Latvia’s Holocaust Remembrance Day
at the ruined foundations of the
Choral Synagogue in Riga, Latvia
Annual Commemoration on July 4th
“The Choral Synagogue with podiums” Photo: Karen Frostig (2023)
I have attended this important event in years prior, but never had the opportunity to speak directly to a Latvian audience on this day. The empty podiums would soon be occupied.
Since 2018, Commemoration Day for the victims of Genocide against the Jews in Latvia has been organized on July 4th by the Council of Jewish Communities of Latvia at the Choral Synagogue Memorial on Gogola Street in Riga. On this day, during intermittent downpours, seven speakers gathered to address a crowd of 200.
“Speakers” Photo: Nikolajs Krasnopevcevs (2023).
Officials and foreign diplomats were in attendance. Commemorative speeches were led by Speaker of the Saeima Edvards Smiltēns, Prime Minister Krišjānis Kariņš, Minister of Foreign Affairs Edgars Rinkēvičs.
The audience was addressed by a former prisoner of the Riga ghetto and concentration camps, historian Marģers Vestermanis, Israeli Ambassador Sharon Rappaport-Palgi, Deputy Chairman of the Council of Jewish Communities of Latvia Dmitry Krupnikov, and the author of the idea of perpetuating the victims of Nazism in the concentration camp Mazjumpravmuiža in Riga, Prof. Karen Frostig from the USA, whose grandparents died in this camp.
Dr. Michael Gander, head of the Memorial to the former Gestapo cellar of Osnabrück and its labor camp, spoke about the cooperation between the Višķi parish of the Augšdaugavas region and the municipality of the Osnabrück region in Germany in the creation of a memorial to the Jews of Višķi who have perished in the Holocaust.
Prayers were read by the rabbi of the Riga synagogue Elijohu Krumer and Telman Guzhevsky. The ceremony was led by the director of the museum “Jews in Latvia” Ilya Lensky.-- Latvijas Ebreju Kopiena
On this day at this place, one is confronted with the brutal memory of 300 Jews rounded up on July 4, 1941, and locked into The Great Choral Synagogue, which was then set on fire by Nazis and local collaborators, burning to the ground. The extraordinary solemness of this event was inescapable, visible on everyone’s face.
Photos: Nikolajs Krasnopevcevs (2023).
I did not know what the original synagogue looked like until this moment. The grandeur of the building in relation to the impoverished setting of the memorial is striking. Sadness permeates the site.
The Great Choral Synagogue before 1906. Public domain. File:V10p417001 Riga.jpg & The Great Choral Synagogue in the 1930s. (1871-1941). Public Domain.
Responsibility expressed by this large group gathered to bear witness to the past was impressive. Latvia’s commitment to remember this horrific history registers as a pledge of solidarity with the victims and their families.
Marģers Vestermanis, now 97 years of age, walked unassisted to the mike, to address the crowd. Honored and revered by a public that treasures his every word, I wondered what Vestermanis felt while speaking. Did his mind wander to specific events, to people lost, to the loneliness of survival in the midst of widespread destruction. I also thought about Ilya Lensky as the Director of the Museum “Jews in Latvia”, his strength and stamina to represent the moral compass of a nation still coming to terms with its past.
Photos: Nikolajs Krasnopevcevs (2023
My own speech was shaped by my role as a descendant of victims and the leader of an international “Survivor and Descendants group” that meets monthly for more than two years. Three survivors attend the meetings, creating a direct link to the Jungfernhof concentration camp.
My Speech. Photo: Nikolajs Krasnopevcevs (2023)
“Your Excellence, Dear Friends!
I attended Latvia’s Holocaust Remembrance Day program at the Choral Synagogue in 2019. I was moved then as I am today, to witness Latvia’s embrace of this history, feeling my pain as I acknowledge Latvia’s history of persecution, deportation, and murder.
My grandparents were placed on an early transport out of Vienna on December 3, 1941 during the coldest winter on record. They were promised relocation. Bound for an unknown destination, Jungfernhof lacked any semblance of home or safety. As deportees, they were immediately rendered stateless, becoming objects of hate, terror, brutality, enslavement, and mass murder. In this lawless environment, killing and theft happened on impulse, without consequence.
For the past three years I led a campaign to remember this forgotten camp, recovering testimonial evidence buried in the archives. I also established an international “Survivor and Descendants” group. We come together around the dream of building a memorial at Jungfernhof, restoring dignity to nearly four thousand forgotten souls we regard as our next of kin.
I interviewed three survivors, who attend these meetings. One was a grave digger, another a shepherd, and the third was very young. In these conversations, I experienced the depth of their despair and loneliness as young boys and teens. I learned that having a question was dangerous. Having a friend was forbidden. Facial expressions were masked. Eye contact was diverted. Attracting any attention resulted in murder. Two survivors remember an old, Latvian women, who left soup every day on a rock by a stream. She saved their lives.
Memorials support our collective yearning for an authentic reckoning with the past. They allow us to linger, to reflect. They function as gifts within the larger community, inviting each generation to pose a fresh set of questions about the past in relation to the present and the future. Through this unscripted process, we develop an everchanging fountain of transformative dialogue.
A memorial at the Jungfernhof concentration camp to be built in the coming years, will establish a legacy of truth about the past, while restoring memory and dignity to the victims and their families.”
“Closing commemorative photo.” Photo: Nikolajs Krasnopevcevs (2023).
Afternoon program at the Mill House at Jungfernhof
In an afternoon presentation, I was able to discuss memorial culture and issues of representation and distortion in relation to signage at the camp. Questions such as who is speaking, who is included, who is omitted are items of interest in public art. The welcome mural located at the entrance to the Mazjumpravmuiža park, dotted with butterflies and flowers, emphasizes early history concerning manor culture at the site. Established in 1941, the Jungfernhof concentration camp falls outside of that timeline.
Welcoming mural at the Mazjumprava public park (2022) Photo: Nikolajs Krasnopevcevs (2023).
Photo: Karen Frostig (2021)
Nearby, a large sign presents the phrase “…where German and Austrian Jews were forcibly settled, working here in agriculture.” The sign implied the work was routine, while trivializing through omission, actual crimes of slavey, starvation, and murder that defined the camp’s existence. According to Fred Zeilberger, he was forced to dig graves and then months later as a starving teen, plant potatoes on top of the mass grave as a means of concealing hideous crimes of murder. SS Officer Rudolf Joachim Seck would remark “Jews make good fertilizer.” His disdain of Jewish prisoners was on full display.
The image of a farm, found on occasion in the literature, represents a form of Holocaust distortion that is unfortunately perpetuated by this sign. The acknowledged presence of a mass grave at the site changes the presentation of the site, making the quaint image of a farm particularly painful to families who continue to mourn the loss of loved ones.
After my presentation, I was approached by a Latvian official who assured me that the sign would be replaced with a sign containing accurate language about the camp. I was moved by this response and pleased that my words made a difference.
