Showing posts with label Holocaust. Show all posts

As we know, G-d takes care of the poor and gives us commandments to help out those who are in need -- widows, orphans, converts, the poverty-stricken, and so on. We are obligated to help out anyone who is at a disadvantage or might be oppressed by others. In Parshat Kedoshim (Leviticus 19:9), it says the following:

ובקצרכם את קציר ארצכם לא תכלה פאת שדך לקצר ולקט קצירך לא תלקט

When you reap the harvest of your land, you shall not fully reap the corner of your field, nor shall you gather the gleanings of your harvest.

If you look closely at the Hebrew text (as this is not apparent in the English translation), you see that it starts off by addressing the people using the plural form -- ובקצרכם -- and then as the verse continues, it suddenly switches off to the singular form when it says לא תכלה. But if the entire verse is addressed to the same audience, why does it at first address them in plural and then in singular?

Kli Yakar interprets the commandment as follows. Even at a time of gathering, when many people are gathering their crops, you should not think that the poor person can support himself through the field of other people and therefore you do not have to leave off a corner of your own field. The obligation is put on every individual and he cannot exempt himself because of others. So even though everyone is leaving off a corner for the poor and it might seem like this farmer's little corner does not matter, the Torah is saying that it does matter, because every single individual person is obligated to do this.

You see this a lot in life. When people need help -- people who are not really close to us, or are even total strangers -- we tend to think that someone else will come along and help them. We don't want to take responsibility for those people. After all, who are they to us that we should help them? We assume that somebody else will come to their assistance. We pretend we don’t see. We act as if it’s not our problem. We think, “There are hundreds of people who know about this or see this person is in need of help – one of them will help. My help doesn’t matter.”

And of course, you know what happens in situations like these. Chances are that nobody ends up helping because everyone thinks someone else will. But that someone else also doesn’t want to take responsibility for something that does not personally affect him or his close group of friends and family. I mean, if you don't want to take responsibility, why should somebody else?

In psychology, this is known as the diffusion of responsibility. When the responsibility is spread over all the people involved and there are a lot of people, you assume that someone else will help and if they don't, that must mean that no help is required -- even though this is not at all the case.

Earlier this month, I had the honor of attending a lecture by Elie Wiesel. The topic of the lecture was the tragedy of the St. Louis ship and its passengers during World War II, when Jewish refugees from Germany were denied entry in Cuba, America, and Canada. These countries refused to take responsibility for them, even though they could have saved them from death. (Various European countries eventually agreed to allow a certain number of the ship's passengers in.)

Elie Wiesel spoke about the things we can learn from those events, and two of those lessons were that when help is required we should give it right away, and when victims rely on assistance, we should not think others will do it because others think we will.

Most of us know of people who need help, of things that need fixing, of the changes we could effect, but how many of us will actually stand up and do something about it, instead of waiting around for the next person? Because you never know when that next person will come or if he will come along at all. I know I would find it difficult to be that person who takes the responsibility and does what needs to be done.

But if we want to make a difference in this world, we have to stop having the "someone-else-will-do-it" mindset and start thinking more along the lines of, "I will do it. I will take the responsibility on myself."

I was extremely disturbed and horrified by what I witnessed today in school, and it made me wonder whether some people will ever grow up and see something beyond their looks, apparel, excursions, and morning hot cocoa or coffee.

Someone had set up a hot water urn in the student lounge today and provided cocoa mix, whipped cream, and marshmellows. That is all very well and lovely, and I am sure all my classmates were thankful for that, especially since if they had a free period or a few minutes between classes, they could enjoy a nice cup of hot cocoa. When you are learning and running around all day, preoccupied with your studies, refreshments are always very much appreciated.

But as we were going to Holocaust class, I noticed a few girls calmly making themselves a drink in preparation. They mixed the cocoa powder in with the boiling water, elaborately placed whipped cream on top, dropped a couple of marshmellows in, and were all prepared to go learn about the Holocaust. I asked them whether they were planning on taking that to class, and they replied that of course they were. One of the girls said that we will be watching a video. The implication was that footage of the Holocaust and hot cocoa go together well.

We were watching Genocide today, a video containing personal narratives of experiences in the Holocaust as well as extremely graphic footage of Jews being killed, of rotting skeletal corpses being swung and thrown into pits, of entire piles of corpses lying around in the death camps, of ovens and burned bodies, of the dead and the dying.

I felt physically sick at those sights, and a few girls were crying. And there were those girls, enjoying their hot drinks as if nothing happened, as if nothing mattered. One of them wanted more whipped cream to go with her movie drink, so she walked out and returned with the entire container of whipped cream and proceeded to enjoy herself thoroughly while horrifying images flashed before our eyes and survivors' testimonies were read of the cruel things they had to endure and of their separation from their beloved parents and of the agony of knowing that your entire family has been wiped out.

I heard this girl whispering with her friends, laughing loudly at the beginning, etc.

