MARCH 16, 2026 – Whenever I think of the hallmark of our species—resilience—I think of the late Ruth Oppenheim, mother of my close college friend, Jeff. Ruth passed away late last week after a long, long life. As far as her family and wide circle of friends are concerned, however, her extraordinary life couldn’t possibly be long enough. Nevertheless, we must accept the other central truth of our species: our mortality, whatever our works and thoughts, faith and fears. Yet, it’s our mortality that undergirds the wonder of our resilience.
Today I attended Ruth’s funeral, virtually and in spirit. The service, filled with elegant remembrances by rabbis and her son-in-law, all who knew her well and admired her, was a beautiful reflection of her extraordinary memoir published in 2016, Beyond Survival. Born in 1927 in Werne, Germany (northeast of Dortmund), Ruth was 11 on Kristallnacht, November 9, 1938, when Nazi thugs smashed the glass of Jewish shops and trashed and burned synagogues throughout Germany. Ruth and her family were terrorized by the outbreak of violence in their tidy, prosperous hometown. The critical juncture in what was to unfold as the Holocaust set in motion the family’s effort to flee the Nazi regime.
Her immediate family slipped out just as the exits to survival were slamming shut. Extended family members perished. Once Ruth’s family landed in New York, they faced many challenges, from language to navigating their way into and through a strange new world.
The essence of Ruth’s life from that point forward was resilience writ large. This overarching theme carried her through a life of extraordinary achievement and contribution to humanity that went far beyond mere survival. Fueled by unusual grace, intelligence, dignity, discipline and gratefulness, Ruth would inspire generations of Americans—family, friends, countless others fortunate enough to be touched by her life and example.
I was among those lucky people. My good fortune began during college, when I was a guest of the Oppenheims during school breaks. I connected immediately with Ruth. Her Old World grace and refinements—even her soft, musical accent—reminded me of my grandmother Nilsson, similarly, a paragon of those same admirable traits. Ruth’s grace was matched by her genuine hospitality and caring nature. I’ll never forget the lunch she so meticulously fashioned and packaged for me before Jeff took me to the Amtrak station for my journey from Rhode Island to New York City: when I unpacked the repast aboard the train, a fellow passenger remarked how I “must have a ‘Jewish mother’.” I was proud to affirm the observer’s insight and told her all about Ruth Oppenheim.
Three years ago, Ruth was awarded an Honorary Doctorate of Humane Letters from Brown University, where for years she’d served as administrator of the English Department and later, Office of the Dean. The honor was befitting this woman who by the life she led, had defeated the evil from which her family had fled 85 years before.
As one of the rabbis emeriti of Ruth’s temple observed in his touching eulogy, “Ruth stood for dignity, optimism, perseverance, and grace. What was most important to her, however, was the dignity of everyone she met. She touched our lives and blessed us.” Humility was also one of her central characteristics. In highlighting this, the rabbi cut himself short. “As Ruth herself said [when she was being introduced ahead of one of her talks about her journey as a Survivor], ‘Rabbi, there’s no need to go on.’”
If Ruth took her life far beyond survival, the scars of her youth remained. When 28 years later, she returned (with family) to her hometown of Werne and met the empty stares of townspeople, she recalled the vicious rejection from the place she’d known as home. “We were made to feel like strangers among xenophobes,” she said. Subsequent trips—the mark of courage on her part—yielded a modicum of reconciliation.
In her later years Ruth embarked on a campaign to tell her story to many readers and before a wide array of audiences. Speaking from vivid experience, she warned against the increasing rise of fascism in her adoptive land. Thanks to those efforts, her voice will resonate far beyond the limit of her mortality.
For me, Ruth represents the quintessential response to evil; the overwhelming power of good. May our collective memory of this extraordinary individual give us hope and encouragement in these challenging times. And in remembering Ruth Oppenheim’s extraordinary example, may we too live “beyond survival.”
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© 2026 by Eric Nilsson
