Baltimore, MD - Apr. 14, 2024  - Last week I chaperoned my daughters 12th grade class trip to the United States Holocaust Museum. It was not an easy trip.  I had been there many years before after it first opened, believe it or not at the Horowitz-Margaretten (I am Margaretten and proud of it!) family reunion.  While I don’t remember much from nearly 30 years, I do remember it was a difficult tour. It has not changed that much since that time. Interestingly, the museum was packed with visitors, which was a refreshing surprise in today’s climate.  In fact, there was a school from California, and visitors from other countries!  Perhaps people are internalizing the truth of the message that is stated outside the museum; “ The Next time you witness hatred, see injustice, hear about genocide, think about what you saw.  This was a chilling statement to read considering the times we are living in.”

When the girls first came in, I was so glad to see my daughters class, representing our living Torah world.  Then, to hear a guide comment on their excellent behavior, was indeed a Kiddush Hashem I was proud to witness.  Personally, I know the facts and stories;  it courses through my veins.  I am a first born-American generation from both my father and mother.  My father was born in a small village near Debrecen and taken at the age of 15 with his mother and other family members to Auschwitz in the notorious cattle car.  My  mother was born at the very end of the war  in Nazi-occupied Budapest, never having met her father as he was already in Munka Tabora (labor camp) and killed on one of the transport marches, HY”D. My children are named for my aunts and uncles, those who B’Chasdei Hashem survived, and those who died Al Kiddush Hashem. 

The girls were indeed impacted by what they saw, as well as the other visiting teens.  It was toward the end of the exhibit, by liberation,  that an interesting interaction occurred.   My ears perked up when I heard shouting in Hungarian.  I followed the sound and saw there was a video of the de-humanizing work the prisoners did.  I quickly turned away, as I did with  many of the other pictures in the museum. The boys next to me could not.  They were frozen in horror and repeated to each other how traumatizing it was.  These are kids who are exposed to all kinds of violence and other disturbing images and yet this made an impression.  I told them they didn’t need to look if it was too difficult, that it’s ok not to. (I am a mom after all.)  Their chaperone quickly interjected, “no, you should look. We need to learn that this shouldn’t happen again.”  I agreed with her, but I added that unfortunately, it is happening again.  And here’s where it gets interesting.  Her response was, “ya, I hear you.” And she quickly moved on.  I was a bit stunned. The casual tone of her voice seemed to me an echo of the same response the world has  to our current state affairs.  “Ya, I hear that terrible things happened on October 7th.  Ya, I don’t condone those things.”  And that’s it. Now, I charge you to finish the rest of the statement as displayed outside the museum… think about what you saw.   Is the world thinking?  Are people really thinking about the hatred, injustice and genocide,  the killing rampage of so many and other macabre acts that occurred all in ONE day? Is anyone thinking about the regular people who were going about their lives who were kidnapped and are still missing  half a year later? What does the world THINK about THAT!”  That is what I wanted to tell, actually yell, to this woman.

However, I did have the opportunity to tell some other young thinking people about my own thoughts about the US Holocuast Museum when one girl asked if I liked it.  I shared with her my feelings that although  this was a hard trip for me to come on as I have a personal connection to it,  it is  still important to visit, to remember. Zechor V’Al Tishkach.  And, that a funny thing happened after I finished crying.  I started smiling. In this subdued and somewhat clinical and detached reported  observation of catastrophic events, the thought occurred to me that  here I am , the daughter of survivors, of family who actually endured what those pictures displayed.  Here I am.  Alive, with my daughter and all these beautiful Yeshiva girls, modeling Kol Kevudah Bas Melech Penima just in their very being, also descendants of the survivors. This is something to be proud of and to hold onto, especially in the times we are living in today. Am Yisroel Chai! 

Sometimes it takes an outside perspective to truly appreciate the most precious things.  I should thank this woman who has no idea of the thought process she started!  The introspection continued further as I drove home through the eclipse and felt the Gadlus HaBorei and concentrated on looking in front of me and not Above, while thinking  about Ein Od Milvado.

May it be Hashem’s will that at this time of Zeman Cheiruseinu, He will redeem us in the coming days, when the whole world will finally realize Hashem Hu HaElokim.

Chag Kosher V’Sameach