It has been a little over a week since I returned from a trip/mission to Poland, led by Rabbi Efrem Goldberg of the Boca Raton Synagogue in Florida, along with Dr. David Bernstein of the Pardes Institute in Jerusalem. As a child of survivors of the Shoah, I had always felt it was my responsibility to visit the sites where six million of our brethren were killed simply because they were Jews. On the other hand, I did not want to go, for fear of how I would react. When the opportunity was presented a few months ago, I decided it was time.
The group arrived in Warsaw on Monday, June 26, and immediately proceeded to the old Jewish cemetery in Warsaw, which dates back hundreds of years. My flight from Newark got in later than the Florida flight, so I met up with the group at The New Museum of Polish Jewry. This is not a Holocaust museum. This museum explores the rich history and contributions Jews made to Poland from as early as the 1400s through paintings, models and dioramas. Of course there is a section devoted to the Holocaust, the Warsaw Ghetto and the resistance. Many people, including myself, assumed that the Warsaw Ghetto was a small area of just a few blocks. The reality is that the ghetto covered a very large area of the city. The museum and the famous Rappaport monument to the memory of the Jews who perished are within what was once the ghetto. As I rode from the airport, I was amazed at the way the city had become such a metropolis, when just 70 years ago it was all rubble. After spending three hours in the museum—not enough time—we made our way to the Rappaport monument (where Ivanka Trump visited a week later).
On Tuesday, we began by visiting Mila 18, which was the address of the building that the fighters of the ghetto used as their base of operations. We learned of the various factions that existed in the ghetto, their views on dealing with the Nazis and the results of their disagreements. We then made our way to the “umschlagplatz”—the area near the old railroad tracks—where the Nazis gathered the Jews, who were told they were being sent to be resettled in the East. Actually, the tracks led to the death camp known as Treblinka, where between 700,000 and 900,00 mostly Polish Jews were killed from July, 1942 thru October, 1943. We then went to a street where the remnants of the ghetto wall still exist, with a plaque on the wall in memory of the Jews killed in the ghetto.
We left Warsaw and made our way to Tykocin/Tiktin, a shtetl that was home to Jews from the 1600s. The Jewish community was a very important part of the greater community. As you enter the village, the first sight visible is what used to be the house of the melamed—cheder teacher—with a stained glass Magen David on the door. On August 25, 1941, the Nazis gathered the 1,700 Jews, men, women and children, and sent them six miles away into the Lupachowa Forest. In two days, all the Jews of Tiktin were massacred and buried in three mass graves. All that remains of the Jewish community in Tiktin is a beautiful shul that is nothing more than a museum. How very sad.
Our next stop was Treblinka. Treblinka was built in a forest, far away from prying eyes and questions about what occurred there. Upon entering the camp, we were struck by the serenity of the place; there is only grass and trees. Treblinka was the second most lethal death camp, based on the number of victims. After a semi-successful revolt by the Sondercommandos (Jews whose job it was to bury the victims), the Nazis completely demolished the camp. Today there are only monuments to the memory of the victims.
Wednesday morning we headed to Majdanek. The concentration camp of Majdanek was built in October, 1941, primarily as a camp for Polish and Russian prisoners of war. Eventually, gas chambers and crematoria were added. What is most notable about Majdanek is that, unlike Treblinka, it is in the middle of the city. Apartment buildings are across the street from the fences of the camp. As you enter, the first buildings you see are the showers and disinfecting barracks. Of course these were gas chambers, where Zyklon-B was used to kill the victims. Not all of the victims were killed in the gas chambers. In November of 1943, 43,000 Jews were shot to death by 500 reserve policemen called in from Germany, in just two days—one of the largest executions ever in history. These policemen were regular citizens with families back home. What was it that turned these men into the most brutal animals? There are two indentations in the grass near the crematoria, where the victims were buried. Only a few feet away stands the monument in memory or the 78,000 victims, of which 59,000 were Jews. The monument is a dome covering the ashes of thousands of Majdanek’s victims. In July, 1944, as the Russian army was approaching, the Nazis abandoned the camp, leaving it almost intact.
From Majdanek we made our way to Lublin to see the Yeshiva of Chachmei Lublin, one of the most prestigious yeshivas in pre-war Europe. It was there that Rav Meir Shapiro established the concept of Daf Yomi. As we approached the building, we saw that it has become a hotel—Hotel Ilan—run by Israelis that is not kosher. We made our way up to the third floor, which was where the beit hamedrash was. Once filled with hundreds of students, today it is a shell of itself. There is a beautiful aron kodesh, with a new paroches, but no sefer Torah. Rabbi Goldberg gave a shiur on the Daf Yomi of that day, and then we davened Mincha and left. The visitors who come there to learn or daven are very few and far between. Again, a museum. Leaving the yeshiva behind, we made our way to Lejenszk to visit the kever of the Holy Rebbe Elimelech of Lejenszk.
The kever is housed in a small enclosure in the old Jewish cemetery. The burial site is enclosed by a gated structure, and is filled with hundreds of kvittlach—petitions asking the rebbe to help with their individual problems—health, parnassah, shidduchim, children etc. We then went to the guest house run by the small Jewish community for a tisch led by Rabbi Goldberg, complete with food, singing and divrei Torah.
