Reflection on The Holocaust

Imagining the Holocaust is a frequent occurrence for me, often induced by those who make mention of hearing someone refer to it in a light-hearted way as a means to describe what happens when we as a society become numb to that which many are allowing, with regard to human suffering and a casual insensitivity toward current human affairs. History is a great teacher, we observe patterns by the study of it, and SHOULD recognize the red flags that once might have been missed before a sincere tragedy in human existence.

Today I was reminded of something I wrote less than a year ago and thought i'd resurrect it again. Soon I will be making a short journey leading 11 other students to Washington DC where we will serve the homeless, view the monuments and the many names of those who perished in service to the United States. I will personally venture to the Holocaust Museum for an experience I am sure will again alter the truth seeker and teacher within me. That is the great gift museums of all kinds offer. I am thankful for their existence, as that is where history comes to life.


-Kristy Medo

Reflection on The Holocaust

Feeling. Anytime I review scenes or stories of hateful crime, war or simply acts of aggression or lack of kindness, I ask myself if humanity has lost its ability to feel. Feeling is such a basic sense, something we need absolutely no words to describe, or communicate, it is our innate way of knowing we are alive. While most of us have five senses to use to relate to our environment, even if just one of them is engaged there is almost certainly information that will translate into a feeling. The simple sight of my father’s hands evokes a whirlwind of feelings, especially if my mind is quiet, subject to the finite details surrounding me. The distress in the texture of his hands from years of farming and relentless efforts to fix anything and everything from machines to the tender needs of an animal near its end, all tasks done in less than ideal conditions, gripping metal machinery and devices in below zero temperatures, rain, ice, snow. I examine the scars from years of cuts gone without any treatment or care, swollen joints likely signaling to him a personal notification of an approaching storm each time it's about to rain. The enormous size of his hands which is a trait that so many farmers have which in the normal world would otherwise indicate an abnormality; but no, these hands have examined the grain carefully fed to his heard, gripped and carried the hay of three men; twine cutting away at his circulation further developing the calloused flesh on his palms only to at the end of the day cradle the head of his once newborn baby. Further he would hold his face with his tattered and worn hands, as he cries silently at the death of his own father when he realizes his own mortality, he is next, his own days are now numbered.


Why do I painstakingly draw this picture for my readers? Quite simply it illustrates how just how equipped we are with the ability to feel. Just one sight, in this case, the sight of my father’s hands can evoke the power of relating to being a human and what this man has contributed to the world, his value, the value of others whose hands have made their individual contributions. Imagine for a moment the hands of your mother, father, or your lover. Imagine one day, you will no longer have the ability to feel those hands, the care and love they bring into your world. Gone. Now there is sadness. Imagine the horror, the lack of sensitivity, the inability to relate to the human experience, when one man who not only would have regard for one human life but an entire nation. Just what happens in the minds of men who intentionally seek to destroy human life? What happens in the minds of those who witness the destruction and do nothing, find acceptance or simply turn a blind eye? Something in us is rendered powerless, disconnects, and loses that special sense of relating to the human condition and experience.

As I read the excerpt from "A Voice from the Holocaust" all I could wonder is where did we lose our sense of feeling? How could this have gone on for much longer than it would have taken for an entity outside of Germany to receive the memo? How could a nation know of such a horrible action and allow such pain and destruction, and for what? To become the "supreme" race at the cost of human life?

The excerpt is written in a way that appeals to the pathos, therefore it is easy to feel the experience; or is it? Most readers will have already read stories about the Holocaust, war or other hate crimes. The commonality of such reading is such that we seldom feel our way through the material as we are exposed to it. Media has numbed us, repeated stories arise each day. As I review various parts of the account, I will mention what my interpretation is of the illustrations. The "story" begins with the Jews exiting the train marching toward Auschwitz. As the SS men stood by with their guns the Jews were "hand in hand" about to approach the area where their families were to be separated. "Men to the left! Women to the right". Clearly the story is written by man who was a young boy at the time as he recalls the moment his hand parted his mothers and that would be the last time he would ever see her again. Imagine the fear, and while immersed in that feeling there is some unique sense of comfort by just the touch of your mothers hand while you walked into the unknown, then separation. The power of touch is so meaningful to this man he uses those words in the following sentence as he speaks of the "pressure" of his father’s hand as he unites with him on their way forward in the line. The boy looks at his mother stroking his sister’s hair as they go an entirely different direction, likely one of the last pictures of them that he retains in his memory. The power and sensitivity of touch is what makes us human, gives us comfort in times of fear, expresses love, strength and security. Just when did these SS soldiers lose sense of being human at the many sights of these Jews in fear gripping one another for comfort? Continuing onward the boy observes an old man collapsing on the ground after just being shot carelessly by an SS soldier. He immediately emphasizes how his young hand gripped his father’s arm tightly and notes his thought of how desperate he was not to lose his father, as he greatly feared being alone. Again, we seek comfort in others, such a basic human pleasure, yet these demons could stand by and rip people from the arms of one another. Imagine the odd peace you would find in the embrace of a human being of whom you do not know but yet realize this could be your last day of existence or worse your last breathe? It happens all over the world in extreme crimes against humanity where all societal norms dissolve and we are left with the nakedness of our basic human senses. Imagine the thought as this man describes, you are about to enter an incinerator with dozens of other Jews stripped of everything including their clothing. You are filed between others so tightly you feel the heat and condensation of fear being excreted though their skin, yet after being completely separated from anyone you hold dear, you find comfort in the embrace of this person as you take your last life giving breaths.

