Today in class, we had a discussion about the massacre at Deir Yassin during the War of Independence in Israel. In Deir Yassin, fighters from the Israeli military factions of Irgun and Lehi attacked the Arab village, killing 107 Arabs including women and children. The attack and its aftermath were extremely controversial for both sides alike. In the aftermath, however, what happened at Deir Yassin led to around 700,000 Arabs fleeing Israel and the eventual creation of a Jewish state. Our discussion in class centered on what our reactions would be to the events at Deir Yassin. If possible, would we have stopped the attack? Was it a necessary evil?

I personally believe that no, Deir Yassin was not a necessary attack to preserve the future of a Jewish state. Yes, the outcome led to hundreds of thousands of refugees leaving, but the killing of innocent women and children is still inexcusable. Of course, knowing that this attack played a major role in the realization of the State of Israel, it is difficult to say that I would have prevented the attack, but I do believe that I would have attempted to stop it. In the moment, the soldiers did not know the eventual outcome, only the immediate future after the killings of over a hundred Arabs. Either way, this is a very difficult and controversial subject, and any situation like this is tough to comprehend.

For my next blog post, I am writing about one experience I have had with Israeli culture. For class, I recently read a short story by Etgar Keret titled "The Son of the Head of the Mossad." Keret's writing, even translated from Hebrew to English, is still impressive and well-worded. Most of his stories are a combination of dark humor, creepy things, and funny situations. I won't go into the details of this particular story, but I can say that it was especially dark.

In class we have mentioned that Israeli humor would be considered dark humor to outsiders, which I happen to love. The dark humor employed by Keret in his stories is especially dark sometimes, and the stories give a new view of Israeli society. I really liked the few stories I read, and I look forward to reading more of Keret's writing and to gaining a new perspective on Israeli life.

This is my first blog post in a while, and a lot has happened since then. We just got back from our long trip for Pesach and Yam L'Yam. To start, Pesach was very cool. My dad and sister came to visit, and we went to our former cantor's husbands brother's seder near Jerusalem. The family was Sephardic, so the seder was a bit different. First of all, they used lettuce as the bitter herb, which was interesting. Also, instead of traditional charoset, my favorite Pesach food, they served a sort of date spread as charoset, which was surprisingly good anyway. The seder wasn't too long, and it was fun, even though it was done entirely in Hebrew, which I couldn't understand.

After Pesach we began our sea to sea hike, Yam L'Yam. I won't go into all the details, but essentially I spent five days hiking, cooking my own food, sleeping in tents on the ground, and not showering. It was awesome. The last day was my favorite; we biked from our campsite to the Mediterranean Sea, which was beautiful. I think the trip was important because it gave us a broader view of the land of Israel. Instead of hearing about the land from our teachers, we got to hike it and get a real feeling for the importance of this land. We also got to meet some cool Israelis and experience a truly Israeli cultural rite of passage.

Tomorrow we leave Tzuba again, this time for thirteen days. We start in Jerusalem, then Pesach, and then Yam L'Yam, our hike from sea to sea. As excited as I am to hike the land of Israel, I am just as excited to celebrate the Pesach seder in Israel. First of all, my dad and sister are coming to join Jacob and I for the week, which I am super excited for. I also think Pesach in Israel will be a whole new and interesting experience. Whenever I am at home for Pesach, I never end up fully observing the holiday. I usually eat matzah at home, but not outside of my house. This year, however, I will have very few chances to break the Pesach kashrut, because I am surrounded by Jews 24/7, all of whom are observing the holiday. I also think it will be easier considering I have very little choice in the matter. All in all I am very excited to travel the country and see my family.

Now that I have been back from Poland for almost a week, I am able to reflect on the experiences I had there. Even one week is not enough; it will take much longer to realize the extent to which this trip had on me. From the sadness of Majdanek and Auschwitz to the sights of Krakow and Warsaw, the images and memories from Poland will last forever. But from all the things I saw in Poland, the message was always the same: we had a vibrant culture in Poland, which was taken away forever. No amount of rebuilding can ever replace the communities destroyed in Poland. The only thing we can to is remember and rebuild what we can, both culturally and religiously. And that is what I want to do – not only survive as Jews like I wrote about before, but to rebuild and remember what we had and what we can have.

Seeing the vibrant Jewish communities from before the Holocaust was particularly haunting for me. Going to Tykocin and seeing the remnants of a once vibrant, thriving Jewish community. Visiting the multitude of museum-like old synagogues in Krakow. These communities will likely never regain the level of Judaism they once had before the Holocaust. And so we must rebuild. Israel is now the land of the Jewish people, and just as Poland was the center of Jewish culture then, Israel must be its center now. The rebuilding stage in the post-Holocaust world has been going on for decades now, and my generation must be the one to continue this and create a Jewish cultural hub rivaling that of Poland. This means Jewish art, Jewish music, Jewish architecture, Torah study, every type of Jewish culture possible. And once this is created, as much of it already has been, it is our job to continue its tradition and not let it almost disappear again.

But just rebuilding is not enough. There are only sixty-six students on EIE yet countless of other young students around the world without this experience. To rebuild and continue the tradition of Judaism, we must educate everyone in order to keep Judaism alive. The vibrant Jewish life of Poland was destroyed by Hitler and Nazi Germany, and this must never happen again. Along with the rest of EIE, I visited Majdanek, Auschwitz, and Birkenau. The haunting realization of what happened in these three places was enough for me to want to continue Judaism more than ever. I wasn't necessarily sad in these camps, rather I was angry. Such an amazing culture with amazing people was completely destroyed, never to return. And so we must remember. We must remember the six million that died and the countless generations of their descendants never to be born. We must teach of the horrors of the Holocaust so it is never repeated. We must commemorate those who saved their Jewish neighbors and risked their lives for others.

When asked what I took away from Poland, I was almost confused. My experience led to the strengthening of my own Judaism, but this was difficult to put into words. I don't necessarily feel more Jewish, but rather more connected to the past, more in touch with the history of the Jewish people, a history which I want to continue. And there it is: I took away a collective memory of my people which I want to continue and enrich in every way possible.