The word that I would use to describe my experiences on the March of the Living last year would be “Hatikvah”. The hope. The word Hatikvah characterizes my trip from the anguish of Poland to the unbelievable joy that we all felt in the land of Israel.
Hatikvah. We felt faith in the future of the Jewish people, even in the darkest, most horrible places on earth, when it was difficult even to hope for a moral future for humankind. We felt hope because we were there. 7,000 Jewish youth from around the world were there to bear witness, to ensure that the world will not and cannot possibly forget the atrocities that were committed against the Jewish people in the Shoah, the unadulterated slaughter of my ancestors, of innocents. We sang Hatikvah not only in triumph, in Israel celebrating Independence Day, but in Poland as well. The anthem had never struck a chord with me the way it did when we sung it in the rain at the Umschlagplatz, at the site in the Warsaw Ghetto where thousands of Jews were brutally packed into freight trains, like cattle heading for the slaughter. Since then, I have never sung the anthem the same way. The word Hatikvah resonated as we marched through the forest of Tykocin, through Treblinka, through Plaszow, through Auschwitz-Birkenau, and finally through Majdanek, where we saw the memorial that housed the ashes of thousands of inmates cremated there. It was difficult to see hatikvah then, while inhaling the dust of human remains, but it was most important to see it then, to understand that we had a purpose in going to Poland.
The March of the Living was the most incredible experience of my life. There is absolutely no doubt in my mind that it was the single event in my life that I have benefited from above all others. Poland was awe-inspiring, overwhelming – it was an eye-opening experience for me. I have been criticized for saying that I “enjoyed” my experience in Poland, but I cannot deny it. Obviously I don’t use the word “enjoy” in the traditional sense – I suffered there, but I reaped pleasure from it. I “enjoy” the fact that I was able to feel so deeply for the generations who came before me. I enjoy the fact that I left Poland a different person than I was when the plane landed in Warsaw on April 15, 2004. And I especially value the fact that I know I have a responsibility to preserve my memories. I kept a journal – a great example of the impact the trip had on me – I was only planning on writing maybe a number of entries, but by the time we boarded the plane home, I had written over 110 pages.
I’d like to read you a passage from that journal, from April 19. This is an excerpt from what I wrote after we had left Auschwitz-Birkenau. “Someone comforted me, “it will be okay,” she said. My very being screamed to say NO! It’s won’t be okay!!! It can’t be okay. Ever. Never. These millions of men, women and children are dead. It was not okay for them, and therefore it will never be okay for us. There is no proper comfort because comfort is not the response. There is not answer because it is simply too late.
It saddens me that I can’t understand the reality of the Shoah completely, because 6 million seems like it’s just an impossible statistic. I worry about what will happen to the next generation when all the survivors are gone. We spoke about how it would just be history then. We talked about Holocaust deniers: With so much of this antisemitism and no living proof of the Shoah without actually visiting Poland, how can we hope to combat this kind of hate the same way we are now?”
I have seen horrible, horrible things. The worst places on earth. But what was the point if there was no hope for the future? We rely on the hope that we can carry on the legacy of those that perished in the Shoah. Jews in the Holocaust relied on hope – for survival, for some sort of redemption. I have to hope that people will be able to comprehend what happened there, past the rocks left at Treblinka, shoes and hair left at Auschwitz-Birkenau, past the ashes at Majdanek.
I cannot possibly hope to understand the number six million. I saw 4,000 pounds of hair at Auschwitz and I don’t understand. It is unfathomable. What I do understand was the beauty of a sunrise atop Massada, and being able to sing Hatikvah in a Jewish homeland. Israel is incredible. I don’t know if I can explain why it had such an impact on me, especially after what I had seen in Poland. But it was simply amazing. I believe that it is the most gorgeous country in the world, as well as the one that has instilled the most hope in its people.
I spent time at the Kotel, the holiest site in the Jewish religion. I overlooked all of the old city of Jerusalem from the Haas Promenade. I visited Har Herzl and the tombs of Golda Meir and Yitzhak Rabin. I journeyed to the mystical city of Tzfvat, and I visited Yad Vashem, the Holocaust memorial, as it is a Jewish ideal to always remember times of sadness in moments of great happiness, just as we saw great hope even in the darkness of Poland. The March of the Living has created hope for the future in thousands of Jewish youth. This faith in the continuation of the Jewish people, and in the idea that humankind can grow morally and ethically, has never been so painfully clear, and our responsibility is to ensure that it never dies.
