Okay, that's it. I'm speaking up now.
I am so angry.
This is not what I wanted to do with my day, but I have a responsibility, and I can't ignore that. Anybody who thinks that's whiny can fuck right off.
My father is a Holocaust survivor. That makes me first-generation. I'm twenty-three years old. I have a sister who is twenty.
Let me repeat: My father is a Holocaust survivor. This isn't something I bring up very often, because it is a conversation-stopper, and that's rarely the effect I want to have. It's not the effect I'm looking for now. But I want you to know that this is personal to me, that this is real. This is why I never knew my grandfather-he was taken by the Nazis when my father was not even two years old.
My father may very well be the most hard-working person you will ever meet. English is his sixth language. He is a brilliant, accomplished man who stopped counting his patents when they got past fifty. I don't bring his research up that often because it's frankly incredible to people who don't know me. His story is a triumph, and he says that the best revenge is living well.
That doesn't change the fact that he and my grandmother were deported from Belgium and held in a detention camp in France. That on the night my Bonnemama, who had been put to work in the kitchens, began her escape, she found my father waiting for her outside the door. That they managed to escape, and then my father-who was two years old-and my grandmother walked to Switzerland. That when they reached the Swiss border, a guard chose to save their lives by lifting up the barbed wire and letting them go under. It doesn't change the fact that my father still remembers that man's face.
It doesn't change the fact that he's still afraid of dogs, either. It doesn't change the fact that he can count the family who survived on the fingers of his hands, or the fact that, at age sixty-seven, he's still the youngest Shoah survivor in our community. The fact that he keeps going to the committee Remembrance meetings, even though they're hard for him, because he feels he has a responsibility. And he is not a man to shy from a responsibility.
After my father and my grandmother survived the Shoah, my grandmother could not find work back in Belgium. Everyone told her, "I'm sorry, madame, but we do not employ Jews here." Finally, she found employment at a Jewish orphanage, where she was assigned to a girls' ward. My father had to live in a different ward- the orphanage didn't want to show any signs of favoritism. When he was nine, the whole orphanage immigrated to Israel, just after it became a state.
This is just a fraction of his story. He has worked hard so I could grow up in a position of privilege; I feel that part of my job is to tell his story.
I have never met a Jew who said we were the only ones affected by the Holocaust. (If you asked, I'd tell you that the Nazi took political dissenters first.) On the contrary, the emphasis has always been on conveying how many others were affected, that it wasn't just six million Jews, it was a tragedy for everyone. Because anybody who thinks it was "just Jews" doesn't think it affects them, and it does. It should.
Because if it doesn't, then it will happen again. Go read "The Hangman." This is why we speak out, this is why we say: Never forget.
______________________________________________
Now, what is Judaism based on? I can't tell you that, because I'm only one Jew, and as far as I'm concerned, skepticism is a vital part of my religion: the willingness to ask questions, and the understanding that any idea worth believing in is strong enough to hold up to the most stringent questioning, these things are essential.
But what is Judaism to me? There are three quotations I always go back to, things that always stuck with me when they were in the service at my temple.
A man asked Rabbi Hillel to teach him the whole of Torah while he was standing on one foot. Hillel told him: "What is hateful to you, do not do unto your neighbor. All the rest is commentary. Go and study it."
Act justly, love mercy, and walk humbly with your God. (Micah 6:8)
"The world is sustained by three things: the study of Torah, the act of worship, and deeds of loving-kindness."
Here's the first result I got from googling "al-shlosha devarim". I'm taking the coincidence of my different transliteration that got this result as a bit of a blessing today. I don't necessarily agree with everything he says, but it's a much better place to start a discussion about Judaism than the one that was provided here, if you're curious.
This is not what I wanted to do with my day, but I have a responsibility, and I can't ignore that. Anybody who thinks that's whiny can fuck right off.
My father is a Holocaust survivor. That makes me first-generation. I'm twenty-three years old. I have a sister who is twenty.
Let me repeat: My father is a Holocaust survivor. This isn't something I bring up very often, because it is a conversation-stopper, and that's rarely the effect I want to have. It's not the effect I'm looking for now. But I want you to know that this is personal to me, that this is real. This is why I never knew my grandfather-he was taken by the Nazis when my father was not even two years old.
My father may very well be the most hard-working person you will ever meet. English is his sixth language. He is a brilliant, accomplished man who stopped counting his patents when they got past fifty. I don't bring his research up that often because it's frankly incredible to people who don't know me. His story is a triumph, and he says that the best revenge is living well.
That doesn't change the fact that he and my grandmother were deported from Belgium and held in a detention camp in France. That on the night my Bonnemama, who had been put to work in the kitchens, began her escape, she found my father waiting for her outside the door. That they managed to escape, and then my father-who was two years old-and my grandmother walked to Switzerland. That when they reached the Swiss border, a guard chose to save their lives by lifting up the barbed wire and letting them go under. It doesn't change the fact that my father still remembers that man's face.
It doesn't change the fact that he's still afraid of dogs, either. It doesn't change the fact that he can count the family who survived on the fingers of his hands, or the fact that, at age sixty-seven, he's still the youngest Shoah survivor in our community. The fact that he keeps going to the committee Remembrance meetings, even though they're hard for him, because he feels he has a responsibility. And he is not a man to shy from a responsibility.
After my father and my grandmother survived the Shoah, my grandmother could not find work back in Belgium. Everyone told her, "I'm sorry, madame, but we do not employ Jews here." Finally, she found employment at a Jewish orphanage, where she was assigned to a girls' ward. My father had to live in a different ward- the orphanage didn't want to show any signs of favoritism. When he was nine, the whole orphanage immigrated to Israel, just after it became a state.
This is just a fraction of his story. He has worked hard so I could grow up in a position of privilege; I feel that part of my job is to tell his story.
I have never met a Jew who said we were the only ones affected by the Holocaust. (If you asked, I'd tell you that the Nazi took political dissenters first.) On the contrary, the emphasis has always been on conveying how many others were affected, that it wasn't just six million Jews, it was a tragedy for everyone. Because anybody who thinks it was "just Jews" doesn't think it affects them, and it does. It should.
Because if it doesn't, then it will happen again. Go read "The Hangman." This is why we speak out, this is why we say: Never forget.
______________________________________________
Now, what is Judaism based on? I can't tell you that, because I'm only one Jew, and as far as I'm concerned, skepticism is a vital part of my religion: the willingness to ask questions, and the understanding that any idea worth believing in is strong enough to hold up to the most stringent questioning, these things are essential.
But what is Judaism to me? There are three quotations I always go back to, things that always stuck with me when they were in the service at my temple.
A man asked Rabbi Hillel to teach him the whole of Torah while he was standing on one foot. Hillel told him: "What is hateful to you, do not do unto your neighbor. All the rest is commentary. Go and study it."
Act justly, love mercy, and walk humbly with your God. (Micah 6:8)
"The world is sustained by three things: the study of Torah, the act of worship, and deeds of loving-kindness."
Here's the first result I got from googling "al-shlosha devarim". I'm taking the coincidence of my different transliteration that got this result as a bit of a blessing today. I don't necessarily agree with everything he says, but it's a much better place to start a discussion about Judaism than the one that was provided here, if you're curious.