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This is what winning looks like: Holocaust survivor Dov and his wife Jutta holding their great-grandchild, Yannai Zohar. Originally from Czechoslovakia, Dov lost his entire family in the Holocaust. He and his father Armin were both Jewish partisans who fought in the underground resistance, but Armin was murdered when the Nazis burned down his house right in front of young Dov’s eyes. Dov’s two older sisters were killed in the Trawniki concentration camp along with their husbands. Jutta and her family left Berlin for Israel in 1933 right after Hitler came to power. Today, Jutta and Dov have a large family, including two children, six grandchildren, and six great-grandchildren.

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Iosi Adler was born in 1928 in Seredne, Czechoslovakia. He was the son of a rabbi. Sadly, the names of his parents have been forgotten. He and his family were Orthodox Jews. Iosi was ten years old when the Nazis invaded Czechoslovakia. Around 1942, Iosi and his family were sent to the Terezín camp. In October 1944, they were deported to Auschwitz, where all murdered. Not a single member of Iosi’s family survived. All information and the photo of him was provided by a classmate who survived the war. Iosi was only sixteen when he was murdered. May his memory be a blessing.

REMEMBER IOSI ADLER.

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“The evacuation of Auschwitz was a horrendous experience for me personally,” reflected Regina Laks Gelb. “I survived only because I was pulled by my two sisters.” The three sisters had arrived at Auschwitz in summer 1944—about six months prior to its evacuation. They were tattooed upon arrival. “My older sister received the first, my middle sister the next, and I received the third,” recalled Regina. She hoped that their consecutive numbers meant that they would be able to stay together. As the Soviets closed in on the camp in January 1945, the Nazi SS guards began evacuating about 56,000 prisoners on foot to the west. These death marches have become infamous for their relentless pace, grueling conditions, and extreme violence. Regina and her sisters were forced to march approximately 34 miles through the winter snow. Prisoners who fell behind were shot. “The most outstanding recollection for me of that period is not what I remember, but what my sisters remember,” Regina remarked. “I was hallucinating and they were dragging me. And really, if I ever was going to perish, that was the time.” All three sisters managed to survive the Holocaust together and eventually immigrated to North America. “[As] much as I was trying to be very independent, not to be a burden to my sisters, I always knew they were really looking out for my benefit.” Photo: USHMM, courtesy of Miles & Chris Laks Lerman

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Jerzy Lerer was born in 1927 in Krakow, Poland. Jerzy was Jewish, the son of unnamed Jewish parents. He was thirteen years old when the Nazis invaded Poland. Sadly, not very much is known about his life due to the fact that not a single member of his family survived the Holocaust. Their names have been forgotten. Jerzy is remembered by a classmate, Lina Rosenberg, who survived the war and filled out a page of testimony of his life. She listed him as a close friend and listed his cause of death as “murder” at age seventeen. We will never know any more about Jerzy’s life. May his memory be a blessing.

REMEMBER JERZY LERER.

 This Photo Will Haunt Me For The Rest Of My Life.

If It Doesn't Haunt You, There Is Something Wrong With You

 1 August 1943 | Liquidation of the Będzin Ghetto

Zagłębie Dąbrowskie, Occupied Poland

On 1 August 1943, the final blow fell on the Będzin Ghetto.

Once home to a vibrant Jewish community — with synagogues, schools, and businesses — Będzin had become, under Nazi occupation, a place of misery, hunger, and fear. The ghetto was established in 1942, and by the summer of 1943, the last remaining Jews were crammed into overcrowded quarters, already knowing what had happened in other towns before them.

That morning, German SS units, assisted by Ukrainian auxiliaries, began the liquidation of the ghetto. Houses were stormed, people dragged from cellars and attics, children torn from hiding places. The Jews of Będzin — around 10,000 men, women, and children — were forced into cattle cars and deported to Auschwitz-Birkenau.

Upon arrival:

997 men and 1,140 women were selected for forced labor and registered as prisoners.

The remaining thousands — mostly children, the elderly, mothers with babies — were sent directly to the gas chambers.

It was one of the last major deportations from Poland’s ghettos and marked the near-complete destruction of Jewish life in Zagłębie Dąbrowskie.

In Memory of the Jews of Będzin

Deported: 1 August 1943

To: Auschwitz-Birkenau

Selected for labor: 997 men and 1,140 women

Murdered upon arrival: Thousands — children, elders, and families together

Their names were not recorded. Their voices were silenced. But they were not forgotten.

