From Bergen Belsen to Yerushalayim

Whenever I take a group of women to Poland with Mesorah Tours, we find ourselves standing in the gas chambers of Majdanek. I want so much to convey the story of our people. Ours is a miraculous journey. How often has the world declared the end of our nation, chas veshalom. As we contemplate the raging antisemitism that is overtaking continents and spreading hatred online across the globe, we must infuse ourselves with hope.

We stand in the darkness. It is as if I can hear the cries and prayers that still echo in this sacred space and reach the heavens above. I share that when I was blessed with my first daughter, I brought my grandmother, Mama, to meet the baby. As I placed the precious bundle in her arms, Mama began to sing the Yiddish lullaby that she used to sing for me and my siblings. “Shlufee, shlufee maidela…sleep, sleep my little girl. You will learn Torah and grow up to be a great tzadekes” The same beautiful lullaby that Mama’s mother and bubby would sing to her as an infant in Hungary.

Mama’s eyes glistened. “You know shayna meidela,” she said. “There were days in my life that I never knew if I’d see the sun shine again. Days in Bergen Belsen that were filled with pain. I lost so many people that I loved. But I always knew that Am Yisrael would survive. And here I am…. sitting in your kitchen holding my great grandchild in my arms. Who could believe it? Hashem is so good.”

Years passed. My beloved Mama returned her neshama to Shamayim. My little girl grew up and, Baruch Hashem, married. One day as I was putting the finishing touches on my parenting book, my phone rang. My son-in-law was on the line.

“Mazel Tov, Mommy! It’s a girl!”

I was on the next plane to Yerushalayim. Chasdei Hashem my very first grandchild! To see continuity, the next dor, is an incredible dream that we daven for. I recall walking into my children’s apartment. My daughter gave me the baby to hold.

“Mommy, we named her Miriam, for Mama.” My heart filled.

That night I slept with baby Miriam in her room. At 5 a.m. I heard the sweet cries of the newborn. As I opened my eyes, the golden sun of Yerushalayim streamed through the shutters.

I held the baby and rocked her in my arms as I fed her. “Shlufee, shlufee maidela” I sang. Now it was I who sang Mama’s lullaby. The same song my bubbies sang to their babies before the world witnessed holocaust, cattle cars and gas chambers.

“Look Mama,” I whispered. “Here I am holding baby Miriam. She is carrying your name, Mama. And we are here, in Yerushalayim. From Bergen Belsen to Yerushalayim! Who could have believed it? Hashem is so good.”

Majdanek is surrounded by barbed wire. There are a looming watch tower and crematoria that strike fear in one’s heart. When we depart that place where evil thought they would triumph we walk out taller, stronger, and prouder. We rediscover the resilience of our nation. Yes, it is a place of unimaginable suffering. But just as Rabbi Akiva laughed when he saw foxes trotting in the Kodesh HaKedoshim after the churban raged, as he felt comfort for the good that would come, we must lean upon his strength.

We have witnessed prophesies of destruction. We have lived through the darkest time since the holocaust. Who could have imagined the fires burning across Europe as chants against our people fill the air with twisted rage?

We await the geulah shelaima. We have triumphed over those who thought they would build monuments to remember that once there were Jews who walked the earth. Those who scream ‘from the river to the sea’ and wish to rid the world of the Jews do not comprehend the love of Avinu Shebashamayim that has survived the centuries of galus.

We hold onto the promise of Ani Maamin. The rebbe, Reb Elimelech taught that chevlei Mashiach will be a chevel, a rope that will shake from Shamayim to aretz. Those who hold on and not let go will see the yeshuah.

Hold on tight. Do not be afraid. From Bergen Belsen to Yerushalayim. Hashem is so good.