I am somewhat bothered by the lack of knowledge and historical value Frum Yidden have in regards to Babi Yar. If only people understood how holy a place this is and how many Jews were murdered over just a few days.

I found a story which might give a better perspective of the feelings one has standing at the ravine overlooking Babi Yar.

Babi Yar 65 Years Ago (Sept 29, 1941)

This was a new experience for me. I’ve been to many countries. The few words I speak coupled with the locals scant English and hand gesticulations usually make for modicum conversation.

Not this time. I spoke a few words and he spoke zilch. I tried explaining what the English version was of the words I spoke in his language to no avail. He was getting it less than a cheap shrink. Reminded me of those bad dates where things in common end with our heritage. I used to attempt to fill that silence with words or aimless drivel. Now I let the silence dangle like a hangman’s noose.

Two and a half hours in the car(which turned into 4 hours due to his directional ineptness). No music. Dark roads. Bit of a chill in the air and my head dancing about piñata style trying to stay awake but exhaustion winning this battle. I felt like a life size dashboard bobble head doll of myself. An unexpected stop on the side of a lightless road brought our first common words to light. My verbal Alcatraz ends with some commonality in the bathroom department.

Amidst my human head bobbing I was able to ponder where I was going. Heading to one of the least known saddest places this world has ever known. Heading to a place named so for its original name. De facto causing this name to forever be synonymous with the likes of Auschwitz, Dachau, and so many other names which past events have turned formerly innocuous sounding cities into death associations.

BABI YAR. The location is central Kiev. Aptly named for the park which it resides on. Had the atrocities been in Central Park it would have been named as such. While the true facts only surfaced many years after the events took place, the details are more gruesome than even writing could portray. While some know of this place few know all the details. Sadly, the real number of Jews killed in so short a period is unknown. The Nazis machine-gunned down the crowd, killing at least 33,771 over 48 hours, according to records kept by the executioners. Many say that those numbers provided by those who did the killing is grossly understated. Evidence shows that more than 100,000 Jews were murdered there, not 33,771 as claimed in the Nazi report.

It is said, for more than 30 years after the massacre, when heavy rains hit Kiev, bones would float to the surface and careen down local streets with alacrity.

To speak of the details would take volumes as now most of what happened has been revealed by the few survivors, local witnesses and the perpetrators. Why this place doesn’t get the recognition so important I do not know. Only a few years ago was a small monument of a Menorah placed near the site. The actual site of the ravine where the bodies were lined up, shot and free-fell is unmarked and without proper pictures and knowledge of the location practically unrecognizable.

While gazing down into this pit of death, from atop a hill off to the left, in the distance one can see a soccer field. Just before that field is a ravine overgrown and untouched. This ravine holds the precious burial ground of tens of thousands of Jews who were killed simply because of heritage and greed.

The emotions one feels standing there are just not limited to tears and a heavy heart. This is a place where one can actually feel their soul. The feeling is as close to out of body as one can get without actually being out of body. There’s an obvious connection with the martyred. There’s this tingle of awareness everywhere. The intensity of so many emotions swarming over body and soul creates an experience which I have yet to be able to place into words.

I have had the sadly unfortunate yet humble privilege of standing at this holy site four times. Each year I compile a list of those in need. Whether it’s for health, sustenance, help finding one’s mate or happiness. Throwing that paper smudged with tears to lay beside this holy site knowing there are thousand of souls living there, is a moment of speechless hope. How could G-d refuse such a messenger?! I know He cannot.

Hopefully the blood of their enemies have been avenged. I pray these beautiful souls pray for all of Israel. I leave Babi Yar each year with the same words lingering on my parched trembling lips. “Brothers and Sisters, I hope to meet you all soon in a better time when the name of the Messiah becomes known and the Lord shines His splendor upon us. Please pray for us. You cannot be refused”.