Jenna Plotzky on the March of the Living

I never thought I would be trapped in a gas chamber at Auschwitz. To feel so many bodies pushed in like sardines into this tiny room, and yet more still piling in, not knowing that they were pushing their way in when in fact there was nowhere else to go. And then someone started to sing Kaddish, and all together, as if the people before us that died in this very room were singing with us, we sang loud and proud to G-d. That's where the similarities stopped.

I was able to exit the room on my own free will; in fact I was able to walk out of the gas chamber, out of Auschwitz as I pleased and into the Promised Land flowing with milk and honey. Yet hundreds of thousands before me could not; they died in that room. This is the reason that I went on the March of the Living. I feel obligated to my people to learn, commemorate, and remember the history of my people, then and now.

Going on the March of the Living a few months ago was not an option, it was a responsibility. I went because I had to. I had to walk into Auschwitz and feel the pain and suffering. I had to go to Poland without the comfort of my family or friends. I had to see the raw anguish without any candy-coating. There is no history book or video that can overpower you with all of your emotions at once. From anger, to sadness, to pride, it is all there.

After a week of sorrow, going to Israel was a gift. How proud I am to pass on Judaism and be welcomed into the land of the Jewish people with a simple sentence from our tour guide: Welcome Home!

The March of the Living is a life-changing trip that takes you to Poland and Israel where you stand witness to Jewish history, the struggle with Jewish identity today, and get a chance to think about the Jewish future. In Poland you see the atrocities and hear the stories of life before the Holocaust.

One of the standout gut-wrenching moments of this trip was being in Auschwitz with our survivor, Siegmund (Siggy) Listwa. Siggy proved to us and to the Nazis that the Jewish people will always prevail and so will the Jewish faith. Siggy defied the Nazis and made it through five years of labor camps, ghettos, the Yanina coal mine, Auschwitz, and Birkenau with his brother Berk. He also survived a 100 day death march and was only 18 at the time of his liberation in 1945. On top of all that is also an American hero, having fought in the Vietnam War just a few short years after his liberation and immigration to the US.

When we first arrived at Birkenau, we watched as our survivor closed up his walker and put it to the side. He did not want to come back as a broken or disabled man. Afterall, he had something to prove to the Nazis that he is still here and we have beaten them. 

Then, Siggy sat on a cattle car with his tattoo in clear view as he told his story. 

From rancid meat to whippings to piles of the dead. We heard it all. And after every story he would apologize for having to tell us about such scary things.

After this, we watched Siggy walk up the steps of his old sleeping quarters in Auschwitz. Situated in the far lefthand corner, Block 1 is only accessible after walking past rows and rows of torture.

Now the standout moment that I mentioned was something that my entire group has said is the reason we go on this trip. This moment was when Siggy was standing next to the door of Block 1, locked out I might mention, with his son and nephew. He retold the story of how the Nazis guards never let any of the prisoners sit on the stoop of the stairs. They all knew that if they had it would mean certain death. While stunned at how something so insignificant could mean life or death, Siggy promptly sat down on the stoop while saying these words: Now there is nobody to tell me I can’t sit here. What defiance! 

A poem I wrote on the matter:

A little town, a village in itself

A place of death, a village of suffering

A row of houses, lavender trees and dandelions

A row blocks, blood on their doorsteps

A man visiting an old home, reminiscing

A survivor, remembering his imprisonment

An old man sitting on a stoop telling a story

A testament of will, speaking of his private hell

Today I want to answer the top three questions that I always receive after people hear about my trip. And I always make sure to tell about Siggy on the stoop before I answer these questions.

1.      Why would you want to go? That’s where you go on vacation? Is it a vacation?

a.      It is NOT a vacation. Going to see places of death. Hours of studying!! If you have to mentally prepare in the morning for what you are going to see that day, then you can’t call it a vacation. Israel, okay maybe, but not Poland

2.      Where did you visit?

a.      Many places. Most well-known places in Poland would be: Auschwitz, Birkenau, Majdanek (a work camp), Plaszow (where Schindler got his factory workers) , Belzec and Treblinka (death camps), and Schindler’s factory

b.      In Israel: The water tunnels in the City of David where we walked in the dark while singing Hatikvah, the Kotel at 7 in the morning straight off the plane, Masada, the Dead Sea, Afula (our sister city), Ben Yehuda, and a jeep tour in the Judean desert

3.      How was it? What is one word to describe your trip?

a.      How was it implies good or a bad, enjoyment factor. Did you enjoy this trip? Did I have an amazing trip with all my new friends, yes. Did I enjoy my time, depends on what I was visiting that day. Was it worth it? Was hours of preparation, using my week off from school to do make-up work before my trip, skipping two weeks of school, having to make up an AP exam, YES. And I’m sure the other two teens from Stamford Rachel Steinmetz and Keren Rubin, and our advisor, Danielle Alexander, would say the same thing.

b.      And my one word would be a Jewish phrase that we sang all throughout Poland and Israel. Am Yisrael Chai – The people of Israel Live. The Jewish people live! The march of the LIVING!! We are ALIVE!

This is a piece I wrote during Yom Hasoah (Holocaust Remembrance Day), after the March and on the way back to our hotel:

Today we did the unbelievable. We joined people from around the world and marched from Auschwitz to Birkenau in the sun, mud, and rain.  *and I will say that is polish weather for you* We walked the tracks that had brought our ancestors to their demise, and we were able to walk freely out of the camp; a privilege that they did not have. We proved that we have and will always prevail over evil when we come together. After the lighting of six torches and countless heartbreaking documentaries, we, the 11,000 marchers and survivors that had taken over Auschwitz-Birkenau, in blue jackets and Israeli flags, finished the last six letters of a Safer Torah, with the help of six survivors, that will be brought to the Israel March and all future marches. That is the power of will. This is saying we have struggled and won. Now we carry on the legacy and keep memories alive.

I will to leave you with this.

