At Auschwitz, I Marched with Muslims and Jews

I marched on Auschwitz with Muslims and Jews side by side. In a time of rising global antisemitism, this simple act felt extraordinary and deeply moving. Even after Sharaka has organized multiple delegations to the March of the Living, seeing Arab and Muslim participants walking alongside their Jewish counterparts remains profoundly historic. It stands as a powerful reminder of what becomes possible when empathy transcends longstanding divisions.

Sharaka, an organization born out of the Abraham Accords, has made it its mission to foster dialogue, challenge antisemitism, and build bridges between Israel and the Arab world. Through cultural exchange, education, and shared experiences, Sharaka brings together voices often seen as opposing. This delegation was part of that effort-a clear, proud step toward confronting the lies, denial, and distortions that still circulate in parts of the Muslim world.

For many participants, standing on the grounds of Auschwitz meant challenging narratives they were raised with, and doing so publicly, despite the risks. That kind of courage isn’t common, and it deserves recognition.

The group included participants from Morocco, Bahrain, Pakistan, Afghanistan, Jordan, Syria, and more. They came not just to witness history but to actively confront it, seeking to deepen their understanding of the Holocaust and challenge the widespread denial that persists in many Arab and Muslim communities.

The Holocaust, while primarily a Jewish tragedy, is fundamentally a Nazi story-a stark warning of where unchecked hatred, bigotry, and radical ideologies can lead humanity. Its lessons extend beyond ethnicity and religion, making it crucial for all people to understand this history. Holocaust denial, alarmingly common in parts of the Middle East, is fueled by misinformation, propaganda, and political agendas that dehumanize Jewish people and undermine historical truth. Educating against such denial is vital, both to honor the victims and to prevent history from repeating itself.

Walking through Auschwitz, where history’s worst evil took visible form, each participant carried their own personal connection. When my dear friend Luai Ahmad, a Yemenite-born journalist who has dedicated his recent years to fighting antisemitism, stood silently inside one of the gas chambers, tears in his eyes, overwhelmed by the reality before him. There was no need for speeches-his grief said everything. In a region where acknowledging the Holocaust is still controversial, his decision to be there, to face the truth head-on, was an act of bravery.

Luai Ahmed during the Sharaka delegation (photo credit: Sharaka)

That moment is when it clicked for me: I was part of something rare. It’s easy to get used to Sharaka’s work and forget how unusual it is. Even after several delegations to the March of the Living, the sight of Muslims and Jews walking together in Auschwitz remains deeply powerful. It’s still historic.

One of the Jewish participants who accompanied the delegation was Talia Raab, granddaughter of a Holocaust survivor. It was her first time in Poland-her first time standing on the ground where her family’s story nearly ended. Her presence gave the delegation something few ever experience: a living link to the memory, not just the history, of the Holocaust.

For many on the trip, especially those raised in places where the Holocaust is silenced or denied-Talia made it real. Talia’s presence wasn’t just symbolic-it changed the atmosphere. Hearing her speak about her family, seeing her walk through those grounds for the first time, reminded everyone this wasn’t abstract history. It was personal, it was real. For many in the group, her story cut through years of distance, denial, and indifference. It brought the truth home.

Talia Raab lights a memorial candle for her family. Photo Credit: Sharaka.

One moment said it all: Talia slowly turned the pages of the Book of Names, name after name, searching for the relatives her family lost. Beside her stood Luai, silent. A Jew and a Muslim, standing together in Auschwitz-something that would have once seemed unthinkable. That moment, two people from worlds apart standing together in Auschwitz-was the product of courage. It’s the kind of quiet breakthrough Sharaka was built to create.

Outside one of the gas chambers, I turned to Talia and said quietly, “I hate this place.” Talia paused for a moment and said back, “I don’t want to hate this place. It’s my family’s cemetery.” Her words made me pause. It’s easy to forget what Auschwitz really is. With the structure of tours and the flow of visitors, it can start to feel like just another museum. But that moment with Talia brought it back into focus. This isn’t just a place to learn history-it’s a cemetery. The largest one we have. A place where Jewish lives were destroyed. Whole families, generations, wiped out. This place isn’t about statistics or dates-it’s about people. Real people-men, women, children-who lived full lives before they were taken. Visiting Auschwitz isn’t about checking off a historical site. It’s about standing in that place with the weight it deserves, remembering who they were, what was taken from them, and carrying the responsibility to honor that memory with the respect it demands.

For Jews, remembering the Holocaust is part of who we are. It’s not optional-it’s something we carry. But for the Muslim and Arab participants, their decision to take part came from choice, not obligation. That matters. They stood there out of conviction, not because they had to, but because they believed it was right. In many of their countries, acknowledging the Holocaust is unpopular-and often even dangerous. And still, they showed up. They listened. They stood with us. That kind of courage deserves respect. That kind of choice says something about the people who made it.

Rabbi Jonathan Sacks, in his book Morality, wrote: “Memory is my story, the past that made me who I am, of whose legacy I am the guardian for the sake of generations yet to come. Without memory, there is no identity, and without identity, we are mere dust on the surface of infinity.” His words stayed with me in Auschwitz. Memory isn’t just about the past-it’s about who we are now, and what we choose to carry forward. Teaching the Holocaust isn’t about guilt or slogans. It’s about truth. About protecting identity, history, and the values we pass on. Forgetting invites denial. And denial opens the door to it all happening again.

In our increasingly polarized world, such acts of solidarity and collective memory offer genuine hope. They’re proof that when people choose truth over silence, and courage over comfort, even the deepest divides can begin to close.

Sharaka’s work, often behind the scenes-has made the unthinkable possible. In a world where division is the default, Sharaka brought Muslims and Jews to Auschwitz, not as opponents, but as witnesses. That image-walking together through the heart of Jewish pain-wasn’t just powerful. It was right. It reminded all of us that truth matters, memory matters, and standing for both is something worth doing. Especially when it isn’t easy.