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.
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