Eastern European Trip Blog 2025

D’rash on Parashat Balak | By Bobby Nooromid 
 
If you cannot tell from the complexion of my wife, the embodiment of an Eishet Chayil extraordinaire, and the primary reason I was able to go on this voyage, and if you cannot deduce from the sound of our last name, ‘Nooromid,’ our families have no connection to anything European, Ashkenazi, or with the Shoah. So, what motivated me to embark on this journey? For one, Beth Am needed someone as Tech Support for the rest of the participants, who were of a different generation than I. Need a WhatsApp poll created, an eight-minute video uploaded to YouTube, or data roaming turned on so you can receive messages while abroad? I was your guy. I was also the surrogate child for the nearly two dozen Jewish mothers, who made sure that I ate and slept as much as possible during an intense two-week schedule. But also, as in accordance with our tradition, Rabbi Kligfeld didn’t want to be yet again the youngest one to recite the Mah Nishtanah at the trip’s reunion Seder next Pesach. So, it was the perfect move for him to recruit someone like me to join. 
 
In all seriousness, when I learned that Rabbi Dr. Berenbaum was guiding the first week of this trip – I use both titles here because he was equally a ‘Rav’ during our sojourn as well as The Scholar of All Scholars – I knew I could not let this March of The Living-style opportunity evade me yet again since I wasn’t able to attend it in high school and college. And, while we at Beth Am know that Michael Berenbaum is a pillar of our shul community and American Jewish University, you cannot fully appreciate his greatness until you’ve traveled with him through the concentration camps. Every detail, every nuance, every wrinkle he pointed out and thoroughly explained to us with equal parts candor and sensitivity. Other group leaders and educators stopped him more than once to introduce him to their group and explain what a global treasure he is. Even the former president of ORT America and his wife, a former chair of The Jewish Federations of North America Women’s Campaign, rearranged their schedules in Krakow so they could tour Auschwitz with our group because they knew who was leading it. Every participant on our bus felt like a real VIP. Also, if you were looking to close your rings on your Apple Watch every single day by walking at a 9.5-mph pace for nearly eight hours per day while simultaneously absorbing the entire compendium of Holocaust and Eastern European Jewish History, there was no better person to try to keep up with than Michael. 
 
In Parashat Balak, we encounter a paradox: King Balak hires the prophet Bilaam to curse the Jewish people, but instead, blessings pour forth. Time and again, Bilaam opens his mouth intending harm, but God turns his words into praise: 
 
“How goodly are your tents, O Jacob, your dwelling places, O Israel!” (Numbers 24:5) 
 
This moment is striking. Bilaam sees the Israelites not from within, but from a distance. From that vantage point, he sees their unity, their strength, their moral compass. He sees a people who dwell not just physically together but spiritually aligned with something higher. And yet, this moment of admiration comes within a parashah full of threat, fear, and attempted erasure. 
 
 

I thought about this paradox as we walked through Treblinka, Majdanek, Belzec, and Auschwitz-Birkenau — places not of blessing, but of unimaginable destruction. Unlike Bilaam, the evil architects of arguably the most nightmarish, horrific, and still unbelievable sites on Earth did not stop at words. They attempted to curse the Jewish people not metaphorically, but physically, systematically, and with terrifying precision. Imagine for a moment if Amazon, Apple, Facebook, Google, and Tesla all combined forces in the late 1930s and 40s to do the worst, most inhumane, and most despicable possible things to millions of human beings with the most insane efficiency and efficacy. That’s what walking through these camps felt like. It’s as if a version of October 7th replayed again and again and again every single day for years. 
 
And yet, as I stood with our group in these former Hells on Earth — sites soaked with profound suffering and unspeakable sadness — I found myself also encountering echoes of something else. Memory. Resilience. Witness. And strangely, even blessings, holiness, and miracles. 
 
Bilaam, standing apart from the Israelites, tried to see them as enemies, as a threat, as something to be eliminated. But from his vantage point, despite himself, he couldn’t help but see the truth: a people with a divine destiny, a people whose tents and dwelling places reflected purpose, compassion, and light. 
 
The Nazis were the modern-day Balaks. They feared the Jewish people, not for our armies or our weapons, but for our ideas and our success — for Torah, for conscience, for culture, for hope. They tried to annihilate that legacy, to curse it into oblivion. But, like in the parashah, their curse failed. 
 
When I stood in the crematorium at Majdanek, or looked out over the endless shoes at Auschwitz, I didn’t feel the power of their curse. I felt the stubborn pulse of Jewish memory. The names of relatives of Beth Am members that were recited. The songs and declarations of ‘Oseh Shalom’, ‘Am Yisrael Chai’, and ‘Shema Yisrael’ that were sung and reverberated. The preservation, survival, and establishment of synagogues in both large cities and small towns such as Bratislava, Budapest, Krakow, Lancut, Lublin, Prague, Sopran, Szanto, Warsaw, and Zamosc, of different architectural styles and various denominations. The sheer miracle that not only did our people’s existence eventually survive and that the State of Israel emerged, but also that these memorials and museums exist today with as much evidence and educational resources to depict what occurred. And the inspiring stories told by so many of our very own about how their ancestors survived and persisted. For me personally, hearing these stories of our community’s relatives and the tremendous blessings their example and memory impart on so many of us today was arguably the most impactful part of this travel experience. 
 
While at Auschwitz-Birkenau, Dr. Berenbaum told us the story of Hugo Lowy, z”l, who was killed for refusing to surrender his tallit and tefillin at the Nazi camp. As his son Frank said in his address to the March of the Living participants in 2013, “No matter how hard they hit him, he protected the sanctity of his tallit and tefillin. They could break his body, but they could not break his spirit. The tallit and tefillin were part of him, part of his personal relationship with God, and he was ready to die for them. And he did.” For the rest of my life, I will never look at the mitzvah of tallit and tefillin the same way ever again. This story, along with so many others, shook me to the core. Just let it sink in for a second – what parts of Jewish ritual life, identity, and mitzvot are we personally willing to live and die for today? We are so incredibly fortunate, yet we take the convenience of doing such blessed acts for granted when righteous people like Hugo literally sacrificed their life for them. 
 
