On Yom HaShoah, children across Migdal Ohr’s schools and programs paused to remember the six million Jews murdered in the Holocaust. Through moving assemblies, survivor testimonies, ceremonies, and student-led commemorations, the next generation took part in one of the Jewish people’s most sacred responsibilities: remembering.

Yom HaShoah is more than a day of mourning. It is a bridge between generations.

It is a moment when grandparents tell grandchildren what they endured, when survivors pass their stories forward, and when young Jews begin to understand that they are part of a people whose history is marked not only by tragedy, but by extraordinary resilience.

This year, that message feels even more immediate.

As Israel continues to face pain, loss, and uncertainty, the lessons of the Holocaust feel deeply relevant to Migdal Ohr’s students. When children hear how earlier generations survived those who sought to destroy them, they come to understand something powerful: the Jewish story does not end in darkness.

At Migdal Ohr, Yom HaShoah is observed with both heartbreak and hope.

“Our heart beats with a double rhythm,” Rabbi Grossman shared. “One hand holds the painful memory of the six million, and the other hand salutes the bravery of those who gave us a home after the Holocaust.”

That hope lives in the students themselves.

The children standing for the siren, listening to survivor testimonies, singing HaTikva, and carrying the memory forward are the living continuation of the Jewish people. They are proof that despite every attempt to extinguish the Jewish spirit, Am Yisrael Chai.

In every Migdal Ohr school, the memory of the Holocaust is not taught as distant history. It is a call to responsibility. Students learn not only about the dangers of hatred and silence in the face of evil, but also about the obligation to pursue peace, defend human dignity, and stand up against injustice wherever they see it.

As the ceremonies concluded today, one message echoed across Migdal Ohr’s campuses: we remember the past not only to mourn what was lost, but to protect what must never be lost again.

Am Yisrael Chai.