She never stopped telling her story: Berthe Badehi

The past week’s headlines in Israel and across much of the Jewish media tell how Israel is yet again facing another existential struggle. However, one headline that you will not find above or below the fold is one telling a remarkable story of heroism and dedication to the past. This would be the story of a ninety-three-year-old woman named Berthe Badehi whose very life outrightly defied despair.

Sadly, Berthe Badehi, one of the last living witnesses of the Holocaust in France, passed away in Jerusalem this week. Her life wasn’t just long, it was full of purpose, generosity, and a strength that inspired all who knew her. A life complete with moral clarity, humility, and most importantly a fierce devotion to national memory and meaning.

Born in 1932 in Lyon, France, she was the daughter of Polish-Jewish immigrants who fled their homeland between the two World Wars to seek a better future. They settled in Lyon, and became active members of the Jewish Communist Organization, seeking in its ideals a better future for Europe.

This is the storm that Berthe was born into. 

When Berthe was just nine years old, the Germans invaded France, and with it, Berthe’s parents knew what was soon to come. Supported by the French resistance network, Berthe’s parents made an impossible decision: to send their daughter away to survive, so they could continue fighting.

Her mother packed her a small suitcase, kissed her goodbye, and let her go. Berthe didn’t know if she’d ever see her family again. She was taken to a remote village in the French Alps, to the home of Madame Marie Massonnat, a widowed farmer raising three children of her own.

“She knew I was Jewish but never said a word,” Berthe would recall years later. “Not to me, not to her children.” In Nazi-occupied France, hiding a Jewish child meant risking your life. But Madame Massonnat never wavered.

For two long years, Berthe lived under a false name. She kept her head down. Her true identity remained a terrifying secret. “I was afraid they would see I was a Jew,” she said. And yet, even at that young age, her greatest fear was not for herself—but for the family risking everything to protect her.

In September 1944, Lyon was liberated. Berthe returned home—and, miraculously, so did her parents. Their reunion was tearful and rare. So many Jewish children never saw their families again. Berthe did. Her family survived, carrying with them so much more than just the scars of the past. Berthe carried her story.

In 1997 Madame Massonnat was recognized by Yad Vashem as Righteous Among the Nation.

For the last thirty years, Berthe has become a fixture at Yad Vashem. Not just as a guide or a speaker, but as a friend and colleague. She was the soul of the Visitors Center. With a warm smile and her signature question—“How can I help you today?”—she welcomed everyone who came to remember.

To her, this wasn’t a job. It was a sacred mission.

Even into her 90s, Berthe would take a taxi from her home in Motza Ilit three times a week to Yad Vashem. Not because anyone asked her to—but because she believed every visitor deserved to hear her story. Every tour group was a chance to plant another seed of memory.

Berthe Badehi in Yad Vashem’s Visitors Center greeting Ms. Israel, December 2, 2021

In her calm French-accented Hebrew—or sometimes English—she would sit before soldiers, students, or dignitaries and say:

“I tell how we managed to survive and what happened to us. And most importantly, I teach people to say thank you—to those who helped us. Thanks to them, I am here.”

Not long after the horrors of October 7th, I went to visit her at home. With the war keeping her from Yad Vashem, I simply wanted to see my colleague and friend.

Sitting on her veranda, sipping tea, we spoke about how much she missed coming to Yad Vashem. We recalled the past and present and dreamed of a brighter day that hopefully would be coming soon. Just then, her phone rang. It was her granddaughter, calling to share joyful news: Berthe’s 11th great-grandchild had just been born. Her eyes lit up.

“This is my victory!” she said, her voice proud and full. “This is the symbol that our country will continue. We are together. We will raise our children in peace. That is what we are fighting for.”

As I stood to leave, something on a shelf caught my eye—a small sign, handwritten in Hebrew:

“אני יכולה ואני אעשה”
“I can, and I will do.”

Berthe Badehi in her home in Motza Ilit holding a sign saying “I can and I will do”

That wasn’t a motto. It was Berthe.

She never tired of telling her story. Because she knew the world still needed to hear it.

Before Yom Hashoah in 2023, in a dynamic project with TikTok Israel called #לזכורולאלשכוח, To Remember and Not Forget, Berthe was one of four Holocaust survivors I brought to Yad Vashem to speak with a group of Israeli influencers and tell her story on the social media platform. Berthe was never too tired or too busy to tell her story. 

Here are some links for those reels – https://www.tiktok.com/@liormars/video/7223311048651132161 and https://www.tiktok.com/@batelsananes/video/7222573547640655105 

And again, just a few weeks before her passing, ahead of Yom HaShoah, she spoke with a journalist from a English-language Israeli media outlet to record what would be the last interview of her life, https://www.ynetnews.com/jewish-world/article/bkv5o00pkle. Her voice, steady. Her clarity, undimmed. Still bearing witness, until the very end.

Berthe being interviewed at Yad Vashem, June 2019

She believed in action. In moral courage. In speaking truth without fear. Her life was a bridge: between past trauma and future hope, between experiences and testimony.

Berthe showed us that to be an eye-witness is not only about telling your story once and that’s that, its about a consistent dedication to speak the unspeakable, again and again, so that as many people as possible can carry your story forward.

Berthe Badehi has left us. But her voice?

It echoes in classrooms.
It lingers in the minds of students who heard her.
It lives in the hearts of those now entrusted with her story.

יהי זכרה ברוך.
May her memory be a revolution of remembrance.