 

 

 

Lithuania, 1941 — She Was Told to Undress, Then Told to Sing

In the quiet woods of Ponary, just outside Vilnius, thousands of Jews were marched to their deaths by Nazi Einsatzgruppen and local collaborators. Among them was a young girl, no more than thirteen, forced to stand in line with other women. One by one, they were ordered to strip, layer by layer, as the biting winter wind cut through the trees. She clutched her coat tightly — until it was ripped from her hands.

As tears welled up, a soldier sneered, “Sing for us.” Her voice rose — shaking, broken — a fragile lullaby carried on the pine-scented air. Then came the gunshot. She fell silently into the pit beside the others.

No name was recorded. No stone marks her grave. But in the shadows of Ponary Forest, some say you can still hear the faint trace of a song.

 

The Forgotten Victims: The Fate of Roma and Sinti in Auschwitz

At least 23,000 Roma and Sinti men, women, and children were deported to Auschwitz by the Nazi regime. Among them were 11,000 children — innocent lives swept into one of history’s darkest chapters.

After Jews and Poles, Roma and Sinti were the third largest victim group at Auschwitz.

Their suffering was immense:

Starved and beaten,

Subjected to inhuman pseudo-medical experiments,

And ultimately, murdered in gas chambers.

According to preserved records, over 91% of the Roma deported to Auschwitz perished.

This genocide — often overlooked — is a chilling reminder of how deeply the Nazi ideology targeted entire communities for extermination.

 

Gene Simmons mom

Flora Klein survived Auschwitz. Her entire family did not. In 1949, in the port city of Haifa, she gave birth to a son — Chaim Witz. They later immigrated to New York That boy grew up to become Gene Simmons of the rock band KISS.

 

Remembering Helena Meislová

Born: February 10, 1926 — Písek, Czechoslovakia Murdered: September 1943 — Auschwitz, age 17

She hadn’t yet spoken full sentences. She hadn’t run through fields, scraped her knees, or learned to read bedtime stories. At just seventeen months old, she was deported to Auschwitz—too small to fight, too innocent to understand, too human to be spared. There, she was murdered in the gas chambers.

She had done nothing. And still, the world lost her.

We do not remember Denise as a number. We remember her as a little girl with the soft hands of a toddler, who should have had a future filled with birthdays, books, and love. She was not lost—she was taken.

Say her name. Denise Repper. Because she mattered.

 

The Beautiful Mess by John Pavlovitz

Mother's Day.

For many people, that means flowers and handmade cards and Sunday brunches and waves of laughter. It means celebration and gratitude and warm embraces and great rejoicing. It means resting fully in loving and being loved.

But not for some people.

For some, it only means tears.

For some, it just hurts.

In the hearts of many, this day is a bitter, unsolicited reminder of what was but no longer is, or a heavy holiday of mourning what never was at all.

Maybe it is such a day for you.

It might bring the scalding sting of grief for the empty chair around a table.

It might come with choking regret for a relationship that has been severed.

It might be a day of looking around at other mothers and other children, and feeling the unwelcome intrusion of jealousy that comes with comparison.

It might be yet another occasion to lament the mistakes you made or the words you didn't say or the kindness you never knew.

It might be an annual injury you sustain.

Consider this a personal love letter to you who are struggling today; you whose Mother's Day experience might be rather bittersweet, or perhaps only bitter.

This is consent to fully acknowledge the contents of your own heart without censorship or guilt or alteration.

If you are hurting, then hurt.

May you feel permission to cry, to grieve, to be not alright.

May you relieve yourself of the burden of pretending everything is fine, or faking stability, or concealing the damage.

May you feel not a trace of guilt for any twinge of pain or anger that seizes you today, because it is your right to feel.

Above all, though, may you find encouragement even in your profound anguish.

May you find in your very sadness the proof that your heart, though badly broken, still works.

Let the pain you are enduring reassure you that you are still able to care deeply, despite how difficult it has been.

See your grief as the terrible tax on loving people well, and see your unquenched longing for something better as a reminder of the goodness within you that desires a soft place to land.

If on this Mother's Day you are struggling, know that you are not alone.

May these words be the flowers that you wait for, or the call that won't come, or the conversation that you can't have, or the reunion that has not yet arrived.

Let them be hope packaged and personally delivered to the center of your heart, and may they sustain you.

In this time of great pain, know that you are seen and heard, and that you are more loved than you realize.

Be greatly encouraged today.