One of our last days in Poland, we visited the grave of Rabbi Eli Melech, a famous rabbi, scholar, and one of the founders of the Hassidic movement. His mausoleum is filled with books to pray from, prayers all over the walls, and little paper notes stuck in everywhere, just as the kotel has.  An adult member of our group, Shani Langenauer Winton, happens to be a direct tenth generation descendent of the famous Rabbi. She told us about his life and legacy, but more importantly she told us of his last wish. He blessed his next ten generations with a life of poverty. Now if you recall I just said that Shani was a tenth generation descendent and that she had just praised him. She explained that this blessing of poverty was so important and the highest of blessings that he could have given because Rabbi Eli Melech believed that the poor were the most righteous of people. Later I had Shani pass along this blessing to me, so that I may share it. So congregants, visitors, Tyler and her family, Cantor and his Family, and all those honored tonight, I wish you all a long life of poverty. Shabbat Shalom.

The Aborted Israeli Absorption Ministry Ad: Some Reflections

Much has been written about the Israeli Absorption Ministry’s now-aborted ad, asserting that Israelis should not marry American Jews and reside in this country because their kids will grow up observing Christmas instead of Hanukkah. See my prior posting, including links to Jeffrey Goldberg's posting which exposed this quintessentially chutzpahdik ad. Following a nearly unprecedented avalanche of outrage from American Jewish leaders, including groups who typically give carte blanche to far greater affronts, the Netanyahu government wisely pulled the video from YouTube on Friday. As Akiva Eldar wrote in Ha’aretz:

For several long months, the (mostly self-appointed) "leaders" in the U.S. community have ignored the unbridled incitement launched by Israel against human rights organizations, the Supreme Court and the media. As far as is known, the federations have not sent protest letters to the prime minister to express dismay about the rise of violence and racism toward Palestinians in Israel and in the territories. The Anti-Defamation League has said nothing about the exclusion of women soldiers at Israel Defense Forces events. The pro-Israel lobby AIPAC passionately defends settlement policies which are shutting the door to a two-state solution. Thus everything is all right - until the ethnocentric wave which engulfs Israel crosses the ocean, and throws cold water on their egos. For many long years a group of Jewish philanthropists and activists - some of them with right-wing, conservative outlooks, others rank opportunists - has been throwing fuel on the fire of the Israeli-Palestinian dispute that threatens to extinguish Israel's democracy.

Although the offensive video is no more, here are some follow-up reflections:

At a Bat Mitzvah last Shabbat morning, I asked a random sampling of about 50 kids if they knew what Hannukah is. All did. So the fact that the kid in the video, when asked what holiday it is by the Skyping grandparents (with a lit menorah just behind them), said “Christmas,” is ludicrous. Not that I’m so thrilled at the excessive inflation of Hanukkah’s importance over here, but believe me, Bibi, Hanukkah is alive and well among American Jewish kids.

Assimilation does present challenges, to be sure, but growing up in America does not necessarily or even typically lead to a one way ticket out of Jewish identification. For that we can thank, in large part, the Israeli government itself, whose contributions to the successful Birthright Israel project have been crucial to furthering the cause of keeping our kids Jewish.

I thought we had gotten beyond the efforts to de-legitimize the Diaspora. But the culture wars that infect both America and Israel internally have also impacted the Jewish people globally. Israelis look at American Jews and fear the lethal impact of assimilation on their Jewish soul. American Jews look at Israel and fear that occupation has done the same. One side sees excessive tolerance, a fatal ecumenicism blurring the lines between Jews and the gentile world, and the other sees a fatal chauvinism, a triumph for an extremism fostering nightmares of a Taliban-like takeover of a faith tradition that was built on tolerance.

Also, who’s to say that Israelis are so Jewishly literate? We often have Israeli soldiers visit our community – they are the best and the brightest. As a matter of courtesy, we offer some of them aliyot to the Torah. Almost none accept. Very few know what an aliyah is or how to do one (and a few refuse to take one in a non Orthodox setting). If the situation on the video was reversed and an American Jewish grandparent Skyped a grandkid in Jerusalem, would that child know that in America, it’s OK for a woman’s face to appear on a billboard?

And how can the Absorption Ministry bemoan the Americanization of Judaism, when Israel has itself become so assimilated to American culture. Those ascending to Jerusalem for the first time are greeted by McDonalds golden arches glowing down from Mevasseret, miles before before the road grants them their first view of the other holy sites. When the biblical Jacob and his family became the first Yordim to return to the Land, they brought along Laban’s household idols; the purity of the indigenous faith was contaminated by diaspora syncretism long before McDonalds (granted, a Kosher McDonalds) opened at the Harel Mall. I can just imagine Rachel sneaking through the customs line at Ben Gurion with her imported goodies like so many returning Israelis have done since.

I follow the Religion and State in Israel blog, a weekly review of media coverage on issues of religion and state in Israel, unaffiliated with any organization or movement. Here are some of the headlines appearing in THIS WEEK’S digest. I repeat. These articles have come out JUST THIS WEEK.

High Court rejects petition over civil marriage

The High Court of Justice made clear Monday it would not accede to the petition filed by numerous progressive and pluralist groups asking for an injunction against the government to institute a framework for civil marriage in Israel.

Israeli women fight back against Jerusalem billboard vandals

Jewish women in the Britain and the US are being urged to send photographs of themselves holding signs saying "women should be seen and heard" in a campaign against efforts by the ultra-orthodox to remove female images from advertising billboards in Jerusalem.

In Israel, women’s rights come under siege

“In the past two years or five years, it’s just deteriorating,” said Shira Ben-Sasson Furstenberg of the liberal New Israel Fund, which has launched a campaign to combat the “erasure” of women from public advertising. “The Haredi are having more and more say about how our lives are in Israel.”

Clinton astonished by exclusion of women from public spaces; warns of Israel's eroding democratic values

Clinton related that she had read a day before in The Washington Post an article by Ruth Marcus, called "In Israel, Women's Rights Come Under Siege," which detailed examples of the exclusion or boycotting of women, including incidents where IDF religious soldiers have boycotted events in which women sang, and the segregation of women on some bus routes, in contravention of Supreme Court decisions.

