Our trip to Poland fundamentally altered my perception of the Holocaust from a devastating yet distant event to an embodiment of Jewish strength – and, more than that, a lesson. Walking through the streets of Poland and learning about the large numbers of Jews that used to live there, hearing descriptions of how interconnected Jewish and Polish culture used to be, was shocking to me knowing the ultimate outcome. I realized how completely the Jews in Poland trusted their neighbors, a trust that was built across generations of trade and friendship. They went to the same stores, lived in the same towns, and raised their children together. It was startling to me for this to be described in such detail, because it seemed unthinkable that such a strong relationship of mutual respect could allow for such a massive tragedy as the Holocaust.
This served as a lesson on the dangers that manipulation and lies can cause in society. It wasn’t only the Nazis who were responsible for the Jewish deaths, but their neighbors as well – people they had grown up with, who were either content in staying complacent, or else supportive of the Nazis’ efforts because they had allowed their evil ideology to completely take over their belief systems and wipe away their morals. I found myself thinking, constantly, that if such a catastrophe could happen to such a people, then what does that tell me, and the larger Jewish community, about the dangers of relying on another community’s goodwill?
I realized that, although the Jewish community should strive to befriend and learn from other peoples, we must understand that the foundation of our safety lies in unity. There will always be political disagreements, fights over the best way to go about our aims, but we must ultimately acknowledge that every Jew should want the same thing: the continuation of our heritage, success of our people, and protection of the land of Israel. Israel is the essential core of our community both religiously and culturally, and its continuation relies on us staying together.
The other moment that has stayed with me came from Ron, our tour guide, when he spoke about Jewish resistance. In regard to the Holocaust, I had always pictured resistance as stories I heard about people like Abba Kovner – physical uprisings, improvised weapons, fighting the Nazis in the ghettos. This resistance certainly deserves to be honored, but I was struck by Ron’s words about a quieter kind of resistance in the Jews who fought back by simply continuing to live – by cradling their children close, praying silently, sharing treasured recipes, remembering songs and blessings and names. Through all these things, they refused to let the Nazis strip away their humanity. That resistance doesn’t get so many statues or heroic recountings, but I think it’s just as powerful, and I was touched to hear about it.
Ultimately, this trip taught me that the Holocaust isn’t just a tragic event in history books that happened to people I am only connected with by shared ancestry. It’s a lesson in how the Jewish people, utterly betrayed and devastated, had the strength to hold onto their identities and pride. We can never let this happen again, and must unite together as a people and with Israel to ensure it doesn’t. But what will stay with me the longest from this trip is what I learned about how people will help each other and carry on living despite the most miserable, unspeakable circumstances. And the fact that we are alive today, continuing to share this story and stay united, is our own form of resistance.