Thursday, April 7, 1994 - Yom HaShoah - Wanda Hotel, Krakow
The march today was an incredible experience. We got to Auchwitz at abut 2:30 PM. The march went in alphabetical order by country, so the US was close to last. We took our place among the 7,000 marchers for the silent trek from Auchwitz I to Birkenau. The feeling of seeing a sea of blue jackets marching on the very path that had led so many to death was very moving.
Marching in front of me was a group of survivors. As I watched them, I tried to imagine the courage that it must take to return to a place where they had been through hell on earth, go back to where they had seen their friends and family executed by the Nazis. On the way to Birkenau, Polish police and citizens were lined up, many staring at us go by. Some lived right near the camp, and were hanging up laundry as we passed. I couldn't understand how someone could possibly live within sight of a place where so many were killed so brutally.
For the first time since our arrival, the rain stopped pouring, merely an hour before the march. As we neared Birkenau, we saw the tower and train tracks which led into the camp. As we neared the end of the march at the ruins of a crematorium, a seemingly endless list of names of martyrs was called out, as the procession filed in.
Looking around, all I could see was blue jackets, the ruins of the crematorium, the banners of the different countries, and lots of Israeli flags. The ceremony at Birkenau consisted mainly of speeches. The Chief Rabbi of Israel spoke, among other politicians and prominent figures. Towards the end, a prayer was recited. The next moment was one of the most powerful ones of the entire day. Hatikva was sung. The image of 7,000 Jews of all types from all over the world, gathered at the ruins of Auchwitz-Birkenau, singing the national anthem of the Jewish homeland was unbelievable. The message was clear: we are still here - while we remember the dead, this is the march of the living, and despite the loss of the Shoah, it is we, not the Nazis, who remain. This thought was echoed as the seven thousand sung "Od Lo Avdah Tikvateinu".
Each of us was given a wooden grave marker, on which we were to write the names of family members who had been killed, or any appropriate message. After the ceremony, I went with my mother to place the marker in the ground near the crematoria. We lit candles in memory of our family members that were killed.
Looking around, the number of people in blue jackets was truly overwhelming. Throughout the ceremony, the crowd seemed huge. What is scary is that far more than 6,000 people were killed every day in Auchwitz.
While the camp was in many ways what I expected, the thing that surprised me most was the sheer size of it. Seeing the endless rows of barracks (and, in many cases, only the chimneys where barracks had once been) made me realize how huge the camp had been.
While I knew that I'd soon be getting back on the bus and going to a hotel, I tried to imagine myself at Auchwitz, where the barbed wire was not only real, but electrified as well. I tried to picture S.S. officers with guns at each now-empty guard post. While it was interesting to try, it was obvious that I would never truly be able to understand what that generation went through, never really know what terror is. The recurring message, though, was that 50 years after the Nazis tried to destroy us, we're still here and they're gone; we have our own state, and they're just a terrible stain on the book of history. While there are questions that can never be answered, like "how can man be capable of such cruelty?" and "how could the world just stand by watching?", I did feel a little better at the end of the march.
While waiting for the busses outside the camp, our discussions eventually took a lighter tone, which may seem strange, under the circumstances. While it may seem wrong to laugh and smile at the very site where so many were killed, laughter was, for many of us, a way of remaining sane after what we had witnessed. Besides being therapeutic, our laughter helped us realize that we can, and must, go on with life, and that we can be happy, because ultimately, we survived.
After sitting on the bus for an hour, we left Birkenau and headed to the hotel. After dinner, we got our stuff and went to the rooms. Mati (my good friend and roommate for the March) and I got a nice room on the first floor. Since we'll be here for three days, we can actually settle in, which is a nice change. Our bus gathered together in Tom's room for a discussion/kumzits. We went around the room, and each person said their name and shared a moment which they found to be especially moving and significant. Our bus is really a great group of people, and after a little discussion, Matt (who had a guitar) led us in some songs. Many of the kids on the bus that go to public school have very little real connection to Judaism, yet the past two days have had an incredibly deep impact on them (and all of us).
Tomorrow, we return to Auchwitz for a thorough tour. While I can't
wait for Israel, I'm extremely glad that we're able to be at all
these sights and bear witness to what took place. it is our duty,
as the last generation that will be able to hear tales of the
Holocaust first-hand from survivors, to teach our friends, family,
and children about what happened, and ensure that the Shoah and
the six million that perished are never forgotten.
continue...