While in Warsaw, we visited the Jewish cemetery and we paid tribute at the graves of Anna Braude-Heller, a pediatrician who ran the Jewish Children’s Hospital in the Warsaw Ghetto, and her sister Sara Aftergut and niece Steffi, who were the great-grandmother and great-aunt of Beth Am members Aaron Aftergood and Hannah Reinstein. It was a great privilege hearing their father, David Aftergood, speak about his relatives and learn more about their legacy. 
 
We also stopped at the Holocaust memorial in Zolkiewka, which was Rebecca Friedman’s paternal grandparents’ hometown, and we learned about how Rebecca’s father documented over 300 relatives in the early 1990s, including seven generations that were in Zolkiewka.  While there, we saw not one, but two rainbows, stretching in full arc, and we said the bracha. 
 
In Bratislava, Deborah Chariton visited sites that her great-grandparents, great-great grandparents, and great-great-great grandmother lived, prayed at, and are buried in, and Rabbi Kligfeld recited ‘El Malei Rachamim’ in their memory. 
 
And though we didn’t get to visit his hometown, while we traveled through the Slovak Republic, I had a chance to start reading the autobiography of Egon Steuer, z”l, father of Michael and David Steuer, and Holocaust survivor, as well.  
 
These are just a handful of the many blessings we experienced as a group on this trip, and it doesn’t even scratch the surface of the other deeply inspiring moments you can read about in the blog if you haven’t already done so. Among other highlights and immense privileges, we participated in a 700-person Shabbat dinner in Krakow, where we also heard Rabbi Moshe Rothblum’s version of ‘V’shamru’ while in a Reform congregation; we personally connected with and prayed for black hat descendants of the Chatam Sofer while at his grave; Rebecca Friedman was the first-ever person to lead services from the female section in the medieval Old Synagogue in Sopron in 499 years; and we visited the very chuppah that Robert Kasirer’s grandparents got married under at the orthodox synagogue in Budapest. 
 
Like Bilaam’s words, the evil intended was inverted. Not erased, not excused — but transformed. Because our being in each of the four concentration and extermination camps and in each current or former Jewish town — walking, remembering, mourning, living — was itself a defiance of the curse. A blessing born from our witness. 
 
Bilaam saw the people “from the heights,” from a distance. The nations of the world often see us that way — abstracted, politicized, and misunderstood. The death camps were the consequence of what happens when people view others as not fully human, as a problem to be solved rather than a people to be known. 
 
But our tradition is built on seeing differently — not from above, but from within. Not with suspicion, but with compassion. We are taught to see tzelem Elokim — the image of God — in every human being. To bless where others might curse. To walk even through the valley of the shadow of death and still carry light. While physically, emotionally, and psychologically intense, these two weeks we spent together as a traveling community were filled with so much light that I know each of us will carry with us in our future Jewish journeys and beyond. 
 
Parashat Balak reminds us that even in moments of hatred, the Jewish story does not end with a curse. Bilaam’s words became part of our daily liturgy. We took the curse, and we turned it into a literal blessing — just as we must do with our memories of the Shoah. 
 
To walk through the camps is to walk through the shadows of Parashat Balak — through a world where people tried to curse us out of existence. But to leave those camps with tears and testimony, with song and silence, with renewed commitment and determination to give our and future generations a better Jewish life — that is the blessing. That is the transformation. That is the Jewish response. 
 
May we continue to live lives that invert curses, that testify to memory, and that embody the words: 
 
“Mah tovu ohalecha Beth Am” — How good are your tents, O Beth Am! Despite the numerous curses that so many of our own community members’ ancestors experienced during the Shoah, their examples and their memories are not only a profound blessing, but their legacies also live on through their great and great-great grandchildren, who Naz and I are privileged to say that our daughters are classmates and friends with at Pressman Academy. How fortunate are we that we get to share in each other’s histories and know that our most valuable current blessings – our banayich and bonayich – our children and our builders, will continue to add to our storied tradition and hopefully transform future challenges and curses into perpetual blessings. 
 
Even in the darkest places, we carry our tents with us: places of learning, of spirit, of hope. And as long as we walk together, as long as we remember and rebuild, no curse will ever define us. 
 
As we enter the Three Weeks starting tomorrow, a period when we reflect on the many curses, dark times, and sinat chinam (baseless hatred) that caused our people’s downfalls, my question to myself and each of us here is the following – despite how much destruction and how many curses our people have absorbed generation after generation, and despite how much increased hostility towards Israel and antisemitism we face today, what are we each doing to raise our level to be a blessing, to do a mitzvah, and extract meaning and holiness and Godliness even in the toughest of times? We may not be able to control what comes our way like the Israelites did in the desert, but we know we can always do the right thing and forever be a blessing. 

Deborah Chariton

Our final day of the TBA trip was focused exclusively on “fun”:  We drove about 90 minutes to Lake Balaton.  All of us (including our bus) took an 8-minute ride across the lake on the Szantod-Tihany ferry, and enjoyed breathtaking views of the Hungarian countryside.  We had lunch al fresco in the town of Tihany, which dates back to the Medieval times. Tihany is famous for its lavender farms.  We had some time to browse the quaint shops on the way back to the bus, and do some lavender shopping.

If you’ve been following this blog and the blogs of our previous trips, you may have noticed the absence of a TBA Travel mainstay:  The winery visit!  Fear not!  After we left Tihany, we stopped at the Villa Gyetval for a 6-selection tasting of their wines.  But, the day was not over yet!  We drove back to Budapest (via an alternate route with no ferry crossing) and took a cruise on the Danube before capping off the journey with the Farewell Dinner ritual at a restaurant on the Danube.  The flights home began at 6AM on Monday, July 7.  The 2025 TBA Travel Experience is now just a memory.  Until next time…

Deborah Chariton

Our final Shabbat of the 2025 TBA travel experience.  Our tour guide, Esther #1, gave us Part 1 of a walking tour of the Jewish quarter on the way to the famous Dohany Street Synagogue, which is the largest synagogue in Europe.  Our group made up about half of the attendees, and the combined crowd filled only a small portion of the 3-story sanctuary, which I imagine was filled to the rafters before 1944.

