Post Trip: Participant Reflection

Identity: The Story of a Polish Jew

by Ron Hoffman

Most of us have a sense of who we are...gender, ethnicity, peoplehood, religion, something. We arrive at this understanding through tellings, experience, education, myth, and imagination.

I want to share the story of how I recently came to terms with my identity not because finding oneself is unique (although how each of us perceive and learn who we are is axiomatically so) but rather because of a recent trip to Poland with Facing History And Ourselves which dramatically altered my sense of me.

I was born in Toronto almost 72 years ago of Jewish parents who were either born in or connected to what we now recognize as Poland. I say "now" because when my parents were born, Poland did not exist as a country and had not existed for about 120 years being passed back and forth between the great Austro- Hungarian, Prussian and Russian empires.

My parents were not Holocaust survivors but like the rest of that generation did not talk about the " Old Country ". Their focus was on making a living and giving their "Kinder" a better life. If they had overarching goals it was to ensure my brother Larry and I received a good education and become professionals, to have the opportunities they never had, to always be able to make a living. They did not share their past.They did not discuss their challenges with us. They shielded us as much as possible from all unpleasantness, including family passings. I thought their motivation was the Great Depression. I was only partially correct.

As a child I knew nothing of what it was like to have been a Jew in Europe or for that matter a Jew in Canada in the 20's, 30's and 40's. I did not understand a lot of things.

I grew up thinking that being Jewish meant that I believed in a different God than most of those who lived around me. The difference manifested itself in after-school cheder classes, different holidays, not singing the name Christ in the school choir, more holidays from school and in many other more subtle ways, a life a part of but also apart from Canadian society. It did not seem unusual or onerous to me. In fact I considered myself fortunate. I had more holidays from school than many other kids. ( what else was important then?) I do remember my father carrying his talit bag in a brown paper bag. I never asked why.

When I was about 10, living on Ellesworth Avenue ( Vaughn and St. Clair) and going to Hillcrest Public School, I faced antisemitism for the first time. One afternoon after school I was chased home by a bigger boy who called me a Christ killer and a dirty Jew. I was terrified and thought he wanted to kill me. Fear lent wings to my feet and I came safely home crying and complaining. I did not understand why my parents refused to do anything. " Zug Gournisht" they said.

I had heard that a lot even then but it had never applied to me. Now I began to understand. My dad and his paper bag. " Say nothing!" Jews or my parents at any rate , wanted to be invisible. But I still did not understand why.

I did did not know about the St. Louis. I did not know about the Shoah. I did not know about those places where "Jews and dogs"were not allowed. Witchwood Park a few short blocks away was one such place. No one said anything to me. In fact one of my gentile friends lived there.

I did not know what had happened in the " Old Country", how those events impacted my parents and theirs, antisemitic incidents and a catastrophe of all catastrophes, that were part of the identity construct of Polish and after World War II most North American Jews. We were afraid to be identified as Jews because of a view of the past from which I had hitherto been insulated.

I experienced very little overt antisemitism during the rest of my formative years but from that one incident now I too had been scarred. I was afraid to be identified as a Jew as I grew up.

As a result of my trip to Poland and other more random events I found myself thinking about my past,my identity and how it was formed. I concluded that I grew up in a protective Jewish bubble, first created by my parents and then by myself, a bubble which included family, neighborhood, friends, cheder, my family's Ozrower Mutual Benefit/ Free Loan Society, Jewish Life Cycle events, synagogue, camp and the YMHA. My friends except for two in public school were Jewish. I celebrated my Bar Mitzvah with my Jewish friends and family in the Kiver Shul, my Zaidy's, his place of worship and study, and in the Apter Center( the party) on Beverly Street. Both were located downtown where my family and most other Jews had first lived before we moved to the St. Clair and then the Lawrence/ Bathurst area where one could purchase an affordable home on a street where other Jews lived. My parents in both cases, had followed the Jewish Toronto migration northward as did so many others. I went to Bathurst Heights Collegiate, a high school with a large Jewish population. While a student there I joined a Jewish fraternity and without thinking much about it, sought out Jewish classmates as new friends. I expanded my bubble, instinctively believing that this bubble could burst at any time. It wasn't until later that I learned what had happened in Europe and life for my parents in Canada " . Zug Gournisht"." continued to be my mantra. I was welcome in the wider community as long as I was not obviously a Jew.

