The majority of people in Israel do not look at the date January 27 with any particular meaning. Yet for those of us who grew up abroad, this date is International Holocaust Remembrance Day. And while Holocaust Remembrance Day in Israel (Yom HaShoah) carries a far deeper meaning for us here – one rooted in survival, resilience, and national rebirth – I cannot let this day pass without asking what we choose to do with remembrance.
My personal life changed after meeting Holocaust survivors. Through them, I learned that remembrance is not passive. It is not a moment of silence or a ceremony once a year: It is an active responsibility. I looked at our world through their eyes and vowed to ensure that their resilience and hope will serve as a reminder to us all.
I vowed to make sure that societies not sufficiently taught about the Holocaust are reminded of it, and that together, we can learn from individual stories of survival to change the world. To learn to love each other. To accept one another. To stand up when it is uncomfortable.
Sometimes we look at society today, at the rise of antisemitism around the world, and at threats against Israelis, and ask ourselves: Why do we need to remember something that happened more than 80 years ago? The answer is simple: because the world is showing us how easily it forgets.
Remembrance in Israel
Perhaps in Israel, we take remembrance for granted. We live history every day. We carry trauma and resilience side by side. But January 27 is not meant to replace Yom HaShoah, a day with great meaning. It serves a different purpose. It is not only a day to remember the Holocaust, but a day to remember why we remember and what responsibility that places on us.
January 27 is a day of reflection and responsibility. A day to step beyond our borders, to look outward, and to ask how the world learns from Jewish history. It is the day I scroll through my phone contacts and see the names of more than 70 Holocaust survivors I have been blessed to know personally. It is the day I think about their legacy: not only their suffering, but their insistence on dignity, morality, and life itself.
And this year, that reflection feels heavier. In the last few weeks, I have not opened the news or even The Jerusalem Post without reading about another Holocaust survivor passing away. Another voice of powerful meaning taken away from us. Another living testimony gone.
The truth we must confront is uncomfortable but unavoidable: in the not-too-distant future, there will be no survivors left to tell their stories firsthand. Soon, we will be their voice.
Our responsibility to continue Holocaust remembrance
That responsibility cannot be taken lightly. It is also on January 27 that I look at the world and notice small but meaningful acts of commitment: 104 member states acknowledging how the world failed the Jewish people during the Holocaust and committing to education and remembrance through international frameworks. Countries like Indonesia, with large Muslim populations, have established Holocaust memorials. Although the world is still dark in many ways, we have come far. And because we have come far but antisemitism is still vibrant, we must do more.
Holocaust remembrance is not about the past alone: It is about the choices we make today. It is about recognizing early warning signs, confronting hatred before it becomes normalized, and refusing the comfort of indifference. Survivors did not share their stories so we could feel sorrow for a moment – they shared them so we would act.
So this January 27, I want to ask us – Jewish people, Israelis – to do something tangible.
Read a survivor’s testimony. Share a story with your children. Support Holocaust education initiatives, in Israel and abroad. Volunteer with organizations preserving survivor narratives. Use your voice online, in classrooms, and in conversations to ensure that the Holocaust is taught accurately and meaningfully.
Because remembrance without action is empty. In the legacy of those who survived, and in memory of those who did not, we must carry this forward: not only as Jews, not only as Israelis, but in the memory of the six million.
History does not repeat itself because it is remembered. It repeats itself when remembrance becomes routine.
January 27 is our reminder that memory is a responsibility. And now, increasingly, it is ours alone to carry.
The writer is manager of the Holocaust Education Program of Sharaka, a nonprofit, nongovernmental initiative based in Israel, Bahrain, and Morocco that works to build people-to-people peace and engagement. She is a Reichman University and Argov fellow Alumna and runs the Instagram page @mymissiontoremember.