RISHON LEZION, Israel — Beneath the shade of trees in one of this city’s cultural centers stands a marble monument unlike any other here in Israel.

The monument, built with marble from the Philippines and designed by Filipino artists, honors the landmark decision of President Manuel L. Quezon to grant visas to Jews fleeing Nazi Germany on the eve of the Second World War.

For Rishon Lezion, the site has become more than a memorial — it is a bridge across time, geography and culture.

“Every year since the monument was built, we gather here to honor President Quezon and the Filipino people,” said Annette Ben Shahar, the city’s director of foreign affairs, during a visit by a delegation of Filipino journalists. “It is one of the most cultural places in Rishon Lezion, because behind the stone is a story of compassion that still speaks to us today.”

For decades, the story of Quezon’s “open door policy” remained largely unknown outside academic circles. Only about 1,200 Jews made it to Manila before the Japanese occupation halted further arrivals, but to the families of those saved, the gesture was life itself.

In recent years, Rishon Lezion has worked with the Filipino community and survivors’ descendants to keep the memory alive. One of the most powerful tools has been cinema.

“Every time the film is shown, people are moved to tears,” she said. “Many even feel remorse for not knowing the story sooner. And always, someone steps forward wanting to help us tell it further.”

For city officials like Nir Dinar, chief of staff to Rishon Lezion’s mayor, the challenge is not only to commemorate but also to secure formal recognition for the Philippines’ role in Holocaust history.

Israel’s highest honor for non-Jews who risked their lives to save Jews — the title of “Righteous Among the Nations” — has traditionally been awarded to individuals.

Quezon’s initiative, however, was a government policy, backed at the highest levels of the Philippine Commonwealth. That makes recognition more complex.

“The requirements are tough,” Ben Shahar acknowledged. “But what happened in the Philippines was unique — it was state policy, not just individual courage. That deserves to be remembered differently.”

Efforts are underway to work with Yad Vashem and the Philippines’ Department of Education to embed this story in official Holocaust curricula.

“It should not just be about the Holocaust in Europe,” Ben Shahar said. “It should also include the Philippines’ role, because it is part of the larger history of humanity’s response to the Holocaust.”

One of the last surviving refugees, 90-year-old George Lowenstein, still lives in Jerusalem. His footprint is among those embedded in the marble monument in Rishon Lezion. To city officials, his presence is a living reminder of why the story matters., This news data comes from:http://www.aichuwei.com

“We honor him, and we honor Max Weisler, who passed away in 2022, and others like them,” Ben Shahar said. “They remind us that what President Quezon did was not an abstraction. It was about real lives saved.”

Israel city honors Quezon’s wartime rescue of Jews

For Dinar, who has lived through wars and seen rockets hit Rishon Lezion neighborhoods, the monument carries an added weight.

Israel city honors Quezon’s wartime rescue of Jews

“It is always the innocents who suffer in war,” he reflected. “That is why what the Philippines did stands out. At a time when many countries shut their doors, they chose compassion.”

Rishon Lezion and Quezon City have been sister cities for several years, and despite today’s conflicts, city officials hope to deepen the connection.

Virtual exchanges between schools have already begun, but larger delegations remain on hold until peace allows.

Still, the Quezon memorial has ensured that the bond between Filipinos and Israelis is not just diplomatic but deeply human.

“It’s always remembered here,” Ben Shahar said. “It’s not just history. It’s part of who we are.”

As audiences continue to watch Quezon’s story on screen, and as survivors’ footsteps remain etched in marble, Rishon Lezion’s leaders say their mission is simple: to make sure the world never forgets what a small Asian nation once did when compassion was most needed.