By Tamar Major, JNS
In every generation, the Jewish people have been targeted not for what we’ve done, but for who we are.
As we near the end of the Nine Days—the most somber period on the Jewish calendar—we have been commanded to remember. To mourn and reflect. These days are not only about temples reduced to rubble or kingdoms lost, but about a pattern. A cycle. A warning. And tragically, a recurrence.
The Nine Days culminate in Tisha B’Av, a day soaked in Jewish tears. From the destruction of the First and Second Temples in Jerusalem (Batei Mikdash) to the expulsions from Spain and England, from pogroms to the Holocaust, our national trauma is not scattered but layered. And today, as antisemitism rises once again in the United States and across the globe, the lines between the past and present grow uncomfortably thin.
At the Yad Vashem USA Foundation, we are deeply aware that memory is not passive. It is a shield and a summons. We do not remember to remain in grief; we remember to ensure that our people—and the world—learn from the pain. During these Nine Days, the resonance of the Holocaust grows even louder. The words “Never Again” must not be relegated to a slogan. It must become a personal and national imperative.
The mourning rituals of the Nine Days—refraining from meat, from music, from joy—are not just symbolic. They are a way of pulling our consciousness away from the ordinary to confront what has been lost. And in 2025, we are losing something again.
In synagogues across the country, security has become as essential as prayer books. Jewish students in public schools are mocked, targeted and even physically attacked. Celebrities amplify ancient tropes. Swastikas are scrawled on playgrounds and college campuses. And when Jews cry out, they are too often met with indifference—or worse, accusations.
This is not theoretical. It is personal. The mourning of the Nine Days was never just about 2,000 years ago. It is about right now.
The Nine Days remind us what happens when we forget who we are and what we’ve endured. Too many in today’s world are eager to diminish the uniqueness of Jewish suffering or weaponize our history against us. Holocaust denial has now morphed into Holocaust distortion—and often, Holocaust fatigue.
Still, we declare that our grief is valid. Our story matters. In every generation, the Jewish people have been targeted not for what we’ve done, but for who we are. And now, we are seeing the oldest hatred take on new disguises—from anti-Zionism that crosses into antisemitism, to conspiracy theories about Jewish influence that mirror the darkest blood libels of Europe.
The Yad Vashem USA Foundation is expanding Yad Vashem: The World Holocaust Remembrance Center to expand its educational reach to meet this challenge. With digital archives, educator training, testimony preservation and student outreach, we are building tools to resist hate before it festers. Just as the Nine Days end with hope—the promise of the Geulah, of “redemption” and “rebuilding”—we believe that remembering the Holocaust can also rebuild: rebuild hearts, rebuild empathy, rebuild moral foundations.
We are especially focused on educating non-Jewish communities because antisemitism is not just a Jewish problem. It is a societal failure. When Jews are targeted, democracy itself is on the line.
And we are also working with faith leaders, civic institutions and government bodies to ensure that Holocaust education is not optional but essential. Because when a nation forgets the Shoah, it doesn’t just endanger Jews. It abandons its soul.
The Nine Days teach that mourning is not an endpoint; it is a turning point. We do not only cry for what was. We prepare ourselves to protect what is and fight for what must be.
On the Ninth of Av, we sit on the floor and read Eicha (the book of Lamentations). We cry over a city in flames. But this year, let us also cry for the Holocaust survivors whose stories are fading from public consciousness. Let us cry for the Jewish children afraid to wear a Star of David in public school. Let us cry for the Jewish institutions that need bulletproof glass instead of Torah scrolls.
But after we cry, let us stand. Stand with the survivors who still share their testimonies. Stand with the educators who fight distortion with truth. Stand with the next generation, who deserve a world that knows what Auschwitz was—and why it must never happen again.
The Nine Days lead us into Tisha B’Av, but they are meant to lead us further—toward rebuilding, toward teshuvah. Toward a world that does not repeat the sins of silence and complicity.
At the Yad Vashem USA Foundation, we are committed to carrying that mission forward—not only for the Jewish people, but for the moral integrity of the world itself. The Nine Days remind us that even in mourning, we must never give up on memory; we must never grow tired of telling the truth; and we must never stop standing up against hate.
“Never again” is not a relic of the past. It is a commandment for today.
