Although Bat Yam is not one of the top 10 tourist attractions in Israel, I would like to point out that in this city of well over 100,000, there is a memorial to the partisans of World War II. On that memorial, etched in stone, are the opening words to a poem penned by the poet Hirsch Glick: “Zog nit kaynmoll ahz du gayst dem letzten vegg.” (Never say that you are going down the last road). For me, those words take on special meaning. Not only did I learn them in grade school but, over time, I saw how they evolved into becoming the de facto anthem of yearly Yom HaShoah observances.
Ever since a vociferous and dangerous minority of the Western world became unhinged and began to excoriate Israel for the October 7 pogrom that Hamas unleashed against Israel, Glick’s “Never say that you are going down the last road” has taken several new meanings for me. Rather than serving as words of encouragement, admonishing us never to give up hope, they should be understood as a warning. “Never say that you are going down the last road.” There will be other roads of devastation that will confront you in the future.
Rather than words of comfort, Glick’s words should be understood as an alarm. “Never say that you are going down the last road” ought to be understood to mean “Don’t think that this is the last time that you are on the path of destruction.” Jews are harassed and beaten while college presidents turn a blind eye to the perpetrators. Jewish homes and businesses are defaced with antisemitic slurs. And yet those very same voices that have so often parroted “Zero tolerance” any time that hurtful behavior and speech have erupted are now suddenly, ominously silent. It wasn’t that long ago that the ICC (International Criminal Court) issued arrest warrants for Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu and former Defense Minister Yoav Gallant. Correct me if I’m wrong, but never has it happened that an arrest warrant has been issued for any leader of a democracy.
Glick never could have foreseen October 7 taking place, much less the aftermath that was unleashed, but he understood that history repeats itself. Neither concentration camps nor gas chambers are a prerequisite for man’s inhumanity towards his fellow man in so-called civilized society.
A mere six months ago, I was seated in a Jerusalem restaurant with Israeli relatives. Turning to me with more than a modicum of bewilderment, a second cousin of mine asked me to explain the sudden eruption of antisemitism in the United States. I explained that antisemitism has always existed in the United States. Until recently, it had been relatively clandestine. In the United States, it was socially unacceptable to express negative feelings about people who were not the typical white Christians. October 7, however, was a game changer. Israel’s response to the Gaza pogrom provided closet antisemites the necessary opening to release the venom that had been kept bottled up in them for so long. The terms “Israel” and “Zionist” suddenly provided them with useful euphemisms. It is now “acceptable” to speak about atrocities committed by Israel against “poor, innocent Palestinians.” It is now “kosher” to point out that Israel is an encumbrance on the United States. Suddenly, Zionists are not to be tolerated. I can’t help but wonder just how Glick would have reacted to this new meaning of “Never say that you are going down the last road.”
Admittedly, I know nothing about Glick’s upbringing, other than his prowess as a poet. I therefore have no idea whether his Jewish education included the study of Talmud. It should be noted that among its myriad teachings, the Talmud shares with us that “Silence is tantamount to consent.” One would do well to speculate whether such an observation could have applied to Pope Pius when it came to his refusal to speak out against the horrors emanating from Nazi Germany. I would like to believe that the pope’s silence was heard loud and clear by Glick’s generation. Yet, Pope Pius’ reticence to speak out against the plight of the Jews does not seem to have been inherited by the present pontiff. Pope Francis does not hesitate to speak out, especially when it concerns the evil that has been inflicted upon the “poor Palestinians” by their “imperialist Zionist” neighbors. While Pope Francis was quick to decry the suffering of Palestinian children, nary a word was heard about Israeli children being massacred by Hamas murderers and the mayhem they created when they invaded Israel. Here, too, a rereading of Glick’s “Never say that you are going down the last road” rings painfully loud and clear.
Now that well over a year has passed since the October 7 pogrom perpetrated by Hamas, perhaps World Holocaust Day, commemorated January 27, should take on new meaning as well. To truly honor the victims of the Holocaust and promote Holocaust education, World Holocaust Day would serve a far better purpose by directing its focus elsewhere. Let those instrumental in planning World Holocaust Day commit themselves to learning what has become Glick’s legacy. In doing so, they ought to also realize the new meaning that legacy has taken on. Man’s inhumanity against man continues to live on. October 7 serves as a painful reminder.
The time has come for world leaders as well as government officials in this country to put a stop to excoriating Israel. If they truly wish to help the “poor Palestinians,” then their first order of business must be to help oust their corrupt, criminal and totalitarian governments that place innocents in harm’s way. Academic leadership of colleges and universities must realize that freedom of speech is not, nor has it ever been, an absolute right. If students wish to protest what is occurring in other countries, then they would be well advised to protest in front of the embassies or consulates of those countries. Colleges and universities are for delving into knowledge, not for political pandemonium.
Sadly, no one knows how Hirsch Glick met his death. We can however honor his life by injecting life into the original meaning of “Never say that you are going down the last road.” Let his legacy be restored to a poem of optimism and hope, rather than disheartenment and despair. Let us pay tribute to the victims of the Holocaust by turning our society into one where we are able to properly distinguish between right and wrong, good and bad, moral and immoral.
Rabbi Shawn Zell has recently returned to New Jersey, after serving at a pulpit in Dallas. He possesses certification in teaching Yiddish. Rabbi Zell is the author of three books.
