Poland-Israel Journey 2017

2. Poland-Israel Journey
A project of the Portland Kollel
www.polandisraeljourney.com
503 245 5420
Photo Credits: Melissa Dodson
To say it was a trip would be an understate-
ment. A journey would better describe it. A
journey of a lifetime. The Poland-Israel Jour-
ney was an idea that developed in the Port-
land Kollel to provide a meaningful experience
for our constituents, mainly women who had
already experienced an impactful trip to Israel
together with us on the JWRP trips, and for others
as well who were ready for something more. And
more it was! It was really so much more than what
we had originally envisioned, more powerful than we
thought was possible! We took a walk into our past,
learnt so much about our history, the beautiful parts
and the most painful parts. Some 1000 years of Eastern
European Jewish life celebrated and lived with joy and
passion, splendor and greatness and then, as if almost
overnight, it all turned to ashes. Before this trip I would nev-
er have thought of the gas chambers in the concentration
camp as a holy place. I would have associated such a place
with the worst evil in the world. But with a shift in perspective
we understood that in this place of utter devastation, a place
wheremillionsofJewsdied‘AlKiddushHashem’,sanctifyingG-d’s
name,manyofthemdiedwiththewordsofthe‘ShemaYisrael’on
their lips. The holiness of that place was felt and honored by us
as we covered our eyes with our right hands and sang the Shema Yis-
rael in that space. And then we walked out of the gas chambers into
the beautiful spring day. The birds were chirping, the flowers were
swaying in the breeze. We were alive! Our life felt like it was starting
anew. Nothing looked the same. The question kept creeping up...
what does this mean for us? Somewhere along the trip it seemed
as if the tables had turned. At first, it felt as if we were looking
in on the past, visiting the
graves, walk- ingthroughthe
ruins, peering in on the frag-
ments of what once was...
and then all of a sudden
it felt like the tables had
turned. It was ‘ t h e m ’
looking at us. The
hundreds, no, thousands, no, millions of Jewish souls
peering down at us asking us, what we have done
in their merit? What have we done to avenge their
deaths? What have we done for the Jewish peo-
ple? How will we live differently after gaining this
profound understanding? Everything was put
into perspective. So much seemed crystal clear.
This trip, this journey,seemed to be just the
beginning of a lifelong connection to our true
selves.
LETTER FROM EVE
“This trip, this
journey, seemed
to be just the
beginning
of a lifelong
connection to our
true selves.”

3. OUR VISIT TO THE
WARSAW CEMETERY
BLOG POST FROM
SARAH ROSENBERG-BROWN
We step through the gate of the Warsaw Cem-
etery among sounds of a bustling modern city
into a serene yet powerful scene.
As far as the eye can see we are surrounded by tall
leafy trees, lush grass and thousands upon thou-
sands of Jewish headstones.
As we wander the endless rows of graves commemo-
rating the righteous, birds sing and flit through the air.
Standing among the graves, cottonwood seeds drift
down from the sky as if whispers of the neshamot (souls)
of those who came before us.
We are the bridge from the rich culture and history that our
people so vibrantly lived for a thousand years.
We teach our children and imbue them with the love of our
tradition for the future.
“We teach our children
and imbue them with the
love of our tradition for
the future.”

4. MAJDANEK
BLOG POST BY EVE LEVY
Today we visited the Majdanek concentration camp. No words
can begin to describe the strong feelings I felt in this place. My
own grandmother, Bubby Guta Fleising, may she live and be
well, slaved in that very camp.
Upon entering the camp there was a place where the Nazis
did a ‘selection’, deciding who was fit to work and who was
doomed to be killed straight away. And right there, where
they did the selections, the Jews were taken into a barrack,
to have their hair shaven off, and to be showered and disin-
fected. Some went straight to the gas chambers which were
in a connecting room in the barrack, and some were sent
to slave labor.
In the small room where they sheared the hair, I choked
back my tears. As a woman, I could not imagine how
devastating it must have been to have everything tak-
en from me. Everything! Family, belongings...to have
nothing in the world! And then on top of that to even
lose your beauty and individuality. I realize that in the
large scope of things losing one’s hair seems to be
the least important thing to worry about. You can
function fine without it. You might be cold in the
winter but other than that, it’s not a vital part of a
person. But, yet it is such an important part of a
woman. Let’s admit it. It’s a part of who we are
and we have a strong relationship with our hair.
A memory crept into my mind of my dear
mother, may she be well. When I was a teen-
ager my mom was battling cancer. One of the
side effects of her treatments was that she lost all of her hair. She was usually very positive and upbeat
throughout those difficult times, at least in front of us, her kids. One day I walked into her room and she
was standing in front of the mirror crying. She said to me “I even lost my eyebrows and eye lashes.” She
was so devastated. We cried together that day. I will never forget that raw pain as I watched my mother
lose something so dear to her.
IamanOrthodoxmarriedJewishwomanandIembracedtakingonthebeautifulcustomofcoveringmyhairsince
my wedding day. I feel very connected to this holy mitzvah. My great-grandmothers also fulfilled this mitzvah with
all their hearts, and I feel connected to them and to the holy women that have come before me through it.
In Judaism hair is very connected to spirituality.
We have deep kabbalistic under- standings about hair. In He-
brew, ‘se’ar’ is the word for hair. The same root word ‘sha’ar’ is
a gate. Our hair is known to be a gateway, a ‘sha’ar’ to purity and
impurity. The soul actually leaves the body through the extremi-
ties...hair, fingertips.
As far as my limited understanding in the mystical area, hair (or the area
on top of the head) emanates a po- tent spiritual aura. it is a strong portal
to our neshama, our soul. Where there is more spiritual voltage you need
more spiritual protection.
The Gemara in Tractate Brachot tells us that Hashem (G-d) ‘braided’ Eve’s hair before her wedding to Adam. She was the first
and only woman. She didn’t have a mother to help her ‘get ready’.
Hashem lovingly did it for her. This was G-d’s gift to Chava, the mother of all life. This was G-d’s gift to Her and to all womankind
who come after her.
Hair represents imagination and possibilities.
G-d was showing us women that we are entrusted to create every possibility with the strengths He gave us.
Hair represents imagination and possibilities and the power to create. The Nazis seemed to understand the power of hair. They
took it away from the women (and men) in the camps, leaving them without this power of creativity and individuality.
Take a second to acknowledge your relationship with your hair.
Take a second to think about the millions that were stripped of this gift.
“My great-grandmothers also
fulfilled this mitzvah with all
their hearts, and I feel con-
nected to them and to the
holy women that have come
before me through it. “