Knesset committee to tackle IDF's gender issues

A Knesset committee will convene in the next few weeks to deal with the IDF's failure to implement a report calling for full equality between men and women in the military.

Women Barred From Funerals in Israel

The troubling phenomenon of excluding women from cemeteries in Israel appears to be getting worse.

Number of gender-segregated religious schools in Israel tripled during past decade

Gender segregation is in effect at 65 percent of the state-run religious elementary schools in Israel, according to data obtained by Haaretz from the Education Ministry's elementary school supervision department.

Love, Marriage, and the Israeli Rabbinate

For many Israelis, Tzohar is the spoonful of sugar that makes the bitter pill of dealing with the official rabbinate palatable. However, it seems clear that increasing numbers of them—including Orthodox Israelis—would prefer never to have to deal with it in the first place, even with Tzohar as a buffer: They would prefer, that is, to have the oppressive and despised rabbinate be removed altogether, whether because they do not share its values or its interpretations of Jewish law, or because they feel that moderns states should stay out of ecclesiastical business.

The people's IDF is turning into the rabbis' IDF

Haaretz Editorial www.haaretz.com December 1, 2011.
The decision by the Israel Defense Forces senior command to freeze implementation of the Segev Report, which recommended establishing full equality among men and women in the army is another aggravating example of the IDF's continuing capitulation to the demands of religious extremist rabbis and officers.

IDF freezes implementation of report calling for gender equality

The Israel Defense Forces has effectively frozen implementation of a report that called for full equality of service between men and women.

Jerusalem center goes to extreme measures to help Russian immigrants prove their Jewishness

Based in Jerusalem, the six-year-old [Shorashim center] serves as an international investigation agency, which, by doing intensive research and establishing a wide network of contacts, has helped hundreds of young people from the former Soviet Union prove their Jewishness to the satisfaction of the rabbinic courts, enabling them to get married without having to go through a conversion or marry abroad. …Rabbi Shimon Har-Shalom estimates [of the 750,000 FSU immigrants listed as Jews] between 150,000 and 200,000 will be forced to prove their Jewishness at some point, while some 20,000 of those with "no religion" are actually Jewish and would be able to prove it.

Past ARZA president, wife warn threats to Israeli pluralism

Resa Davids described how her granddaughter’s planned bat mitzva by the Dead Sea had to be moved because not a single hotel in the area would permit a woman to read from the Torah on their grounds. “The threat was if they allowed this child to read Torah, they would lose their hashgacha (kosher certification),” she said. Asked if she equated that to blackmailing the hotel owners, she replied, “exactly.”

I’ve experienced something similar.

When I was on the “March of the Living” two years ago, my mostly non-Orthodox group stayed in a nice Youth Hostel near the Biblical Zoo in Jerusalem. Our group arranged to have access to the hostel’s synagogue, a simple meeting room with an ark, for a private Kabbalat Shabbat service. No other group was in there at the time. The Orthodox members of our group decided to daven with a mechitza in another location in the building – it was an arrangement that worked well throughout our trip. About ten minutes into our egalitarian service, our group leader came up to me – as I was leading the service – and said that the hostel’s manager had told him that our service cannot continue unless we separate the boys from the girls.

Now this was a group of seventy teens who were, for the most part, experiencing Israel for the first time. Just days before we had cried at Auschwitz and stood silently by the remnants of the Warsaw Ghetto. They were exhilarated to be in Israel and I was trying not to douse their enthusiasm by interjecting the sorry state of Israeli pluralism into their experience. So rather than tell this group that this state-run hostel was hostile to the way they pray, I looked for an escape hatch – literally. There was a door in the back of the room, leading to a large outdoor patio overlooking the city. The weather was perfect, and I had planned to take them outside for Lecha Dodi anyway, so I stalled for time until we got there (as my group leader stared at me nervously, I stared back defiantly), and then, as we reached Lecha Dodi, we danced out the door and onto the patio, where we danced and prayed for the remainder of the service.

So I thank the Absorption Ministry, not for opening a wound, but for opening a dialogue on what kind of Judaism we wish for our grandchildren and where it is best being nurtured right now. My hope is that both America and Israel will be places where all our kids will be proud observers of Hanukkah, and where they will learn to love their neighbors as themselves.

Light Up the Future: Closing Remarks from Yom Hashoa Community Program

A year ago on Yom Hashoah, I marched in Auschwitz with teens and adults from our community on the March of the Living. We then flew on to Israel where we marched again, this time in Jerusalem on Yom Ha'atzmaut. I was awed by the thousands of teens who marched with us, and in particular the 60 in our New England group (and 16 from our Kulanu Stamford group). I couldn’t be more proud of them. They are now worthy witnesses, and they will light the way to a better future.

Last year, Yom Ha’atzmaut coincided with Hitler’s birthday. This year we commemorate Yom Hashoah while marking the death of arguably the most virulent anti-Semite of this century, Osama bin Laden. And we almost got Kadaffi the night before. What a daily double that would have been. And Assad is on the ropes. And Ahmadinijad...we hear he's in the midst of a major falling out with the boss, could well be next. What does this all mean?

It means that we have outlasted the haters. It means that the victims have been vindicated. It means that good is winning out over evil.


In Poland we stared into the face of the banality of evil, as Hannah Arendt put it, how perfectly normal people have the capacity to be utterly cruel. People who love their spouses and children and pets, could go to their "jobs" as death camp guards and perform unspeakable acts of sadism, well beyond the "call of duty." We saw that such cruelty lies within the capacity of every human being.

But we also saw signs of renewal. With thousands of teens from all over the world exchanging pins and email addresses, the marchers transformed Auschwitz into some sort of Olympic village, a pilgrimage to a death camp became a meaningful mixer, simple and pure. Teens being teens. We witnessed the banality of youth. The banality of good.


