Remembering

I've noticed that a lot of my fellow bloggers have already written about it, but I'm adding in my experience. Today was Yom Hashoah- Holocaust Remembrance Day. For all my struggles to find a Jewish community, feel comfortable and at home within Judaism, I have never had trouble connecting to stories of the Holocaust. Reading both Anne's diary and Number the Stars in 6th grade deeply affected my life and when I visited the Anne Frank Museum in Amsterdam 7 years ago, I cried pretty much from the moment I walked in until I left.

I often take issue with how the Holocaust seems to be a crutch for many Jews- the penultimate victim narrative that we just can't seem to move beyond. And what I see as an excuse for Israel to do things I do not agree with. But to be here for Yom Hashoah was a moving experience. At 10 am, sirens were sounded, and for a few minutes, everyone just stopped. I looked out a window at Pardes onto a busy street and I all I could think of was that Improv Everywhere stunt where a group of people suddenly freeze in the middle of Grand Central Station. It was surreal- things started to get quiet just before the siren started, then, suddenly, the wail of the siren began and people froze on the sidewalks, cars pulled to the side of the road, taxi drivers opened their car doors, got out and stood still. It was eerie, as time stopped in remembrance for a few moments.

Then just as soon as it had come to a halt, life picked right back up again. People slung their backpacks over their shoulders, hopped on their bikes, and continued on their way. Cars continued on the road, everyone went about their business.

Of all the communities devastated by World War II, Jews are the only one who have not yet recovered their population. We were 18 million prior to the Holocaust, and today we are 13 million.

I heard a survivor speak today. Soon there won't be any left. I will remember, and I will tell stories.