The Dohany Synagogue is a Neolog synagogue, so there was an organ playing (the organist was not Jewish).  We have learned quite a bit about the Neolog movement on this trip, but this was the first (and only) Neolog synagogue we visited.  We joined the congregation for a small kiddush at the back of the shul.  This was an experience which one does not get on a typical tour of the shul!  

After services we had Part 2 of the walking tour of Jewish Budapest, the highlight of which was seeing the outdoor chuppah at the Kazinczy Street Orthodox Synagogue, where Robert Kasirer’s grandparents were married!  We had Shabbat lunch at the local Chabad House.  After lunch, we braved the heat for not-quite-the-last-time in Budapest, and walked along the Danube promenade to the Shoes On The Danube Bank memorial.  It was a very moving display to commemorate the Jews who were lined up along the Danube and shot.  We took the long way back to the hotel to see the magnificent Parliament Building, and enjoy a frolic in a water spray.  

It was late afternoon by the time we returned to the hotel for a brief round of coffee and pastries before many of us headed to the Szechenyi thermal bath house, and others stayed back to lounge in the hotel pool or enjoy some free time in Budapest before Havdalah.

Miriam Benson

Deborah Chariton

We kicked off our day with a drive to Szentendre, a picturesque town which makes an ideal day trip from Budapest.  Our guide, Esther #2 (not to be confused with Esther #1, our guide for our other days in Hungary), perfectly timed our arrival to coincide with the visiting hours of the Szanto Jewish Memorial House, which is the first and only temple built in Hungary after World War II.  The sanctuary seats exactly 10, so they can have a minyan, yet we managed to pack the house with our group – much to the chagrin of the two groups from New York who were waiting somewhat impatiently behind us.  The courtyard contains a Holocaust memorial to this small Jewish community, as well as a memorial to the victims of October 7.

We had some free time to walk around town and eat lunch (and chimney cake!) before heading back to the bus and on to our next stop:  The Royal Palace of Godollo, which is the former summer residence of Emperor Franz Joseph and Empress Elizabeth (“Sisi”).  The set designer of Bridgerton could not have done a better job tricking out this Baroque palace!  We were able to complete most of our tour of the grounds of the palace before getting caught in a brief deluge.

We drove back to Budapest by way of Heroes Square, where Esther explained the significance of the Millenium Monument with statues featuring the Seven Statues of the Magyars.  This is one of the most significant squares in Budapest.  We concluded our walk at Varosliget Park, site of the 1896 Millennium celebrations of Hungary.  

Kabbalat Shabbat services were held at the beautifully restored Rumbach Synagogue, followed by a dinner with the local community which was full of spirit and song – but not fireworks!  

Miriam Benson

Deborah Chariton

The temperature was already rising to uncomfortable levels by the time we boarded the bus at 9AM to spend the morning touring more of Bratislava.

Our first stop was the Orthodox Jewish cemetery, which is located on the banks of the Beautiful Blue Danube.  We climbed a few flights of stairs to the main cemetery, which is still in use today. It is massive. While the rest of the group fanned out to walk among the graves, I made a beeline for six specific graves:  My great-grandparents, great-great grandparents, great-great-great grandmother, and my grandmother’s first cousin, who died at age thirteen. Rabbi Kligfeld was kind enough to follow me to my great-grandmother’s grave to recite an El Malei. Special shout out to Rebecca Friedman, who was my official photographer/videographer and trekked through the brush with me to locate 2 of the graves. We both have some prickly souvenirs as a remembrance of our adventure in the oldest (and least-maintained) section of the cemetery.

This cemetery is famous for being the final resting place of the Chatam Sofer (1762-1839) – a world-renowned Rabbi who has a tram stop named after him!  People make pilgrimages from all over the world to visit his grave. We gathered in the indoor memorial underneath the main cemetery where the Chatam Sofer is buried. The small chapel overlooking his grave provided a welcome respite from the 93-degree heat, and an ideal gathering spot for Rabbi Kligfeld to impart some of the Chatam Sofer’s teachings. 

Our lesson was interrupted twice:  First by a phone call which resulted in Rabbi Kligfeld making a misheberach for the friend of the descendent of the Chatam Sofer, and the second by the arrival of a Rabbi who had arrived that morning from Flatbush.  He was eager to share his story with us:  He is the 6th great-grandson of the Chatam Sofer.  His grandmother was Aryan-looking, and was able to “pass.”  She obtained 100 false passports, one of which she gave to her brother who was not married.  It was a “family passport,” good for 2 adults and a small child.  He did not feel right using the passport on just himself, so instead he gave it to a couple with a small child and was able to save 3 lives instead of just his own.  He did not survive.  

Once we finished paying our respects to this very wise (but complex) sage, we boarded the bus, and faster than you can say “Chatam Sofer” this intrepid group of TBA travelers was once again on the move.  Next stop:  Devin Castle — a Romanesque fortress where the Morava River meets the Danube, which was once part of the Amber Road. It is on the border of Slovakia and Austria, and during the Communist regime was also along the border of the Eastern block and the West. Many a daring soul got shot trying to cross the Danube to freedom. There is a lovely memorial on the riverbank which symbolizes how they met their demise. 

There are two schools of thought about what happened next: One school of thought is that we went to Austria. The other school of thought is that we did not. I’m siding with Rabbi Kligfeld on this one. TBA spontaneously added a country to our itinerary, albeit very briefly! 

