Birthright Day 7
The number 7 is seen as divine in Judaism, but I did not feel so as this day completed. This would soon to prove to be the heaviest and darkest day of the entire Birthright Experience.
As we headed back to Jerusalem, our destination was the Holocaust Museum, and even an ironic interruption of travel due to a police escort where I saw Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu drive past me did not distract me from what I was about to encounter.
Once inside the Museum, the emotions ran high. I do not wish to document here in text what I saw, for words cannot even begin to describe the feelings I felt within that building. Emotions that were a combination of despair and fury. I found myself in tears at times while synonymous clenching my fists in hatred. My gaze always lingered on Gobbles and Himmler longest of all.
The darkness that gripped me through the day had only just begun to course through my veins though, for there was a second part to the Museum that was far shorter in exploration, but even more powerful to me than the first. The Children’s Memorial. Inside this area I found a room filled with mirrors that reflected off each other creating the illusion of an infinite corridor. Within the illusion was added another element. Candles, burning forever. While I walked through the eerie room, names upon names were listed. The memories of the countless children that lost their lives in the Holocaust. An entire generation eradicated.
The dark part of the day was still not over though, for right nearby the museum stands a cemetery where many of Israel’s most prominent heroes find their final rest in this world. After our tour guide ensured that none of our group happened to be Cohen, we entered the grove where countless heroes find rest. Not just politicians either, but soldiers are buried here. Considering that there were 9 Israelis among us who either had served or were currently serving in the Israeli military, this experience was even more emotional to them than to me.
There was one grave site that stood out to me as well as most of the group more than the others. A lone soldier, or one who moved from another country to fight for the IDF. This young man paid the ultimate price to defend an idea he believed in. He also happened to have been a close friend to a few people in the group. While I had never had the opportunity to meet this American from the west coast, I still shared a moment of silence with my friends who had.
I recall that more events took place later this day, but I was so numb from all the experience up to this point, that I kept to myself for much of the rest of the night in silent reflection for what I had experienced. I also cried out for the fallen while whispering to myself: “Never again, by any cost.”