Day 6 - Poland - Jason
Our first week of Poland and by extension IST, was brought to an end on our first Shabbat in the grand Isaac Shule. As we prayed together, it was visible everywhere around us that that the shule was once a grand sanctuary. From the still intact ceiling architecture and highlights to the faded prayers painted on the walls. The shule stretched in length, with extravagantly high ceilings to expand on the already breathtaking size. It was here that a vibrant Jewish community once resided. We sang and danced with the now highly depleted Jewish community and marvelled at what once existed, in a shule that literally had holes in the walls.
We proceeded from there to a Shabbos lunch at Beit Yaakov, where we again appreciated a warm meal on a very cold day.
Next we continued to explore the city of Krakow on a guided walking tour accompanied by a colourful sunset, juxtaposed with the historical horrors of the place where we are staying. The group visited the Krakow Ghetto walls and settlements even though there is almost nothing left. It was shocking to learn that almost 15 000 people lived within the ghetto walls, a space smaller in size than our own Queens Park school campus.
The tour concluded at the monument built in the center of what was the ghetto, a collection of empty chairs, signifying the inescapable holes left in our lives and communities after the events of the holocaust.
Finally we davened Maariv and got onto the busses heading for Ziblitowska Góra Children’s Forest.
As we arrived on the rough gravel there was a noticeable change in atmosphere. The instant that we stepped out of the warm bus into the harsh, fresh air everyone could tell that something was different. The group rugged up and entered the forest, but no one was prepared for what we would see next.
The soft crunch of gravel against our boots screamed against the deafening silence as we trudged down the winding path. Trees stared down at us from above, along with the sky, scattered with stars. Cool winds whipped against any exposed skin and sent shivers down our spines.
It took only moments of walking before we had arrived at a small, fenced off patch of grass. The grass looked so elegant in the moonlight, crowded by the leafless trees. On the fence surrounding hung balloons and kids toys, colourful despite the cascading darkness.
It is in this exact spot that 800 innocent Jewish children are now buried. At the hands of the Nazis, they were forced into sacks and stabbed to death, before being tossed into the bottomless pit, the size of a small swimming pool. It was here we stood.
They not only murdered those 800, but they murdered the generations to follow, leaving behind only a small spot of grass. No tomb stones, no names.
The world will never again hear their laughter, never again see their smiles. The world will never again hear their voices.
A void of emptiness filled every one of us, as we deciphered and digested the horrific sight that lay before us. We wonder what the trees might tell us, might scream at us if they had the ability. What stories have they known?
We entered the Forest as an energetic and excited group but returned as a depleted and emotionally drained collective. Once we entered the bus again we received letters from our families, lifting our spirits and showing us that humanity still exists within our world.
At last we returned to Beit Yaakov once again for a much needed meal and walked back to our hotel concluding a mentally traumatic, yet memorable day.
After seeing such incredible acts of evil; children senselessly murdered, and a once beautiful shule now falling apart, my Jewish identity will forever be changed. These experiences are not of the kind that one forgets, only the kind that one absorbs, learns to live with and ultimately acts as the catalst for our final pledge - Never Again.