Fast forward to Poland today.

My wife Heather and I had talked about taking a "roots" trip to Poland and we jumped at the opportunity to piggy-back our personal investigation onto a Board related Facing History study trip scheduled for May 2014. Because of Facing History and its work we had the benefit of meeting many extraordinary Poles, educators, activists, historians, public officials, representatives of like minded organizations as well as Polish students from small communities. There were no young Jewish students in those small communities of course, this in spite of the fact that these communities were 30 to 60 % or even more Jewish before the War.

We also investigated our personal roots through archives and back-in-time, shtetl journeys on our own. Our personal findings were truly remarkable. But that is another story for another time. Suffice it to say that if you have roots in Poland like us, and know very little about that piece of your heritage and identity, I urge you to make the effort. It's richly rewarding.

So what was the "Ah Ha" moment for me? Essentially it was the shattering of my beliefs that had hitherto had been part of who I thought I was.

I went to Poland believing that Jews in Poland were peasants. I had actually heard from many and specifically a well known Rabbi in Toronto saying as much. Not so. Most were actually merchants of every description, leaseholders, employers, teachers, and government employees. Of course almost everyone was orthodox and some men spent much of their time in the Bet Midrash studying Torah leaving the task of generating an income to their wives. Of course many had jobs as well.

I believed that the Isaac Bashevis Singer romanticized description of the shtetl Jew was what my investigation would disclose as to Jewish life before the War. Not so. I believed that all Poles disliked Jews and the feeling was mutual. Not so. I believed that the Nazis had found willing accomplices in Poland during the War. Not fair and too nroad a brush. Certainly there were some but there were also many who risked their lives for Jews. But Poles were victims too. I believed that there were no Jews to speak of left in Poland outside of Krakow. Not so.

Facing History educators and associated Polish non-profit community building organizations like the Forum For Dialogue Amongst Nations introduced me to a thousand year history of Jews in Poland, the name Poland itself deriving from Yiddish and signifying a safe haven. From 1100 CE to almost 1900 Jews fled or migrated to Poland and not from it. Kings and other rulers invited them in wanting their knowledge of mercantile matters, their ability to arrange loans or provide financing arrangements and their skill at reading, writing and keeping records. They also saw them as generators of taxation revenue of course. In the big picture, Jews were seen as good for the country's growth and welfare and they were. I discovered that Jews were so intimately connected to and so deeply imbedded in Polish life for so long that Jewish history could not be meaningfully separated from Polish history. I discovered that Poland's politics and its commerce and trade existed as much or more because of the influence and presence of its Jews as any other factor. And this in a country that was and is more Catholic than virtually any country in Europe.

It became clear to me that it was no accident that Poland before the War was home to seventy- five per cent of Europe's Jewish population. It was not an accident that through the Middle Ages Jewish learning, Jewish writing, and Jewish culture flourished in Poland. This is not to say that there was no antisemitism. Of course there was. Jews could not own land. There were pogroms from time to time. Jews lived on the outskirts of towns and cities. Jews were self discriminating and discriminated against but no more than they were anywhere in Europe before the Enlightenment. Actually less. Much less. In fact, in the 1800's, Jews could not be tried for crimes in ordinary court because they were invited guests for of the king and under the King's protection.

So why the enduring falsehoods? Why the bad Polish jokes, why the myths? Why the hatred? Why did I have such negative feelings about my coming from Polish roots and about Poland in general? And why had we been afraid to " make waves" even in Canada?

