January 2025 marks 80 years since Auschwitz was liberated. While it might seem like a long time ago, history has a way of lingering. Over 80 years ago, Poland was home to one of the largest Jewish communities in Europe, full of vibrant culture and deep integration into Polish society. Around 3.3 million Jews lived in Poland, and in Warsaw alone, Jews made up about 30% of the population—a city that thrived as a Jewish hub.
Growing up, I learned a lot about the Holocaust—it was more than just history to me; it was personal. My grandmother is the daughter of Holocaust survivors. My great-grandparents were born in Warsaw and had a great life there until the 1930s. When the Nazis invaded, my great-grandfather managed to escape Poland and flee to Argentina. Unfortunately, his parents and five siblings weren’t as lucky. They had to stay behind and were tragically murdered by the Nazis in their apartment. My great-grandmother escaped Poland and made it to Argentina. Her family hid in a ditch in Poland for most of the war, only to be found and murdered by Nazis in 1944, just months before the war ended. The pain and guilt that survivors carry is so deep that it took my great-grandparents 15 years to share their stories.
In November 2024, I had the privilege of going on a seven-day trip through Poland with Tzvi Sperber, founder of JRoots. Tzvi's trips take people through Poland with a Holocaust survivor, visit the concentration camps, and explore the future of Holocaust education and the Jewish people. Tzvi has dedicated his life to interviewing survivors and giving them a voice. He founded JRoots in 2005 and has led thousands of people on inspiring journeys around the world. His perspective brought the stories to life in ways I couldn’t have imagined.
This trip wasn’t just about seeing the sites—it was about honouring my family and my history. As a proud Jew, I prepared myself emotionally for this journey for a long time. And yet, nothing could have fully prepared me for what I’d experienced. With 60 other Jews—mostly kids or grandkids of Holocaust survivors—and a Holocaust survivor, Laszlo Selly, we started the journey at the Jewish cemetery in Warsaw. Walking through the cemetery, we could see just how much a part of Polish society Jews were before the war. They worked all kinds of jobs, and the cemetery was massive. Next, we walked through what used to be the Warsaw ghetto and the Gestapo (Nazi secret police) headquarters. Today, they’re just regular buildings, blending into the city. But then, Tzvi pointed out a piece of history: remnants of the ghetto wall. And suddenly, the 60 of us were silent, a reminder that history isn’t as far away as it seems.
We visited a lot of forests throughout Poland on this journey. Some might ask: how are forests relevant to the history of the Jewish people? Forests are meant to be places where life flourishes—where animals roam freely, and trees purify the air. But during the Holocaust, Europe’s forests took on a different role. For some, they symbolized hope—Jews escaping into the woods, searching for safety. While a few managed to survive hidden among the trees, for most, escape was impossible. They were caught, executed, or forced to dig their graves in the forests before being shot. It’s estimated that at least 1.5 million Jews were murdered in the forests of Europe. One example is Zbylitowska Góra, located in southern Poland—a mass execution site for the Jews of Tarnów. Families were torn apart there, witnessing the deaths of their loved ones, only to face the same fate themselves. We reclaim our strength by visiting these places, once filled with so much darkness. Here we were, 60 Jews honouring our brothers and sisters. In silence, we spoke to our angels, saying, "Look, we are here. The Jewish people have survived."
It’s hard to write about the extermination camps without worrying about dishonoring the tragedy or falling short of capturing its weight. However, these are places everyone needs to visit, to face the reality of humanity’s evil and to understand the resilience of the Jewish people and the ability to heal in the aftermath. Of the six extermination camps, we visited three. Walking through Sobibor, Majdanek (both near Lublin), and Auschwitz-Birkenau (near Krakow) was surreal. There was so much silence, yet the air was filled with screams of suffering and loss.
At Majdanek, we sat in a barrack and listened to Irene Kurtz, a 97-year-old Holocaust survivor, share her testimony via Zoom. Eighty years ago, that same barrack was where she was tortured, starved, overworked, exhausted, and left to freeze, barely surviving. It was a place where most Jews who walked in, never walked out. Of the 6 million Jews murdered in the Holocaust, around 90,000 perished at Majdanek. Irene usually travels with the group, but she couldn’t this year—a reminder that it’s up to us, the next generation, to carry their stories forward.
One of the most powerful moments of the trip was learning that as Jews walked to their deaths in the gas chambers, they sang the Shema Israel, a Jewish prayer, holding onto their faith until the very end. In their honour, we sang the same prayer in the same gas chamber at Majdanek. In the face of rising antisemitism around the world, standing there, singing those words, and then walking out alive—it’s hard to put into words what that felt like. It serves as a call to the Jewish people to always stand against hate and to take pride in our Jewish identity. It was an overwhelming and deeply symbolic moment, and I’ll never forget it.
On this journey, we also honoured the Righteous Among the Nations—28,217 non-Jews who risked their lives to save Jews during the Holocaust. There’s a saying in Judaism: “Whoever saves one life, saves the world entire.” One of those worlds belongs to Laszlo. Braving the cold, he stood as a testament to courage, honouring his history and the memory of the 6 million who couldn’t. Laszlo’s life was saved by Raoul Wallenberg, a hero who issued protective passports and sheltered thousands of Jews. Hearing Laszlo tell his story made Wallenberg’s bravery come to life—proof that light can shine through even in humanity's darkest moments. We also learned about Oskar Schindler as we stood outside his factory in Krakow—a German industrialist who saved 1,200 Jews by employing them. Today, the factory is a museum, and I strongly encourage anyone in Krakow to visit it. Some of the Righteous Among the Nations are still alive today and I can’t help but reflect on their bravery. It makes me wonder: if you or I had lived then, would we have had the courage these people did? Would we have risked everything to save entire worlds, or would we have turned a blind eye?
Our present and this dark past are not so far apart. Visiting these places brings history to life in an unimaginable way. Growing up, the number “6 million” was engraved in my mind. This trip transformed that abstract number, giving the 6 million a face—one Jewish story, 6 million times. We were each given a "Remember a Child" card to honour one of the 1.5 million Jewish children whose lives were taken from them far too soon. Since this trip, I placed my child next to my Shabbat candles, and it remains there so that Arcie Zysberg’s memory stays with me and remains in my heart forever.
Michelle's passion for escaping Canadian winters has taken her on adventures around the world. From the beaches of Brazil to the vineyards of Spain, she's explored locales such as Argentina, Chile, and Italy. Her favourite spot? Tel Aviv, playing Matkot on the beach. Fluent in four languages, she thrives on travel.
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