There is more to the Jewish story than turmoil and tragedy

"Those who do not remember the past are condemned to repeat it."

When I entered the barracks at Auschwitz two months ago, those words from George Santayana were the first I read.

I was not ready for the week that awaited me in Poland, and nothing could have prepared me for the horrors I was about to witness. My experience confronted me with a reality that no textbook, no lecture, no documentary can ever fully convey.

This spring, I had the incredible opportunity to participate in the March of the Living and to learn about the atrocities of the Holocaust firsthand. Throughout the trip, I traveled with the Northeast Delegation, a group of nearly 75 students, and Holocaust survivor Sami Steigmann.

As soon as we landed in Poland, we traveled to Auschwitz. It was not what I expected. It was enormous, crowded and industrial. There, I stood inside a gas chamber and touched the very walls that prisoners clawed in a desperate attempt at freedom, for one more second of air, one more second of life. Then, I looked up and saw the openings in the ceiling where Zyklon B was poured onto innocent men, women and children.

One of the most meaningful experiences of the trip was our visit to Tykocin, a small shtetl roughly two hours northeast of Warsaw. Tykocin was beautiful, the kind of place where you could imagine generations of Jewish life flourishing. We stood in the synagogue in the center of town and sang “Hinei Ma Tov,” a song of Jewish life, joy and happiness, celebrating how good it is that we could be together.

Then we learned what happened in Tykocin.

On Aug. 25, 1941, the Jews of Tykocin were ordered to the market square. They were marched and trucked to the Łopuchowo Forest, forced to dig large pits, line up on the edges, and were massacred. We went to the forest and stood beside those very pits. A total of 2,500 Jews remain buried there.

One story we were told was impossible to forget. A mother and her young daughter stood hand in hand on the edge of one of the pits. The mother was asked whether she wanted the Nazi soldier to shoot her first, or her daughter first.

At Treblinka, where nearly 870,000 Jews were murdered, we took a moment for ourselves to process the overwhelming wave of emotions we were experiencing. Sami, our Holocaust survivor, raised his arms, smiled and declared, "We are here. We made it." I led the Northeast Delegation in “Hatikvah” as we remembered the victims murdered there.

On the day of the March, more than 7,000 Jewish teens from around the world gathered at Auschwitz as we prepared to march to Birkenau, the same route where prisoners once marched toward their deaths.

This time, we were living.

This time, 7,000 Jewish teens, determined to remember, determined never to forget, marched together in solidarity and in a promise that we would never again allow dehumanization, never again allow antisemitism to rise.

On the March, I met many Jews my age from around the world. Different cultures, different languages, but united by our shared religion, our shared heritage and our shared history.

One moment comes back to me every time I think about what I took away from Poland.

At Tykocin, one of the rabbis told us about the history of the synagogue. Somebody asked if it had become a museum.

The rabbi said no. Judaism was never meant to live behind glass.

Someone else asked if it was still a practicing synagogue.

The rabbi responded, "Not on its own. It only becomes alive when Jews fill it."

Finally, someone asked if there was still a Torah there.

The rabbi paused for a moment and looked at us.

"Yes," he said. "The Torah lives in each and every one of you."

While this trip brought me face to face with some of the darkest evils of human nature, it also showed me that there is more to the Jewish story than turmoil and tragedy. Our story is one of resilience and flourishing.

On the March of the Living, I realized there is hope for the Jewish future, hope that antisemitism will fall, hope for peace and security in Israel and hope for Moshiach, the day when we say "Next year in Jerusalem" at our Passover seder and truly mean it.

Am Yisrael Chai.

May our Father in Heaven bless the State of Israel and shield it with His loving kindness. God bless America, and God bless the State of Israel.

RYAN GOLDITCH is a senior at Cranston High School West. This trip was made possible by a grant from the Jewish Alliance of Greater Rhode Island.