And on our trip we also saw that the human conscience is capably of unfathomable acts of courage and kindness - that people can create mind-numbing beauty. We saw that in Poland, and then especially in Israel, a nation built from the ashes, ashes that we had literally stood in front of in Maidanek and Treblinka.

As Israel celebrated her birthday with cookouts and picnics, The Jerusalem Post holiday supplement boasted about "62 years of brain power." When Hitler killed the 6 million, he failed to kill the Jewish mind, the paper said.

This is true – but more importantly, he also failed to kill the Jewish soul - the human soul in every Jew. Jews are not prisoners to hate and revenge. We love our neighbors, and we love ourselves.

Hence it was fitting that at the March’s closing event in Latrun, on the night of Yom Ha’atzmaut, thousands of teens from all over the world sang together the most universal anthem of hope imaginable – John Lennon's "Imagine." At first it seemed jarring to me that of all songs, that was chosen. It didn’t seem to fit the nationalistic agenda that colored so much of the March. But then I realized. This new generation, not raised on hate but on the memory of hate, has learned to love again. They have not been scarred by that evil, for the most part, and live in a world that is already so connected that it is not unimaginable to envision a world where people will truly love one another. And it is the kids who will lead us to THAT Promised Land.

Many years ago, Leonard Fein wrote that there are two kinds of Jews in the world:

There is the kind of Jew who detests war and violence, who believes that fighting is not the Jewish Way, who willingly accepts that Jews have their own and higher standards of behavior. and not just that we have them, but that those standards are our lifeblood, what we are about.

And then there is the kind of Jew who is convinced that we have been passive long enough, who is convinced that it is time to strike back at our enemies, to reject once and for all the role of victim, who will willingly accept that Jews cannot afford to depend on favors, that we must be tough and strong.

And the trouble is, most of us are both kinds of Jew.

Over the past decade, the same can be said for we Americans.

But maybe the teens will inhabit a better world. In the end, for the teens, it wasn’t simply about their becoming witnesses to the horrors of the past, but somehow they had become the catalysts for the promise of the future. They had taken the victim's soul and transformed into one that can love again. Precisely because they had visited the camps of death, they felt an added urgency to celebrate the potential of life - of life triumphant.

Take that, Hitler! Take that Bin Laden! We can still love. That is the best revenge. To love and to hope.

And we’ve got the kids to prove it!

They will light up the future.

March of the Living Meeting - April 27

On Wednesday, April 27th Kulanu will have a March of The Living Informational Meeting. March of the Living is an international, educational program that brings Jewish teens from all over the world to Poland on Yom Hashoah, Holocaust Memorial Day, to march from Auschwitz to Birkenau, the largest concentration camp complex built during World War II, and then to Israel to observe Yom HaZikaron, Israel Memorial Day, and Yom Ha’Atzmaut, Israel Independence Day. Kulanu organizes trips in even years. Our next Kulanu March of the Living will take place in April 2012. These trips are amazing! If you are in 9th, 10th or 11th grade and would like to find out more about it, please come to the MOTL Informational Session on April 27th at 6:30 PM at Temple Beth El in Stamford where you will get to see photos from the 2010 trip, hear from teens, staff and a survivor who went on that trip and get all your questions about the March answered.

Kulanu, meaning “All Together,” is Stamford’s high quality, dynamic and innovative Jewish education program that brings together Jewish teens in grades 8 – 12 from a variety of backgrounds, beliefs and communities within Fairfield County. The Kulanu MOTL trip is the best in the area, as the teens prepare for the trip ahead of time in a Kulanu class, learning about the war, the camps and all the places they’ll visit. It also gives the group and staff an opportunity to bond together before heading off to Poland and Israel.

March of the Living: Killing Fields

We arrived in Warsaw this evening and I'm writing to you from the lobby of the Novotel. After a week traversing Shtetl Country, we are suddenly thrust into the 21st century, into a huge city totally rebuilt since the war. The kids were thrilled to be here, and in great spirits as we will fly to Israel tomorrow. French and Canadian MOTL groups are sharing this hotel with us, giving the place a real international flavor. This is the first time I've actually seen a newspaper that I understand. But we've pretty much been living the news this week.

Poland is bereft. We arrived at the Lublin yeshiva when a memorial service was going on inside with Poland's chief rabbi and church leaders. When we entered the sanctuary after the service, the memorial display was still in its place. Every town we've passed through in criss-crossing this country has had flags draped in black ribbons everywhere. The TV stations are running nonstop coverage of the happenings and the history.

While Poland focuses on their WW2 tragedies, so do we. Today we visited Sobibor, where 250,000 Jews met their demise in a 16 month period before the famous revolt (inspired by the Warsaw Ghetto uprising). Then, we went to another infamous locale, Maidanek, just outside Lublin - in fact, not even. This is the best preserved camp, with gas chambers and crematoria intact - it was quite moving for the kids walk through them, and then to see the huge mound of human ashes recovered after the war.

I've studied the Shoah for most of my life, but until this trip I was never able to really put the pieces together. The staff has been superb and the kids even better. But now we are definitely ready to let loose and head for Israel tomorrow night. Before then we'll see the Warsaw Ghetto remnants and Treblinka tomorrow. Then we're off.

I've chronicled the experience in photos uploaded to http://picasaweb.google.com/joshuahct/MarchOfTheLiving22010# - scroll down half way for today's photos.

Find earlier photos at http://picasaweb.google.com/joshuahct/MarchOfTheLiving2010#

Goodnight from Warsaw. I'll likely not be able to write home until after Shabbat - so Shabbat Shalom to all!

March of the Living: We're back!

At a little before 7 last evening, local time, the bus pulled into Agudath Sholom's parking lot and the March of the Living was over. Parents and community leaders greeted us with a big welcome sign and pizza, plus lots of hugs. The trip ended on a high note, despite a three hour delay in our takeoff, due to the fact that our plane was coming from London and was delayed by, yes, the ash cloud. To the very last moment, our personal journey was intertwined with world events going on around us. But one long, smooth flight later, we are back.

