When we think of Holocaust survivors, we think of family losses, stolen childhoods spent in hiding, the horrors of life in ghettos and concentration camps. We think of what it means to have witnessed the worst of humanity and carry the weight of that knowledge with you, always.
What we think about far less — how they’ve lived.
When the war ended, drawing on wells of strength that we can’t begin to fathom, many survivors married and had children. Some went back to school and found professional success. Some made it their life’s work to share their stories. In the not-simple act of transcending hate, they’ve been our treasured teachers and modeled resilience for us all.
For that, we owe them a debt of gratitude that can never be repaid. But, in whatever ways possible, we can try.
Which is why on Monday we had the privilege of partnering with Mayor Eric Adams to host Holocaust Survivors Day, with more than 40 survivors present on a gloriously sunny day at Gracie Mansion (thankfully, pre-smog).
For context, Holocaust Survivors Day was created just three years ago, a grassroots initiative developed by UJA partner JCC Krakow, aimed at recognizing the contributions survivors have made to society and reflecting on their legacy of resilience. Unlike Yom HaShoah and International Holocaust Remembrance Day, which focus on reflection and mourning, this is a day focused on the remarkable lives and achievements of survivors. A day to celebrate.
And we obliged, happily. Gathered in the elegant blue dining room at Gracie Mansion, which lent an appropriate touch of splendor to the day, we paid tribute to our Holocaust survivor community. This was one of 18 such events across the country promoted by our partner Seed the Dream Foundation, which helped fund the program and is one of the organizations we work with to support Holocaust survivors in need.
We heard from survivors: Maritza Shelley, 94 years old, who survived Dachau, spoke eloquently — and with no notes — about the importance of survivors sharing their stories. Fred Schuster, 99 years old, who was born in a small town near Frankfurt and saved by the Kindertransport, shared how he’d founded a successful cheesecake company here in America that was still going strong.
Adding to the sense of festivity, we were serenaded with popular Yiddish songs throughout the event by Concerts in Motion, a UJA grantee that brings music to the isolated elderly and other vulnerable populations.
Truth be told, underlying the celebration was an undeniable poignancy. Because as the last generation to live alongside survivors, we know that we have only a short time left to cherish these men and women and absorb their lessons firsthand.
It’s a reality I was acutely reminded of this week. Just a few days following the event at Gracie Mansion, and after I'd already begun writing this message, my mother-in-law, Mira, whose story I've previously recounted, was placed into palliative care, and our family is now gathered with her.
Both Mira and my father-in-law, also a survivor, have had an extraordinary impact on our family. They’ve taught and inspired us every day, living expansively and generously, showing us that it’s possible to create light from darkness. Always with kindness and love.
It is for us to carry the invaluable lessons of survivors like Mira forward. To live lives that honor their incredible resilience and spirit. To make them proud.
May we do right by this sacred responsibility.
Shabbat shalom