My History, My People

So in addition to being in Poland for the UN Climate Conferences I am also taking a personal journey. I am learning how to travel alone, how to navigate public transit effectively, and most importantly connecting with things that always seem very distant, and yet always close to my heart. It is interesting how you can live with people for years, have dinners with them, celebrate special occasions with them, and call them family while knowing very little about their past and where they come from. At least that is how it seems with my family. In these past five years and on this trip I am really beginning to put all the pieces together. I suppose I should give you some background instead of proceeding with these vague statements and why I am writing this while in Poland.

I come from a predominately Jewish background I would argue. Not Jewish in the religious sense, but the culture and the traditions have always surrounded me. My Father does not really have a religious or distinct cultural background aside from coming from a midwest agrarian society so I clung to the Jewish part of me, and tend to identify with it frequently. Although I always feel as if I know very little about it. The question for me has always been why do I identify with this cultural heritage? I remember my mother coming in to my classes as a child making latkes, singing the prayer as we lit the menorah every Hanukkah, and being surrounded by bagels and lox and yiddish phrases growing up. I also remember being constantly criticized for claiming to be a Jew without practicing the religion. Throughout college, and recently as I have begun to travel the world, I have begun to understand my identity more, and to realize the importance of my people with or without the rituals religion has prescribed to define my relationship with God. Yesterday I visited Auschwitz, and after the years of learning about the Holocaust from my teachers, from my family, from my tour around Israel I finally understood what it meant to be a Jew. For me this is not about religion it is about being part of a culture of love and support and a shared understanding of the importance and fragility of life. It is a culture of celebration, remembrance, and my favorite part tradition and good food.

Walking through Auschwitz yesterday had to be maintained as a history lesson as opposed to a haunting story about the people in my family and the community my great grandparents and grandparents came from. This was so I could maintain my sanity because the things you see there are impossible to imagine. I have to admit that I know very little about my family roots. My Granny in a short conversation prior to leaving for Poland informed me that her mother was born in Poland, and I have to say I was shocked I did not know that. I also know that my Opa escaped the murderous onslaught that the Germans brought to the Jews shortly before the war. That is about the extent of my knowledge. However, it is strange to think that a majority of a group of people was systematically eliminated throughout Europe, and somehow I still exist. As I walked around the camp yesterday all I could feel was numbness, and none of it felt real. On the train ride back it all flooded over me as I read a book my mother had bought me about the tale of a family that survive the Holocaust. My dreams were flooded with terror last night, and yet here I am surrounded by people from all over the world blessed enough to have the opportunity to travel and to understand the world around me. I have incredible family and friends, and the world in all its imperfection seems to be progressing to something better.  I think this trip has been one of the most important personal journeys I have been able to embark on, and now it is time to go to work and save the world as a global community, and for some reason I have a lot of hope.