Bratislava was merely a one-night pitstop on our journey from Prague to Budapest.  To me, it is my heritage.   And, hopefully now that my fellow travelers have seen and experienced this under-appreciated European capital they will agree that it was a wise decision not to fly from Prague to Budapest.

Rebecca Friedman

Sopron and Arrival in Budapest

After briefly seeing Austria, we crossed into Hungary and headed to the town of Sopron.  We walked past the deteriorating Neolog Synagogue (19th century) to see the moving 2004 Holocaust memorial, which primarily commemorates the 1944 deportation to Auschwitz.  It is a bronze sculpture of a gas chamber’s changing room, with clothes hanging on four hooks that include one with the number 613, and Hebrew letters of the Shema floating toward heaven like flames.

An unexpected highlight in Sopron was visiting the medieval Old  Synagogue, dating to circa 1300.  The simple interior has a stone ark with an open Torah scroll.  The wooden bima in the center had been moved from the Neolog Synagogue.  The women’s gallery (an innovation at the time) could barely be seen through three narrow horizontal slats.  We all went up to the women’s section (which now has museum display cases) and I had the honor of leading our minha service there.  When we finished, Andrea from the local Jewish community revealed that there hadn’t been a service in that space for almost 500 years, since 1526 (the year Jews were expelled by the Turks).  The rabbi called me the Shalichat Tzibur of Sopron.  What an incredible, emotional experience as we honored our tradition in that holy space.

We wandered over to the second Medieval synagogue (c. 1350) on the same Jewish street (now called Uj).  This one was being used as a Jewish museum.  We looked around inside and saw the back window that was used by the  women, who had to stand outside and look through (since there was no women’s section inside).

We entered Budapest near sunset and crossed the Danube River on Liberty Bridge, going from hilly Buda to the flat Pest side (pronounced Pesht).  There were many grand buildings and our lovely hotel was no exception.  Across the street was the ornate Opera House that, upon closer look, had many brass stolpersteine (stumbling stones) on the walkway, marking individual victims of the Holocaust.  In this part of Europe, there are often reminders of the Jewish communities of the past.

Deborah Chariton

We bid shalom to Prague this morning, and boarded the bus for our 4-ish hour drive to Bratislava, Slovakia.  We had a bit of free time for lunch and exploring between checking into our hotel and the start of our walking tour.  I am pleased to report that many of us found a delicious gelato place around the corner to help us beat the intense heat wave which has taken hold of Europe.

Bratislava is the Rodney Dangerfield of Danubian capital cities:  It “don’t get no respect.”  It does not have the grandeur of Vienna, the “wow” factor of Budapest, or the “cool” factor of Belgrade. Some of you reading this may never even have heard of it.   For many traversing this part of Europe, it is no more than a waypoint on the train route between Prague and Budapest, or simply a “flyover” city for the short aerial hop.  For me, it is an ancestral homeland:  My paternal grandmother grew up in Bratislava, and is descended from a long line of Bratislavans on both sides of her family.  

We were lucky enough to score Bratislava’s premier Jewish guide:  Dr. Maros Borsky.  I cannot say enough complimentary things about Maros.  He is a walking, talking, living, breathing encyclopedia of Jewish (and non-Jewish) Bratislava history.  He is also the VP of the Jewish community. 

Our first stop was at the only remaining synagogue in Bratislava. Fun fact about this synagogue:  It will be featured on the Slovak stamp later this year. After listening to Maros tell us about the Jewish history and current Jewish life in Bratislava, we proceeded to daven mincha in a sanctuary where my ancestors also davened.

The synagogue has a small museum on the second floor.  Maros lovingly curated the museum, and walked us through the permanent exhibit on the history of the Jews of Bratislava, and the temporary exhibit which is dedicated to the life of the building’s architect.

We continued on with a walking tour of the picturesque Old Town, where Maros pointed out historic places of interest, such as the former Parliament building of Hungary and the Slovak National Square. He also graciously pointed out my grandmother’s former home (also formerly the Hungarian Consulate building) and the building where my great-grandfather had a cafe (also formerly the Austrian Embassy building).  

We made our final stop in Old Town at the Holocaust Memorial, which is on the site of the former Neolog Synagogue – and where there will be a World Jewish Congress gathering this year on September 9. There were plaques on the wall with photos of this beautiful synagogue which was built in the 1860’s, and destroyed in 1969 as part of the redevelopment process to build a highway.  To paraphrase Joni Mitchell:  They paved paradise and put up a parkway.  

We walked along a lovely promenade, past the U.S. Embassy to the historic Carlton Hotel, where we had dinner at a restaurant adjacent to the hotel.  After dinner, there was time for us to explore more of the old town of our own before heading back to the hotel for the night.

Diane Herman

One day to see Prague! For someone like me who has never been here, it was a magical first taste that has left me hungry for an extended visit sometime in the future that will focus not only on sites of Jewish interest, but also of broader interest. The Old City has a glorious array of buildings dating from the 14th century and later that were mostly untouched by WWII.

We were shepherded around by our guide for the day, Zlatina, who demonstrated an encyclopedic knowledge of Jewish Czech history and historical sites.

We thought we had left the heaviness of the Shoah behind, but that was not the case. For me one of the most affecting sites was the Pinkas Synagogue, built in 1535, and now turned into a memorial to the Czech victims of the Shoah. Here we learned that of the 153 Jewish communities that existed in Czechoslovakia before WWII, only 15 remained after and only 10 now. The 40,000 names of the victims were engraved on the walls bringing to life the awesome terribleness of 40,000- a small fraction of 6 million. But it was the power of one name, Petr Ginz, a talented child artist from Prague, who was deported to Theresienstadt and died at Auschwitz, that brought our non-Jewish guide to tears so that she could barely speak. His pictures were exhibited on the walls of the memorial with those of other children who were at Theresienstadt.

The counterpoint of the beauty of Prague and its place in Jewish history make it a place we will certainly come back to.