We began Thursday with a visit to Lancut, where there was a small Jewish community before the war. Today, all that remains is a beautiful shul, with painted walls with many of the tefilot on them. This was a common practice in the old shuls, since siddurim were scarce and usually only the rav and the chazan and maybe one or two of the rich men had them; these prayers were painted on the walls and used for davening. Once again, the glory of the community is a relic and a mere shadow of what was.
We then headed for the city of Tarnow, a city with a once rich and vibrant Jewish presence. We were met in Tarnow by a gentleman named Adam Borsch, a man in his 70s and the historian of Tarnow’s Jews. Mr. Borsch is not Jewish. He is an anthropologist by education who came to Tarnow after the war to learn the history of this city’s Jewish people. Jews first came to Tarnow as early as the 1500s. By the time World War II began, there were around 25,000 Jews in Tarnow, and there wasn’t a street that did not have a shul or a shteibel. In April, 1941, the first Jews, around 700, were deported to Auschwitz. By June, 1942, more than 12,000 were sent to their deaths in the Belzec death camp. By war’s end, most of Tarnow’s Jews had been killed. The rest left Tarnow for Israel or the Goldene Medina—the USA. Mr. Borsch has established the Jewish Museum of Tarnow and works with educators to teach the history of Tarnow’s glorious Jewish past. Interestingly, Mr. Borsch’s daughter converted to Judaism and lives in Jerusalem.
The group then headed for the Zbilatowska Gora Forest. This site is generally known as the children’s forest. It was here that the Nazis executed over 10,000 men, women and children. Six thousand of the victims were Jews, among them 800 young children. No one leaves this site unaffected.
Friday was the day I dreaded: Auschwitz. My father’s family was murdered in Auschwitz-Birkenau. Birkenau, designated as Auschwitz II, was where most of the Jews were murdered. It is believed that nearly one million people were killed there. We entered the camp through the infamous watchtowers that stood above the tracks that brought the cattle cars crammed with Jews who were heading to their final destination. We walked past the tracks that came to the “Judenrampe,” the platform where the victims exited the cramped cattle cars and waited for their fate. Women, children and the sick and frail were immediately sent to the left—the so-called showers. Their deaths came within hours of their arrival. The other side was where the able-bodied men were lined up five across facing the Nazi doctors, and were told to go right or left. To the right meant you got to live for a few more days. To the left, you followed the women and children. We walked past the platform to the area where those chosen to live worked: cutting off the hair of the women on their way to the gas chambers, sorting the clothing of the victims to be sent to Germany, going through the clothing looking for valuables that the victims brought with them, believing they were being sent to the East, and so on. We then went to the gas chambers/crematoria. The Nazis tried to destroy the evidence of this heinous place before the Allied armies arrived. They blew up the two crematoria, but left the residue. Each of them was capable of murdering 1,300-1,500 people every day, seven days a week. Do the math. We then boarded our bus for the short ride to Auschwitz I—the one with the infamous Arbeit Macht Frei sign over the entrance. This was originally a Polish army base that the Nazis took over and made into Koncentration Lager Auschwitz, and used to imprison Poles. Eventually, gas chambers and a crematoria were added, capable of murdering 800 victims a day, seven days a week. Part of this camp is a museum, visited by over a million people annually. The museum section is very moving, as there are separate rooms with thousands of victims’ shoes, clothing, suitcases, eyeglasses and hair. After exiting the museum section we went to the crematoria, where we recited a Kel Maleh Rachamim and said Kaddish. This bus ride back to Krakow was obviously very somber.
We arrived back in Krakow around 3 p.m. and began to prepare for Shabbos. We davened in our hotel, and then made our way to the hall where we were having our Shabbos meal. The meal was joyous, with conversation, divrei Torah and zemiros.
The next morning, we were going to be davening at the Isaak shul/Chabad of Krakow. The week we were in Krakow coincided with the 27th annual Kracow Jewish Culture Festival. Very little Jewish, and much less culture. Joining us in shul that Shabbos morning were Rabbi Shmuley Boteach, who was in Krakow to protest the upcoming UNESCO vote on the Me’arat Hamachpelah; Israeli Knesset speaker Yuli Edelstein, who was there for the festival; and Chief Rabbi Shudrich. After davening we were treated to a beautiful kiddush and were addressed by Rabbi Boteach. Before lunch, we toured Old Krakow and saw many of the old shuls. Once again, they were empty. On the way to lunch, we stopped off at the new JCC, dedicated by HRH the Prince of Wales in the mid 1990s. Rabbi Avi Baumel is the shaliach of the Rabbanut to Poland. He has classes a few times a week, attended by 20-30 young Polish teens. The JCC has over 650 members and is growing, as Judaism is making a slow comeback. During lunch, we heard from two survivors and a Righteous Gentile. Havdalah was a typical NCSY havdalah, but with 35 adults, singing and dancing as Shabbos ebbed away on our last night in Poland.
As I reflect on this trip, I know it was something I needed to do. For my family. For myself.
By Rabbi Steve Roth
Rabbi Roth has been a resident of Passaic for the past 46 years. He was the founding rabbi of Kehilas Eitz Chaim in Passaic, from where he retired eight years ago. He and his wife, Fern, currently split their time between Passaic, Florida and Israel. They have three married children, who live in Israel, Baltimore and Teaneck with their families.
