Six million is a gigantic number: $6 million would make you a millionaire, 6 million pennies would give you $600,000, and six million seconds equates to approximately 69.4 days. Six million people are represented by the population of Tenafly if multiplied by 399. Try to imagine that each of those six million innocent lives were stolen; if you spent one minute of silence commemorating each one taken, you would not speak for 11.5 years. It seems incomprehensible, inhumane, unthinkable…but it was once a reality.
In the early phases of World War II, Adolf Hitler and his monstrous Nazi party contemplated the fate of the Jewish Europeans. The radicals perceived the community as a threat to a society; the Nazis preached their immediate removal, not only from Europe, but from the world itself.
How, in the most efficient way possible, would they exterminate such an extensive group of people? Such a predicament had been lurking behind them for an extensive period of time. They believed that eradicating the Jewish people from Europe would pave the way for the emergence of a Nazi-dominated world. However, they needed to do so before the rest of the world caught on…after it was too late for any sort of external interference. On January 20, 1942, during the Wannsee Conference, the Nazis arrived at a conclusion. The political party conspired their Final Solution: the Holocaust.
Essentially, the Nazis dreamed of systematically murdering the Jewish people. Implementing the Holocaust would finally bring these horrifying aspirations to fruition. The Nazis planned to clandestinely establish labour, death, and concentration camps, where those whom they deemed as allegedly inferior to themselves would be forcefully taken. Upon their arrival, the transports would be stripped of their identity and become no more than numbers in a book. The fate of these individuals were held in the hands of the vicious soldiers, controlling the lines of frightened Jews who wanted no more than to be granted the privilege of life.
A tap to the right meant death. A tap to the left also meant death, but with a caveat: before they entered the gas-chambers, destined for death, the Nazi’s would make full use of their abilities. Those chosen to temporarily live were fed with meager portions of soup and bread, endured clustered and claustrophobic conditions, and suffered life-threatening punishments for even the slightest of mistakes. Whether it was sweltering hot or quivering cold, whether it was the brightest hours of the morning or the darkest hours of the night, the prisoners would work. And work. And work. And finally, once their battery had run out, when they could no longer contribute to the benefit of the Final Solution, they would be sent to die, too. Why? Because they had committed what the Nazis saw as a heinous crime: being Jewish.
Each day that passed in the camps meant the list of victims—of numbers—became longer. However, not every number was added to this list; others overcame the horrors of the Holocaust. 3.5 million European Jews entered the camps, hopeless, but lived to see their liberation. How was it possible that in the face of such tragedy, of such loss, some survived?
There is not one clear answer to that question. Whether it was luck, fate, looks, a forward-focused mindset, or a combination of all of the above, one cannot know. Somehow, despite being both a witness and a victim of the terrifying actions by the Nazis, the survivors persevered.
Recently, I gained a thought-provoking perspective through Keren Blankfeld’s Lovers in Auschwitz. Underneath the obsidian skies of Auschwitz unfolds the true story of two teenagers: David Wisnia and Zippi Spitzer. In the midst of continuous gun shots, beatings, and death, they fell in love. And through that, they survived.
Turning the last page of Blankfeld’s preservation of Wisnia’s and Spitzer’s legacies instilled a profound sense of hope within me. The two found comfort in a simple storage closet, where they would secretly meet, converse, and share. Wisnia and Spitzer found their way out of a living nightmare. They took risks. They saved not only their own lives, but that of so many others. Even after their separation, they remembered the trauma, the memories, the love that saved them both. Despite being apart for 70 years, Wisnia and Spitzer could immediately recall a bittersweet song they would sing during their time in Auschwitz. Decades later, the short yet significant song, Lovers in the Moonlight, continued to symbolize hope. Wisnia and Spitzer never forgot their experiences. And we should never forget theirs.
On January 27, we remember the six million lives lost during the tragedies of the Holocaust. We honor the 3.5 million survivors who defied the standard and overcame the most impossible of odds. Most importantly, we are inspired by both the martyrs and the survivors of the Holocaust to act on a core virtue: perseverance.
