I recently had the privilege of traveling to Poland and Israel on the March of the Living to commemorate the sixtieth anniversary of the end of the Holocaust along with 18,000 people from around the world – other university students, high-school students, adults, survivors, Jews and non-Jews.
After arriving in Krakow on the morning of May 4 we immediately drove to the Polish city of Osweicim, which will forever be known to the world by its German name, a name which has become synonymous with evil and horror: Auschwitz.
On the ride to Auschwitz it never really hit me that we were actually here.
Then I saw the infamous entrance gate to Auschwitz I with its cruelly deceptive words “Arbeit Macht Frei (Work makes you free)” and my heart sank as I realized I was I walking through the gate into the most horrific place that has ever existed on Earth. Here and in Auschwitz II-Birkeneau, the massive expansion built near Auschwitz I, more than one million Jews were killed.
We walked past “the death wall” where the SS shot thousands of people: Jews, Polish political prisoners and members of the underground. We walked through Block No. 11, which acted as the camp jail where political prisoners were starved, suffocated, shot or hanged by the SS.
And then we walked through a gas chamber and crematorium where thousands prisoners were killed. The gas chamber was in use until 1943, when the Auschwitz II-Birkenau camp was built. We saw the stain of Zyklon-B on the ceiling; we saw fingernail makings on the wall, markings of people who tried to stay alive for seconds longer, trying somehow to avoid the inevitable.
We said Kaddish inside the crematorium and lit memorial candles. I walked back to the bus in a daze, as I would many more times in Poland, trying hard to comprehend the horrible sights we were seeing. It was raining and bitterly cold which seemed to fit. It didn’t seem right for the sun to shine in a place like Auschwitz.
That night, we attended a ceremony in the main square in Kazimierz, the old Jewish quarter of Krakow. Near the end of the ceremony, we listened to El Maleh Rachamim, the Prayer for Holocaust victims sung by the booming voice of Cantor Adler, letting all of Krakow know that the Jewish people still live and will remain strong.
The next day, Yom HaShoah (Holocaust Memorial Day) was the day of the actual march.
There was an eerie feeling arriving by train to Auschwitz, seeing the tracks leading to the camp, walking through the entrance gate, “the gate of death,” standing on the side of the train tracks, where selections were made and families were separated forever, where the elderly, children and others not fit for work were immediately sent to die in the gas chambers.
Walking past one of the burnt-out gas chamber and crematorium complexes, I looked at the pictures and notes people had left with the names of their relatives who were murdered. Ashes, I was told still lie all around the area. They are the ashes of entire families wiped out, young children, millions of them, torn from their parents and marched to their horrible death. As much as I tried to understand, to imagine being here 60 years ago, it was impossible to comprehend such huge numbers and such extreme hatred.
As we walked through the camp, names of victims, droned through loudspeakers from a stage set-up for the ceremony. Hour after hour, more names, it was never ending.
The ceremony that was held in a large field in Birkenau was attended by over 18,000 people from all corners of the world. I stood on the remains of a destroyed barrack and watched the ceremony, listening to speakers which included Ariel Sharon and Elie Wiesel.
Then, someone standing beside me, told me to turn around.
As I looked behind me, I saw a massive crowd, 18,000 of us from all over the world, standing proudly together as Jews in Birkenau, a massive complex that was designed for one sole purpose: our destruction. We were there as proof - they didn’t succeed.
As I looked out among the flags of the many countries represented in the March: one flag appeared over and over again: the blue and white of the flag of Israel.
Israeli flags also beamed from the video screens throughout Birkenau as the ceremony concluded with the singing of Hatikvah. I was overcome with pride, and it was a feeling I will aspire to carry with me forever. As I sang the words to the Israeli National Anthem in the middle of Birkenau, I thought about how incredible it was, not only that so many of us were standing here, alive, as proud Jews but that finally, after thousands of years, no matter where we live, all of us share a common homeland: Israel. As Ariel Sharon said in his speech that day, "The State of Israel [is] the only place in the world where Jews have the right and capability to defend themselves by themselves…you - the link between the generation of the Holocaust and revival [of Israel as a state] and future generations - have the duty to bequeath the lesson, memories and stories to underscore the importance of the Jewish State.”
In the orientation session before the trip, they told us the March would be an emotional roller-coaster. They were right.
One of the most amazing moments of the trip for me was celebrating Shabbat in Warsaw. Before our Oneg Shabbat dinner, we joined the Canadians on the multi-cultural bus (a group of non-Jewish university students who attended the Polish part of the March). We sang and danced together, teaching them our wonderful Shabbat traditions. After dinner, the over 100 university participants took over the hallway on the 17th floor of the Novotel, telling stories and loudly singing Hebrew songs.
