Visiting Yad Vashem

I walked around Yad Vashem amidst the crowds and tours, somewhat detached from what I was seeing, at first.

It felt tragically surreal, and I was nauseous. But I assume I was as stone-faced as those around me, trying to grasp what we were experiencing.

Until I saw the wooden bunk beds, and across from it a photo of a few of the many beautiful souls forced to cram their tired, starved bodies into those make-shift beds.

I sobbed in front of my kids and strangers, as all sense of self awareness and restraint left me.

Who am I to even share about it? Here in the comfort of my kitchen, while lentils cook.

Then, we came to the part that showed the videos of the homeless, displaced Jews, trying to come back to the only real home our people have ever known.

The place G-d promised us.

And now we are here. I am here.

I chose to give up the perceived comforts of the U.S. and to bring my kids here, to our land, to our home.

I am a Jewish woman, now preparing food for Shabbat in my kitchen in Eretz Hakodesh.

I can’t even attempt to say anything other than how much my heart and soul ache. Yes, in my life I get to experience moments of great joy and beauty.

But it’s softened by the awareness of how much people have suffered, and continue to suffer.

So I do what I can to serve G-d, to learn Torah, and to remember who I am and why I’m here.

As the Lubavitcher Rebbe said, “Can we presume to assume that an explanation small enough to fit inside the finite bounds of human reason can explain a horror of such magnitude?

“Only G‑d Himself can answer for what He allowed to happen. And the only answer we will accept,” said the Rebbe, “is the immediate and complete Redemption that will forever banish evil from the face of the earth and bring to light the intrinsic goodness and perfection of G‑d’s creation.”

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