As I travel to Vilna to commemorate the victims of the Holocaust in Lithuania, the memory of Holocaust survivor Shmuel Daitch Ben Menachem resounds deeply in my heart. He shared a poignant tale of a Rosh Hashanah in the Kaunas (Kovno) ghetto when Rabbi Avrum Grodinski rose to call out the sounds for the Shofar blower. Yet, when the time came to blow the Shofar, silence enveloped the instrument. Tragically, Shmuel recounted, five weeks later, most of those who had gathered for holiday prayers were no longer alive, already victims of Nazi Germans and their local collaborators.
Now, some eighty years later, between the holidays of Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur, I find myself once again in Vilnius, Lithuania. I am grateful for the invitation by the president of the Seimas – Lithuania’s parliament – to deliver the keynote speech marking the 80th anniversary of the liquidation of the Vilna ghetto.
Yet, my heart is weighed down by the eradication of venues that were once vibrant Jewish communities – where the echoes of the Vilna Gaon’s study hall, the bustling Jewish marketplaces, and the lively Jewish streets of Vilnius and Kaunas once thrived and have since ceased to exist. These were the lifeblood of Jewish existence, typical not only of Lithuania but of wide regions throughout Europe before the Shoah.
The magnitude of the Holocaust’s horrors is etched indelibly into history. The German Nazis, aided by Lithuanian collaborators, orchestrated and brutally implemented the murder of over 200,000 Lithuanian Jews. The massive scale and local nature of this systematic murder – with the active participation of numerous local collaborators – was characteristic of the Lithuanian chapter of the Shoah. The annihilation of an entire Jewish civilization in Lithuania is an indelible stain on that nation’s history. However, I firmly believe that memories of Jewish Lita must endure.
Preserving the memories of Lithuanian Jewry
This marks my second visit in less than a year to Lithuania, where I have been encouraged by the government’s growing understanding of Holocaust remembrance issues. While some progress has been made, much work remains to be done.
Itzhak Rudnicki Arad, also known as Tolka, was a Jewish partisan hero from Lithuania. Many years later, he emerged as an esteemed Holocaust historian, dedicating much of his life to Holocaust research and remembrance. Eventually Tolka became Chairman of Yad Vashem, one of my illustrious predecessors. I am sure that Tolka would have urged me to remind Lithuania’s leaders and citizens that an antisemite, especially one associated with mass murder, cannot be considered “otherwise a good person” or a hero.
LITHUANIA MUST consistently acknowledge its role in the Holocaust, including the involvement of Lithuanians in the extermination of Jews. This acknowledgment is owed not only to the Jewish victims but also to future generations of Lithuanians. Educating young people about this history is central to this mission.
We must show zero tolerance for antisemitism and for the glorification of war criminals. While Lithuania’s Righteous rescuers have been recognized, we must always recall that the country also had vile perpetrators and bystanders. Names like Noreika, Škirpa, and Krikštaponis do not enhance Lithuania’s honor, nor do they align with international norms of appropriate national remembrance. Quite the opposite.
Yad Vashem remains committed to working with Lithuania to promote accurate Holocaust research, documentation, education, and commemoration.
As we approach Yom Kippur, the holiest day in the Jewish calendar, my thoughts naturally turn to Jewish Vilna and the haunting recollection of Jewish resistance hero Abba Kovner and his reflection of the irrevocable loss suffered by the entire Jewish people, and humanity, during the Holocaust. Years after his aliyah to Israel, he was approached by his sabra son: “‘Dad, I’d like to go to Vilna with you sometime, and you could show me where it happened.’”
My son was surprised when I told him: “That place doesn’t exist anymore.’ The Jewish streets have been turned into sports fields and public parks… And because all that is gone, that place has no meaning anymore.”
Like Kovner’s son, I too sought to visit the places where it all happened, only to be confronted with the reality that those places “don’t exist anymore.” Yet, I must respectfully diverge from Kovner’s concluding sentiment, namely “that place has no meaning anymore.” Because for many, including Yad Vashem and myself, Vilna and the memory of the legendary Yerushalayim de-Lita, Lithuanian Jerusalem, retain profound significance.
Yad Vashem remains unwavering in its commitment to preserving not only the historical accuracy of the Holocaust but also the legacy of the Jews of Europe prior to their destruction. We must acknowledge what was before in order to truly appreciate what was lost.
Yad Vashem vows to gather the victims’ and survivors’ voices, and to tell the stories of their lives before recalling the horrors of their deaths. No less importantly, Lithuania, too, must embrace this commitment to truth and remembrance for the sake of a more just tomorrow.
The writer is the chairman of Yad Vashem. Prior to his appointment to the chairmanship, he served as consul-general from the State of Israel to New York.
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