About two months ago, the Knesset voted to establish a day to memorialize the massacre of October 7th. They did not choose the actual Hebrew date, the 22nd of Tishrei, because that is a holiday, Simchas Torah, nor did they choose the next day, which is a quasi-holiday, Isru Chag. Instead, they chose the 24th of Tishrei as the day that the State of Israel would yearly remember the atrocities of October 7th. This vote took place on March 17th, less than a half year after that dark day.
Now contrast that with Yom Hashoah, the day the State of Israel commemorates the Holocaust. It was not until 1951 that the government dedicated a day to Holocaust memorial. This decision was a resolution. It would take almost another decade until the Knesset voted on making this day an official day for memorializing the Holocaust. What in the world took so long? In what alternative universe does it take the Jewish State 15 years to establish a day to remember the greatest calamity in Jewish history?!
If you dig a little deeper, it becomes quite clear. The truth is, the Rabbinate of the State of Israel did commemorate the Holocaust the very first year of Israel’s existence. They did so on the Tenth of Tevet, a day already dedicated to other tragedies in Jewish history. The IDF participated in ceremonies to mark this day, but it never really caught on. Not because, as some argue today, that the Holocaust needed its own date. In 1949, the opposite was true.
The little dark secret of early Israeli history is that no one wanted to talk about the Holocaust. The survivors were plagued with overwhelming and debilitating guilt. To talk about the Holocaust for them was unfathomable. Who can blame them for being silent? It is the rest of the Israeli population that carry the blame. They steered away from discussing the Holocaust because to them the Shoah was an embarrassment. “How did our European cousins allow themselves to be taken to the gas chambers like sheep? How did they not put up any defense?” The image of an inmate at Auschwitz, skin and bones, sunken eyes, obeying every bark of the Nazi, was an affront to Jewish pride. The Israelis of the late 40’s and 50’s wanted nothing to do with these weak-kneed Jews.
You’ll notice that when they did finally agree to establish a day for Holocaust memorialization, they did not call it Yom Hashoah. They called it Yom Hashoah V’hag’vurah, Holocaust and Heroism Day. The day they chose was the 27th of Nissan. It was a controversial date, the rabbis were opposed, because Nissan is a joyous month, and a Holocaust memorial is inconsistent with this month’s festive vibe. The reason the Knesset pushed forward for that date, the reason they added the word “Gevurah/ Heroism” to the name of the day, is because the day they chose was the day that the Warsaw Ghetto Uprising began. According to recently unearthed minutes of the Knesset discussions, the memorial day was going to ignore the Holocaust entirely and only focus on the uprising. When they finally agreed to focus on the Holocaust, the only way the proud people of Israel could commemorate the atrocities was by incorporating a memorial of the heroics of those who fought back. To simply remember concentration camps and gas chambers would be, according to them, shameful. Remembering the bravery of those who stood up against the Nazis was a way to save face.
How wrong they were.
They failed to understand the bravery, the courage, the superhuman perseverance needed to survive for a single day in a concentration camp. They were so fixated on their idealized image of strong, bronzed young men and women building up the new country, that they could not see how much inner strength it took to not take one’s life, how much determination it took to move one’s frostbitten legs on a death march. And that was just to survive.
They did not begin to appreciate what it took to maintain an element of dignity. When humans are beaten and starved, they lose their ability to think of anyone beyond themselves. The most chilling passage in Elie Wiesel’s memoir is the story of two people beating each other senseless over a single crust of bread. Those two people, writes Wiesel, were a father and son. But they were the exception, not the rule. People gave up their food – if you could even call it that, to help complete strangers. My grandmother survived Auschwitz due to the kindness of others. Do you know what gevurah, what heroism, is needed to hold onto the Divine spark when you are in the deepest darkest depths of hell?
And then – the men and women who kept Mitzvos in the Holocaust! The people who lit Chanukah candles, laid tefillin, blew shofar, all under the noses of the Nazis?! Is that not gevurah? Is that not heroism of the highest order?!
If it had been up to me, I would not commemorate the Shoah on Asarah B’tevet because it’s too minor of a day – no one would pay any attention to it. I would not commemorate the Shoah on the 27th of Nissan because doing so implies that without the Ghetto Uprising there was no bravery in the Holocaust. I would have chosen the upcoming holiday of Shavuos.