Rabbi Adam Kligfeld

Dear Friends,

I write this from the bus ride from Krakow to Prague. In a few moments we will cross from Poland, where we have been for a week, into the Czech Republic, the 2nd of 4 countries we will visit on this trip. Last night, after a long and intense day visiting Auschwitz/Birkenau.

 We had a dinner culminating our Poland experience, at which we bid (temporary) farewell to and expressed gratitude and praise for, Dr. Michael Berenbaum, who will not be continuing with us during the 2nd week of the trip.

We have put the heaviest parts of this experience behind us, having visited 4 concentration/extermination camps within 6 days (Treblinka, Majdanek, Belzec, Auschwitz/Birkenau). But there is much left to explore as we immerse ourselves in the Jewish history and burgeoning Jewish present in Prague, Bratislava and Budapest. 

One highlight from shabbat that bears mentioning is our Friday night davvening experience with the Or Hadasz  community in Krakow, a Progressive (Reform) community that has been growing meaningfully over the last few years. I cannot fully articulate how exceedingly unlikely it seemed, during my first visit to Poland in 1990, that a few decades later there would be a vibrant, varied, modern, tradition-based, Hebraic, contemporary resurgence of Jewish life in that country. Krakow in 1990 seemed mired in Soviet-era heaviness. The culture and the architecture seemed grey and lacking depth. Jewish life was pitiful, a single seed-stem of a dying dandelion, trying to hold on for dear life. Today there is an incredible JCC. We had shabbat dinner with 700 people, many of whom were in town for the annual Jewish Cultural Festival . At least 5 different shabbat morning services were taking place in town, including the one we organized and self-led at the historic Kupa Synagogue . While the Krakow Jewish community seems sadly divided and corrupt (why can’t we Jews get out of our own way more often!?), this is no Jewish ghost town. We walked around this city, this country, with kippot and magen-david jewelry and swag visible. We were publicly Jewish, with pride and confidence. And we remarked to one another, with sardonic sighs, that it may indeed be the case that Poland is a safer place to be a Jew/Zionist today…than England (witness the awful scenes from the recent concert there. Google it if you have not seen it). 

This turnaround is…remarkable. Some of it has to do with the visionary leadership and drive of Jonathan Ornstein, a Queens-raised man in his ‘50s, who served in the IDF, and now has been the Executive Director of the Krakow JCC since its founding. Some of it has to do with Rabbi Michael Schudrich , who came to serve and build the Polish Jewish community more than 30 years ago, when everyone thought he was crazy for believing and investing in a revivification. Some of it has to do with people like Rivka, the cantor at Or Hadasz who has absorbed everything she possibly can from any Jewish leader/teacher who is willing to instruct her…or with Olga Adamowska, a young Polish Jew who spoke to us on Shabbat afternoon who dresses modern, davvens Orthodox, is shomeret shabbat, and would fit right in on Pico Blvd.

And some of it has to do with that aspect of Jewish peoplehood that, as someone mentioned to me as we were walking through Auschwitz, must annoy the hell out of the enemies who wish we would disappear–we refuse to. We return after decimation, and immolation and annihilation. Is every place that once was witness to thriving Judaism ripe and ready for a Jewish future? Hardly. But the surprises of resuscitation no longer surprise me. They just amaze me. There we were, 200 people strong, praying in a Reform-style service in the great hall of the Galicia Museum, with nearly every tune used an import from across the ocean, and thus instantly familiar to us (including, yes, the “traditional” tune to ושמרו/Veshamru that was actually composed, in Los Angeles, by Rabbi Moshe Rothblum, whose family of course are dear members and leaders of our TBA/JPA family!). The רוח/ruah was palpable and energizing. The future seemed so much brighter than the dour past. The urgency to rebuild Jewish life and “show up” for Jewish gathering is something we would do well to emulate in our LA Jewish community and within our TBA family. In a place of so…much…death…there was, again, incredible Jewish life.

Scroll down to read the reflections of participants on the trip from the last few days of our journey. We will check back in as we consider our upcoming experiences.

With affection for you all.

Rabbi Adam Kligfeld

Elon Spar

We left Krakow early for what was supposed to be a seven hour drive to Prague.  It took nine hours as we needed to make frequent stops to relieve our floating molars.

When we reached Prague we went to the Slivovitz Museum (the imbibing highlight of the trip).  This was a holy pilgrimage for me.  For those of you who are unfamiliar with slivovitz, it is plum flavored turpentine.  I had originally suggested the visit to get free samples of sliv but was pleasantly surprised to have a high tech experience including understanding the life of a slivovitz plum through virtual reality.

After dinner and many shots, we had a walking tour of old Prague.  It is a charming city that was relatively undamaged in WW II.  We saw Jesus on a cross underneath “Kadosh, Kadosh, Kadosh…”.  I think the subtle message to the Jews was we have no problem punishing Jews who mouth off.  Also, the Hebrew was supposed to prevent Jews from spitting in front of the statue.  I had a hard time restraining myself from hocking a loogie.  

Needless to say the infusion of sliv into our bodies produced an excellent sleep for most of us and a mean hangover the next morning for some.

Deb Torgan

Auschwitz….

I started my day feeling uneasy at what lay ahead. For me it is personal as I had family that were murdered and survived Auschwitz.

Auschwitz has an overwhelming amount of parallel railroad tracks , 44 to be exact. It had access to all of Europe; a main transition point for people to come in and out. To put into perspective, in the US, the most amount is 49 in Chicago. The grounds are extremely massive … as far as the eye can see. The barb wires were electrified and there was a language used “to the fence”, which meant one restrained themself from committing suicide since those marching were only feet away from electrocution.

But honestly, I have NO place to complain when I learn about what took place between 1940-1945.

Each prisoner was given a bowl. It was used for eating AND for eliminating one’s urine and feces. There was music as people marched. The orchestra played and you had to keep up with the tune. If one became too tired to keep up, they would be shot. The music was used as an instrument of pacing and torture!

