A Journey Through Perdition Hilary Jewel Lange

I stood on the ground where millions of innocent people perished. I walked into a gas chamber, and I walked out. I saw the scratch marks on the walls where people were clawing their way to the top, trying to get one last gasp of oxygen as the zyclon B gas rose up, burning their esophagus and charring their lungs. I stood by the crematorium grieving and saying kaddish for those who perished at the hands of blood-thirsty criminals. And, as I stared at the little rose garden in Majdonek that had been fertilized with human ash, all I could think of was, “What filth! How disgusting? How cold-hearted could a human being be?”

In the spring of 2007, I took part in a program known as March of the Living. Throughout my journey I visited a number of concentration camps, ghettos, and towns that were once inhabited by Jews and gentiles alike. 8,000 Jewish teens from all over the world came together for this life-changing experience.

As a young person who is greatly involved in the Jewish community, I found much to grieve about during this trip. I thought with sadness about the peers with whom I grew up, attended bar/bat mitzvah classes, and graduated Jewish day school completely assimilate themselves into a secular lifestyle. I felt...