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The Southern Israelite
with the Palestinians, “in the
bombing of Lebanon, in the
extension of property rights on the
West Bank, are consistent with
the heritage of Rosh Hashana."
The former Ambassador
prefaced his remarks by saying the
American Jewish community has
“an important even dominant
influence” on the moral tone of this
country.
“The last person who should be
giving advice to a religious
community on its holiest of days
on how and what to repent is the
individual who was forced to
resign his trusted post because he
lied to the President and Secretary
of State,” Hier declared. Young
resigned as U N. Ambassador after
misinforming the State Depart
ment on his unauthorized meeting
in July with the Palestine
Cantor Isaac Goodfriend grieves over fragments of charred
human bone from the open pit memorial at Treblinka death
camp ___
Going home
LOS ANGELES (JTA)—Rabbi
Marvin Hier, dean of the Simon
Wiesenthal Center for Holocaust
Studies at Yeshiva University here,
has termed as “repugnant”
statements by Andrew Young that
American Jews should repent
dunng the High Holy Days period
for Israel's policies toward the
Palestinians.
Hier was referring to statements
made by Young, who officially
stepped down as U.S. Ambassador
to the United Nations Sunday, to a
Los Angeles Times reporter during
his flight back from a tour of
Africa. The interview was in
Sunday’s edition.
Young was quoted as saying that
he thought “it would be
appropriate” for American Jews
during the 10 Days of Penitence to
question whether Israel's relations
Liberation s
observer at th<
Hier, who is also a member of
the Advisory Committee to
President Carter’s Commission on
the Holocaust, took exception to
Young’s implication “that
American Jews control the
decision-making process of a
freely-elected democratic
government halfway around the
world. Andrew Young should
know better.
“A more appropriate topic for
introspection would be for Black
leadership to consider how the
disciples of Martin Luther King
Jr., the father of the American
non-violent movement, find
themselves wed to the godfathers
of world terrorism," Hier added.
Young said in his Los Angeles
See Young page 21
“...the last time I heard from (my grandfather) was when he was in the
synagogue together with my family. No, it was not a Sabbath...that
brought him to this House of God. It was the Nazi beasts who rounded up
162 Jews, the last remnant of the Ghetto, to be killed in the nearby forest."
The Weekly Newspaper For Southern Jewry >-
Our 55th Year I N |
Atlanta, Georgia, Friday, September 28, 1979 _l
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Young remarks enrp:
Holocaust Studies < :
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by Cantor Isaac Goodfriend
In 1945, I vowed never to return
to Poland. Under normal
circumstances, I would never have
violated this vow. Before I
undertook a recent journey with
the President’s Commission on the
Holocaust on a fact-finding
mission, I had doubts and
trepidations if I should go back to
a country which by international
law would be considered my
homeland. The decision was not
an easy task, but in the aftermath I
can say I am glad that I went.
Whenever and wherever I have
the opportunity to speak before an
audience on the subject of the
Holocaust, I always try to describe
my personal experience as a bad
dream, a nightmare, that is
difficult to understand and one
that will never end as long as I live
on this earth.
When we approached the
outskirts of Warsaw, my thoughts
were of a feeling of descending into
the unknown, the infinite, to the
bottom of the inferno—memories
upon memories piling up and
forming a cluster of entangled
webs of the past. Enmeshed were
thoughts of ’who is going to
welcome me at the airport, how
many members of my family
would wait impatiently for my
arrival.' By the process of
elimination, I could not come up
with any names that were so
familiar to me only 37 years ago.
Touching down at the Warsaw
airport, I realized that I was in the
midst of creating another dream.
The weather was a perfect
background of that illusion.
Cloudy and a drizzling rain, the
fog blocking the horizon. Even the
raindrops were trying to
sympathize with me in my dream
making. When I saw a familiar and
friendly face of Benjamin Meed, I
was puzzled for the moment. What
is he doing in this God forsaken
country, whose soil is soaked with
the blood of our dear ones. Is he
part of my illusion? Ot is he there
to welcome us in the name of all the
Jews who were supposed to be
there?
At this moment my mind almost
stopped functioning. I can
remember uttering a prayer, “Oh,
God, please give me strength as
you have in the past, so that I may
continue with my thoughts and
with a clear mind absorb what is
happening around me.” I saw the
faces of the members of the
Commission, but not quite clearly.
I was trying to flash back different
faces that were more familiar to
me. It was not until we walked up
the steps to the Warsaw Ghetto
Memorial that 1 realized that we
were being stared at by the stern
faces of this impressive monument.
They seemed to say, “We are glad
that you did not forget us. We are
glad to greet you. Sorry! We are
the only remnant of the once-
vibrant Jewish community.
“Keep telling the world. Don’t
be silent! Don’t be ashamed! We
did what was necessary to bring
honor and dignity to our people in
time of total annihilation. You'
can, if you wish, call us the modern
Maccabees, the Bar Kochbas, the
Massadas.”
I wanted to scream, but nothing
came out. Even one word, why,
could not come out of my mouth.
There are so many why’s—Why
am I here? Why was my fate
different than theirs? Or is it
because of their sacrifices that l am
alive? If so, then there is no reason
for me to recite the El Male
Rachamin. A song of praise, a
song of exultation, paying the
proper tribute to the heroes and
their unselfish actions would have
been in place. But our tradition
bids us to remember our martyrs,
never to forget what Amalek, the
old and the new, did to our people
through the history. So with
bowed heads and reverence, we
recited the Memorial Prayer, on
the Polish soil in front of the
remaining witnesses on that
monument looking at me with
kind eyes, expressing their
approval.
1 shall always remember those
moving moments when every word
had so many meanings and
different interpretations than the
usual. The sequence of events did
not permit my mind to concentrate
on one particular thought. I felt 1
was being trapped amidst a chain
reaction of memories.
The Mourner’s Kaddish that
followed almost interrupted my
dream-making. I suddenly heard
the voice of Reb Levi Itzhak of
Berditchev in his famous Din
Torah with the Almighty
(summoning God to a challenge)
“Let us all cry out, what do you
have against your people? We shall
not move from this place until you
promise to watch over us, Yiigadal
v'yitkadash, sh’me raba."
Our next stop was Mila 18, the
last stronghold of the Warsaw
Ghetto Uprising, a lonely stone on
a mound, marking the place of the
once vibrant Jewish house from
which the heroic fighters fought to
the last to sanctify and glorify the
eternity of our people. 1 burst out
in a song “I came to you Warsaw
from a far-away place; numb and
sad, 1 am standing here. I have
travelled by sea and by air to find
my father and my mother
somewhere. Alas, to my dismay, 1
have found no-one here.”
After the first few hours of
ceremonies, 1 was about to venture
out on a journey that I had waited
for; for 35 years. To go back to my
birthplace and visit the family who
saved my life by hiding me,
together with eight other Jewish
people, until the end of the war 1
did not dare to go alone, so 1
invited five people to come with
me. As the taxi was moving along
the highway, we passed many
familiar cities, that were once
crowded with Jews of all walks of
life: rava, tomashov—and each
place brought back memories of
family who used to live there and
now these cities are in name only;
there are no Jews left in them.
As we approached my home
town, 1 had the same feeling as I
had before landing in Warsaw. 1
knew full well that I could not
expect to find anyone waiting for
me. My dream came closer to
reality. No need pretending. Here 1
was in the midst of the more
See (filing home page 12
Revisiting Poland, the land of his birth—where his
family was destroyed in the Holocaust—was a
wrenching experience for Cantor Isaac Goodfriend.
In this article, he shares some of his thoughts and
emotions during this poignant journey into the past.
