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Virgina Tech’s Liviu Librescu, who survived the Holocaust, sacrificed his own life to protect his students during the deadliest shooting rampage in modern American history. Librescu attempted to block the classroom door from the gunman, providing enough time for his students to escape through the windows. His heroism resonated far beyond campus and has become a source of pride for Jews around the globe. One can only imagine what passed through his mind in those final moments, but it’s possible to speculate that his experience as a Holocaust survivor enabled him to rapidly react to calamity. Perhaps he, more than anyone else, was capable of believing that the unbelievable was actually occurring.

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The professor’s body was flown to New York and he was given a ceremonial funeral in the Orthodox Jewish neighborhood of Borough Park in Brooklyn. Although he never lived in New York and the funeral was hastily arranged, a crowd of Orthodox Jews seemed to materialize out of nowhere as the funeral began. His wife, Marlena, was swarmed by the media as she entered. She seemed amazed by the frenzy around her and was almost too shy to be interviewed.

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We were not allowed to shoot inside, but his casket was soon carried out and up the street by a group of Orthodox men. Most of these men had never met Librescu, yet they appeared to be deeply honored to perform this ritual. Their Jewish tradition places strong value in this act, with the notion that caring for those unable to return kindness is a pure form of giving. Librescu’s body was then flown to Israel where he was buried. In the Jewish faith it is said that to save one life is to save the world. Librescu saved many.

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Although Easter is the most important festival in Christianity, it is celebrated with relatively little fanfare in the United States. In New York, the big event is the annual Easter Parade which runs up Fifth Avenue and is festive but not necessarily very spiritual. I decided instead this year to venture up to Harlem to photograph Easter service in the historic Mount Olivet Baptist Church. The neoclassical building was originally constructed as a synagogue in 1907 when German-Jewish residents moved to Harlem and the Star of David can still be seen in the ornate stained glass windows. Mount Olivet, a prominent African-American congregation in the city, later acquired the building and converted it into a church in 1925.

I was a bit worried I wouldn’t be allowed to photograph, but I showed up early and the pastor, Dr. Charles Curtis, was kind enough to acquiesce after I assured him I would be as unobtrusive as possible. The Mass began beautifully enough with hymns sung by the choir, who were seated above in the balcony, their voices gorgeously flowed down onto the assembled congregation below.

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A group of about forty tourists were packed into the back few rows of the church and Rev. Curtis eventually called out to ask where they were from. After they stated they were from Spain, Rev.Curtis said something along the lines of, “Welcome to the United States, may God bless you and keep you safe on your travels. Welcome to our church.” The Spaniards seemed genuinely moved by the hospitality and although this was no Semana Santa, I was glad to see they were able to experience something unique in the city for Easter.

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Many of the older women were decked out in fanciful Easter hats and dress, along with some of the children. As the service progressed well into its second hour, I made my way down to the front and, with a nod of approval from the pastor, was finally able to make some photographs of the women in hats singing in front. The service overall was a bit subdued compared with the more jubilant ones I’ve seen in African-American churches in the south, but it was memorable nevertheless. The church has a sacred vibe to it and the pastor’s sermon led one man to bury his head into his hands in prayer as others called out in divine joy.

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The service eventually ended somewhere in the third hour and I lingered to photograph some of the congregants who stuck around to chat and greet old friends. There are about five churches located within a few blocks of Mount Olivet and I was lucky enough to encounter a few other groups of worshipers on the street whose services also were letting out around the same time. I made some final images on the of a group of African-American children playing in front of another church in their Sunday best, an unmistakable Harlem Easter tradition.

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The ICU, or Intensive Care Unit, is a part of all hospitals that thankfully few of us will see. Most of us have heard news reports of people who have been in tragic stories who have been “rushed to Intensive Care”. But what is this place? How does it work? Does it look like it does in House or Grey’s Anatomy?

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I was fortunate enough to be invited into the real world of the ICU to document the incredible work done there by the dedicated ICU staff nurses and doctors. The Intensive Care Foundation has an annual appeal from 10-23 April, to raise money and community awareness about what the ICU achieves, and the foundation asked me to come along to photograph a documentary piece so that seldom seen media images could be viewed by the widest possible audience. The foundation, and my contact within it, Monique Pockett, had arranged for me to visit 4 separate ICU’s over Sydney over a week.

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First stop was the Royal North Shore hospital (RNS). Within the RNS ICU I first met patient Gemma McHardy, a teenager who has been in the ICU for 3 months. Around her bed the walls and windows were covered with photos of her and her friends in happier times, get well messages, magazine clippings with photos of her idols. Directly above her bed pasted on the ceiling were photos of the Sydney Harbour Bridge, Leonardo DiCaprio, and a handwritten poster saying “Every day in every way I’m getting better and better and better”. Gemma was due to go home “soon”, and it was clearly this fact that kept her bouyant as her mother Anne talked to her about school and fed her home made pumpkin soup.

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Throughout my visits to the RNS, Westmead and The Prince of Wales ICU’s, similar heroic stories emerged from patients and staff alike. Each ICU was very different physically, with the Westmead offering each patient a separate room, where their status was monitored from outside by dedicated nurses perched before monitors showing their vital signs, reams of paperwork on medication, history etc and the best diagnosis tool of all, a large window to observe through. ICU director at the Westmead Dr Yugan Mudaliar is the most ebullient man I have ever met, and I got the feeling that showing me through his ICU was a source of considerable and justifiable pride.

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At the Prince Of Wales, patient Joel Cabides had a disco mirror-ball hanging from the ceiling and a large whiteboard behind his bed on which was written “1 Blink = Yes; 2 Blinks = No”. Enough said. Even through all of this trauma, Joel smiled broadly at the arrival of a press photographer, an interesting diversion maybe, and his father Joel Sr. joked with him as he massaged his son’s hands as I took photos.

Nothing was going to prepare me for the scenes inside the Westmead Children’s ICU though. As the father of a seven month-old boy, I felt as though this one would be tough, but it was much harder than that. Three month-old baby girl Eva Cole, her bed space festooned with monitors, equipment, wires, slept peacefully as her mum Sophie kept vigil, stroking her face and feet as the ICU staff bustled by, checking on her and her mum as they went. In the next bed, four year-old Byron Campbell was quietly sitting up, blowing soap bubbles from a wand held by a physiotherapist. It turned out this was no mere boredom-relief activity but a wonderfully engaging part of his recovery process, helping his lungs recover as well as his mind as the bubbles floated across the ward. Ashley Walton, 14, was wheeled off to get a scan by porter Joe Borgia, who was wise-cracking all of the way, keeping patient, mother, and staff smiling all the way. Seeing these kids, watching them dealing with their situation, and their stoic parents masking their concern, my mind is constantly on my own family, and I understand what these parents must be thinking - that they would do anything to swap places with their child in pain.

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With my week inside the ICU over, I relive the moments I encountered with the incredible patients and staff as I edit the pictures. As I edit them, I am amazed at some of the facts that the ICU foundation can boast. Out of the 148,000 patients admitted to ICU’s across Australia and New Zealand each year, 86% of adults and a staggering 97% of children survive, pure testament to the care they receive and their will to live.

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And no, they don’t look like they do in House or Greys…they look real.