The Shoah explains something and perhaps everything. It is impossible to think of Jewish history and not to flash immediately to the Holocaust and its horrors. Its shadow has palpably darkened even good memories while focusing all of us on the biggest negative, antisemitism.

The Shoah was racial hatred incarnate. It crystallized all those fears from the persecutions we suffered throughout the ages. And now we tend to remember all our Polish history through a Holocaust antisemitic lens.

But is this the only optic and should it be?

On this Facing History trip we did visit former ghettos and extermination camps but that experience as painful as it was was now being balanced by other less publicized narratives.

We met as I have said with the people of Poland in Warsaw, Blonie, Auswiecm, Auschwitz and Krakow, academics, activists, teachers, students and just plain people. We learned about a really complicated Polish Jewish history, its positives and its negatives. We learned about the impact of German occupation and slaughter and 45 years of communist rule, how both affected Polish and Jewish history, world opinion and of course a current Jewish perspective on Poland and its people. We learned that the Holocaust and 45 years of oppressive Communism and ongoing antisemitic incidents were good reason for Jews scarred by experience and history to be afraid to acknowledge their Jewishness in Canada and in Poland. But we also learned about a changing, hopeful environment in Poland where Jews and Poles are talking and cooperating once again. And of course we are now experiencing a privileged life in Canada.

This my take away. To be Jewish in Canada today is to be a proud Canadian Jew. After all, we live in a country where our Prime Minister is an avowed supporter of Jews and their contribution to civilization and there are no restrictions whatsoever on our lives.

To be Jewish today also is to have a homeland to be proud of, an Israel that arose Phoenix-like out of the flames of the Holocaust.

And because of our trip I discovered that to be a Jew in Poland or from Poland is also something of which one can be proud.

Poles themselves are to be admired for many things, their sense of their own identity in spite of being overrun so many times by other empires, their support for democracy and democratic institutions ( They were the second country in the world after the U.S. To have a democratic constitution) their open cities, their optimism and most of all their ongoing and increasingly successful efforts to bring about a Jewish Renaissance while reconciling their own victimization and perpetration with the narrative of Polish Jews.

We met many non Jewish Poles committed in this objective and many Poles of Jewish origin working with them. We met many Poles who had recently discovered their Jewish origin as adults who believe that Judaism will once again be as an important piece of the future of Poland as it had been in the past. Everyone we met including those responsible for the completion of the new Museum of Jewish History in Warsaw were inspirational. Each had a slightly different explanation as to why they were doing the advocating, research, the building, the writing or the teaching but all were agreed that Jewish and Polish history, is the history of one people and a history that must not be forgotten but rather cherished and revived. They all believe that it is critical for Poles to know that history, literally buried under Communism for half a century while they recognize and memorialize the 3.1 million Jews who perished along with almost 2 million Poles.

Poles value their freedom and are prepared to die for it. They were accustomed to being overrun by Empires and when the Nazis, then mot seen as killers invaded in September 1939, there was some hope that a cultured country such as Germany might not be so bad in its occupation. But it soon became clear that the Nazis considered them to be inferior Slavs and death, destruction and enslavement were to be their lot. As for the Jews, no one knew Hitler's diabolical plans then and Jews themselves considered themselves loyal Poles. During the Nazi regime, Jews many Jews survived by becoming Polish Catholics. After the War, and under the Communist yoke, like the Jews who hid their faith and identity in Spain circa 1492, the Jews who stayed continued to deny their Jewish origins. When the Russians "liberated" Poland in 1945, the Marxist dream of a society of equals appealed to both the Jews and the Poles. Especially the Jews. Of course many Russian Jews were already Communists in political orientation. When Stalin showed his true colours, one's Jewish identity remained underground until 1989 when Communism was completely rejected and the " Solidarity Movement" came to power.

Since 1989, and only since then it has been been possible to be a Jew once again in Poland. It is since that time, only, that Poles have been free to address their guilt, victimization and responsibility. They are.