I want to thank everyone back here who held the fort in my absence. Now that I'm back, please join us tomorrow morning for a very special Shabbat service in which we'll welcome our Tzahal Shalom soldiers being housed in TBE homes. (Thank you to Terry and Asa Hazen for sponsoring these Shabbat announcements in their honor and to Mia and Lonny Weinstein for sponsoring the Kiddush.) We'll hear from them and also from a number of our March of the Living participants who will be giving us their exclusive first impressions, while the "iron is hot." Plus, I am expecting that we'll be honored to be joined by the New England Regional Coordinator, Claire Roche.

The response to my blogs has been overwhelming and gratifying. But it's the kids whose experience matters the most to our future, and now that they are home and have some time to reflect on it, we all will have much to learn from them.

For those who want to catch up on my blogs and photos from the trip, you can find them at here. You can also read my Jewish Week piece (written before the March), "Toyota, Auschwitz and Chelm." And you might want to catch up on the two Jewish Ethicist blog postings of mine that appeared on the Week's web page while I was gone: Should I Keep An Undeserved Bonus? and Coming Clean with a Fiancée.

Join us for services this evening as well, at 6:30.

Shabbat Shalom!
Rabbi Joshua Hammerman

March of the Living: Endings and Beginnings

The March is over. Final day photos are at http://picasaweb.google.com/joshuahct/MarchOfTheLiving4Israel#

We leave for the airport in just a few hours. Today we went to Masada and the Dead Sea, then back for a few hours at the Malcha Mall in Jerusalem and then one last session all together, where participants shared reflections on the trip. The group has come together remarkably and it was hard to imagine that this group, as constituted, will never be all together again. But we'll have memories that will always be shared.

For my bit of final advice to the kids, I referred to a selection from Pirke Avot that I had discussed at this morning's service atop Masada. We had a conversation about what it means to be a hero. And so many options were offered over the past few weeks, from Warsaw Ghetto fighters to Masada zealots, and everything in between. Moral courage and the willingness to sacrifice and to speak out were offered up as barometers of heroism. Judy Altmann has clearly emerged as a major role model to everyone in our group. She was not able to return to us for the end of the trip, but her presence remains most vivid. In the eyes of these kids (and adults too), she is a moral giant.

The rabbis measured heroism in other ways - in the ability to resist temptation. "Who is a hero? The one who conquers her incination."

So tonight I reflected on what we've seen and heard about. We've seen how perfectly normal people have the capacity to be utterly cruel. People who love their spouses and children and pets, could go to their "jobs" as death camp guards and perform unspeakable acts of sadism, well beyond the "call of duty." We've seen that such cruelty lies within the capacity of every human being.

We've also seen that the human conscience is capably of unfathomable acts of courage and kindness - that people can create mind-numbing beauty. We've seen that especially here in Israel, a nation built from the ashes, ashes that we literally stood before in Maidanek and Treblinka (and it was pointed out by our group leader that we'll be flying over a cloud of ashes in our return to the States).

The kids spoke of how important it is for them to bring these lessons home with them and teach others, and for some the first chance to do that will be at Beth El this Shabbat morning. They also spoke of how important it was to "be more Jewish," however they defined that.

I need to stop here, both to save something for the High Holidays and to give myself the chance to at least say that I tried to get some sleep before our 4 AM wakeup call (the flight home leaves at about 9 AM here, an hour later than scheduled - but that's fine; the Australian group is still making its way here from Poland!)

Again, thank you for your many comments and e-mails.

Signing off for now. See you in Stamford.

jh

The March of the Living: Israel - A Young 62

As thousands of MOTL teens piled atop tanks this evening at Latrun and then danced and jumped their way through an electric "mega event," it occurred to me what this was all about. It was about kids, Jewish kids, very assimilated kids, getting together and being, simply, kids. No inspiring calls to a mission. No deep thoughts to convey. Not even any political statements.

I had feared a political punchline to the March in today's concluding events. But there was nothing about our march to the Kotel from Safra Square, or tonight's mega, that would have upset Joe Biden or his boss. It wasn't about Jewish control over this neighborhood or that. It was about Jews being joyous. It was about Jewish kids - alive with passion for life, for Israel and for one another - simply being kids. The closest thing to a political statement made tonight was one in support of Gilad Shalit, and that brief interlude ended with the singing of John Lennon's "Imagine."

"Imagine?" That song hardly speaks of our national homeland. It's a song that speaks of the ideal of having NO national homelands! The message of the event was simply: be free, be alive, be who you are, be proud.

"Free to Be - Jew and Me."

Tonight's event had all the political intrigue of an Abba concert, and the music was just as cheezy. It ended up with a rousing rendition of "Halleluyah," which fittingly won the Eurovision contest a generation ago. Because, aside from the pyrotechnics (which were impressive) this event could have been one of those Eurovision contests in the era when Israelis were still watching it in black and white.

One of the teens came up to me at the end, all smiles, saying, "That was so much fun!"

'Nuff said.

Put into perspective, what response can be better? After our weeklong trudge through the death camps, the only statement that needs to be made is that we are alive. And kids having the time of their lives is a perfect way of stating precisely that. The idea is to channel all those raging teen hormones into love - for Israel and the Jewish people, but for life and humanity.

So here we are, on Israel's 62nd birthday - also Hitler's birthday. And who has turned out better? The newspapers today proclaimed that Israel's economy is growing at one of the fastest rates in the world. Their is a feeling of security in this country that I haven't seen here in many years. The police are much less noticeable (even those security checks at the door) in public places and the people more plentiful. As Israel celebrated her birthday today with cookouts and picnics, Jerusalem was festive in every respect. This already most beautiful city was decked out in her finest. But for the Jewish people, it's not just about Israel. The Jerusalem Post holiday supplement boasted about "62 years of brain power." When Hitler killed the 6 million, he failed to kill the Jewish mind. He also failed to kill the Jewish soul - the human soul in every Jew. Jews are not prisoners to hate and revenge. We love our neighbors, and we love ourselves. Hence John Lennon's "Imagine." We can still imagine a world where people love one another. And the kids will lead us to THAT promised land.