5. THINGS I WILL REMEMBER
BLOG POST FROM JODI GARBER-SIMON
Things I will remember - Reflections on Majdanek
The walls of the gas chambers are a deep blue -
A beautiful shade of my favorite color.
Zyklon B - the sinister gas - the chemicals that dropped in from the
roof and killed so many - stained the walls blue.
I thought, while standing on the concrete where so many died,
“Do I need to change my favorite color?”
But I realize that from the horror of that place - from the horror of the
camps and the death chambers - the fields that still contain ditches
dug by Jews and then used as their graves -
Comes a great beauty.
A beauty in the Shema being said as people perished, a beauty in the
stories of those who survived. A beauty in teenagers from Detroit sing-
ing Ha’Tikvah while waving Israeli flags on the steps of a mausoleum
containing still unburied ashes of our ancestors.
A beauty in a sunny day when I, a Jewish woman, walked into the gas
chamber at Majdanek, sang some prayers in that holy space, and then
walked out the other side. Alive.
“But I realize that from
the horror of that place..
comes a great beauty.”

6. WARSAW - a poignant visit to one of the largest Jewish cemeteries
in Eastern Europe
LUBLIN - the site of an important Yeshiva in pre-war Europe
MAJDANEK - the best-preserved Nazi concentration camp and the
first to become a monument
LEZASJK - the gravesite of Reb Elimelech, a spiritual giant, one
of the founding figures of the Chassidic movement
LANCUT - the site of one of the world’s most
spectacular synagogues
ZBILATOWSKA GORA - site of the murder of 10,000 people
KRAKOW - heart of Jewish Poland
AUSCHWITZ - epicenter of the murder of millions of Jews
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including 6000 Jews and 800 children

7. FINDING PEACE IN THE
CEMETERIES –
SARAH ROSENBERG BROWN
As we traverse Poland I have found peace
in unlikely places, the cemeteries, known
in Hebrew as Beit Hachaim (house of life).
At home cemeteries are taboo, scary plac-
es that people avoid. But here in Poland
each time we have stepped through the
gates of the Jewish cemeteries, I have been
filled with serenity and peace. In many
ways these holy places are like parks with
lush green grass, large leafy trees, and the
beautiful songs of birds.
But so much more that the beautiful set-
ting, the cemeteries represent the normal
cycle of life, of community and honoring
our dead.
The cemeteries are in complete contridic-
tion to the horrors and terror of the death
camps, the ghettos, and the mass graves
that completely suspend reality and the
normalcy of life as we know it.
So, unexpectedly, I have found peace and
hope for life in the cemeteries.
AUSCHWITZ
HARRIETTE FLEISING
Eve and I walked through the Auschwitz-
Birkenau concentration camp.
We held onto each other trembling as we
saw the barracks, the cattle cars on the
train tracks, the towers and the ovens.
How could this be humanly possible for
anyone to have inflicted these horrific
crimes on our people?
I visualized our own family members being
shoved along with hundreds of others to
an unknown destination.
They died “Al Kiddush Hashem” sanctifying
Hashem’s name with “Shema Yisrael” on
their lips. We have no answers that could
possibly justify any of this.
We took our revenge on those murderers
by paying our respects to all of our holy
family members. We wept for what could
have been.
We wept for all of the losses of our loved
ones. We prayed for their neshamot to
have an Aliya!
“So, unexpectedly, I have found
peace and hope for life in the
cemeteries...”
“They died “Al Kiddush Hashem”
sanctifying Hashem’s Name with
“Shema Yisrael” on their lips.”

