“Now that we are finished, I guess we need to see about getting a flight back to Miami,” Eitan said to Yehoshua after they exited the Foreign Ministry.
“Maybe you should stay here for a few days and take it easy before you head back. You know everyone at the kibbutz loves your company. You haven’t gotten to enjoy Israel at all. I imagine it’s a bit hard to relax when you are being hunted by Ukrainian hit men. What do you say?” Yehoshua said, hoping to tempt the Grohs into sticking around for a little while longer.
“Well, we have no flight booked. Although I probably should get back to work eventually,” Eitan responded.
“I will make sure you can get on any flight to Miami you like, courtesy of the government of Israel,” Yehoshua boasted with a smile. “But listen. Before we leave Jerusalem, there is one more thing I would like to show you.”
“What is it?” Emma asked.
“It is something at Yad Vashem,” Yehoshua responded.
“I thought you said you wanted us to have some fun and relax. You think a visit to the Holocaust Museum is the way to start off a few days of fun? You need to get out more, Yehoshua,” Eitan mumbled incredulously.
“We aren’t going to see the whole museum, just one quick item near the very end of the permanent exhibit,” Yehoshua said in defense.
“Is it the picture of your grandfather standing with some of the other survivors? Yehoshua, you know I’ve seen that a million times,” Eitan protested.
“No, but you aren’t far off, and it’s something I really want to show you. Come on, it won’t take long.”
Realizing it would be easier to acquiesce than to argue, Emma and Eitan piled into Yehoshua’s sedan as he led them five kilometers away to Israel’s official Holocaust Memorial Museum. Once parked, the trio walked towards the main entrance, where they were greeted by the chief curator of the Museum. Yehoshua visited the museum often, sometimes on business coordinating security for visits of overseas politicians, and sometimes on his own. He felt the need to remember where his family came from and why his country was so important. The curator, a soft-spoken man who was the son of survivors himself, escorted Yehoshua and his two guests around the main building. They then entered into a side door that led them to the very end of the permanent exhibit.
Yehoshua pointed to a glass case and said, “Come, I believe you know this case very well.” Inside the case were various items that survivors had brought with them on the boats that docked illegally in Palestine under the noses of the British. There was a ripped shoe, a comb, and a Kiddush cup. Each item was accompanied by a few words that detailed on which ship and in what year the item made its way from Europe to Palestine. In the top right corner was a photo of Jan and Natalia Gruber standing with a handful of other survivors.
“I’ve seen it a million times, Yehoshua, but I always like to see that picture again,” Eitan said.
“I know you’ve seen it a million times, but I wanted to show you something else here. Something that was recently added to the collection. I know it’s new here because I am the one who donated it,” Yehoshua said.
He pointed to a small Hebrew letter shin made out of silver.
Emma and Eitan looked at the shin for a couple of minutes without saying a word, until Emma finally broke the silence when she asked, “It’s from a mezuzah, no?”
Yehoshua pointed to a bench and asked the Grohs to join him. As the three of them sat down, Yehoshua said, “I have a story I’d like to tell you about that shin.”
Emma and Eitan listened intently to every word Yehoshua recounted. By the time he concluded, they both felt tears running down their cheeks. They knew Yehoshua’s grandparents had been in the camps, but they had never heard such dramatic details of their time there. They did not even know the details of how Jan and Natalia met on the Maharhash. Yehoshua thanked them for listening, and they thanked him for being so open with these painful memories from his past.
Emma, who was already running on emotional fumes after the meeting at the Foreign Ministry, excused herself to the restroom. In the meantime, Yehoshua and Eitan waited outside on the museum’s dramatic balcony overlooking the hills of a rebuilt Jerusalem. The view was a testament to a people who had risen out of the ashes to rebuild their ancient homeland despite the world’s best efforts to wipe them from the face of the earth.
Looking out over the hopeful view that provided such a sharp contrast to what museum visitors witness everyday inside the exhibit, Yehoshua said to Eitan, “This is our home.”
“It sure is,” Eitan answered.
“Thanks to you, it is now home to the Ukrainian Jews. Soon more and more Jews will come from other countries too,” Yehoshua said with pride.
“We will see about that. But I do concede that it is getting harder and harder to live as a Jew in so many places. I wouldn’t be surprised if there are some more ‘Ukraines’ to come,” Eitan admitted.
“Maybe you will help me with more of those countries in the future, Eitan. We make a pretty good team. What do you say?” Yehoshua asked in a more serious tone than Eitan was expecting.
“I’m not sure my synagogue president will continue to be so understanding if I keep running around the world with you, Yehoshua!”
“How many more synagogue presidents will there be? How much longer until the Jews of the US come running back home too? What do you think our grandfathers would say about the future of Judaism in the States today?”
Eitan didn’t have an answer. Perhaps this was his real home and the home of every Jew around the globe. Perhaps Yehoshua was right, and it was time to come back to Israel. Perhaps the days of the bustling Jewish communities of the United States were also beginning to diminish. As he noticed Emma walking towards them, he wondered what she would say if he told her that he wanted to make his partnership with Yehoshua a full-time occupation. Perhaps the only future for the Jewish people was here in their ancient homeland.
I better not say anything to her, Eitan thought to himself. Not quite yet anyway.