A Jewish graveyard measuring 312.679 km squared
This is probably the best way to describe Poland. Knowing this, it is surely very strange to imagine how a 5 day trip there could have a positive impact on someone's outlook on life. Prior to leaving, I was very unsure over how the trip would affect me in the long term, but I did have a very fixed idea of how I thought visiting concentration camps would make me feel outwardly, based on photos I had seen and on word of mouth. I pictured it as 5 days full of tears and emotional turmoil, however I experienced something very different from this. I experienced a variety of emotions, ranging from positive to negative, all of which I feel had a long lasting effect on me.
feelings of anger
We drove around from cemetery to memorial and I noticed that the marks of 1000 years of Polish Jewry are mainly hidden in inconspicuous nooks and crannies around the country, with western civilisation existing next door seemingly ignorant of the atrocities which occured there. The impact of the Jewish people, who before the Second World War had made up 10% of the Polish population, on Polish society seemed to have been simply built over and forgotten by those who still live there. The Jewish cemetery in Warsaw is huge and beautiful, yet lies concealed behind a tall metal gate on a main road. The memorial at the umschlagplatz (center) of the Warsaw ghetto, where people were rounded up to be deported to concentration camps, also lies on a main road, and watching civilians passing by without a glance at a place that contained such an important history of so much bloodshed and evil seemed odd and unjust to me.
These photos depict the juxtaposition between the modern, cosmopolitan city life of post-communist Poland and the deeply saddening memorial remembering the unspeakable horrors of the deportation and death of so many people so close by not too long ago. These photos were taken within a minute of each other.
We went to smaller, lesser known towns which, far worse, had no memorial whatsoever to the Jews who had perished there. We went to a small town, whose population had been 50% Jewish before of the war but that had nothing that gave testimony to the Jews in its umschlagplatz (center). We stood there and sang in remembrance of those who perished and noticed people opening their windows in curiosity at where this noise was coming from in their quiet little town.
It may be controversial to say this, but I felt that the significance of Auschwitz-Birkenau was downplayed, with a road over the tracks that had led 1.1 million people to their death. I captured a bus, driving right past the infamous entrance, marring the respectful silence.
Hope
The day that we visited the concentration camp Majdenek, where 234,000 people were killed was distressing, as we saw instruments that had been created by humans to kill other humans.
However, we visited the grave of Rabbi Noam Elimelech that evening, and we sang and rejoiced to the sound of beautiful music, while literally standing in the face of death, which filled me with hope for a positive future. After being at Majdenek in the morning, a place where so many Jews were murdered, it was uplifting to stand by the grace of a Rabbi, a symbol of flourishing Jewish life, and pay respect to him. He led a particularly admirable life, and he was someone who wanted his students to celebrate when he died rather than be filled with despair, an idea which seemed to echo one of the messages from the trip overall.
A trip to Poland could end up being a nonstop depressing wake up call to the weakness of the human mind and person in the way that it struggles and fails to stay moral, sane and humane in the face of hardship. I heard endless stories of Jews turning against each other and about certain members of the Judenraat who became obsessed with and taken over by a lust for power, which I didn't know much about prior to trip. We were of course also told many stories of atrocities which the Nazis themselves committed. Hearing all of this is enough to make you lose your faith in the human race and its morality. I am someone who believes in the Judeo-Christian moral code, and after having a discussion with a friend about moral relativism on the trip I began to think about how humans have the power to commit such evil deeds. This Tuesday, I heard the son of Hans Frank, the man politically responsible for most death camps in Poland, speak about his relationship with his father and his feelings and memories on the holocaust. Hearing him talk about his realisation from a very young age that what his father was doing was very much wrong wrong was remarkable, and cemented my faith in humanity.
Overall, the trip filled me with hope more than despair. I felt proud to have chosen to come to Poland to learn about and honour the memory of those who were victims of the Holocaust. Everything we did there, be it lighting Shabbat candles or singing Hatikvah, felt like an act of defiance against those who had tried to exterminate us. I also noticed that the sights were emptier than I had expected, and realised how important it is that each and every one of us take the initiative onto ourselves to go and visit Poland.
I left the trip with a sense of duty to make sure others are educated about the horrors of the Holocaust, to make sure there is always someone there to prove Holocaust deniers wrong, and a desire to give back to the State of Israel and the wider Jewish community.
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