Take that, Fuhrer! We can still love. And we got the kids to prove it. And they are falling in love with each other on this trip (some romantically, for others, lifelong bonds of friendship) and I guess the theory must go something like this: if you fall in love IN Israel, you'll fall in love WITH Israel. It's working.

That's why the March works. It is not indoctrination - unless being human is a doctrine. It's a journey of self discovery and communal connection. And it's worth every minute.

I've uploaded a couple of hundred new photos to give you the flavor of today's events: our return to Jerusalem, the march to the Kotel from Safra Square and the events in Latrun. You can find them at http://picasaweb.google.com/joshuahct/MarchOfTheLiving4Israel#

Thank you to everyone who has written to me responding to these reports from the March. I'll be joined by some of our students at services this Shabbat to give some first hand impressions.

Tomorrow, Masada, the Dead Sea, the Malcha Mall in Jerusalem and preparations for our return. (Alas, the Aussies have yet to get here! Stuck in Poland for an additional week by the ashes). The plane ride ought to be one very long, 11 hour tearful goodbye.

If time permits I may blog tomorrow, but more likely not.

Signing off from Jerusalem on the 62nd birthday of the thriving Jewish state.

Rabbi Joshua Hammerman

March of the Living: Raise Your Eyes to the Mountains

Today the teens experienced the full swing of emotions, a microcosm of the entire trip, as connected to the rhythm of Israeli time, starting the day with the seriousness and grief of Yom HaZikaron and ending it with the ecstasy of Yom Haatzmaut.

See today’s photos at http://picasaweb.google.com/joshuahct/MarchOfTheLiving3Israel# - scroll down for the latest ones.

After our daily morning service, where I played selected Israeli songs, including a recent version of Psalm 121 “Shir hamaalot, Lift your eyes to the mountains,” we headed for the hills – a spectacular view from the top of Mount Gilboa, commanding a view, on one side, of the Jezreel Valley, and on the other of the areas on the other side of the Green Line, including Jenin. We got a good look at the Security Barrier and saw why it has been so helpful in stopping terror. This area had been particularly hard hit in the suicide bombings of a decade ago. And now there is almost air-tight security, to the point where a visible police presence is rarely needed in public spaces. The view was spectacular, but so were the wildflowers dotting the hillside.

After that we went to a nearby Kibbutz, Beit HaShita, to commemorate Memorial Day with them. This Kibbutz has suffered dearly in wars and terror attacks dating back to 1937 when the valley was being developed and especially vulnerable. The fields were lush and green – as I hope the photos demonstrate. The ceremony was brief and moving. Since this is a secular Kibbutz, there was no Kaddish or Memorial Prayer – and they didn’t light candles but brought flowers to the graves of the departed heroes. Later on we joined in at another ceremony, with a group of disadvantaged children at the Emunah Center in Afula. Our teens helped them to make memorial candles and befriended them. In between we had another meet & greet with a group of 11th and 12th graders from a local high school. It was a very full day.

While we were in Afula, Mara and I were thrilled to see an old friend to many at TBE, Liza Elisha, who was our youth counselor on the past two TBE Israel Adventures. Liza (whose last name is no longer Elisha), showed up with her new baby. You can see photos at the photo site.
Finally, tonight we all went out to Tiberias and the disco boat. What a release for everyone! A great time was had by all. One of the first songs the DJ played was… that same version of Psalm 121, Shir hama’a lot… which morphs from a dirge to a song of celebration and assurance. Tiberias was hopping tonight – wall to wall Israelis. The kids did some shopping after the disco boat docked, a special unplanned treat, a reward for how fantastic they’ve been through this whole trip – in particular on this difficult day.

It’s too soon to try to piece everything together – and too late for me to have the strength to do it! Two more days. Tomorrow, another march – this time in Jerusalem.

Happy birthday, Israel!

March of the Living: Thy Beauty, O Israel

We’ve been quite fortunate on this trip. So much of the experience is planned months in advance, but the best things happen spontaneously: like the rainbow that appeared in the clouds as we disembarked in Safed this afternoon.

Or the fact that our plane took off for Poland an hour and a half late because of reported fog in Krakow – and then we landed, only to discover the next day that the Polish president’s plane had crashed… because of fog at the airport. Or the fact that our flight out of Warsaw airport was one of the last flights out before the volcanic ash from Iceland brought European air traffic to a standstill. And then there was the sudden flyover of Israeli Air Force jets as we arrived at our first stop in Jerusalem, the Haas Promenade, as they prepared for Independence Day festivities and seemed to be welcoming us.

Or Shabbat. This was a magical Shabbat for the group. Blessed with perfect weather, it began with a Kabbalat Shabbat service featuring a combination of dancing, exuberant singing and quiet meditation. As we looked out over the hills surrounding our hotel, we could literally see the peace of the Sabbath descend as the sky began to darken and the cars suddenly disappeared below us. In the pluralistic spirit that has defined this group, it was decided beforehand that the dancing at services would be with girls and boys together, and it was (girls also helped to lead and one even brought a Middle Eastern drum to assist), and then at dinner, there would be separate dancing, which also happened. But what ensured, totally unexpectedly, was a sense of empowerment by the girls, who, rather than simply standing aside and taking the lead from the boys, formed their own circle and initiated their own songs, even lifting one another up on chairs. It was separate, but it was equal… Of course, I loved it. Pluralism in action. I explained to the kids that given the fact that Israel is the only country in the world where a Jewish woman can be arrested for wearing a tallit, we have much to teach our hosts about loving our neighbor as ourselves – and respecting religious diversity.

