MOL - Day 3 from Monica Mendel Bensoussan

Another beautiful day in Warsaw - the sin is shining, the sky is blue and the air is unseasonably warm. We are on our way to Tykochin, a true shtetl over 400 years old. Our guide reminds us that it is not possible to begin to understand the holocaust without understanding the vibrancy of Jewish life  prior to the war. One cannot understand human loss, cultural loss, intellectual loss, spiritual loss without appreciating the richness of polish Jewish culture, intellect, spirituality and religion. It is hard to imagine Poland as the venter of Jewish life. With over 3.5 million Jews in Poland, it represented the largest Jewish community in the world.

Tykochin:

Simple wooden houses surrounding the majestic synagogue of Tykochin - that describes the people of the shtetl. They lived, worked, celebrated and died in this village for over 500 years. Their lives centred around their beloved synagogue. The village is best known for its tallitot. A tallitot made in Tykochin was a treasure!
The synagogue is magnificent - ornate, bright, happy! The walls are decorated with inscription from the Torah. The bima stands proudly in the centre of the room. The Montreal delegation, at Rabbi Poupko's suggestion, fills the room with music. "Let's restore this synagogue to its former glory," he says as we all begin to sing Am Yisrael Chai. As the singing gets louder (primarily because of the spirit of the Herz kids), circles begin to form. We dance the hora with purpose, with meaning, with joy. We use the room as it should be used - as it once was used. I can actually imagine the inhabitants of this village living peacefully with their Polish neighbours, working together, sharing their lives. A synagogue on one end of the town square and a church on the other end.

On the 24th of August, 1941 everything changed. The Jews of Tykochin were told to be at the town square at 6am with no more than 10 kilos of belongings each. 2000 Jews were loaded onto trucks and driven away to....

Lopuchowa Forest:

We drive in complete silence for 10 minutes straight into the most beautiful forest. I don't think I've ever seen such tall, slender trees. They stand straight close to one another creating a canopy of foliage. Ella and Ernest, arm in arm, slowly and purposefully lead us through the forest. I can't even imagine what Ella and Ernest must be thinking. They are so strong, so brave, so committed to all these children. We follow our survivors down the winding path through the forest with dread, with fear, with deep sadness. The kids don't know what to expect but somehow we all know that the joyful story of the rich lives of the Tykochin community which we heard moments ago, did not end well. We arrive at a tiny opening in the forest still covered by the foliage of the tall trees. The clearing is covered with yizkor candles, Magen David's made from branches, Israeli flags. Ronen asks me to read the story of Rivka Yosselevcka out loud to the students. I can't bear to look at Ella and Ernest. I am unprepared and nervous as I begin reading. Rivka recounts the heart wrenching story of the murder of the Jews of Tykochin in this forest at this spot - the murder if her husband, her children, her parents, her extended family. As I read the gruesome details The tears roll down my cheeks and my voice cracks. Ella cries. Her sniffling breaks my heart. She shouldn't be here but she insists on being here.

I read Rivka's story...she describes the Jews being ordered to undress. Those who refused, including her father, were shot where they stood. The naked men, women and children climb the tiny hill 10 at a time. At the top, they stand in a line - mothers holding babies, young, elderly...and are shot. The bodies fall down the other side of the hill into the waiting pit. As a child, she describes the curiosity of her children who want to know what lies on the other side of the hill. Bloodied bodies on top of bodies, some dead, some dying, some suffering, some suffocating beneath the weight of the dead. I continue reading. Ella cries softly surrounded by the students who hold her hands, hug her, support her. Rivka describes her own death...it is her turn to climb the hill. She is shot. She feels no pain. Is this what death feels like? Hours go by...she cannot breathe. She can't be dead if she feels that she is suffocating. Death would be far better. She hears the crying of a baby. She fights her way to the top (through I cannot fathom what) to reach the baby. It is her own baby. The others are gone but this one cries. She surfaces with her child. She is alive because of her child. I am sobbing. The students surround me. They should be with Ella and Ernest, not me. I continue reading Rivka's story. She describes her guilt, her anguish at surviving. "Why did I live?" She asks. 

Bus one joins the other buses at the centre of the memorial spot. Rabbi Poupko talks about the beautiful Tikochin community. The Rabbi reminds us all that each person murdered in this forest had a name, a family, a life. We join hands and sing Ani Maamin. Ernest quietly walks to the front of the Montreal group and recites Kadish, a few students light candles. We are profoundly moved. Why is the sun still shining? Why is the forest so alive with growth and beauty? We board the bus once again in silence.

Treblinka:

We were not in Treblinka. We were in the place were Treblinka was. We did not bare witness to the horrors of the Holocaust. Only survivors can say that they were witnesses. We are students.

Treblinka was a death facility whose purpose was to murder the Jews of Poland. The facility had no other purpose.   The facility measured a mere 600 x 400 meters. 874 thousand Jews were murdered here. Ronen asks the group, " how many Germans did it take to operate this death facility - to murder close to one million Jews?" The answer shocks us. The students audibly gasp. 25 Germans worked at Treblinka aided by 100 Ukranians. Jews arriving from towns and villages from across Poland spent less than 1 hour at Treblinka. So many questions, so many emotions. Ronen answers each and every question encouraging the students to express themselves.

Nothing remains here other than stones representing the villages from where Jews arrived, a monument located at the sight of of the gas chamber and cement blocks along the path of the train tracks hidden among the trees. Ronen tries to explain what it was like to travel by cattle car for hours or days to Treblinka. The students read testimonies out loud but it is incomprehensible, unimaginable.

The sun is still shining and the sky is bright blue. The entire Montreal delegation gathers among the stones chiseled with various village names. Rabbi Poupko talks to us about the beauty of nature. We should expect a beautiful world created by God. Evil comes from man and stands in stark contrast to the magnificence created by God. The most remarkable part of the Holocaust that defies all logic is not the depths of human evil but rather the courage and resilience of holocaust survivors. Holocaust survivors epitomize hope. After living through human evil in its purest and most severe form, they went on to build beautiful families. The Rabbi urges us not to lose hope. He asks Sidney (Zoltak) to tells the students what he thinks of when he comes to Treblinka. Sidney tells the students that Treblinka is the memorial sight of his village. Through tears he tells us that he is the sole survivor of his elementary school class. Not one of his classmates survived. The students listen in silence, some begin to cry, others hold hand. Everyone takes a step closer to Sidney. Sidney tells us that he thinks of class reunions at Treblinka. He cannot have a class reunion, like most people, in any other place so he comes to Treblinka to have his reunions. We are all crying as Sidney struggles to give his testimony.
Sidney, Teddy, Tom, Rena, Ella and Ernest say Kadish surrounded and supported by students who are in awe of their courage, strength and spirit.

We walk slowly back to the bus to head back to Warsaw to spend Shabbat as a strong, unified Montreal Jewish community. The kids are incredible.

The sun is still bright and the sky is still blue. I keep on thinking that this place should be black and white.