Shalom Chaverim,

 

Today is Friday, April 17th. It is 8:30 in the morning on a rare type of morning where the sky is grey but i get up anyway. There is much to catch you all up on. First off, let me apologize for my lack of communication recently. We went on a big trip and only returned to the Kibbutz late Wednesday night, so there has been a serious lack of computer access. But once again my laptop and I are reunited. Now I'll start the actual entry..

 

I officially have a new stamp in my passport! Exciting introduction for a not so exciting subject (that came out the wrong way, I think. It's not that the subject isn't interesting, it's just not something you're meant to get excited about). Anyway, for those of you who have no clue what it is I'm talking about, EIE recently took our pilgrimage to Poland. We use the word pilgrimage lightly here. We did so much in seven days there, it's hard for me to pinpoint it all in my mind. Sad, because it happened like a week and a half ago. Anyhow, the"journey" (as our staff insisted on our calling it) was led as a Jewish History tiyul (which means trip....Our staff is a confused bunch) So we went there with the goal of learning Jewish History. We spent at least half of each day (besides Shabbat) learning about a Jewish community that used to live in the area. We spent time in Krakow, Warsaw, Tikochin, and other areas that I wouldn't be able to spell if I tried. Those days were light. We saw where the houses were, the body of water where the women washed the clothes, we talked about Torah study and the houses of worship-we saw so many old synagogues. It was strange to see such beauty in a place I would never have expected it.  The synagogues were absolutely gorgeous-some had prayers painted on the walls, prayers everywhere. We visited both Ashkenazi and  Sephardic synagogues, and the differences were surprising. In Ashkenazi synagogues, the bima is in the front, with the congregation sitting in pews facing it. In Sephardic synagogues, the bima is in the center-it's kind of strange, but quite cool. So anyway, we saw some beautiful places where Judaism thrived pre-holocaust, and then proceeded to see what happened to the populations that lived there. 

 

The first major sad part of our journey was our visit to Tikochin. We learned a lot about the town, and talked about the culture that used to be there, and then got on a busride where we were told to sit in silence the entire time. I spent it looking out the windows at miles and miles of dead farmland under grey sky. There was very little sun, and barely any green grass. The only green in the area was a pine tree here and there-the houses all looked like shanties, no matter how large or new they were. I didn't see any people on the roads, or any in the houses. It looked like death. After about twenty minutes or so, the bus turned down a dirt road which ended at the entrance to a large forest. The woods were beautiful-the trees were tall and skinny, with dark green needles covering the branches and the ground. It smelled nice and there was a little sun. I knew immediately that there would be something terrible at the end of our walk. There is no natural beauty that is untainted in Poland. We followed our teachers through the forest until in the distance we could see some tree-less areas with Israeli flags. I saw yarzheit candles (the ones you light in memory of someone who has died) surrounding these three squares there. As our classes silently made our way to each square respectively, my thoughts were racing. Before we had gotten onto the bus, as we were leaving the area where the Jewish community had lived, BG, one of the Jewish History teachers had asked us for a silent busride as we were "heading to the end of the story of the Jews of Tikochin". What could have happened at these squares? We stood around the area in silence staring at candles until BG spoke. He told us that the Jews of Tikochin had been rounded up in the middle of the night, taken a ride on the same route we had just taken and arrived in the forest. They dug the pit we stood before and were then all shot and buried there. We were standing in front of one of three mass graves in the middle of a beautiful forest in Poland. In front of our feet lied the bones of so many-in these places, the ground was bumpy and the trees refused to grow. I thought hard about the symbolism of trees and what the lack of them meant. In Judaism trees are a sign of life. Walking through the forest there, the breath of life which had originally greeted us was overwhelming as we saw all the trees. Those pits, though-there's something eerie about how the trees still don't grow. It's as though they know what would be beneath their roots.

 

The rest of the trip went similarly to this. I don't really want to write about each part right now- I guess you could say that I'm not interested in going through the emotions I felt during it ever again. Well at least not so soon. I’ll just tell you a quick highlight.

 

It was a moment of symbolism. On the next-to-last day in Poland, Shuster and Josh and I led Mincha services (early evening/afternoon) in a small synagogue we were visiting. The readings had all been written by participants, and the service followed the general theme of internal power of the Jewish people. The synagogue it took place in was called "People who study Mishna (in Hebrew, Chaverim lomdim Mishna)- the synagogue was a place where hardcore, true believers came to pray and study. Through WW2, it had been desecrated and since restored. The service was wonderful. I stood on the bima with one of the closest friends I have, leading over 100 young Jews in the prayers which so many of our family members and their friends died for. I can't fully explain the feelings I had in that synagogue. There I realized how strong the Jewish people are-how strong they were during the Holocaust, and how strong they continue to be today. I felt overwhelming pride there. My friends chanted, sang, and bowed in ways that I am sure Jews here once had. It felt something like a homecoming, I guess. The service closed with the song “Am Yisrael Chai”-“the people of Israel live”. This vision struck me hard-I’m sure it will  for a long time. Picture it: 118 Young Jews and their teachers pouring out all that they felt about the Holocaust into “Am Yisrael Chai” while dancing through a synagogue that didn’t perish under Nazi occupation. I don’t think I have ever felt so alive in my life.  The sight was so beautiful. I can still hear us singing if I think about it-we must have echoed through the whole town-we were so spirited. If I got nothing else out of the Poland trip, I believe that the sound of “Am Yisrael Chai” resounding in my ears would be enough.