Jewish Post, Indianapolis, Marion County, 29 April 1992 — Page 1

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1703399/99 I INDIANA STATE LIBRARY NEWS SEC 140 N SENATE AVE INDIANAPOLIS IN 46204

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Volume 58, Xamber 32 April 19, 1992 ♦ 26Nisau5752 SI

ISRAEL TOO — The number of homeless in Israel is growing, as this photo shows. Their treatment is vastly different from the way they are almost ignored elsewhere, even in the U.S. See story on page NAT 3.

ANYTHING FOR TOURISM — Almost every kind of potential tourist has been invited to visit Israel, and now the Tourism Ministry has brought a group of 12 American Indian and Eskimo Christian leaders on a 10-day tour as shown here. Holding the American flag with an Indian superimposed on it, are two representatives of the ministry. The group represents an organization of Native American Christians that includes 5000 churches in the U.S., Canada and Central and South America.

Netzach Israel Lo Yeshakare A Yont HaShoah Kaddish Dear Editor, We, the Jewish people, designated "Yom HaShoah" as the yahrzeit for all the six million Jews who were killed in the Holocaust by the Germans and their helpers. I also designated this day the yahrzeit of my family among the others that I lost in the Holocaust. As a survivor of Auschwitz, I was asked to lead the kaddish at the memorial service in my community. With humility and a heavy heart, I accepted. Now let me share with you some of the vivid pictures that flashed through my mind just before I said the kaddish. Today I say kaddish for my mother, Batyah, the daughter of Sara-Leah and Mendel, who was gassed in Auschwitz at the age of 43.1 say kaddish for my father, David Elimelech, the son of Yitzchak and Miryam, who died in Lodz Ghetto at 43.1 say kaddish for my younger brothers, Shabtai Eliyahu, who at the age of nine was gassed in a killing van (an early German engineering feat that preceded the gas chambers). I say kaddish for my two sisters, Machcia and Bella, who were gassed together with my mother in Auschwitz at the ages of 17 and 19. I say kaddish for my maternal and paternal grandparents whose lives were snuffed out by the Germans. Today, I say kaddish for my many aunts, uncles, cousins and countless numbers of relatives, whose roots in Poland go back hundreds of years. Today, I say kaddish for my classmates, none of whom survived, my schoolmates at the Darchai Noam school; for the kids in my Zionist Youth Group; for my friends who died as Jews before their bar and bat mitzvah; for all the members of my synagogue; for my neighbors and for the Jews of my town, who no one will remember by name. I also say kaddish for Ahron Jacobson, one of my Zionist Youth leaders in the Lodz Ghetto, whom I met again in the concentration camp when he was a mere walking skeleton, but still with a saintly heart beating in his chest. We were digging a sewer ditch standing in water so cold we could see ice forming around our legs. The moment the Germans looked away from us, Ahron, with his finger in the clay on the side of the ditch, scratched out the word "nili,” the acronym for "Netzach Israel lo yishakare," meaning the eternity of Israel shall not be denied, words from the prophet Samuel. Today, I say kaddish for Ahron. I say kaddish for the many inmates of my concentration camp. I say kaddish for the Jews whose souls never died, even though their bodies Continued on page NAT 12