Shayna Goldberg, Toronto, MOL 2004: "When I first decided to go on the March of the Living, I knew it would be an experience of a lifetime. Now that I have returned and have gotten back to my regular life, there are still reminders of the trip everywhere I turn. I know that this trip is something that I will never forget.
"I feel that I have a different perspective on certain aspects of my life now that I've returned from the March. I have seen what hate can do, and now realize that this world is far from peaceful."
"I never could have imagined how I would feel emotionally on the March, but once I got there, the feelings were so much different from any emotion I ever experienced reading a book, or watching a movie on the Holocaust."
Stacey Kirshenblatt, Toronto, MOL 2004: "How the March of the Living allowed me to identify with Judaism: I was not brought up in a very religious household, and so, I never felt the need to pray. Yet, I will never forget the Shabbat spent in the Nozyk Synagogue in Warsaw, where participants from around the world came to partake in the service. Though we could not communicate with each other as we all spoke different languages, I never felt more connected to them as when we all picked up the same Siddurs and prayed together in Hebrew. We all chanted the same words. We were united. It was at that moment that I understood the beauty of prayer and it was at that moment that I never felt more proud to be a Jew.
"Stepping off the plane after witnessing the horrors in Poland and kissing the holy ground of Israel was such an exhilarating feeling. We all broke out singing Am Yisrael Chai (The Jewish Nation Lives) on the runway. Through destruction, the Jewish people created a homeland to call their own. To me, that is something to be proud of.
"The March of the Living allowed me to understand the suffering that our families endured over sixty years ago. Though we must remember and honour the lives of those that perished, we cannot let the Holocaust be our sole identity. Our identity cannot be built on tragedy. This trip allowed me to experience the vibrant life in Poland prior to the Holocaust as well as visit the thriving country of Israel. Personally, I identify myself as a Jew through our triumphs."
Melissa Lass, Toronto, MOL 2000: "The March of the Living for me was an experience that today, almost 5 years later, I still think about very frequently. At camp I was constantly telling my campers of the various experiences I had. I know that I convinced many of them to go to Poland, to see where one fifth of the world’s Jews (in 1939) lived, and what a vibrant Jewish community lived pre-Holocaust.
"I was with a group of about 150 Toronto students who traveled to a shtetl called Tykotchin, where with pride and excitement we danced and sang with so much ruach (spirit) that it exploded from the shul and filled the streets of the small town.
"Immediately following, was a trip to a nearby field where the members of that shtetl were marched to their deaths. Today it is a fenced off area to signify their mass grave. It made me wonder if those murdered had perhaps also danced in this same shul, just the day before being slaughtered.
"I can truly say that the March was the best life learning experience of my life, and would recommend it to anyone fortunate to have the opportunity to participate in this trip. It gave me a true and real appreciation for the State of Israel and the life and death fight for Jewish survival in the 20th century."
Jamie Saperia, Toronto, MOL 2004: "The March of the Living is an eye-opening, heart-wrenching experience, that allows one to find hope is the most desolate places – that allows one to clearly see the fulfillment of God's promise of Jewish survival.
"The bonds and friendships forged on the March of the Living are to be forerunners of Jewish relationships in the future- Every single time we met a group from a different country, we all simultaneously broke into song and dance. Despite not knowing anything about one another, and having virtually nothing in kind, we were united by a common language, a common history, and a common longing for a united nation and an Am Echad. We will break down the bonds that divide us, and join together towards a common goal.
"The March of the Living is a journey that brings to life the concept of 'From exile to redemption.' It began in Ezekiel's 'field of dry bones", a country filled with the ash of our ancestors, and culminates in the revitalization of the Jewish Spirit – when we visit Israel, a country that defied all reason by simply being created, and which forever serves as a beacon of light to the Jews of the world."
Sam Reitman, Toronto, MOL 2004: "The March of the Living was unequivocally the most meaningful Holocaust educational experience in which I have participated. Not only did it enhance my historical understanding of the tragic era, but it left a permanent emotional impression that helped shape my present identity as a Jew, and it lead to furthering my comprehension of my responsibility to Judaism; our religion is only resilient because of our dedication."
