Between Birdsong and Broken Tombstones – A Journey of Memory and Identity
Shalom and blessings to you, beloved friends around the world.
Today I write with a quiet tear. Not from new pain, but from a deep encounter with the past—still present, still breathing, still crying out in the pastoral silence.
Our tour began in a magnificent church in the town of Sternberg. We entered quietly and saw in a side corner a small plaque and a memorial candle – a reminder of the pogrom that took place here in 1492 against the Jews. That year – the year of the Spanish Expulsion, the Inquisition, forced conversions, and mass exile – shook the entire Jewish people. Over 150,000 Jews were forced to leave their homes. And there – in a quiet corner of the church – only a faint memory remains.
From there we continued to the town center, to the place where the synagogue once stood. A structure built in the mid-19th century, destroyed by the Nazis in 1939. I stood there and recited Kaddish. I thought of those Jews who longed to be equal citizens, to be accepted as part of society – but they were rejected. They forgot – and sometimes we forget – that the Jewish people are not like other nations. “For you are a holy people to the LORD your God… the LORD has chosen you to be His treasured people” (Deuteronomy 7:6).
The path to the cemetery passed through an empty trail among tall trees. Nature was quiet, birdsong filled the air – as if nothing had ever happened. But the earth speaks. The old train tracks tell what the signs conceal – the way to the death of thousands. The trains carried our brothers and sisters to the camps, all in the name of philosophy, progress, and music. How could a culture of beauty and depth sink so low into industrialized murder?
Finally, we stood at the gate of the Jewish cemetery. I looked ahead, but could hardly see any gravestones. Only shattered fragments, broken, disgraced. And I ask myself – who thought the tombstones were an eyesore? This place has held Jewish life for centuries. “Remember that you were a slave… and the LORD your God redeemed you” (Deuteronomy 15:15) – but this time, they tried to erase even the memory of the slaves.
I am not alone. I am with a group of Christians who love Israel. Their faces are pure, their hearts open. They walk with us, sharing the burden of memory. And this memory is not nostalgia – it is a command. “Remember what Amalek did to you… you shall not forget” (Deuteronomy 25:17–19). We are a people who remember to protect, who understand our mission by knowing our past.
The Creator is returning us to the Promised Land. It is a process, not a miracle. Not without pain. We continue to pay the price – with the blood of our sons and daughters. But God’s promise remains: “Your children shall return to their own borders” (Jeremiah 31:16). And we will not let go. “I will not let You go unless You bless me” (Genesis 32:26). Faith is our inheritance. Our hope is not political – it is prophetic.
God has promised strength to His people. “The LORD gives strength to His people; the LORD blesses His people with peace” (Psalm 29:11). And we believe – peace will come only through truth.
Prayer:
Master of the Universe,
Shine Your face upon Your people Israel.
Remember the blood that was shed, the tears that were wept, and the prayers offered from broken hearts.
Strengthen those among the nations who stand with Israel, and bless those who support her in love and truth.
Bring us back to our Land in peace, and open the gates of mercy and remembrance.
From the House of Good Deeds, from the Land of Zion and the City of Jerusalem,
Your brother in Israel,
Mordechai ben Yaakov
