The Last Voices: Preserving Israel’s Holocaust Stories

Israel. For more than 75 years, it has been the promised homeland—a place where the Jewish people could finally say: "Never Again." After the unimaginable horrors of the Holocaust, thousands of survivors found refuge here. They shook off Europe’s ashes, rebuilt their lives, and helped build a new nation.

But time is slipping away. Many of the few remaining Holocaust survivors live in poverty and isolation, their numbers dwindling fast.

A Dwindling Legacy

Ghita, a representative working closely with survivors, notes the startling speed at which this generation is passing. “Covid and the war were harsh on us," she explains. "Ten years ago, our organization used to have 4,000 registered survivors of Nazi ghettos. And there are only a third of that now.”

The scale of the community has shifted dramatically over the decades. “In 2008, when we began negotiations with the Israeli government, there were approximately 70,000 to 80,000 survivors of Nazi ghettos. About 24,000 were from the former Soviet Union,” Ghita recalls.

Coming to Israel was only the beginning. In the promised land, thousands still battle loneliness, helplessness, and poverty. Looking back at the wave of immigration in the 1990s, Ghita remembers the hardship: “When they arrived, a bottle of cooking oil and a pack of sugar were sometimes too expensive for them. Thanks to the government, they now live a decent life. They don’t have to dig through the trash.

Everyone has a roof over their head; everyone has the necessary medical attention and medicine. And thank God, they have enough income to live a normal life.”

Walking History Books

The greatest battle these brave survivors now face is simply to be remembered. Their lives are walking history books—yet those pages are fading fast. Every year on International Holocaust Remembrance Day, the remaining survivors gather to share stories of loved ones lost and horrors endured.

Lev is one of the eldest in this group. At 94, he still vividly recalls the day his entire family was wiped out in a ghetto in Belarus.

“The first order when the Germans entered Minsk was for all the Jews to move to a certain part of town," Lev remembers. "Then they began to string up barbed wire around the neighborhood. This was the Minsk ghetto. First, my grandfather was killed by a grenade that flew in through the window. They made all the neighbors come outside, dug a hole, and buried him. They forced my grandmother to watch."

The tragedy only deepened. "Then my mother was arrested," Lev continues. "I went to the jail and looked in through the window. I grabbed the bars with my little hands. Mom stuck her hand out through the bars and patted me on the head. I tried to comfort her, saying that my sister and I were fine. She pressed herself against the bars to try to give me a kiss. That was the last time I saw her. The next time I came back to bring her something to eat, the soldiers said that my mother won’t be needing anything anymore."

“Then I lost my grandmother. She begged the soldiers to spare my sister. They shot both of them. After that, I was left alone in the ruins of a house.”

Surviving the Shadows

For the next 18 months, Lev survived alone—crawling past the barbed wire to beg for bread or potatoes outside the ghetto. Then the last pogrom came. He was captured by a German officer but managed to run away, while a second boy was killed on the street.

“The soldiers killed everyone in the ghetto," Lev says. "They tore down the barbed wire. We ran into the forest outside the city. Then we ran into a group of resistance fighters. I became a fighter with them and didn’t return to Minsk until our soldiers liberated the city. I was taken to an orphanage; my father returned from the front and found me there.”

A Mission of Remembrance

At CBN Israel, the commitment to caring for these precious survivors is unwavering. We stand at a critical juncture in history: we are likely the last generation that will hear these stories firsthand.

“We are doing everything we can to preserve these memories," says Ghita. 

"We work with absolutely everyone we can work with—with the youth, with students, with soldiers. Our parents didn't finish telling these stories, and we're doing what we can to finish their work. I believe the memory will remain.”

The echoes of the past have taken on a new, painful relevance in light of recent events. "What happened on October 7th was like they pulled out a piece of the Holocaust and threw it in our faces," Ghita observes. "But also, for someone who couldn’t have imagined the Holocaust happening because it was so long ago, those people got a preview of what it looked like. I don't think good people will let the Holocaust happen again—but they can’t let it be forgotten either. Auschwitz must not be forgotten.”

A Sacred Duty

At CBN Israel, the mission is to care for the elderly—especially these precious Holocaust survivors—and part of that sacred care is keeping their memories alive.

Through generous support, CBN Israel stands with them: delivering nutritious meals, medical care, home visits, and above all, the dignity and love they were once denied. As staff spend time with them, they capture their testimonies so their voices carry on forever, ensuring these lives are seen, valued, and never forgotten.

“Without your help, without the help of friends we work with, we wouldn't be able to help at the level we do—with walkers, wheelchairs, sometimes special medicine," Ghita concludes. "This truly allows us to improve their lives. We’re so grateful for your help, and we thank you.”