Rav Moshe ben Nachman, the Ramban, argues that Pesach and Shavuos are one long holiday. The days in between, during which we count from one holiday to the next, should be viewed as Chol Hamoed, no different than the days between Sukkos and Shmini Atzeres and the first and last days of Pesach.
What is the significance of calling these days Chol Hamoed? What is the meaning of connecting Pesach and Shavuos? Is there really a difference if we see Pesach as a stand-alone holiday or if it is related to Shavuos?
The answer is yes.
The very first survivors of violent and lethal antisemitism were the Jews who left Egypt. The Egyptians demonized the Jews, enslaved the Jews, and tried to exterminate them. This genocide lasted for two centuries. And then, miraculously, freedom. The holiday of Pesach. But if we end the story right there, then the story of Pesach is one of freedom from bondage, it’s a tale of overcoming hate, it’s a day to remember the dangers of antisemitism, it’s the original ‘Never again.’
But the story does not end there. The story continues. G-d turns to these people, likely as emaciated and lost as the survivors of Buchenwald and Auschwitz and asks them if they are interested in dedicating their life to Hashem. They are asked if they are open to living a life filled with commandments that will not be easy to uphold. They are asked if they are ready to receive a book that will guide them and their descendants for all of time. And they say, yes. Naaseh v’nishma.
The story of the Exodus is not one of overcoming hate. It’s a story of moral courage; of being able to accept the Mitzvah to love despite being hated. It’s a story of choosing the soul even when they beat your body. It’s a story of values and Mitzvos. The Pesach story was not complete until Shavuos when we stood at the foot of Har Sinai and accepted the Torah.
Had the members of the Knesset of the 1950’s understood this I don’t think they would have been so timid in establishing a day to remember the Holocaust. They would have appreciated how the concentration camps and antisemitism of the Shoah is only half the story. They would have appreciated how from time immemorial we have connected the story of spiritual bravery to the story of physical bondage. In that light, the Holocaust, and especially those who held on to their heritage in the darkness, is a dizzying tale of bravery.
Many of the new people who recently joined the shul may not have heard of Max Jacob. Max Jacob was the face of our shul for many years. You could still see his face on a beautiful portrait right outside the chapel. Max was the volunteer Executive Director for decades. He also happened to be a survivor. He spoke about the Holocaust often, whenever he had a chance, both in public and in private. We must have spoken about the Holocaust hundreds of times. But there is one time that he spoke about the Holocaust that I saw him transform. He was normally cool as a cucumber. But there was one time I saw his emotions overwhelm him.
It took place in my home, in my Pickwick apartment, about a decade ago. Like I do every year, we had a post-Purim celebration in my home. It was the first or second year I was in the shul, it was a very small crowd. But we were singing joyously. We were sharing divrei Torah. And it was at that moment, not at the Holocaust memorials where we said Never Again, not when we sang Ani Maamin and cried, but in that moment of joy and connection, in that moment of spirited Judaism, in that moment suffused with Torah, Max stood up and he yelled: “Hitler! Where are you?”
“You are six feet under.”
“And I, I am here. WE are here.”
And he sat down.
I can only imagine how proud Max would be at the amount of Torah study taking place in our congregation. Because that’s how we respond to the Holocaust. And that’s how we respond to modern antisemitism as well. Yes, we are inspired and follow in the footsteps of those who fought in the Warsaw Ghetto Uprising. But that is not the whole story. Shavuos is intrinsically connected to Pesach. We focus on the spiritual strength of our past and of our present.
After our Bava Kamma siyum, many people continued learning. Some are learning Daf Yomi, some Amud Yomi, some Nach Yomi, some Mishna Yomi. Some fell off the bandwagon. And some never joined. That’s okay. Tomorrow, Mishna Yomi is beginning a new book, the Tractate of Sotah. Mazel Tov to all those who finished Nedarim. Hadaran Alach, may we return to you and learn Nedarim again. On Thursday, Nach Yomi is beginning the book of Kings. Mazel Tov to all those who finished the book of Shmuel. Hadran Alach, may we return to you and learn Shmuel again. I invite you to join one of these Torah learning initiatives. I invite you to walk in the footsteps of our ancestors who shined the bright light of our Torah overwhelming the darkness of those who tried and try to destroy us. I invite you to commemorate the Holocaust not only this Monday, or on Asarah B’Teves, or even on Shavuos, but every day – every day we stand proud as Jews and engage in our heritage. I invite you to join me in trading ‘Never Again,’ for ‘Hadran Alach,’ may we return to you, the holy books of the Torah, again and again and again.