Ashkenazi Jews: Go to Poland

As I attempt to reconstitute myself after 16 days traveling in Poland, birthplace of 4 of my great-grandparents (or all 8, depending on where the borders were drawn at a given moment), my deep gratitude and awe is threaded with an undercurrent of anger and grief.

But probably not at what you’d expect that anger and grief to be about.

Many years ago, a teacher of mine, Jon Young, shared a concept called the Wall of Grief. I won’t get this exactly right, but the idea is that when you first begin a journey of rediscovering and reclaiming your connection with the natural world, it feels absolutely incredible… slowing down, noticing all the little things that had previously slipped by your untrained senses, receiving a message from a flower…

And then, often, there’s this point where sadness and pain surface. If it’s during a nature connection educational program, it generally happens about ¾ of the way through. (I’ve also noticed this happens in many other transformational spaces I’ve held or been a part of).

People throw up resistance, get depressed, try to leave, get mad at the leader, get mad at the world…

→ And this happens because of the heartbreak felt when you realize that you’ve been deprived your whole life of your earth-given right to deep nature connection. It’s like, “oh my god, I’ve been missing out on so much!”

This has also been my experience of reconnecting to my ancestors and ancestral lands in Poland.

My whole life, I saw “Eastern Europe” as this far-away, dark, gray, awful place, full only of the horrors of the Holocaust. A big Jewish cemetery, as they say.

Why in the world would I go to Poland?

My great-grandparents had left the old country behind — it was Russia when they left it — and never spoke of it (according to my parents), and like many American Jews, the basic message I received from Jewish institutions growing up boiled down to:

Holocaust bad. Israel good.

Because of this, I’ve been to Israel no less than three times — one time, completely free of charge.

And yet, I barely knew a thing about the 1000 year history of Ashkenazi Judaism in Eastern Europe leading up to the unthinkable events of World War II. Even though three quarters of the world’s Jews lived in Poland by the mid 1500s, and it was still the main center of European Judaism on the eve of WWII with 3 million Jews.

Of course, some of my generation learned more about it — some even went to Poland (though often the tours focused on death camps, not much on pre-Holocaust history). I am only recounting my own experience, and that of many in the group I traveled with.

→ But my point is this:

As our trip went on, along with the utter joy of rediscovering a land and history that felt resonant in many ways, and along with the pure fun of traveling with 12 thoughtful and like-minded adults through a beautiful and modern European country (yes, Poland is actually simply a fun place to visit)…

…I also had the feeling of being DEPRIVED of my history, my heritage, and my culture up until now.

How is it more important to go to Israel than it is to go to Poland, the epicenter of Ashkenazi Judaism?

I am heartbroken that we Jews of Ashkenazi descent, for the most part, ignore this vast and rich history, the dozens of generations of life lived in Poland before WWII.

I don’t believe we honor our history only by remembering the deaths of people.

We honor history by remembering their lives. Their challenges and triumphs, their stories and songs, the good, the bad, and the ugly of 1000 years of Judaism.

And yes, we do remember the Holocaust. Of course. Of course. Of course.

It’s impossible NOT to learn all about it as you travel through Poland, whether or not you set foot into a concentration camp.

But to focus only on the death… to either learn only about the Holocaust in religious school, or go to Poland and just visit death camps, and NOT visit the magical restored synagogues, old town squares and cemeteries… is to deprive ourselves of hundreds of years of generational love and connection.

It deprives us of our birthright, of our connection to our ancestors, of our celebration of the gifts they bestowed upon us — and NOT only their pain, grief and death.

It deprives us of opportunities to heal. To heal ourselves, to heal backwards, and to heal forwards.

***

Yes, up until about 35 years ago, Poland was under harsh communist rule that kicked out almost all of its remaining Jews. Visiting Poland wasn’t really a thing for Jews back then.

But despite it being far from perfect now, things have changed.

Synagogues and cemeteries have been and/or are being restored, museums and monuments have been created, Jewish Community Centers and other new Jewish institutions have been re-founded, non-Jewish Poles are learning and teaching Jewish history. There are small but growing Jewish communities in Krakow, Warsaw, and in a few other places.

There are really important things to see and do and learn in Poland.

Maybe it just takes time for the word to get out…🤷🏻‍♀️

Well here is the word:

Go to Poland.

***

And, this is not a simple thing.

I hope to write soon about the dissonance and pain of feeling simultaneously connected to a place on a visceral level and enjoying a gorgeous meal out in a vacation town — while also feeling the almost complete lack of Jews enjoying said place.

I hope to write about holding the complexities of a place where people buy “Lucky Jew” figurines depicting Tevya-like Jews counting piles of money AND where there are Jewish ALLIES over the place (other than our tour organization, the amazing Taube Center for Jewish Life and Learning, every single one of our tour guides was a non-Jew who’d devoted their career to Jewish history of Poland.)

I hope to write about what it was like sitting by the pond in my namesake Julia’s ancestral town of Ostrow Mazowiecka doing a ceremony to open up a deeper relationship with my ancestors in the midst of Polish teenagers hanging out and enjoying life.

I hope to write about my ponderings on if it’s ok to use the salves and tinctures made from medicinal plants from a death camp.

I hope to write about a bunch of other stuff too, because I am now on a freaking MISSION to get other Ashkenazi Jews to visit this homeland of ours.

→ (Where is the funding for this by the way? Where is the Polish “Birthright”?!) I’m not kidding.

And — I’m still making sense of all of this.

I know this trip has changed me, and I honestly don’t even know how yet.

So these are just my initial thoughts after being home for a week. More to come.

→ And so much gratitude to Shai Lavie, whose email 2.5 years ago to a community list piqued my interest, and to my other intrepid travel buddies. I am SO grateful I got to share this experience with other people on this path of healing and reconnection. And who like to giggle in the back of the bus like teenagers too.

❤

PS — As a wrap up to the Wall of Grief concept, if we’re aware that grief is likely to arise, we can prepare ourselves and create the kind of container that can hold us through this grief to the other side, which is where the transformation lies. I feel blessed to be held in such a container.