Learning that there are three locations to Auschwitz was overwhelming. All three used prisoners as forced labor and one of them also functioned for an extended period as a killing center. In addition to the ugliness, during our journey in Auschwitz I, we went to a museum that showed each person, in school, at weddings, at Bar Mitzvahs, at the theater, with family, celebrating, dancing, living everyday lives, very much ALIVE and happy in their separate communities in Jewish life BEFORE their lives were snatched away! It was gut wrenching to watch, knowing what lay ahead. Seeing them as human beings before they were stripped of their dignity and anything humane.

In Auschwitz II, Birkenau, was the dark visual reality of what took place. From the selection process to the undressing process to the gas chambers. ALL of it!  What stood out was Block #11. A small place. One was forced to crawl through a hole and STAND in groups of 4 people kept in absolute darkness for 24-72 hours. Sheer HELL!

Auschwitz III, Monowitz, we did not have the opportunity to see. It provided forced laborers for the synthetic rubber works (part of the German conglomerate I.G. Farben) It attained the status of the headquarters of the “industrial” sub- camps.

As Rabbi Dr. Michael Berenbaum said, THE DEVIL IS IN THE DETAILS!

Diane Roosth

After visiting Treblinka, Majdanek and Belzec, my emotions were mixed, with gratitude for those who gave their lives so our families could be born and survive and grief for those who were tortured and murdered. After arriving in Krakow, we walked and visited the Remu and Cemetery before Shabbat, connecting with ancient teachers with respect and dignity.

Davening with the Progressive Synagogue with people visiting from all over the world Friday night, and Shabbat Morning in the Kupa Synagogue, connected me to the art, sound, architecture, and remnant of a Jewish community past and one that is trying to rebuild. Davening in the Kupa Synagogue with our community, learning from RAK and Michael Berenbaum, inspired spiritual and religious experiences.

Shabbat afternoon we walked and explored and were elevated by the Jewish Music Festival Klezmer and other music with instruments and with a spirit of dancing and singing. Then Havdalah with RAK. I appreciated in all places the ability to say prayers that connected me to time and place, grieving those who were murdered and those who died, and celebrate the life being built here in Krakow.

Teri Cohan Link

Kracow, Saturday June 28th.  The baroque Kupa synagogue founded in 1643 in the Kazimierz Jewish district,  was an inspiring venue for our Shabbat morning services. This synagogue expanded over the centuries, and was sadly burned down during  the Kracow pogrom at the end of WW2. The synagogue has been beautifully restored and features lushly colorful murals, like the Flood and Noah , and depictions of Biblical scenes . These included depictions of biblical scenes, like the Flood and Noah-(including an actual Noah in the picture-quite unusual for a traditional synagogue), holy places like Hebron, and zodiac signs over the woman’s gallery. Some of  the original inscriptions on the walls, taken from Psalms, have been uncovered. 

David Aftergood

Friday early up at 5 AM, to gather in the hotel lobby at 5:40 for buses to Birkenau, breakfast bag on the bus, with about two hundred others for the opening ceremony of Ride for the Living, a fundraising ride to support the JCC in Krakow.  All wearing the same colorful jerseys. Got our bikes (E-bikes for us old folks), left in groups.  Cool, cloudy, perfect weather for a day of riding sixty miles in the Polish countryside.  Light rain fell for about half an hour.  Sixty miles was done in four sections, started at 9:00am, ended at 4:30pm, six hours of riding.  Mostly a slow pace, endurance and focus were key.  Hardest was sitting on the bike seat for so long, helped greatly by the gel pads we brought with us.  Sara and I both took an Aleve before starting.   Beautiful green farmlands and forests, through villages and suburbs, mostly on bike paths and back roads, occasional trafficked areas, stopped for us by local staff and police.  Last few miles along the Vistula river into Krakow, ending in celebratory greetings and confetti and balloons with the crowd at the JCC.  Got a medal and had a cold beer.  Extremely well organized.  Very satisfied that we completed the ride and that we survived!

Annie Spar: The Salt Mines and the Pierogi Class

Friday gave us a break from the Shoah.  As we descended the 800 stairs (yes, 800!) into the Wieliczka Salt Mines we went back eight centuries to the beginning of the salt industry in Krakow.  Before the holocaust, and for the entire tour we did not mention it once. After the first 350 stairs, our legs a little wobbly, we learned about the history of salt mining.  Through scenes carved in salt we saw the evolution of mining techniques  and how it was a huge part of the economy. 

Salt deposits were found in the 13th century, and the first shaft was built in the second half of the century.  Under Casimir the Great’s reign salt represented 1/3 of the royal treasury.

The miners were quite religious and there were over 30 chapels built into to winding tunnels of the mine.  The work was inherently dangerous and the miners  prayed each day before they went to work.  A highlight was the Chapel of St. Kinga which included a replica of Davinci’s last supper and chandeliers all made from salt.

 Copernicus visited the mine in 1493 and an enormous statue of him was carved in salt to commemorate that visit.  The carvings in salt are intricate and quite remarkable.

The active mine was closed in the 1990s and now it is a tourist attraction which is well worth the visit.

In the afternoon some of us went to a pierogi making class which was lots of fun and quite delicious.   The chef teaching us was from Russia, and so we learned about all kinds of Eastern European pierogis.  Each country has their own twist on the recipe.  We assembled spinach and cheese pierogi and also tried plain cheese and mushroom and cabbage pierogis.  The country of origin is irrelevant; all the pierogis were great! (Elon and I had strawberry pierogis with sour cream sauce, authentic polish obes, which were fabulous.)

So, leading up to Shabbat we had a day which was less intense than the previous three.   This was a true gift, because we needed to decompress, to give our bodies and minds a chance to process everything we had seen up until that point.  Three camps down, and the knowledge that we had Auschwitz coming on Sunday was a lot to hold, but by the time we got to Kabbalat Shabbat with the progressive community in Poland, we were ready to embrace to the rest time of Shabbat.

