I miss them.
For two weeks we laughed, sang, danced, and cried with 34 Russian-speaking Holocaust survivors from Israel. They traveled to Ostróda, Poland, for a time of rest and refreshment. Nine of them live in Sderot, a town only 4 km. from Gaza which has endured 100’s of rocket attacks, so the peaceful tranquility of Ostróda Camp was a welcome relief. Others hail from Jerusalem, Ashkelon, Hadera, and Eilat. Among them were doctors, physicists, engineers, architects -- brilliant minds with painful memories. Each story filled my heart with grief. I am thankful that these dear ones survived. It was a privilege to meet them, to love them, to clasp hands and sing “Am Israel Chai” (the people of Israel live!).
But now they are gone – the cabins are empty, the dining hall still. Yet I still hear their voices, see their faces. The lilting melodies of their songs linger in my mind. The beautiful artwork, the stimulating discussions, the bent toward neatness and order, the clever wit, the relentless optimism, the seemingly endless energy and creativity -- these are the Jewish people who graced our campground and entered my heart. And now as I gaze over the quiet grounds, I can’t help but wonder ... after World War II in Poland, was there anyone (perhaps one, a dozen, maybe many more?) who felt as I feel now?
When 3.4 million Jewish people disappeared, were they missed?
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