There were no exotic davening options on Shabbat morning, but herein lies another spontaneous miracle…and a quintessential “only in Israel” story. Because our hostel lies in a rather remote part of Jerusalem, there were no alternative prayer options available within walking distance…. Unless you are an elephant (we were next to the Biblical Zoo) or a corrupt former mayor (we also were quite near the now-infamous Holyland construction project, which has been the big scandal to hit this week). So, almost everyone in the group opted to go to a lovely Sephardic synagogue in an adjoining neighborhood. We were welcomed with open arms. The service was hard to follow for most of the kids (though it was interesting for them to see a Sephardic torah), but it didn’t matter. When it was announced, in Hebrew, that a group from March of the Living had joined them, the congregation instantly applauded. We were given several aliyahs. Oodles of little kids played with our teens outside, and they were thrilled when our kids shared with them some of the pins they had traded for on the March.

At the end of the service, (at 10:30 AM!) we were invited by a family back to their home for Kiddush. That’s right, all 75 of us who came to the service were invited back. The area is new – less than a decade old – and the apartments are lovely, with a spectacular view of the Judean hills. The entire extended family was rushed into action, ripping open bags of candies, cakes, chips and Bamba, and soon bottles of soda appeared. We stood in the spectacular courtyard of their home, all of us fitting in the tight space, and Yossi, a biologist, teacher and the patriarch of the family, recited the Kiddush. He told us how his family had emigrated from Iran in 1951. Each member of the family introduced him/herself and then we toured their home.

For the kids, it was the perfect Israel experience. We all felt like family. They made it clear, we ARE family. After a difficult week in Poland, nothing could have been better.

We relaxed in various ways on Shabbat afternoon. Some went on a hike, others met up with old friends and family members (Mara, Dan and I met our new great nephew – my sister’s grandson – for the very first time. He is, BTW, adorable). At night we walked atop the Old City walls and then let the kids loose on Ben Yehudah street.

This morning, we left for the north and a quick tour of several parts of this country. All of Israel is awash in flags as Memorial Day and Yom Ha’atzmaut approached. We climbed to Safed and heard from one of the group rabbis about Kabbalistic approaches to life’s pressing issues. The kids shopped and ate and then we were off to our northern base in Beit Sha’an. Later in the day, we set the tone for Yom Hazikaron by watching "A Hero In Heaven," a video about Michael Levin, an American Jew who moved to Israel and died in the 2006 Lebanon War. The film touched us all. Tonight we ushered in Israel’s Memorial Day with a moving ceremony with the community of Gan Ner, in our sister region of Afula-Gilboa. Our kids were involved in the ceremony, which featured poetry, songs and dance. The rabbi of the community, whose first name is Avshalom (the name of David’s son), begin the ceremony by reading from Second Samuel chapter 1, King David’s lament for the loss of King Saul in a battle that also took the life of his beloved friend Jonathan.

“Thy beauty, O Israel, upon thy high places is slain! How are the mighty fallen!”

It struck me immediately that the choice of this opening was no accident, for that fateful battle against the Philistines had taken place in EXACTLY THE SAME PLACE – right there on Mount Gilboa. And once again I felt a deep connection to the land, its history and its people. Israelis all mourn loss on this day – Hatikva was profoundly moving as young children held flags, marching in to a soulful saxe playing the selection from Psalm 34, "Who is the man that desireth life, and loveth days, that he may see may see good therein? Keep thy tongue from evil, and thy lips from speaking guile. Depart from evil and do good; seek peace and pursue it.”

Another psalm of David. Another expression of the Israeli desire to give all for peace.

The ceremony included a song by the popular Israeli singer Rami Kleinstein, ”A Feather in the Wind” (hear it sung here). After the ceremony, another abrupt change of mood, as our teens mingled with the teens from this community. As you’ll see from the pictures, the kids had a fantastic time.

So this weekend we saw the beauty of Israel – its landscape, weather and most of all, the people. And tonight we mourn the best of the best, those beautiful souls who gave all for their country, and for the Jewish nation.

Check out the photos from this weekend at http://picasaweb.google.com/joshuahct/MarchOfTheLiving3Israel#

March of the Living: Wall to Wall

We are in Israel. Our plane landed at nearly midnight, just in time to celebrate Melanie Katz' birthday in the terminal. Today was a very full day, as we saw seeing the remnants of the Warsaw Ghetto wall and then journeyed to Treblinka, which is about 2 hours drive from Warsaw.

In all we visited five death camps (if you count Auschwitz - Birkenau as one), more than enough for one lifetime, much less one week. But each camps tells a different and important part of the story, and each one displays it in a slightly different way. Treblinka, like Sobibor and Belzec, was totally destroyed by the Nazis, so the memorials leave more to the imagination, In fact, Treblinkas' is downright lovely, especially on a sunny day like today. The natural beauty seems oddly out of place, but since we had seen much more jarring images at other places, it actually served as a fitting coda to our journey. The many destroyed communities remembered there include the ancestral home of Dr. Harry Romanowitz, whose commitment to the cause of Holocaust education made this trip possible for many in our group. We took photos there (see the uploaded photos).

As our final ceremony in Poland concluded I spied - of all things - a lovely yellow butterfly, resting on a flower in the facsimile ash pit at the memorial. The great poem came to mind. The author never saw another butterfly in the ghetto - but we did, at the site of Treblinka. And it was time to leave for Israel.

The charter flight was filled with MOTL groups from Canada, France and the US. There was palpable excitement throughout the 4 1/2 hour trip as we approached our landing and that continued all the way up to Jerusalem, where we are now. It is such a thrill to see the look of excitement especially on the faces of those who have been waiting a lifetime to get here. Some even kissed the ground!

Photos are uploaded at http://picasaweb.google.com/joshuahct/MarchOfTheLiving22010# - scroll down for today's pics. You'll see from the photos that while we waited in the terminal, just outside we could see a large transport plain unloading coffins from Smolensk. The military ceremony seemed to go on forever and was still going on when we boarded our plane. A sad bookend to a trip that began with the sad news of the Polish plane crash last week.
There is much, much more to say about the experience in Poland - but you'll just have to wait to hear it! Next Shabbat, when I return, will be a good time to start.