Larry Herman

Our visit to the Belzec extermination camp memorial was our third visit to a “concentration camp” in as many days. It was, in many ways, the most powerful. Like Treblinka, Belzec is a memorial rather than the a preserved camp like Majdanek. Again, like Treblinka, Belzec was a factory for killing, rather than a labor camp where human slaughter was just a byproduct. The statistics are stunning enough – in just 10 months of operation,  half a million Jews from perhaps 500 communities in Poland, were deported to Belzec to be processed, killed and buried within a day. Nothing remained of the camp after the Nazis dismantled and plowed over the evidence once they’d accomplished their task of emptying their assigned region of Jews. 

But the truly stunning image is the memorial itself. Built on the surprisingly small area of the camp, it consists of a rising hillside covered with a layer of gray-black blast furnace slag. The entrance to the memorial is a long path cut into the center of the slopes, forming a canyon that rises to overwhelm the visitor. After climbing to the top, we circumnavigated the memorial, reading the names of the communities whose Jews were the fuel for the industrial killing machine in the order they arrived. The increasing efficiency of the operation is evident by the longer walk and greater number of community names until we reach the next month marker.

Sometimes, images and art tell the story with far more power than statistics and words ever can. In terms of conveying the awesome evil of Belzec, the memorial succeeds in a way that was different than at Treblinka and Majdanek.

Rebecca Friedman

We arrived in Lublin at Yeshivat Chachmei Lublin.  Its future rosh yeshiva Rabbi Meir Shapiro initiated the Daf Yomi (“page of the day”) study cycle in 1923.  Following lunch, we sat on wooden benches and experienced a Daf Yomi lesson with Rabbi Kligfeld. 

We walked through Grodzka Gate, which had separated Lublin’s pre-war Jewish district —- its people, houses, streets, and synagogues.  

A lamp post is lit 24/7 to commemorate the Jewish community, which today numbers about 40. We saw the museum and theater center, which has collected oral histories and photographs, and is documenting the history of each house.  In the last room, I saw an album on the windowsill and recognized the Polish words “Akcia Reinhardt” —- Operation Reinhardt was the deadly 1942-1943  period of deportations to extermination camps.  I opened the album and, to my amazement, turned right to a page with “Zolkiewka 12-15 May 1942.”  Zolkiewka was my paternal grandparents’ hometown and we were headed there next.

As we drove toward Zolkiewka, I shared  some local and family history.  I had visited there with my parents in 1992 and my father subsequently documented over 300 relatives, including seven generations in Zolkiewka.  Suddenly we saw a rainbow, stretching in a full arc, and said a blessing.

It drizzled as we reached Zolkiewka and we walked through the town square, where Jewish life had been centered. I pointed out the former locations of the synagogue and mikveh.  I had hoped to see a garage shed constructed using two columns from the synagogue, but realized it had been torn down.  I placed stones at the Holocaust memorial, erected in 1996 after my prior visit.  As I stood there, I felt the love and support of our group who had joined me on this special journey.

Back on the bus, there was discussion about whether the cherry or pineapple Polish liqueur was better.  The rain stopped and we again saw a rainbow. In Zamosc, we visited a synagogue and the colorful town square.  

After a long day, we enjoyed our stay at a grand old-world hotel.

Barbara Breger

On Wednesday our major stop was the Majdanek Concentration Camp which is in Lublin, Poland.  We were at Treblinka the day before where we had an emotional visit with there being no buildings left of the camp itself.  Today was an entirely different experience.  There was a huge monument at the entrance, guard towers spread around, many barracks for the prisoners to sleep, “showers” to ostensibly clean the prisoners, canisters of Zyklon B (the gas used in the gas chambers), places where prisoners were put to further clean them and crematoria to incinerate the bodies.  

Inside one of the barracks was a memorial and others were empty.  As I said, it was emotional for all of us.  We have had to try to understand how “man” can be so mean as to put people into chambers just to kill them.  Everyone in the group had different, but similar thoughts about the Jews who died and about why it had to happen.  Later in the day we talked about our feelings and emotions about why this was developed.  We all realized that these Jews who died here at Majdanek were part of our extended Jewish family.  When we finished our visit we were all very quiet as we tried to understand what happened there and how it happened.  I think it was the question of why it happened that affected us the most.

The next part of our day was having lunch at the famous Yeshiva of Lublin.  Then we went to the Yeshiva synagogue to study a page of Talmud with our leader, Rabbi Adam Kligfeld.  Then it was back on the bus to drive to Zamosc to see a special synagogue.  But before we got to Zamosc we made a side trip to a small town which was similar to others in Poland in which were the homes of so many members of our extended Jewish family who came to America to seek a better life for themselves and their future family members.  In this nice town there was a memorial to the Jews of Zolkiewka, home of the ancestors  of TBA member, Rebecca Friedman.  I found this to be very emotional.  I was happy that Rebecca got to see it because it was so close to where we were driving.  I was also jealous because my great-grandfather came from a similar sized town.  It was so great to see how happy Rebecca was and so my happiness for her definitely was way greater than my jealousy was.

Tomorrow it will be on to a new day, but tonight we all need rest as the day had lasted from 7 in the morning to almost 11 at night.

David Aftergood

Intense, emotional.  First visit to the Warsaw Jewish Cemetery, one of the largest Jewish Cemeteries in Europe, burial place of over 300,000 Jews, including Marek Edelman of the  Ghetto Uprising, Ida Kaminska of the Yiddish theater, and the Yiddish writer YL Peretz.  Also found with some difficulty was the grave and marker of Anna Braude-Heller, pediatrician who ran the Jewish Children’s Hospital in the Ghetto, and her sister Sara Aftergut and niece Steffi, who were the great-grandmother and great aunt of Jake and TBA members Aaron Aftergood and Hannah Reinstein. 

Later in the day to Treblinka, concentration camp near Warsaw, to where 600,000 people were deported.  Gorgeous green forest setting, irregular uncomfortable stone path, large concrete blocks representing railroad ties, and 17,000 large jagged stones with occasional names imprinted of destroyed communities.  The camp was destroyed by the Nazis, but this memorial was constructed in the 1960s under Communism.  An erie and meditative setting and experience.

