Terezin, 5/15/25

    As adults we know that there life experiences that are so impactful that they create, in our souls, a "before" and an "after." Today our children (and their chaperones) had one of those experiences. I don't think it's hyperbolic to say that there's life before you've visited a concentration camp and life after. I think such a visit, when appropriately framed, contextualized, and thoughtfully presented... such a visit creates in you a before and an after. 

    It's one thing to study the Holocaust. And study, our kids have. Under the careful guidance of Ms. Kuriansky and other teachers, our kids have studied the Holocaust. More than simply study (if such a thing is possible), our kids have heard multiple Holocaust survivors share their stories, planted daffodils in memory of children who were murdered by the Nazis and their collaborators, painted names of victims on stones, and visited the US Holocaust Museum and Memorial in Washington D.C. They have lit memorial candles, recited special prayers, and researched areas of personal interest and importance. And so many of us have personal stories, family stories. All this and more has shaped us. All this and more we brought with us to Terezin. 

    Even with these things we carried, visiting a concentration camp-- feeling the ground beneath your feet, watching the clouds move across the sky, hearing the birds chirping against the ominous silence, reconciling the beauty of the natural world with the horrors that human beings are capable of, standing in places where children were separated from their parents, where Nazis enforced docility through terror, where people starved and suffered from diseases, and perished from neglect and abuse... Being there and experiencing it all creates in you a before and an after. Standing on train tracks that literally lead to Auschwitz... a before and an after.

    Terezin is a complicated place. In some way it is a more gentle place to have such experiences and in other ways a more complicated, and even more barbaric place. Those of you who have been likely know what I mean. Before it was converted into a hybrid of a concentraiton camp and a ghetto for the Jews of Czechoslovakia and surrounding areas, Terezin was a small town. Replete with architecture from the era of the Hapsburg Empire and all the trappings of a small European town such as public gardens, a school, a church, small markets, and so on. Approximately 7,000 people lived there. 

    

    When the Nazis and their collaborators decided it was time to address the "Jewish Problem" in Czechoslovakia they chose to convert Terezin into a concentration camp/ ghetto. They did so knowing that it could serve multiple purposes. It was a convenient place to load Jews onto trains to send to Auschwitz and other death camps, but also a place that was sufficiently quaint that it could be used to mislead well-intentioned organizations such as the Red Cross into believing that reports of Nazi atrocities were overstated. Mostly famously, a propoganda film was produced by the Nazis. We watched footage of that film today while at Terezin. Footage depicting festive soccer games, crowded social halls, musical performances. In short "a decent life." History suggests that the Red Cross was persuaded by these and other propoganda measures. Meanwhile, the reality is that several thousand Jewish residents of Terezin were shipped to Aushwitz before the film was made to make sure that Terezin didn't appear to have an "overpopulation issue." 

    A common trope in Holocaust discussions is that, somehow, Terezin was a little bit better than other camps. But in reality, of the 150,000 Jews who were sent there, approximately 17,000 survived. Terezin was also one of the last camps to be liberated, with many people there dying after the end of the war. Terezin's crematorium (which many people don't even know exists) became operational in September of 1942 and burned through the end of the war. 

    So no, Terezin wasn't really "a little bit better." Rather, we are blessed to have, as sacred witness that these people lived, loved, and deserved to live and love beyond what was given to them, an astonishing collection of art, poetry, and other forms of documentation that show the resilience, spirit, brilliance, and strength of many who were kept there. Perhaps we're familiar with the collection of children's art and poetry, "I Never Saw Another Butterfly." A lesser known but extraordinary story is that of a child at Terezin named Petr Ginz. One of his drawings that was donated to Yad Vashem, depicting the moon, was carried into space as one of a handful of Israeli artifacts, by Ilan Ramon. The drawing was destroyed in the horrible accident that claimed Ramon's life and that of his fellow astronauts. Both Petr Ginz and Ilan Ramon were taken before their time, but both left legacies that affirm both the Jewish spirit and the human spirit. 

    After the war, Terezin was turned back again from a concentration camp to a small European town. Terezin too, it seems, has a before and an after. Incomprehensible as this may be, there's solace to be found in the fact that every student in the Czech Republic visits Terezin. The Czech people, it seems, have chosen to confront rather than deny this chapter of their collective history. We witnessed this first hand, as we saw several groups of Czech students wandering the vast grounds with us. Hopefully these Czech students also experience Terezin as a before and an after.

    We concluded our visit to Terezin with a short memorial service. Several students were courageous enough to read short reflections that they had written during some time that we had set aside for personal reflection earlier in the day. To describe this moment and this setting, words truly fail. I'll simply document here that we stood arm in arm in a circle and recited Kaddish, then unrolled several Israeli flags and sang Hatikvah. 

    Stripping a child of their innocence by visiting a place like Terezin isn't a decision that we made lightly. We made this decision with great care and we thank you, our parents and partners, for your trust. And there were things at Terezin we didn't show the children. They don't know, and they don't need to know, that our memorial service took place in the shadow of Terezin's crematorium. They don't need to know that their chaperones toured that crematorium while the students were heading back to the busses. They don't need to know that we left that short tour with tears in our eyes, silence in our hearts, and a collective visceral experience of having stared pure evil straight in the eye that we hope never to experience again. They don't need to know that their mindless chatter and silly singing on the bus ride home were a balm for us. But as our partners, we want you, their parents, to know that. 

    Before and after moments--- for some they come often, for others there are only a few over the course of our lifetime. Often we recognize them only in hindsight, sometimes we recognize them as they are happening. Sometimes we relate to them with joy and gratitude, and sometimes their legacy is more nuanced, complicated, and bittersweet; sometimes such moments may even be painful. When we left Terezin we gave each child a piece of bittersweet chocolate (except for the kids with nut allergies because the cholocate had a "may contain" warning!). In an effort to make our motive in doing so as clear as possible, we explained to them the idea of "bittersweet." But even as the words were leaving our mouths we found ourselves fumbling a bit to express the sentiment in simple terms. Even so, they understood perfectly what we were trying to say. And we were all grateful that, in that moment, it was okay if we struggled to find the perfect words to express what was in our hearts.