A striking example is the recent school project promoted by the Forum to explore Jewish contribution to polish history generally and the specifically across the many villages and towns previously heavily populated by Jews. In Blonie for example, the middle school kids, none of them Jewish of course, won a country- wide competition in this respect. We discovered that the project committed the town of about 10,000 residents to 6 days of exploring different aspects of lost Jewish history, lost Jewish culture, traditions, and it's many contributions to Blonie and to the eventual restoring and then maintaining of the Jewish cemetery located in the town.

One gets the sense from these efforts and the burgeoning of things Jewish in Warsaw Krakow the latter with its annual Jewish Music Festival, it's JCC, with its active synagogues and government support, there is a realistic hope for the future. Even a Holocaust survivor who had been back to Poland some years before, now for the first time sees the progress and feels that hope. I do not discount the current antisemitism that exists and as elsewhere is growing. I do believe that Poland driven by the leaders I have met and others has taken the first steps of a long journey, it's destination the reconciliation of its past and the revival of Jewish life. I wish it every success.

Having taken my journey, I now more clearly understand why my parents lived in fear but I am no longer captive of it. I have heard a new narrative and have a choice of which or what pieces of each I choose to accept. No more Polish jokes for me and no more stereotypes. I now can take pride in my Polish ancestry and look forward to a future where Poles, Jewish and non Jewish with those living there and the rest of us together create a mutually respectful narrative that will continue to grow from strength to strength and influence the next generation in a positive way. Let us hope that when Jews return to Poland it is not the Holocaust only that will weigh on their minds and hearts. Let us hope that March of The Living will visit the Warsaw Museum as well as the Warsaw ghetto. Let us hope that Jews of Polish ancestry will, like me, find in the new Poland, something in which they too can take pride. And let us hope that Poland can one day again be a safe haven for European Jewry, " God Forbid" should they need it.

Post Trip Letter to Participants from Marc

Dear Participants of FH's Poland Study Tour,

I expect most of you have returned to your home communities and have transitioned to your regular routines of life. A little over a week ago, I landed in Boston after spending five days in Turkey with Sara. It was a great way for us to step away from Poland and to begin to absorb all that we experienced on the trip. Every day since then, I have been in contact with our Polish partners (who loved being with all of you), and have been meeting with Margot and other staff to unpack what we learned during our eight days together. We are working to synthesize what those of us on the trip heard and saw to determine how it will impact the revision of Facing History and Ourselves: Holocaust and Human Behavior.  In each office, staff have been debriefing with their colleagues, and Advisory Board meetings have highlighted aspects of our journey. As you witnessed, we have had a major impact in many leading institutions in Poland and this work will continue and deepen. The training we have done with museum staff has helped shape how they deliver programs; our resources have been translated and are being used in schools; and our pedagogy has been infused into a variety of professional development programs. Maciek from the Auschwitz Jewish Cultural Center has promised to write an article about the impact FH has had on his program training police officers. It's a powerful story.
    
What a privilege to be part of a learning community where 90 FH staff, board members and friends could delve into the core content of our work and together try to make meaning of such an emotionally difficult and intellectually complicated history. The dynamism of any FH classroom (which describes our time together... but on steroids and wheels) is that it is full of diverse people interpreting information, weighing competing narratives, managing ambiguity, showing moral outrage, negotiating conflict and ultimately forming some type of judgment. While all of us have our own personal takeaways, our experiences were enriched by collectively wrestling with "imaging the unimaginable”, it's implications about the human condition and what we need to do to secure a safe and humane world.