And I wanted to get out of my seat, walk over to her, and strangle her. (But I thought that it would not go over well with the school or her parents, if you know what I mean.)

You would think that by the time a girl reaches that age, she might acquire a bit more sensitivity, especially when dealing with a subject like the Holocaust. Is that really too much to hope for? Do such girls ever grow up? Because, quite honestly, I am beginning to despair of that.

Here is an interesting excerpt from The Warsaw Ghetto Diaries, by Dr. Hillel Seidman:

"Finally, I arrive at my own office in Grzybowska Street, and again thousands wait outside. Men seek official marriage certificates to protect their wives, since there is also a rumor that those holding marriage certificates will not be deported. Inside the Kehillah, too, depression reigns; everybody believes that workers alone will not be expelled.

Incidentally, in the house of Rabbi Yitzchak Meir Kanal at 6 Twarda Street are also large crowds -- busily getting married! Bachelors who have work cards marry women who have no work, to save them from deportation. These mass marriages are conducted in great haste. Zionist chalutzim marry chalutzot; tzukunftisim (Bundists) marry tukunftisiot. Women still unmarried seek 'husbands.' The ancient prophesy rings true: 'And on that day seven women will clutch at one man saying we will eat our own bread, wear our own clothes -- just allow your name to protect us.'"

(p. 51)

I guess it didn't matter what type of tablecloths their mothers used or where the girls received their education. Remind me again, why are people so thick-headed these days? Is it because we have gotten so used to the good life that we think every little detail has to be the way we want it to be?

When reading books about the Holocaust or stories from survivors, or watching grainy black and white videos and looking at photographs from which haunted dark eyes stare back at you, there are not enough words to describe the emotions raging inside. Horrified, shocked, confused, mournful, overwhelmed. But words cannot express the depth of those emotions. Words cannot express how I feel as I put a bookmark in the book I am reading because I simply cannot go on. I need a few minutes to internalize it and to allow myself to feel and go through the thoughts whirling in my head. I exhale loudly and close my eyes.

Most of us grew up with an awareness of the Holocaust. Many of us are familiar with the number six million. It is something we know, something we acknowledge. But at the same time, it is a statistic. It is a number. We see the six million as a whole, instead of trying to wrap our minds around the fact that these were six million individuals. For some reason, when we think of a number that big, we fail to grasp the enormity of the tragedy.

This thought particularly struck me as I was reading Dr. Hillel Seidman's The Warsaw Ghetto Diaries, which chronicle his experiences during the Holocaust in the Warsaw Ghetto, where he faithfully wrote in a diary all of what was happening around him. He would often scribble down reports of events even as they were happening, anxious to have everything on paper. In his introduction to the book, Dr. Hillel Seidman recounts how the other Warsaw residents, knowing that he was a talented published writer, encouraged him to “transcribe all Warsaw’s travails and tribulations, a written record for future generations, so that the world should eventually learn the truth” (p. 33). When atrocities are committed, such as those of the Germans against the Jews, it is inevitable that there will later be attempts at denying those happenings. Holocaust deniers are rampant now, despite the fact that not even a century has elapsed since the tragedy. In a world where there are still people with numbers branded on their arms and horrifying stories experienced first-hand, many simply choose to ignore the facts and – out of their hatred for the Jews – spitefully insist that the Holocaust was a hoax. The only way to counter that is by spreading knowledge and teaching facts to as many people as possible, and the accounts of those who witnessed these horrors and lived through them is the perfect conduit. Dr. Seidman’s objective was to show future generations what really happened – that the Holocaust was not just one big horror story but a traumatizing, torturous experience that millions of Jews as real as ourselves had to suffer through. Although it was both difficult and extremely dangerous to keep these diaries, Dr. Seidman persisted, knowing that this was something worth working for, because people had to learn of these things somehow. Leaving a record for the world was especially important considering that the Nazis were careful not to leave written records of the crimes they committed. Although Dr. Seidman did not know whether his diaries would ever be read, a Warsaw businessman named Reb Berel Gefen reminded him of a passage in Avot -- Ethics of the Fathers (2:16) that said, “The work is not up to you to complete. Nor are you free to shirk the responsibility…” (p. 36). And indeed, most of what we know today about the Holocaust is because of the diaries of victims and the stories of survivors. Dr. Seidman knew he had to do whatever he could, both to transcribe what was happening and to leave memories of himself and those around him; the rest was in the hands of G-d. His goal was merely to write the truth and not allow it to be lost, destroyed, or mangled.

It was this particular sentence that struck me: "Every day Warsaw loses another 7000 innocent victims." Think about it.... Seven thousand innocent people were being senselessly slaughtered each day. Seven thousand people who could have done so much with their lives were brutally denied the right to live. It is easier to imagine seven thousand people in your mind than a million, so perhaps that was why this sentence had such an effect on me.

And that is something that encourages me to live my life to the fullest and strive to make a difference, because I am fortunate enough to have the opportunity that millions of Jews were denied.