Zack Belzberg, Toronto: A Few Words of Tragedy
Ovens feed families, ovens burned their bodies
Trains promote vacation, trains took them to their death
Gas keeps us breathing, gas took their breath away
"Poland to Israel, Death to life, ironic. Students and respected faculty, my name is Zack Belzberg and I have witnessed the most gruesome, disgusting and inhumane sights on earth. I then saw the most beautiful, prominent and proud countries in the world. Warsaw to Jerusalem, Krakow and Haifa. The place where 6000000, a number no one in this room can fathom, were brutally murdered to the place where 6000000 people Jewish and not Jewish live amongst each other in a place they call home. A Jewish place that they call home. We traveled by bus to Treblinka, Plashow, Auschwitz, Birkenau and then to Majdanek. Five places that we walked in as tourists and out as tourists wearing our own clothes, our own jewelry knowing full well that if God forbid something bad were to happen we could go home to our warm beds.
"The transition from Poland to Israel- We arrived in Warsaw Poland on Thursday April 15th at 9:15 am, By 9:15 am the very next day all 150 of us wanted so badly to leave. We could not take a step without thinking about who died there. Every day we went to Jewish shtetl’s and danced in the beautiful intact synagogues and then without knowing marched into the forest where the congregants of those very synagogues were marched and shot without mercy. We traveled to concentration camp after concentration camp witnessing a scientific area that was designed by academics to kill the most Jews they could in the shortest time possible making sure to humiliate them to the maximum potential. We saw gas chamber after gas chamber were my family suffocated for 15 minutes until their miserable death, and then we saw where their bodies had been taken and turned into ash. We had enough, we wanted out. As a whole we were so emotionally drained we all wanted to faint. The next phase cold not have some at a more appropriate time. ISRAEL! We boarded a plane for our homeland. A place where we could all find something in common. Five hours earlier we were praying at Majdanek and at that moment we were at the Kotel. We were still standing, they did not get all of us. I have never experienced an easier transition. We were so glad to get to Israel – the sleep we had been deprived of was not even the slightest of an issue.
"Israel was beautiful, Israel was glorious, Israel depends upon the support of those who know the truth. The world can still be evil, and much of the world still hates Jews. All we can do is never forget and make sure to never let another holocaust happen again. Poland to Israel. Past to Future, old home, to new home and lets make sure it remains that way forever. My name is Zack Belzberg and I am Jew, a Jew who knows I can go to Israel and be safe, a Jew, that will never forget."
Elinor Weitzner, Toronto, MOL 2000: "I found the whole experience profoundly moving. In particular I appreciate being Jewish in a way I never did before. Feeling the bitter tears at Auschwitz followed so closely by the exuberance and joy felt when stepping on the Jewish soil of our homeland Israel is something I feel everyone should partake in at least once."
Bradley Rabins, Toronto, MOL 2001: "The March of the Living gave me a greater respect for the martyrs, as well as for the State of Israel. The March of the Living made me a stronger, prouder Zionist, with increased courage, and determination for the support of Israel, in all possible ways."
Josh Scheinert, Toronto, MOL 2000: "If you want a trip that you will remember the rest of your life, the March of the Living will give you a perspective and tools to work with that will help you better understand yourself in relation to Judaism. The trip and the lessons that you take away from it are not something you can easily forget."
Alana Bobet, Toronto, MOL 2004: "Coming back from the March, I felt completely changed. My sense of priorities had shifted and the stuff that my friends and I had spent our lives obsessing over simply became meaningless and insignificant. I came back and felt like I no longer belonged in the social circles I had created for myself. Only other Marchers understood what I had been through and how my outlook on life had changed. Because of this strong connection I began to, as much as possible, surround myself with those who I had become so close with in such a short period of time. I began to go to shul in order to be around those who I needed to see, and in this I found a place which I had lost in my school friends. I started attending a weekly class on Pirkei Avot and Shulchan Aruch, run by Rabbi Black and attended by Marchers, to continue the connection to my Judaism and my friends. Here I also found a place for myself. Now that I am finished with my formal Jewish education in the way of graduating from CHAT and going on to a non-Jewish environment, something I have never experienced before, it comforts me to know that I have shul waiting for my every Shabbat and our class waiting for my once a week. It comforts me to know that these connections I have made to Judaism and to my fellow Marchers is one that won't be broken easily despite where life may take me in this year to come."
