Yad Vashem YLA Gala

Family and Friends,

Being the granddaughter of Auschwitz survivor Lotar "Larry" Orbach, whom I referred to as my "Opapa", has left a powerful imprint on my being. Less than 80 years ago, my 18-year-old Opapa survived the unthinkable in Nazi Germany – the Fatherland in which the Orbach family roots could be traced back to the 1500s. From losing his father, Aaron Orbach, at the hands of the Gestapo to joining the notorious "Death March" from Auschwitz to Buchenwald, my Opapa never allowed the darkness to extinguish his youthful light.

My Opapa passed away in 2008 when I was only nine years old, and while there are a myriad number of questions I yearn to ask him, he left behind his legacy in his autobiographyYoung Lothar (https://younglothar.com/), which details Opapa and his mother's miraculous survival in the secret, ragtag network of the Berlin Underground, as well as his ultimate betrayal resulting in his deportation to the depths of Auschwitz.

In Young Lothar, one quote from my Opapa remains engraved in my memory: he “wanted to become that man, balding, gray-haired, pot-bellied, perhaps, and maybe the father of a family. But how could I get there from here?”

Well, Opapa, your wish turned into a reality.

It's difficult not to consider the six million individuals who too wanted to live until they were balding, gray-haired and pot-belled with families of their own, yet never had the opportunity to see this wish come to fruition.

Yad Vashem, the World Holocaust Remembrance Center, is dedicated to commemorating those six million individuals. Yad Vashem continually strives to meaningfully impart the memory and meanings of the Holocaust to future generations. To meet the challenges facing Holocaust remembrance more than half a century after the end of World War II, Yad Vashem has created an environment of multidimensional learning and commemoration comprised of four basic components: documentation, research, education, and remembrance.

I've joined Yad Vashem's Young Leadership Association (YLA), which is a cohort of American young professionals dedicated to promoting Holocaust education and remembrance worldwide. Inaugurated in 1997, this dedicated group has undertaken the task of developing an ongoing program to promote Holocaust awareness and connect our generation to Yad Vashem’s mission.

This fundraiser is dedicated to the 2023 YLA Gala hosted on March 30th, which is one of many social and educational events throughout the year for younger members of the community, helping to support ongoing activities in Holocaust education. If you're interested in attending the gala, please contact me individually for tickets.

In today's ever-increasing antisemitic times, "Never Forget" has become an unfortunate platitude, and as the number of living Holocaust survivors subside over time, it's up to us youngsters to share their stories and ensure that "Never Forget" remains a reality.

Thank you for your time.

With love,

Rachel Orbach

“NEW LIFE FROM DEAD STONE”

Written in German by LOTAR ORBACH (age 21) after liberation - Berlin, 1946

Slowly, I walked.

Still I can’t grasp it; still I can’t believe it.

Yes: I am really alive and have the open sky above me.

Oh dear God, what is this?

Why did you choose only me to live?

How is it possible that only I am alive?

Almost all of the others have gone there - there, where only

You can love them; because they are with You and You are Eternal... and so are they, now. They, like You, will never be forgotten, because they are the conscience of the living.

With these heavy thoughts, I sought to comfort my soul’s loneliness.

I searched for my loved ones but found only desertion - not even a photo or a keepsake was left for me.

Where should I go? Who still loves me? Where do I find my family?

There was nothing anymore, only I, myself - and this offered no solace.

I don’t know where my path was leading me. I only felt I must walk... flee from myself, from my own self, my own thoughts, my loneliness. My terrible ache...

A cold evening wind approached, and it was as if it called out to me, asking me in an unfriendly, icy voice: “Where to, stranger, where to?”

And I listened - did I hear correctly? “Stranger?”

Was I truly a stranger, here, in my destroyed city?

My eyes filled with tears and I was seized by a single wish:

To have friends once more.

To be home once more.

I lifted my eyes from the ground and as if an invisible force had propelled me, as if my own blood steered me there, I found myself in Berlin’s old Jewish cemetery, near the (Jewish) orphanage!

Everything that surrounds me has been destroyed.

Were not even the dead permitted to sleep?

Suddenly I lost my footing, stumbling on an unkempt path overgrown with ivy.

When I glanced down to discover the reason for my unsteadiness, I came upon a chunk of rock - a fragment of a gravestone that had been shattered during a bombing.

Upon it, “BEN” was clearly etched in Hebraic lettering.

BEN: the Hebrew word for “son.”

A feeling of indescribable joy coursed through me; a symphony of sweet memories resounded.

SON... yes, I was a son! A son of this people who were chosen to suffer.

Of a people who - through dark night and hardship - re-awaken, again and again.

Of a people who, through the grace of the Almighty, always rise up to a new and better life.

My soul was roused from its deep slumber.

Now I want to fight for my people, so they will never again suffer; now I want to fight for peace.

A cold stone gave me new courage, new life.