Men who follow the instruction of a so called "leader" who have empowered them to scream chants at these Jews, call themselves soldiers (the SS). As the lines of Jews pass them by, they scream at them delivering messages of their destiny "see those flames? You’re going to be burned, turned to ashes". "You'd have done better to have hanged yourselves where you were than to come here". How do you feel after reading these words? Imagine not only hearing those words, but seeing the actual sights, smelling the actual smells of human beings being burned? You continue to walk, and are called a "swine" by these soldiers. You mind asks, "Why has my very existence brought me here"? As the SS scream their hateful words you can visibly see their fury cause their bodies to shake, such a strong energy hate brings forward, do not make eye contact or you will be shot or viciously abused. Shuddering under all of this fear, you still have the sense of your father’s hand. How is it that above all of the suffering that surrounds you, the power that you feel in that touch you find some comfort?

An uprising occurs, the people surrounding you begin to speak among each other as an urgent sense of action is felt, the need to attempt escape. Yet others suppressed and fearful say "you must never lose faith, even when the sword hangs over your head. That's the teaching of our sages". Would you sit silently and let yourself, your family, your children and others die because the unseen "power" of the sages are going to save you? Absurd! Save yourself! Will you really place your hope in the unseen and "hope" to be saved? You are going to be burned!

These scenarios illustrate that those suppressed by faith of this kind are much easier to kill than those energized by the instinct to take action to save one’s own life. We are born with the instinct of survival, not to sit back and wait for someone to save us! It is man who tells us we need to be saved by another, that is a means to control human beings and the weak will follow…..even to their own grave. This is exactly what the enemy wants, men who give into the power of another or the unseen who remains hidden.

Eventually the world could not stand by and witness such horror and World War II broke out....more killing, more destruction. I do not need to go further with detail as history has written itself, but I will return to my original thought. When did we lose the ability to feel, to relate to being human? I will take the bold step forward and assert that much of the hate in our world today could easily be resolved if we would dissolve religious agendas and instead default to our basic sense of relating to human suffering. Without the need to be right or to control one another human beings could live in harmony, or at minimum without inflicting suffering on one another.

Children,nature and a heart shaped box: A teachers perspective

A few months ago, had someone told me I would be teaching fifth grade children, in the middle of the woods, overnight, I would have silently chuckled and asked "why" as I prepared my ears for the words of what I would have considered insane.  Innately, I am not fond of children.  It's like handing the most delicate object imaginable to an old farmer with time worn swollen hands, his heart pure and caring, but far from able to offer the soft touch and moreover to feel through his own callouses.  That's me.....with kids.  But I do know a few things about nature and can offer what words I think she would speak to a child about caring for her.  That's why I teach.  Little did I know that I would be "taught".  You see, kids often experience life with a lot less judgement and pre-formed ideas.  My joy arises in the special ability to form questions that can only bring about genuine ideas, NOT questioning them in a way where they pick up on what i'm expecting of them in their answers.  I was never taught how to do this....it is just something authentic that arises from my teaching.

I teach environmental education, within a school forest.  I am not a permanent staff member, I am paid less than what it's worth in my time, travel and even...sometimes my sanity.  Teachers (I find) do not generally assume such a position without first establishing the value and meaning it has for their own life.  I fell in love with nature long ago, kneeling in the dirt, looking at the sky.  I remember that moment clearly.  There was no one there to guide it, it was simply the only place I felt my true self, that same nature that has somehow still survived in me today.  Perhaps that is the underlying reason I teach.....in the woods.  If I could give a gift to anyone, it would be that very same feeling I had when that essence of nature became known to me.  So the question becomes, how do I teach or lead one into that essence but yet not being a direct part of it?  So, I give their minds enough to question and I leave them with it.  Nature is an experience, not a text book.