Adam Eilath, Toronto, MOL 2004: "The March was an unforgettable experience. I was able to see, feel, and hear the pains of my ancestors during the Shoah. I walked in the final footsteps of my ancestors, with Jewish Youth from all over the world. The March is an emotional learning experience that strengthens our Jewish Youth and ensures our place in the future."
Tali Dick, Toronto, MOL 2004: "One of the main reasons for going to Poland was to visit the devastating concentration camps, to observe the destruction and hate that was forced upon the Jews during World War two. I was nervous and deeply concerned about what we would likely encounter and was grateful for the fact that I would be with close friends and fellow Jews. My Jewish education had certainly provided me with an extensive knowledge of our history and the events that occurred during this terrible period. However, nothing could prepare us for the reality of what we saw and experienced.
"By visiting these terrible camps and reliving some shocking stories through the mouths of actual survivors, I felt that in a strange way, we were able to bring back some sort of ‘life ‘ to these somber desolate places of death and hatred. During our short time in Poland, we also visited old Jewish communities and synagogues and by doing so, ignited a flame for our futures.
"These communities were once vibrant, blossoming Jewish establishments, not at all dissimilar to those that we enjoy today. They went about their lives, enjoying the wealth of Judaism, strong connected communities and their lives were peaceful and happy. Tragically, that peace and serenity was brutally interrupted when the hated soldiers came storming into their villages.
"Tykocin was a village in the province of Bialystok. The first ten families of Jews to settle in Tykocin were invited there in 1522 by the noble family that owned the town. By 1800, the population was 70% Jewish. Prior to World War II, the village had 5,000 inhabitants made up primarily of Jews and Catholics.
"The synagogue in Tykocin is an early Baroque masonry synagogue, which was built in 1642 and restored between 1974 and 1978. On April 16th this year the Torontonian contingent of the March of the Living made their way to this village. We went into the synagogue as we were very eager to see what it looked like inside. Words cannot possibly describe the beauty of this shull. The walls were colorful and gorgeous, with handwritten Hebrew Scriptures beautifully written on them. For at least 10 minutes I just looked around this amazing sanctuary trying to take in all that I was seeing. Whilst standing there mesmerized, my thoughts were interrupted by the sound of someone playing a guitar. Within minutes, we were all dancing and singing in this beautiful shul in Tykocin. Only a few minutes before it had been silent and still, but now the shull was abuzz with dancing, singing and laughter. I cannot describe to you the feeling of pride I felt when I looked around and saw everyone so happy and joyous and oblivious to the outside world. We were joined by groups from Montreal and Belgium as well and without even thinking twice we all joined hands and danced – there were no strangers there, only friends joined by some extraordinary bond. We, the next generation of Jews were making it crystal clear to the Nazis that they or anyone else would ever succeed in destroying us, On the contrary, we were stronger determined and united.
"On August 25, 1941, the Jews of the town were ordered to assemble in the market square. After a Selection, about 1,400 people were transported to large pits that had been prepared near the city [in the Lupochowo forest] and were murdered, savagely executed. It didn’t seem real to me, it couldn’t have been. How could we have been in a village that was once so full and alive and then minutes later, be at the entire village’s gravesite. I felt like I was stuck in a horror movie, this just couldn’t happen in real life. I couldn’t imagine being forced out of my house with my whole family and being told to march. March where? March to the end, march to the death. As I was walking down the forest lane, I noticed a bright yellow butterfly. I looked at that butterfly, and all of a sudden I grew very jealous and upset. You see, for all the villages who walked down this path were unable to turn around and flutter to their freedom, however this little pretty butterfly, could walk the path but then turn right back around and leave. It just didn’t seem fair!
"A few Jews miraculously succeeded in hiding, but the following day were caught and executed. Approximately 150 people found temporary shelter in the Bialystok ghetto and in the surrounding small towns, only to perish later together with the members of those communities. After the war a few of the lucky survivors returned to Tykocin, but were subjected to attacks by gangs of Polish nationalists that were active in the area; Sadly they had no choice but to leave this area forever.
"We visited numerous other shuls in Poland and each time, we would grab each other’s hands and sing and dance and chant the words AM YISRAEL CHAI. It made no difference that we were there with people we had never met before, the fact is we were all Jewish and all shared in this extraordinary feeling of togetherness and zest for life. The moment we all came together as one, each shul was brought to life. Each flame was once again ignited. And, it wasn’t only the 120 of us that were doing so, it was all 6 million Jews who stood together with us, bringing these villages and shuls back to life."