I am attaching a few documents. One is the talk given on the first day by Professor Antony Polonsky. It should be interesting to read it now that the trip is over. He framed much of what we would be discovering during our time together. The other is the story written by Józef Walaszczyk, the 95-year-old rescuer, who was on the panel on day two. I read the memoir on the plane and was deeply moved and simultaneously stymied at what motivates people to be so courageous (and this is after studying the subject for three decades...maybe I am a slow learner). The third document is from the Forum for Dialogue. If you know of people who might be interested in participating in one of their study tours, they can contact Andrzej at andrzej.folwarczny@dialog.org.pl; please note, they expect people who participate in the tours to become more involved in supporting their work. Lastly, I am also attaching Ron Hoffman's reflection, which I thought you would find to be an interesting and thoughtful commentary on his personal journey. It would be wonderful to receive other reflections that we can share with the group. Finally, I am including the link to the blog: http://facinghistorypoland.blogspot.com/. All the summaries about each part of the trip are now complete. I can't thank the staff enough for all their efforts in providing this extraordinary gift for all of us.

I hope you were able to gain a deeper insight into the importance of our work during our time in Poland. While most of our students won't have the opportunity to travel to Poland, South Africa, Northern Ireland, or on a civil rights tour in the US, they are able to have a profound experience in the confines of a Facing History classroom where they explore some of the most important issues facing our world and think about how they can make a difference in their communities.

During the trip, I spoke with many of you and my colleagues about the question with which we all struggled: what can we do? For the staff and for me, the work with these painful histories and the moments of courage we saw inspire us to continue our efforts with teachers, educators, and students. We want to meet young people where they are, and help shape a moral compass and perspective on the world defined by empathy, respect, and understanding. For you as board members and donors, I ask that you continue to share your experiences with your family and friends, and that Facing History remains an important philanthropic priority to each of you. I feel as strongly as you do that we must continue to teach and understand the steps that led to the Holocaust, to understand how neighbors turned on each other – and helped each other, so that democracy is nourished and thrives in the many communities where we work, and where we hope to work. We are depending on you for your leadership and support.

Thanks again for your attentiveness and commitment to our work. I am eager to hear from you.

Best,
Marc
Facing History                  
Vice President & Chief Program Officer

Wieliczka Salt Mine & Final Dinner

Submitted by Anne- Marie Fitzgerald

Our Last Evening Together

As we gathered on our final evening together in Poland in a the Wielicza Salt Mine – somewhat of an iconoclastic setting to all that we had been experiencing over the previous 10 days -- we continued to talk amongst ourselves to understand what each of us had experienced both individually and as a group. We discussed what these experiences would mean for us once we were home, in our routines and how those routines might be interrupted/adapted to accommodate that learning, and most importantly the shifts that our own personal narratives had taken. 

Marc asked those of us who wanted to share our reflections with the group and as so many of us did, heads around the room nodded in agreement and understanding.  The thoughts below capture just some of our emotional and intellectual experiences.

“How often as adults do we get to work and learn together in such a substantive, deep and change provoking way.”

“I am personally grateful for the people that I was able to travel with on this journey and their care for me we traveled together.”

“The stories we have seen are beyond imagination and we all have known them in abstraction.  This trip brought the abstract to reality and so much for the better.

“There is so much time needed to process all that we have seen and learned and to understand how our own thoughts and beliefs have changed.”

“This was such a highly personal trip for me.  I was fearful of the challenge, but the group’s support helped me so much.  I feel as if I am taking the memories of those who died, home with me.”

“This experience will make us better ambassadors for the work of the organization – helping people to explore their own identities and the lessons of history.”

“Their memory could so easily be forgotten.  It makes me want to go back and fight for their memory.”

“I can’t imagine learning more in a week.”

“I am trying to figure out all that we have absorbed and how to be respectful of that new knowledge.”

“I am re-finding my own identity and challenging everything that I had thought about Poland by and large.  I am now a proud Polish Jew.”

“I wonder about what the work left to do is.”

And, finally and perhaps most importantly… “This deep experience is the beginning of something.”

 

Memory and Memorialization – Confronting the Past in Small Villages Outside of Krakow with Jonathon Webber

Submitted by Wayde Grinstead
 

During this trip, a shorthand emerged amongst the staff to describe much of our learning about Poland, and Jewish history there. That shorthand, 'complicated narrative', may feel simplistic, but it is apt in many of our sessions and explorations. This was no less true in our daylong trip with Jonathan Webber to visit the Polish countryside. 