We then joined in with hundreds of other Marchers from around the world, as we danced outside the hotel, well into the night. It was a true celebration of life and the feelings of pride and hope for the future that I felt in Birkenau the day before, grew even stronger.
The next night, the Canadian delegation of the March, about 1,000 in total (one of the largest groups at the March) got together at the University of Warsaw for a Havdallah ceremony. It was an incredible night as we sang the blessings together and honoured the survivors who travelled with us on the March. We also honoured a few Righteous Among the Nations, non-Jews who
saved Jews, including one man who saved the life of the grandfather one of the participants on our bus.
Being the day before the 60th anniversary of V-E Day, with great appreciation we listened to a Canadian War Veteran speak. I was happy to learn that Jews made up the ethnic group that had the largest proportion of people serving in the Canadian Forces during World War II. As my father’s family was in England during the war, it was these Canadian and other Allied soldiers, who through their bravery and heroism, may have saved the life of my grandparents by ensuring Hitler did not make it across the channel. I truly owe them a debt of gratitude.
Of course, there were more horrible sights to see.
We visited Madjanek, a death camp near Lublin, which was never destroyed and can be fully operational in 24-48 hours. We walked through a barrack, filled with shoes of hundreds of thousands of Holocaust victims, big shoes, small shoes, women’s shoes, men’s shoes, baby’s shoes. We walked through a gas chamber, saw the crematoriums and dissecting tables. We saw a mass grave where 18,400 Jews were shot as part of the Nazi’s “Harvest Festival” on November 3, 1943. And we saw the mausoleum, where 70 tonnes of human ash remain.
We travelled through the old Jewish districts of Krakow, and Warsaw, learning about the richness and vibrancy of Jewish life in Poland for centuries, right up until the 1930s, when everything was destroyed, including most tragically, 90% of the Jewish population of Poland.
We visited Treblinka, where 870,000 Jews were brought and immediately gassed. As Treblinka is completely destroyed, the horror and fear that once permeated through this place, was left to our own imagination. We walked through a memorial made up of thousands of rocks. On each, is the name of a Jewish community completely destroyed by the Holocaust.
Particularly moving for me was seeing a group of physically and mentally disabled children at Treblinka. According to the perverse Nazi world view, Jewish people with disabilities represented the lowest form of life and were the first victims of Nazi brutality. This made me think of my disabled brother and how important it is for us to show tolerance and understanding to all people, especially those who are most vulnerable.
As I visited these places, I remembered the image I had of all the Israeli flags at Birkenau. As I walked through gas chambers, as I stared in sadness and lit a yizkor candle near the monument filled with the ashes of our ancestors, visiting so many places where so many unthinkable atrocities occurred, three words repeated over and over in my mind. They offered me the best comfort and rather than leaving Majdanek and Treblinka with a complete feeling of emptiness, helped lift me up and gave me hope. The three words? Am Yisrael Chai.
Our last night in Warsaw, on the way to the airport, we stopped at the Umschlagplatz, the place in the Warsaw ghetto where Jews gathered and were loaded onto cattle cars to go to their death in Treblinka. As we lit Yizkor candles, we were reminded how amazing it was that we were leaving this place, the Umschlagplatz, not to go to our death, as hundreds of thousands did, but to go to our homeland in Eretz Yisrael. As we stood in a circle and sang Hatikvah, I realized how incredibly lucky I was.
After an overnight charter flight on El Al, we arrived in Israel early on May 10 to excited applause and the joyous singing of ‘Am Yisrael Chai’. It was an amazing moment as our plane touched down and we realized that we had finally made it to Israel.
We travelled straight to Caesarea, where he said the shehecheyanu and spent an amazing afternoon on the beautiful Mediterranean beach. The beautiful sunshine, warm temperatures and feeling of happiness we all felt was the most incredible contrast, after everything we had witnessed in Poland and the cold, haunting feeling we had at the Umschlagplatz, less than 12 hours earlier.
The emotional roller-coaster however, continued in Israel. The same night we arrived, we attended a Yom Hazikaron ceremony at a Kibbutz on the Kinneret. Parents and other relatives told the stories of their children, Israel’s fallen soldiers, some younger than me, who fought and died in defence of the State of Israel. Even though the entire ceremony was in Hebrew, the sadness of the family members and the pain and suffering they have endured transcended the language barrier.
The next day, at 11:00 a.m. as sirens sounded throughout Israel, our bus pulled over to the side of the road as we stood silent with all of Israel for two minutes, in memory of Israel’s fallen soldiers. Everyone in Israel, we were told, knows someone who has died defending the land making this day, a very personal and emotional one.