Tomorrow (today) we'll get to sleep in a little later, then head out to the old city, including the Kotel and Jewish Quarter. Weather is expected to be warm and beautiful - mid 70s, at least. It's cool right now as I look out from our lobby to the back porch where we'll be having services this morning. The lights from apartments and street lights dot the hillside across the way, suspended, it seems, in mid air. There is a certain claylike smell in the breeze, something that tells my senses that I am home.
It's very quiet... so I think I'll go catch a couple of hours sleep.

Shabbat Shalom from Jerusalem
I've chronicled the experience in photos uploaded to http://picasaweb.google.com/joshuahct/MarchOfTheLiving22010# - scroll down for today's photos.
Find earlier photos at http://picasaweb.google.com/joshuahct/MarchOfTheLiving2010#

Toyota, Auschwitz and Chelm (Jewish Week)

Toyota, Auschwitz And Chelm
Tuesday, April 13, 2010
Joshua Hammerman
Special To The Jewish Week

This week, I’ll be joining the March of the Living, an annual pilgrimage from Poland to Israel. The experience of the Holocaust stands alone in Jewish history, a godless counterpoint to all things sacred. Alongside the majestic peaks of Sinai and Zion, our view now includes this man-made mountain of children’s shoes, empty luggage and echoing shrieks, a clump of human refuse that dwarfs everything around it, taller than Sinai, more imposing than Zion, more insurmountable than Everest.

As I prepare to face the enormity of Auschwitz for the first time, it occurs to me that since the Shoah, rabbis have become like Toyota salesmen. What, after all, are we selling, but a product once revered, but now proven to be a grand farce? The myth has been summarily detonated, the brand exposed. Just as “Made in Japan” now has reverted to its original derogatory, postwar meaning (cheap, fake, laughable), “Made at Sinai” now feels like its “Made in Japan.”

Oh, we rabbis have been trained well. We’ve developed numerous diversionary strategies to refocus the question (“Where was God? Well, where was man?”) or simply to foster a perpetual state of denial (“We can’t know God’s ways”). Some have chosen to relinquish some of God’s omnipotence, others go much farther. But for the most part, we focus on beating home the message that Judaism still has an important function to serve, even if there’s a gaping hole under the chassis. Some deny that the hole exists, clinging naively to pre-Auschwitz fantasies. It is astonishing how many otherwise intelligent, modern, skeptical Jews buy this theological nonsense, slickly packaged by various ultra-Orthodox groups. But most rabbis, while not denying the seriousness of the challenge, prefer to set the questions aside, suggesting that maybe the next generation will solve the problem.

Over the decades, there have been brilliant attempts to deal with this dilemma. Some, like Richard Rubenstein’s existentialist “After Auschwitz,” have been powerfully honest. Such radical theologies proliferated in the ’60s, during the so-called “Death of God” era. Since then, God has survived quite nicely, thank you, but those bold theologies have yellowed with age. The question of Auschwitz remains as vivid as ever, but after 65 years, we seem to be tiring of asking it.
It makes me wonder: If Toyotas never get fixed, but for 65 years company propagandists spew forth the message that the cars are really safe, will we start believing in them again? Will the producers just wear us down until we tire of asking the questions? That strategy seems to have worked with other products. Some people actually think that cable news is really news. Some Jews believe that the same God who was silent in Auschwitz actually caused Iraqi Scuds to miss their targets in Tel Aviv. The madness has worn us down.

Perhaps the antidote to such madness is a different kind of madness.

The day after we march on Auschwitz, my group will stop off on the way to Warsaw in a quaint town called Chelm, for Jews the eternal capital of absurdity. Chelmites are mythical Jews from a real town, known for their propensity to take logic to its bizarre extreme.

Two men of Chelm went out for a walk, when suddenly it began to rain.

“Quick,” said one. “Open your umbrella.”

“It won’t help,” said his friend. “My umbrella is full of holes.”

“Then why did you bring it?”

“I didn’t think it would rain!”


A New York-based klezmer group named Golem wrote a song recently about a Chelmite who leaves on a journey to Warsaw, gets lost and ends up back in Chelm. “He’s so stupid that he thinks he’s actually in Warsaw,” bandleader Annette Ezekiel told SPIN.com. “The moral is any place can be any place else — it doesn’t matter where you are.”

But for me, it will matter a lot. I’ll be coming from Auschwitz, the darkest place in Jewish history, and then I’ll be staying over in Chelm, the funniest. Chelm will be the place where I wash my hands after visiting this countrywide cemetery, a way station before I head to Jerusalem for the second part of the March.


Two points about Chelm. First, laughter provided a great outlet for those suffering from hunger, poverty and hatred, as the Jews of Poland did for so long. But rather than laugh at real people, the Jewish genius invented a mythical community to laugh at. Not only is that practical (as opposed to laughing at Poles, who might respond by killing you), it is far more ethical to make fun of fake people than real people.


Second, Chelm might hold the key to our getting beyond the theological quandaries of our age. If the commanding voice of Auschwitz has muffled the God of Sinai for the time being, maybe we need to pay more attention to the God of Chelm. The Yiddish aphorism, “Man plans, God laughs,” just might be the most apt theological response to an age of absurdity. It’s not that God is laughing at us; it’s simply that God has taught us that laughter is the only way one can respond to a world of unfathomable evil and unspeakable tragedy, while clinging to life and dignity. Maintaining some semblance of sanity requires a modicum of insanity, an art we’ve been perfecting for centuries, ever since we figured out how a poor peasant living in rags could be transformed into royalty through the simple act of lighting candles, drinking wine and blessing hallah. The first Jewish kid, whose life was replete with tragedy, was nonetheless named laughter (Isaac). We’ve been re-living Isaac’s story ever since.


Would you buy a used Toyota from this God? Perhaps not. But at least the divine gift of laughter gives us the courage to stare directly into that gaping hole in the chassis and laugh at the absurdity of it all, while gasping in amazement that, despite everything, we are alive.