My father spent much of his childhood separated from his parents, living among barn animals. That is how he survived the Holocaust in Poland, with his parents using their life savings to pay local non-Jews to hide him and his sister, alone, in different locations.
On Holocaust Remembrance Day, we reflect on the atrocities of the past and the resilience of those who survived. My father’s story is a testament to that resilience, something that not only Jews, but so many others need to survive in the world today and to ultimately help make the world a better place.
For a long time, my father was kept out of sight in extremely harsh conditions. He spent much of his time in the freezing barn, only occasionally allowed into the house.
His “ordinary” life began after the war, when his family — against all odds — miraculously reunited and found refuge in an American run-displaced persons (DP) camp in Ulm, Germany. There, they began to rebuild their lives, awaiting a move to the United States. In 1947, he celebrated his bar mitzvah, surrounded by hundreds of Jews in the DP camp, who had all endured cruelty and loss at a scale that is hard to imagine. These survivors, torn from homes across Europe, had each seen or learned (or both) about the brutal murders of family and friends. They spoke different languages and came from different socioeconomic backgrounds, but were bonded by celebrating a moment of renewal in the midst of profound loss.
Soon after turning 13, he left the DP camp and arrived in the United States, leaving behind war and displacement. It’s remarkable to think that this same child, who endured such hardship, grew up to become a dutiful husband, an amazing father and a dedicated rabbi. Early in his career, he led a congregation and then served as head of school of one of the largest Jewish schools in North America.
The story of Rabbi Aaron Brander finding a career, family and freedom to practice his faith in America isn’t unique. Indeed, an entire generation of Jewish refugees escaped the darkness of their European persecution to build extraordinarily ordinary lives in the U.S., Canada, England, France and Australia, while others worked to establish the state of Israel just a few years after the Holocaust.
As Jews are now faced with the new reality of the aftermath of Oct. 7 and rising antisemitism, I look to my father’s generation for the blueprint to build the world we want while keeping our values intact. Despite enduring unimaginable loss, they rebuilt, they thrived, and they shaped the future, integrating the values of their new home countries while maintaining their tradition and respecting the other.
The difference between violent antisemitism then and now is that we have a state of Israel — a modern beacon of Jewish strength and hope. But for Israel to thrive as a cornerstone of Jewish resilience, it must reflect the morals articulated in our tradition, which include building bridges between communities and religions. The Abraham Accords, signed in 2020 establishing diplomatic and economic relations between Israel, the United Arab Emirates, Bahrain and Morocco, marked a historic breakthrough demonstrating the potential for collaboration and peace. However, true peace requires more than diplomacy — it demands genuine human connection and mutual respect, a principle that guides my colleagues and me in our work with Muslim and Christian leaders in the U.S. and globally.
In this context, the work within the Jewish community is equally vital. We must teach our children that religious extremism is wrong. We must ensure that Israel’s success is grounded in the values of justice, equality and ethical treatment of all people — Jew and non-Jew alike, treating others as we ourselves wish to be treated. Our tradition compels us to reject violence and hatred and seek paths of reconciliation, understanding and cooperation.
As I reflect on my father’s journey — from the horrors of the Holocaust to the hope he found in the United States — the fight for a better world is ongoing. When I moved to Israel several years ago, I carried a handful of our belongings in the very suitcase my father, his sister and his parents used to leave the ruins of Europe. The aging metal suitcase wasn’t the most practical piece of luggage, but for me it represented moving toward the coming light. It is a reminder that, even in the face of immense suffering, humanity has the power to rise, rebuild and continue the fight for a better world.
This power of human goodness is what ultimately reveals the existence of good — and God — in the world. This is true after any trauma, from the Holocaust, to the death of a loved one to natural disasters such as the fires swallowing up so many homes in California today.
This Holocaust Memorial Day should remind us that the memorial candles we light for victims of the Holocaust are not just about remembering the past. They also represent our commitment to an inspiring and better future, for all of us to serve as lights to our respective communities and countries and to all the nations of the world.
Rabbi Kenneth Brander, Ph.D., is president of Ohr Torah Stone, an international network of 32 religious educational, leadership and social action programs.
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