*Unless it gets really really good reviews in which case all bets are off.
*Unless it gets really really good reviews in which case all bets are off.
Posted by emilylhauser on April 29, 2014
https://emilylhauserinmyhead.wordpress.com/2014/04/29/the-only-way-youll-get-me-to-watch-episode-vii/
Occasionally, on Holocaust Day or some other, random day, I will look at my children, and see them on a train.
See them starved. See their clothes in shreds. See them with blank eyes and sores on their faces, their hair matted, all joy, all light, gone.
My mind doesn’t allow me to go far down these paths (a fact for which I am eternally grateful), but it peeks down the path, toward the incomprehensible at the other end, and then I recoil in pain and tears.
If for no other reason that I know that I am not, really, seeing anything.
My mind providing me, unbidden, with an image it imagines to be something like Jewish children at the time of the Holocaust is simply me overlaying a hundred thousand photographs on top of my beautiful children’s faces. It’s nothing like actually seeing it. It’s not being a mother, probably even hungrier than the child, for having eschewed as much food as she could for as long as she could, in favor of her babies, her clothes also rags, an understanding (that the child can’t match) of the enormity of the darkness that surrounds them, has invaded their homes and their families and their very skin, looking at her 11 year old boy and seven year old daughter and knowing — knowing — that they will die.
Knowing that they will die horrific, meaningless deaths, deaths that she cannot in any way stop. The moment of wondering: Would it be better to find some way to kill them myself, to save them what awaits?
But who knew what awaited? And yet surely, many mothers and fathers found themselves hoping to find the inner strength to kill their own children, before the evil could overcome them.
I chose this faith, I chose this people. If I had been in Europe during those nightmare years, I may have been given a choice to walk away.
But my husband — whose four grandparents saw the writing on the wall in 1933 and left Germany to its devils, thus allowing the best man I’ve ever known to come into my life one night in December 1991, as we danced to loud music and laughed with friends, a week after I’d become a Jew — my husband would not have been given that choice.
My children would not have been given that choice.
I want to believe that I would not have left them, for any reason, but I know that the particular barbarism of the Nazis created circumstances in which people did things that were unimaginable, unspeakable, things for which they could never forgive themselves. I cling to the idea that I would have managed, at least, to stand with my chosen people, with my babies, and die with them.
Last night, we lit a yahrzeit candle together and made kaddish.
Today it burns on my stove, surrounded by pots and pans, in a kitchen with a freezer too full with shopping, at one end of a house that has never been cold. I scrub at the little bit of dried egg stuck on my burner, wash the dishes as a surprise for my husband, and when my son calls to say that he’s forgotten his folder, I get in the car and bring it to school, a note tucked inside to tell him I love him.
Because I can do these things, I do them, with gratitude and with a sort of stunned awe that I get to do them at all.
If my babies had been there, they would have died.
Yes, honey. I’ll bring you your folder.
*
Reupped from Holocaust Day 2011.
Posted by emilylhauser on April 28, 2014
https://emilylhauserinmyhead.wordpress.com/2014/04/28/holocaust-day-my-children-my-minds-eye-2/
The following ran on Haaretz.com today:
You would think that if anyone on earth didn’t need help understanding the Holocaust, it would be Israel’s leaders.
You would think that between Holocaust Memorial Day, the public school programs, the documentaries, the books, Yad Vashem – not to mention the actual survivors, living their lives in simple defiance of the Final Solution – Israel would be the one place where you could rest assured that the enormity of the crime and the obligation to honor the dead are clear.
You would think that the country’s leaders could be trusted to have a grasp on the monstrousness of it all. Mechanized torture and execution; the enslavement and rape of old and young; babies slaughtered upon birth; men, women and children worked to death, starved to death, gassed to death, shot naked and left to rot in shallow graves. Nearly a thousand concentration camps; 30,000 slave labor camps; 500 brothels in which the Nazi regime profited from the sale of its victims’ flesh.
You would think. And yet again and again, Israel’s politicians remind us that no, in fact, the country’s leaders don’t have a clear grasp on that enormity, nor on the imperative to recognize and respect the inferno of anguish in which the 6 million were consumed.
For surely, if Israel’s leaders understood, the prime minister would never liken a blusterous political movement to the Nazi ravages of the past; surely a member of the coalition wouldn’t equate a speech criticizing the occupation – delivered before the Jewish State’s own parliament, no less – with “incitement to annihilation”; surely the deputy foreign minister wouldn’t call the Jewish State’s internationally recognized boundaries – defended, as they are, by the Israel Defense Forces – “Auschwitz borders.”
To read the rest of this post, please go to HaAretz.com: “Israel presents: How to politicize the Holocaust”
Posted by emilylhauser on April 28, 2014
https://emilylhauserinmyhead.wordpress.com/2014/04/28/israel-presents-how-to-politicize-the-holocaust/