That night we attended a ceremony at Latrun, where we watched the sunset marking the end of Yom Hazikaron and heard the official proclamation of the beginning of Yom Ha’atzmaut – Israel’s Independence Day. This immediately touched off a massive party that lasted literally all night and continued the next day as thousands of March of the Living participants marched through Jerusalem with flags and balloons, with Israeli music blasting through speakers, ending up at the Kotel.
The six days I had in Israel were filled with incredible memories including hiking in the Golan, eating falafel on Ben Yehuda Street, watching the sunrise over the Kotel, lying on the beach in Tel Aviv and welcoming Shabbat in Jerusalem with Yeshiva students, to name just a few. Through it all, I found myself falling even more in love with the State of Israel, even more so than after my first encounter with the country last February on Birthright.
The spirit of Israelis, to go out and insist on living their lives, despite the threat of terrorism, is truly inspirational. The memorial in front of the Dolphinarium nightclub in Tel Aviv, which in 2001 was the site of a bombing that killed 20 young Israelis, says: “Don’t stop dancing”. No matter what happens in our lives, we must focus on the positive and keep hoping for the best.
Throughout the March and thinking about it in the days after I returned, a few major thoughts came to mind.
First of all, I returned home with a greater appreciation for the importance of maintaining our Jewish heritage and traditions and ensuring the State of Israel remains a strong and vibrant homeland. The Nazis not only wanted to destroy the Jewish people but also the Jewish religion and way of life. While assimilation and losing touch of our Jewish heritage is an easy option, we must reject this trend and not let the Nazis win any sort of victory posthumously. Coming home from Israel, I reaffirmed the importance of carrying on Jewish traditions and standing proud as Jews wherever we live in the world.
Secondly is the concept of ‘never again’, something I heard many times while on the March. Every time I heard it I immediately thought of the 800,000 people murdered in the Rwandan genocide in 1994. I thought about the thousands being killed as we speak in Darfur. It is our responsibly, as Jews, the victims of the most horrific genocide in history, to stand up to ensure we do not stand by and let mass genocide happen again. Never again should not be used as a catchphrase, nor should it only apply to Jews. We must work together to say never again to any form of hatred against any group of people in this world.
I believe a good place is to start is through tolerance. The Holocaust, it has been said, did not start in the gas chambers. It started with subtle examples of hate and intolerance. We must strive to live in a world free of racism against any group of people and stand up immediately to reject any such actions we witness in our communities. Along with the pride I felt towards the nation of Israel throughout the trip, I also realized how proud and lucky I am to live in such a peaceful, tolerant and welcoming country as Canada and the desire to ensure Canada remains such an amazing place to live.
Tolerance, I believe, must also spread to the people of Poland and Germany. I met many non-Jewish Poles during my time in Poland, including many who marched in solidarity with us to Birkenau. Jewish-style restaurants that advertise Klezmer nights, fill the main square in Kazimierz, as the country tries to revive its roots. Coming back from the trip, I realize that blaming today’s generation of Poles and Germans for the actions (or inactions) of their grandparents is completely unfair and unreasonable. (In fact, I learned on the trip that millions of Poles were also victims of the Nazis). Doing so, may potentially fuel anti-Semitic thoughts or behaviour, if the only view of Jews people in Europe have is of people who are hostile towards them, boycott their products and refuse to spend money in their country. While never forgetting the past, we must also move forward, working together to forge a bond of common understanding, putting stereotypes and prejudice behind us.
Finally, we were fortunate to be joined on the trip by Max Eisen and Esther Rath, two Holocaust survivors who travelled with us for the entire trip. By doing so, they brought an element of realness to the trip, allowing us to connect with what we were seeing and experiencing, making the trip that much more meaningful. The strength and courage these survivors demonstrated through their decision to go back to places where much of their family perished, to help educate the next generation, is incredible. Max and Esther were truly amazing people. They have experienced so much in their life and it is a truly a miracle they not only survived, but thrived. Seeing Max’s joy at being in Israel on Yom Ha’atzmaut and celebrating Havdallah together on a hill overlooking Jerusalem, is something I will never forget.
However, with the average age of the Holocaust survivor well over 70, I realized however that not too many more people will have the opportunity to travel with Holocaust survivors back to Poland and hear their stories firsthand. It is our duty, as the last generation who can say we knew a Holocaust survivor to ensure we never forget what happened, record their stories and tell our children and future generations what they went through. In short, it is the duty of all of us, to always remember and never forget.
Josh Finn is currently studying journalism at Ottawa’s Carleton University.