The night before I took my recent one month road trip to the Everglades, I had a special moment with a handicapped student who was unable to walk, unable to speak.  While I had ample student assistants to tend to the main group of students just long enough so I could take this boy out into the bitter cold, tilt him back to look at the stars which are so much more clear on a crisp cloudless night.I also called to the Great Horned Owls in the woods beckoning their echoed responses.  Had this boy ever had this experience?  It is uncertain, but this much is true, the eyes don't lie and they glow with joy when joy is experienced.  Will those memories offer him something that becomes the basis for how he experiences life as mine had for me?  How about the other children?

As hours pass each night that I teach according to my curriculum agenda, I can assure you, I specialize in leaving one to ponder and I do so especially at the end of the night just before slumber when they can reflect on the actions of the day.  When all educational elements are checked off my list, I tread the waters of what is now classified as "controversy" and I graphically describe what is happening in our environment when we "consume" goods, and I do so in  a way that has meaning in the day of a 5th grade child.  This always turns into my own daily lesson.  I share with them things I see in the world as I travel, things I think could change.  I use the image of the god awful valentines day candy box.  I ask them why we need a box so big for so few pieces of candy, then I explain where all the plastic comes from, the cardboard and all the chemicals used to make paper, which required many trees to be cut for pulp.  Not to mention the sugar in the candy likely grown in areas near the Everglades where agricultural run off just literally killed over 80 whales one day before I left my short term teaching position in the state parks of the Florida Keys.  Maybe its wrong to teach knowing I can connect to the "heart" of their minds, but offering an alternative to the heart shaped box is priceless.  So what do we give our valentines if this heart shaped box is as good as a box of abused resources?  We can offer those we love the experience of appreciating the small details within our connections to nature.

What detail can we focus on in nature while present together?  I've had many rare moments where the perfect call of an owl, coyote, or other wildlife happened in such a split second that if I was not perfectly attentive, it would have been missed.  That is the ultimate sharing in my mind.  What if one other person was there?  That is my idea of a heart shaped box.  My point to them becomes this, appreciate all of life and share in that experience with others, and to do and use as little as you can in the process.  So much of what we think does not have what we qualify as a real "life" in its apparent simplicity, has the greatest potential to draw our focus into its detail to ponder and appreciate life outside of our own.  Helping children to see this detail is an inspiring gift.

I always ask what they are doing to help save the earth, and i'm always in awe at how many hands go up and actions are offered without little request.  "My mom and dad make sure we recycle, turn the lights off, use reusable bags and bottles....we stopped using plastic forks, cups and paper plates", Then I ask the question..."What do YOU see that the adults or you could do differently to save the planet" and then comes the creativity. cutting bottles and using one side as a funnel and the other as a scoop or cup. Reuse this, or that, use glass instead of.....and I tell them each to be creative and to voice their ideas to any adult the feel comfortable sharing those ideas with.  I showed my students a map of the range of the Saw Whet Owl, and instead of seeing the map they saw within the map a dinosaur, and that is the out of the box thinking we adults need from children.  They perceive our world very differently than we do and they can open our eyes if we allow them, but we have to be willing to give them the heart shaped box.

As a side note I feel it is important to mention, my experience of being a teacher has been enlightening to the fact that many children are on medication for reasons I will not question, while yet I have gone through some of the challenges of those substances with them.  I had a situation where a student was apparently content one moment, and depressed or in tears the next later to have her tell me that she could predict the times of day she would break down.  She was so clear on the situation I wondered if the medication was cycling out of her system at these times of day.  Is the medication helpful?  These things break my heart.

I end each night by reading the girls a well written story embedded with the lessons about life and the earth, so many of them enjoy the story but there are a few that begin to cry -- usually the onset of homesickness after a long day of learning and submersion in new environment.  A protocol for dealing with this sort of thing is followed and when its not working, the counselors call upon me for intervention.  After having my own challenges in life, I relate well to the anxiety some students face and offer some calming mental distractions and visualizing to help themselves relax and fall asleep. The things they reveal about their lives during these times are very delicate matters, however when I ask them to describe to me what a "happy place" looks like, it is almost always inclusive of a natural setting with their loved ones.  Again, the heart shaped box of living.

So what is the purpose in all of this?  Essentially it's for you to decide.  Remember how I said I leave my students the space to contemplate questions and answers for themselves?  Do you see the connection between yourself, nature and the heart shaped box?  What does that mean for you?  What is here for you in this life experience?  What, in it, can you share without exploiting the environment or another?  Does nature offer you something special or have you not even made one moment in your schedule to observe it?  There are only so many moments in life.....design your heart shaped box carefully.