandon the cloister without authorization!”

Thanks to the courage of Mother Giuseppina all the Hebrew refugees were able to be saved.