Last week we went to Poland for six days and explored the country and learned more about the Holocaust. I expected that the trip to Poland was going to be hard, but I didn’t realize just how difficult it was actually going to be.

It’s just incomprehensible. How can such a horrific act take place against millions of people, not just Jews, and the rest of the world just stays silent? Going into it I expected to feel a lot of different things- sadness, confusion, disappointment. Above all I just felt angry. Angry that the rest of the world did nothing to help. Angry that, in a way, we were so foolish, always having hope for the future so we didn’t fight back until it was too late. Angry that our friends, neighbors, teachers, people we grew up with and had known for all of our lives just stood by and let us be killed. Angry that God, if there is one, did nothing to help. I expected that this trip would change me and give me a better understanding on just how much we lost. Six million. A number I will not forget.

I went into the trip looking for answers. What was life like before? How did something like this happen? What did the six million experience? Coming out of it I know that there are no answers, only one last question. What now? Do we continue to mourn and stay in the past, or do we move forward? We do both. We never forget all that we lost and we keep them in our memories, but we also continue to be Jewish, and by doing that, we show that no matter what, nothing can destroy us. 

One of the hardest things about being in Poland was how beautiful it was. The country is so pretty, full of small, cute little towns with gorgeous views. Sometimes you forget where you actually are. I’ll never forget being in Birkenau, watching the sun set over a pond. It was eerily beautiful, and for a minute I forgot that underneath that pond were the ashes of 80,000 Hungarian Jews. Or that in the forest where that pond is, thousands of people waited to be sent to their deaths in the gas chambers.

There are no words to describe how being in the camps themselves makes you feel. It goes against every fiber in your body to step into them, or the gas chambers, or the barracks, but stepping out is even worse. Knowing that millions of people never made it out alive, that their lives were cut short simply because they were Jewish.

This trip reminded me how privileged I am, that I live in a community filled with Jews, that I can be a Jew without fear of persecution, and that I know I am safe in my own home. Six million. A number that is engraved in the mind of every Jew around the world. This trip helped me think about the Shoah not just as a number, but as individual people, each with lives ahead of them, dreams to be fulfilled. In the end, we won. We survived, and we have our own state. No longer are we dependent on other countries and governments to act on the interests of the Jews. We can defend ourselves and help Jews around the world.

The story of the Jews is never ending. Time and time again we have been oppressed and persecuted, but each time we survive. We continue to make names for ourselves, to establish ourselves in society, and we maintain our customs and traditions. Going to Poland taught me a lot, but the most important thing I have learned is that I am proud to be a Jew.