
Hi! I realize it has been many months since I last blogged, but I have been extremely busy, and unfortunately am unable survive on four hours of sleep a night, so the blogging (among other activities) has fallen by the wayside.
I felt compelled to blog anew because Holocaust Remembrance Day was this week and I have been bombarded by reminders that have gotten my brain cells churning. If your immediate reaction is to roll your eyes, say "Not that again", and prepare to exit, that is precisely why I am posting. I myself have had a similar reaction at times - yeah, yeah, sent to Auschwitz in a box car, blah, blah, blah. There are so many stories, similar in so many ways. It is impossible to understand the concept of six million-plus individuals dead, not to mention the many survivors, each with his or her own tale.
The documentary "Paperclips" is a brilliant attempt to grasp the concept of six million. So is a handmade book my friend Jody has. It is a thick volume covered in a prayer shawl, with pages upon pages that merely repeat "a Jew A Jew A Jew" six million times.
My 11 year old son came home from school on Monday and said "I need a piece of paper." On it he drew a picture of Hitler, a gas chamber, a Jew and a yellow star. He wrote on the picture, "Six million crushed dreams. Six million lost ideas. Six million lost lives. But this questions remains, why?" Crushed dreams, that brings it home somehow more than the concept of lost lives.
Growing up my father would tell the stories about "escaping from Europe" and remind us that many of our relatives were killed just because they were Jewish. It was only when my grandmother would pull out an envelope with the pictures of the "the children", her beautiful nieces and nephews who were murdered, that it would become real.
Last night I attended an "Am Yisrael Chai" program which annually airs the stories of Jewish survivors from different regions of the world. This year focused on Jews from Latin American countries. The stories were fascinating, but what really sticks with me are the stories from teenagers who have participated in the "March of the Living" program. What a brilliant way to accomplish several admirable goals at once: making the holocaust "real" to a new generation, honoring the dead, showing that Jews are thriving all over the world despite all attempts to wipe us out, and giving the kids an incredible understanding of, and connection to, the miracle that is the state of Israel.
The March of the Living takes about 10,000 Jewish high school age children from various countries and sends them to Poland, where they tour death camps and view the remaining vestiges of pre war Jewish life. Just when they can emotionally bear no more of the oppressive Poland experience, the group flies to Israel, in time for Israeli Independence day. They celebrate the birth of the state of Israel with fireworks, dancing, and vitality. These 10,000 children each year become ambassadors to the world, witnesses to the evils of the holocaust, bearers of the message to "never forget", and supporters of the necessity of Israel's existence.
My niece Malka attended the March of the Living in 1996 while in High School. Below is a poem she composed while sitting in a Jewish cemetery in Warsaw, Poland:
Row upon
row upon
row upon
row
Endless stones, countless graves
Hundreds of thousands of Jewish souls
Laid to rest in this desolate land
Their souls have departed
to never-never land
Yet their bodies remain
Buried in a country of hate
Neglected, trampled upon
Covered with rotting leaves and growing moss
Rav Soloveitchik
The Netziv
Esther Faige
Great rabbis, holy tzaddikim
Hardworking housewives next to their
Beloved husbands
Row upon
Row upon
Row upon
Row.
She also wrote of being at Masada in Israel, where a community of Jews committed suicide rather than submit to death by the Romans:
"....suddenly, the entire desert was filled with the echoing wave of our voices...."Shainit Mitzadah lo tipol" (Masada will not fall again.) And then we cried out "Am Yisrael Chai" (the nation of Israel lives.) After each word, we were greeted with the spectacular sound of our echoes reverberating through the peaks and valleys of the land of Israel. We knew that these echoes were not just the sounds of our voices repeating again and again the words we had shouted....They were the response of hundreds of Jews who had killed themselves at Masada, and they were the reply of the six million killed in the Holocaust. Because of them, and for them, we will make sure that "Shainit Mitzadah lo tipol." And for them we cry out in assurance that "Am Yisrael Chai!!!"
It is incumbent that we each make an effort to grasp the concept of the six million individuals whose lives were lost and whose dreams were crushed, and that we thrive, proudly, as Jews in a world where a state of Israel can exist and flourish.