What do these towns know of their Jewish past? It's a question we confronted at a few different junctures, and is especially important considering many of these towns and villages, who were once upwards of 70% Jewish, now lack any Jewish population whatsoever, in the wake of World War II and the Holocaust. 

While our day had many facets, they all revolved around Webber's efforts to both research and promote the connection to a Jewish past in the town of Brzostek, where Webber traces his family roots. 

The first leg of the trip served as a good metaphor for the relationship between smaller Polish villages and their awareness of the layers of their past. Near Brzostek, next to his roadside restaurant, a local man created a miniature version of what life in a Polish village in the not-so-distant past would have been like. Farmers, straw thatched roofs, a church, and a Roma caravan had all been part of this display. When Jonathan Webber first saw this, he pointed out to the man that the model, while informative and endearing, lacked a centerpiece for most small Polish villages: a synagogue, as part of the shtetl. The restaurant owner/model-maker replied that it would be done within the year. And he was true to this word, as a year later, the model village indeed included a synagogue, which we saw, on our visit. As an oversimplified metaphor, it might suggest that, for many Poles, the exclusion of their knowledge of some of their history may just be a simple lack of awareness, not a deliberate omission. 

As with much else during our trip, the history we explored during the rest of our day touched on both apex and nadir of human behavior. 

Nadir:

The darkness contemplated while visiting Treblinka and Auschwitz are difficult to put in to words. To think about how the human mind created such industrialized, dehumanized spaces, and to consider the thoughts of the families arriving and being separated in a moment's notice....

And yet, while we confronted those ideas in visits to those respective places, I was not prepared when confronting a different kind of horror: the families, and groups in the hundreds, marched out of towns like Brzostek, into the woods, miles outside of town, up hillsides, into solitary spaces, devoid of sounds except for birds, and the wind in the trees. Recreating the last parts of these walks, including that of Jan Janton, a Righteous Gentile who was marched out to the woods and shot along with the Fisch family, whom he had tried to protect, until he, and they, were betrayed. Those wooded spaces, with memorials due to the efforts of those like Webber, were daunting to contemplate in ways that were similar to, and quite different from, the spaces at the camps. 

Apex:

The Jewish cemetery in Brzostek, devoid of headstones since the war, was largely unrecognized by those in the town. But Webber pointed out that farmers would avoid plowing in the location, knowing, at least loosely, of it's past. Webber, with others, civically advocated not only for signs acknowledging the past Jewish presence in the town, but also to reconsecrate the cemetery. This included building a fence around the cemetery, with considerations about making sure the fence looked similar to that of the adjoining property a business. (This was done both to respect the neighbor, and to acknowledge that the cemetery continued under that businesses' property.) 

When townspeople saw the fence erected, and recognized that the space was being reconsecrated, they began to bring in headstones, which had been in their homes, basements, barns, and other areas (and in stark contrast to the narrative we saw in the film "Aftermath".) To know that the headstones in the cemetery were the originals, albeit perhaps not in their original locations returned by locals, and that the space would be clearly marked for the town to visit and remember, is reassuring. 

Near the conclusion of the day, we met with the mayor of Brzostek, who reminded us of the importance, ultimately, not just of respect of each other regardless of religion or culture or nationality, but because of our shared humanity. That, along with the "Choosing to Participate"-like persistent advocacy on the part of Jonathan Webber, not only to reconsecrate forgotten cemeteries, but also to get street signs and local maps to acknowledge these spaces, were a great way to close the layered stories of our week together.

The creator of the miniature village next to the recently added Jewish cemetery.

 

 

 

 

Jonathan Webber sharing insights and leading a ceremony at the recently reconsecrated Brzostek Jewish cemetery.

The group with Jonathan Webber at a new memorial at a secluded spot in the woods where hundreds of Jews from Brzostek were shot by the Nazis.