Eating Cake in Hitler’s House

The rumblings of debate between Jews who will not step foot into the horrors of anything to do with death camps, World War II, or historical sites that recall the unspeakable tragedies of the Shoah are certainly controversial. Many understandably shudder, with gaping holes in their family trees as reminders, the pain too palatable to conceive of such an idea. They have already paid the deepest price, and their stories are the annals of truth for others. However, as an educator and Jewish homeschool mother, and with both my husband and my family lines arriving in America centuries prior to the Holocaust, I feel these sites are not pilgrimages by any means; they are for reflection, education, and to “Never Forget.” When, as a Jew, you lack a personal familial connection to the Holocaust, you are in danger of dangling between worlds. One world is the lack of connection, which can cause apathy, assimilation: a lackadaisical Jewish life. The other is a world that collectively understands the pattern through the ages and weaves you personally into all the antisemitic suffering from antiquity to the present time.