8. WITNESSING WITH MELISSA DODSON
You guys. I still have hundreds of photos from my trip to sort through. HUNDREDS.
Traveling through Poland and Israel, I gripped my camera like it was an extension of my own arm. I held onto
that camera the way most people hold onto their cell phones. Trading in the deft swipe of an unlock screen for
the satisfying click twist of the lens cap popping off and back on. I peered into dark corners waiting for my eyes
to adjust within the shadows, unsure of what – or whom – I might find there. I climbed trees, pulled spider webs
from my hair, scaled large stones, and very literally laid flat out on the ground, on solid dirt and earth and ash. I
lay my cheek on the cold hard steel of a railroad track that had once served as a one-way trip to hell. Arching for
just the right angle. For just the right shadow. For just the right sighing breath of the shutter snap.
Some days my aim and click were intentional, carefully framing for the best shot. Other days it was as if my
camera had a life of its own, it took off down winding paths away from the group with me just running to
catch up. Some nights, back in the hotel room I’d download the photos onto my laptop and I’d sit and stare,
as if seeing them for the first time. Who took these pictures? Surely it wasn’t me, I don’t remember taking
them. I don’t even remember having my camera with me. Was I even there today? Was that today or was it
yesterday? I don’t know. I don’t know if I want to know. It is so big. So much. So much.
At the end of each day there were several hundred photos waiting to be downloaded. To make room for
more. A clean slate the next day. A fresh eye to witness the horrors of the past. To see and hear and feel. To
witness. Because that’s what we can do, now. Witness.
I’d hoped to, in some minuscule way that might not even ever make a difference or a dent (only maybe it
will?), to capture *something*. Some glimpse into this past which was not so long past. Some hint of the
horror, one that we cannot ever forget and cannot ever allow to happen again. There are no words for most
of what we saw or where we stood. There are overwhelming emotions and the inability to process the hor-
rors which took place on the very ground upon which we stood.
And so now, within the comfort of my couch with my safe cozy blanket, I look through the photos each day.
A few at a time. I see faces looking back at me through the light of a shadow or in the way the sun hit the
clouds or through the barbed wire. I allow myself to feel the emotion and magnanimity of being there and
hearing and seeing and feeling. Witnessing.
SHEMA YISRAEL WITH
SANDY NEMER
We entered this place not to leave enraged
or angered....
It was cold...
We were just our group...alone..just us 23
women....
We stood there...
Tried to breathe...without tears
Deep inhale...
Closed our eyes... covered our eyes with
our right hands
In the echo of the room
We recited in unison... with all our hearts...
with all our souls...
“Shema Y’Israel”
To honor all of those who died
Echoing our souls
“...Echoing our souls”

9. I’m not a very religious per-
son but I am a very spiritual
person, and there is no deny-
ing the power of this place. It is
a palpable living breathing force
and I feel it in the ancient cob-
blestone streets and the centu-
ries-old buildings and the history
and ritual and the people and even
in the very air we breathe. So I came
to the Wall with all of the horror
witnessed in Poland. I laid my fore-
head on the Wall, eyes closed, palms
pressed against the cool stones, and
allowed the tears to fall in great waves
from within the deepest parts of me. I Al-
lowed the weight to drain. I Allowed.
It was the most authentic and powerful
moment of this whole trip so far.
I walked away from the Wall with a full heart
and a fresh new set of tears.
With a peace that can only be known by stand-
ing there.
With a heart open to feel all of the emotion and
power of this experience.
With gratitude.
And with smudged mascara streaks across my
swollen, tired face.
ISRAEL WITH MELISSA DODSON
I woke up early yesterday in Poland, after three very full, very heavy,
very overwhelming and emotional days of concentration camps and
massburialsitesandmonumentsforthedeadandfortheliving.Iran
fromonelastsitetoanother,camerainhand,cramminginasmuch
as humanly possible because I knew I’d probably never go back to
Poland. I never want to go back. The food is not so great and the
peoplearecoldandlifeless.Thereisnotafeelingofwelcome–of
home – on that soil. It must be why my ancestors left that place
even before the war. I got to the airport and flew from Poland
to Israel on a delayed flight on an empty stomach.
I arrived in Israel at 10 pm, went through customs and
passport check and boarded yet another bus. We drove
straight to the Kotel/Western Wall. It was after midnight
when we got there. All of the emotion of the past few
days welled up within me the very moment I began
the walk up hill to the Wall. The tears started spilling
the moment the ancient stones were in view, I wasn’t
even close enough to reach out and touch them yet.
All of the evil witnessed in Poland bubbled up to the
surface and began to be swept away by all of the
beauty of Israel. That’s how powerful it is here.
From the moment I landed and deplaned and
stepped on Israeli soil, my heart softened, my
shoulders began to relax, I felt my lungs fully
expand and contract in an exhale. I came to
the Wall and I opened myself to it’s power,
to its magic, to its holiness.
“I walked away from the
Wall with a full heart and
fresh new set of tears...”