This past week, we marked International Holocaust Memorial Day. As we come into Shabbat, we pause—not only to remember a date, but to honor lives. Shabbat invites us to slow down, to reflect, and to bring our remembrance before God with humility and care. Six million Jewish men, women, and children were murdered simply for being Jews. Entire families were erased. Communities that had lived, prayed, worked, and celebrated together for generations were destroyed. Names, stories, prayers, and futures were cut short in ways that still defy understanding.
We remember them not as numbers, but as people. Fathers and mothers who worked hard to provide. Sons and daughters with hopes and questions. Grandparents who carried history and faith. Children who never had the chance to grow old. Each life was precious. Each absence is felt. Their memory is sacred, and it calls us to remember with reverence and responsibility.
We also honor the Holocaust survivors who are still with us today. Many of them live among us here in Israel. For them, the Holocaust is not distant history; it is part of their lived story. They carry wounds that time did not erase—loss, hunger, fear, displacement, and the long aftermath of rebuilding life from almost nothing. And yet they also carry resilience. Dignity. A quiet strength that has outlived the hatred that tried to destroy them. Caring for them is not charity; it is a responsibility and an honor. It is a way of saying that their lives matter—not only in memory, but in the present.
As believers in Yeshua, remembrance is not passive. Scripture calls us to remember—and to act. We remember so that our hearts remain tender, our conscience alert, and our love engaged. The hatred that fueled the Holocaust did not disappear in 1945. Antisemitism did not die with the camps. It has simply changed its language. Today, it often appears in lies, in dehumanization, in spiritual blindness, and in hostility toward the Jewish people and the State of Israel.
Antisemitism is not only a social problem. It is a spiritual one. At its core, it is opposition to God’s covenant, God’s purposes, and God’s faithfulness. When the Jewish people are targeted, God’s heart is touched. And when believers remain silent or indifferent, something is lost—not only in our witness, but in our obedience.
At Beit Hallel, remembrance takes a very practical form. We actively assist Holocaust survivors and elderly Jewish people—many of whom live on limited means and in isolation. Through food assistance, practical support, home visits, and relational care, we seek to restore dignity in times of hardship. Often, it is not only the food or the help that matters, but the presence—the knowledge that someone sees them, listens to them, and remembers them. We cannot change their past, but we can stand with them now.
This is part of our calling. To comfort those who have suffered. To stand against hatred with love. To respond to darkness with light. To say, through consistent and faithful action, that the Jewish people are not forgotten—and never will be.
As we enter Shabbat, a day of rest, remembrance, and trust, I invite you to stand with us. Your support enables us to continue caring for Holocaust survivors and vulnerable elderly here in Israel. It allows us to be present, faithful, and steady in a time when many feel overlooked and forgotten.
May the memory of those who perished be a blessing that shapes how we live. May the survivors among us be strengthened, honored, and cared for.
And may we, as the body of Messiah, be found faithful—remembering, standing, and acting in love.
Shabbat shalom,
Pastor Israel Pochtar
