Clermont-Ferrand, March 18, 1941
Wherever I die - be it in France or abroad - and whenever it may occur, I leave it to my dear wife or,
failing such, to my children the task of arranging my funeral to the
best of their judgment. The funeral shall be of an entirely civil nature:
my loved-ones are well aware that I have no need for any other kind.
However, my wish is that on that day - either at the house of the departed
or at the cemetery - a friend will agree to read the following words:
I have not requested that the Hebrew prayers be recited over my grave,
even though their rhythm has accompanied so many of my ancestors, as
well as my father himself, to their final resting place.
During my entire life, I have, to the best of my ability,
striven towards a total sincerity of expression and spirit. I hold the
indulgence of lies - regardless of the pretexts it may adorn itself
with - as the worst plague of the soul. As one much greater than I [had
requested], I would readily have my tombstone read no other motto than
these simple words: Dilexit veritatem . That is why … at this time
of ultimate farewells, where every man has the task of epitomizing himself,
no appeal has been made on my behalf in the name of an effusive orthodoxy
whose credo I do not recognize. But it would be even more odious to
me if one were to perceive in this gesture of integrity of mine something
resembling a cowardly renunciation.
Therefore, I affirm - face-to-face with death, as
it were - that I was born a Jew, and that I have never entertained any
thoughts of either denying it or of being tempted to do so. In a world
afflicted with the most atrocious barbarity, is not the generous tradition
of the Hebrew prophets, which Christianity - in its purest form - has
adopted in order to expand upon, one of our best reasons to live, to
believe and to struggle? As a stranger to any denominational formalities
or so-called racial solidarity, I have felt throughout my life first
and foremost simply French. Attached to my homeland by a long family
tradition, nurtured on its spiritual heritage and its history and, in
truth, incapable of conceiving of breathing at ease elsewhere, I have
loved it and served it with all my strength. I have never sensed that
my being Jewish hindered these feelings of mine in any way. It has not
been my fate to die for France during either of the two wars. At least,
I can in all sincerity offer this testimony in return: I am dying, as
I lived, an honorable Frenchman. Subsequently, my five quotations shall
be read, assuming that the text will have been obtained.
Source: Bloch Mark, L'etrange De faite, Paris, Gallimard,
1990, pp. 111-112