Never Forget

When I traveled to Israel on Birthright four years ago, my most poignant experience by far was visiting the children's memorial at Yad Vashem. The exhibit is ensconced in darkness, with tiny bulbs of light leading visitors through a windy maze. The soundtrack is a recording of names of children murdered during the Holocaust; as I struggled to find my way through the darkness I thought about how these innocent children never had a chance to escape from the veritable hell of the concentration camps.

My bleak thoughts were soon interrupted by a growing glimmer of light, which gradually got bigger as the exit grew near. As I approached a gorgeous panoramic view of Jerusalem of Gold, I understood and embraced Israel's significance as the Jewish homeland.

Unfortunately, my vibrant memory was literally "dampened" on my next visit to Yad Vashem. When Rachel was here this past February, we returned to the children's memorial in the midst of a hailstorm. This time, the sky that greeted us at the end of the maze was dull and black. There was no shining light over Jerusalem -- in fact, the fog was so dense that we could barely see even two feet in front of us. But there was no time to reflect on the darkness. We walked briskly to avoid getting soaked, jumped into the very first cab we saw, and headed back to my warm and toasty apartment. It was only then that I realized how lucky we were to have the means to escape the rain. I was once again hit with the same intense emotion; it just took a bit longer to see the hope this time.

Last night I had another incredibly moving experience at Yad Vashem. Today is Yom Hashoah, or Holocaust Remembrance Day. Since Jewish holidays begin on the evening before, HUC obtained tickets for us to attend the opening ceremony to mark the beginning of this somber occasion. Security was tight as several Israeli and foreign dignitaries were in attendance. Governor Tim Kane was there representing the US, much to the delight of our own Rabbinic delegation (of one) from Virginia.

Moving speeches were given by Israeli Prime Minister Binyamin Netanyahu and President Shimon Peres. Both speeches were highly politically charged, touching upon current events such as Darfur, the Durban II conference, and Gilad Schalit. The director of our Israel Seminar class was sitting with us, and he explained that the content of Israeli politicians' Yom Hashoah speeches is (not surprisingly) a crucial component of their approval ratings. Here are some excerpts of what they said, courtesy of the Jerusalem Post and Haaretz. I should note that we were provided with headsets that translated the entire ceremony into English, but I found that hearing a simulcast was somewhat distracting. Instead, I tried as best as I could to translate the Hebrew, and used the subsequent media coverage to fill in the gaps.

The centerpiece of the ceremony involved a torch lighting by six Holocaust survivors, who told their stories in a multimedia combination of film, music, and poetry.

The next day we hosted services and a ceremony of our own at HUC. I was one of three students responsible for putting together prayers and music appropriate for Yom Hashoah, thereby marking my very first time for leading services as an HUC student! Our service was wrought with a combination of quiet and symbolism. We made a concious decision to speak through many of the prayers that are normally sung, as we thought that a completely musical service would enliven this solemn occasion. The pieces that we did sing were carefully chosen. For example, we made substitutions for joyous prayers like Halleluyah (Psalm 150), in which we praise G-d for giving life to all beings. We didn't think that it was appropriate sentiment for Yom Hashoah, so we instead included a musical setting of one of the children's poems from Terezin. "The Last Butterfly" represents an uplifting symbol of life and hope during a time of tragedy, and we thought it made a nice parallel to the traditional prayer.

Right after our service, we all gathered outside to hear a siren which was to be sounded across all of Israel at 10am. They say that when the siren goes off, traffic comes to a halt and everyone stops what they're doing. I actually didn't get a chance to get to the street and see this for myself. Instead I stood in the center of HUC's gorgeous courtyard, appreciative of the great beauty that we are fortunate enough to have in Eretz Yisrael today but slightly angry that the construction workers across the street continued working throughout the siren!!

The highlight of the ceremony that followed was my classmate Andrea's reading of an excerpt from her grandfather's diary, documenting his experiences in the Shoah. She concluded her reading with the following: "During the Holocaust, my grandparents survived 'everyday, every hour, one minute at at time,' never in a million years dreaming that today their first grandchild, daughter to their first son who was born in a Displaced Persons camp in Germany, would be learning Hazzanut in Medinat Yisrael." I think that says it all about the cycle of hope that Israel has helped perpetuate in the years following the Shoah. Thinking of Andrea's words made it all the more powerful when some of my other classmates stood in line and read the names of relatives who had also experienced the Holocaust.

Indeed, Yom Hashoah is a huge deal in Israel, largely because the Holocaust is one of they key reasons why Israel exists in the first place. Even though it's not considered to be a religious holiday, the stores and restaurants all close. In fact, even some of the non-kosher restaurants remained closed out of respect and remembrance of the six million. It's incredibly powerful to see the religious and secular sides of Israel come together in solidarity, despite the fact that it's in the wake of tragedy.