AJ Happel

Sun’s up. Get going. So much to see today. So much to listen to. So much to remember.

Weekday prayers set a different tone than those of Shabbat, when writing and recording are forbidden.

The making of memory requires deliberate effort, whether by an observer or by a perpetrator.

In the midst of the hubbub of everyday life, there is a place where the sound of rustling leaves drown out the hum of busy, modern Warsaw. I wander alone, not looking for anything in particular, but seeing a vast multitude. So many names, so many dates, so many stories, so many symbols, so many stones. Still, wandering here amongst their memories is pleasant.

People want to remember and be remembered. They go to incredible lengths for their children, hoping for an enduring legacy. Some of the descendants are left to decrypt the riddles enveloping their ancestors’ existence.

In this world with so much more propaganda than truth, whom can we trust? In prayer, we say “Only in HaShem can I put my trust”; but, in life we must find allies – especially now that we live in 1984. Together, we must dig in, carefully sifting everything, turning the dirt over and over to excavate what was evident and is now hidden.

It’s one thing to believe, another thing to know. (A rabbi said so.) It’s so much work to find the truth. But how else do we resist those who would steal our tomorrows by rewriting yesterday?

We finish the day with a walk through the Treblinka extermination camp in a Polish forest.

Dear Friends,

I write this Thursday afternoon, on the bus ride from Lancut to Krakow. We are now just about 72 hours into this year’s TBA Travel Adventure, to Eastern Europe. Given the depth and meaning of what we have experienced so far, we feel (in the best of ways) that we have been traveling for weeks. Each hour has been pregnant with poignancy, whether it be the deepest sorrow to which we were brought when visiting the concentration/extermination camps of Treblinka, Majdanek and Belzec (Singing the Shema at the Memorial at Belzec: Belzac Shema), or the lofty high to which we elevated when davvening מנחה/minha and dancing while singing עם ישראל חי/Am yisrael hai in the beautifully restored synagogue in Lancut, a town which was, before the Shoah, 30 % Jewish. 

Am Yisrael Chai, Lancut

Now? There are no Jews. But this exquisite synagogue is preserved and protected by a local non-Jewish man who has taught himself Hebrew, and has dedicated his adult life to making sure this historic place of Jewish prayer and gathering remains open to any who choose to come and visit it, and fill it with song as we did today.

As with previous TBA travel adventures, we will send dispatch emails every few days, mostly to share the reflections of those who are on this trip. I will share a few short thoughts as well, along with some pictures and videos from our experience.

It remains a great honor to travel the (Jewish) world with members of our beloved community.  We are impacted by what we are being exposed to, and I’d like to think we are making our own impact as well.

Three short observations from me from these first few days, among the hundreds of things that are worthy of sharing with you all.

1. Rabbi Dr. Michael Berenbaum is…a treasure. He is one of the most active and beloved members of the TBA family. And it is no exaggeration to say that there is no living person with whom to have a more enriching, informative, scholarly, sensitive, tender and exquisite experience in Poland than Michael. It is an overflowing privilege for us that Michael is our scholar-guide-teacher-rebbe on this trip. Today’s itinerary, which you will read more about below, included a visit to the Belzec extermination camp (at which over 500,000 Jews, nearly the entire Galician Jewish population, were murdered in a short period of time in 1942), and whose museum and memorial site were lovingly curated and brought into being via Michael’s vision, leadership and commitment to the memory of the victims of the Shoah. We are so grateful to you, Dr. Berenbaum, for leading us this week. And we are in awe of your legacy.
2. One of those on our trip is TBA member Deb Torgan. Some of you know that Deb lost both of her parents, 3 weeks apart, last September. Since then, she has been a regular at Daily Minyan, most days twice per day. Her father, Louis z”l, was a minyan man. As a way of honoring her father’s devotion to daily prayer, Deb spent hours this past year mastering the liturgy so that she could lead the מעריב/Ma’ariv (evening) service. She started doing so a few months ago at TBA. It has brought me incalculable pride and joy to observe Deb leading Ma’ariv, on this trip, in her father’s honor and memory, in the country of her family’s ancestors.  Deb–you are an inspiring model for how to mourn meaningfully; how to be on a Jewish learning journey, always; and how to make a commitment, to prayer and to others, as a way of deepening your spiritual experience as a Jew.
3. The aron hakodesh at the one remaining synagogue in Lancut has a beautiful פרוכת/parokhet/curtain over it. (Interestingly, it was dedicated by workers from Bezek, Israel’s phone company, who once visited on a tour and noticed that the ark lacked a parokhet, and so they chose to provide one). On the parokhet, which you can see below, is written this verse, which comes from the prophet Micah 7:8.  אַל־תִּשְׂמְחִי אֹיַבְתִּי לִי, כִּי נָפַלְתִּי קָמְתִּי:  כִּי־אֵשֵׁב בַּחֹשֶׁךְ, ה׳ אוֹר לִי. Al tismehi oyavti li, ki nafalti kamti. Ki eshev bahoshekh Adonai or li. This translates to, “Do not rejoice over my, my enemy. For when I fall, I rise. When I sit in darkness, God is my light.” It is impossible to state how immediately and intimately we felt the meaning of this verse coursing through us, as we sang, danced and prayed in that sanctuary, just hours after weeping at Belzec.  And during this painful and worrisome era rife with threats to Jewish existence, peoplehood and thriving seemingly surrounding us. From the era of the Bible until now, Micah’s message must penetrate our hearts: our enemies may continue to assail us–we will persevere, we will persist and we will prevail. We will sing past hatred, dance beyond tragedy, and pray despite catastrophe. And places which ones were bereft of Jews may one day yet be filled with them again, bringing back the spirit of God.

   Enjoy the reflections of some of the participants below. Consider joining a future TBA trip. Be well, and see you upon our return.
   

   Rabbi Adam Kligfeld