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Published: July 27th 2015
A joke from the Eastern European Yiddish pre-war repertoire:
Question: Why is it that when all the other peoples of the world make a toast, they say, "To your health" but the Jews say, "L'chaim - To life"?
Answer: First let us live, then we'll worry about our health.
While I get this joke, I have tended to disagree with its negative spin on the origins of "to life." I don't want to take it too literally, and I want to emphasize instead the way Judaism insists on the gift, sanctity and blessing of life. Do we not find, after all, as far back as the book of Deuteronomy (30:19) the famous injunction by God to the Israelites to choose blessing over curse, and to embrace life? We are commanded to break any Sabbath restriction to save a life. And the Talmud affirms that when one person saves the life of another human being it is equal to redeeming the entire world.
And yet today, on my day long visit to Auschwitz and Birkenau, that old joke rang all too true. To walk on the dirt paths and hear the steps of the other visitors, and my own, crunch the pebbles and stones that during that horrible time were trod on by our fellow human beings on their way to the gas chambers made me ultra conscious that my body was a living and breathing upright creation. To see closeup the work of diabolical genius was to stand dumbfounded in the face of how human intelligence can be put to such nefarious purposes. And this despite all the books I've read, stories I've heard and movies I've watched.
I was glad that by coincidence I went on the visit with a diverse group of young people from different countries. It was heartening that these young adults gave up time from their holidays or travels to do this. There wasn't much talking apart from the guide's narration, and of that I was glad.
In anticipation of the visit I was not sure how I would react. What surprised me was the way that I became increasingly conscious of my body, of the fact that I was walking, breathing, acutely aware of my physical surroundings and embodied self. At the same time, once the first part of the visit was over, before we took a bus to Birkenau, the guide gave us a few minutes of free time. It was after lunch already and I was a little hungry. But the thought of buying food or drink at one of the snack bars revolted me. I just couldn't see eating an ice cream cone after what we'd seen and were going to see.
Upon my return to Kraków and the hotel seven hours later, there were three things I did right away: let my father know I'd returned safely (he'd been swimming in the pool); went for a long swim myself in the hotel pool; and put on fresh clothing.
As most of you know, swimming is an important part of my daily routine. I was so glad that after this day I could feel the release and pleasure in slicing through the water, fully aware that my lungs and limbs were in working order. And this evening for dinner I dressed up a bit more and threw the clothes I had worn earlier for the visit in the corner.
Our bodies are sacred vessels. I did not anticipate that the trip to Auschwitz Birkenau would be such a visceral reminder of that reality, and of how a society or system that sanctions any kind of physical assault on its citizens commits the gravest of betrayals of our shared humanity.
The visit today was hard and necessary. And I'm glad for the weeks of travel and encounter beforehand that have enriched my perspective. Even though what happened in that horrible place hit the Jews in a particularly devastating assault, I left feeling that it was in so many ways a catastrophe for the human race. I was reminded of the wise words penned by our great 20th century leader and prophet, Martin Luther King, Jr. in 1963 from the Birmingham Jail. He wrote in his famous letter as follows:
Injustice anywhere is a threat to justice everywhere.
We are caught in an inescapable network of mutuality,
tied in a single garment of destiny.
Whatever affects one directly affects all indirectly...
For some strange reason I
can never be what I
ought to be until you are what you ought to be. And you can never be
what you ought to be until I
am what I
ought to be.
This is the way God's universe is made;
this is the way it is structured.
Our weeks of voyage are coming to a close. There will be much to turn over in the coming days and months. I thank you all for sharing the trip with me.
Blessings and shalom!
Sarah
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Sarah Siegel
non-member comment
Visceral Thoughts vs. Speech
I so appreciated your account of the crunching pebbles et al and then of going swimming. It's easy to see how things can escalate when people say what we're thinking when we're angry or frustrated. Picture this: Pat & I are heading toward the Kotel and a local guy greets us. I say nothing because I sense that there's some commerce opportunity he wants to realize. Pat is more polite than I and returns the greeting. He says nothing more for some minutes, but continues walking alongside U.S. Finally, as we reach the Jaffa Gate, he starts to speak and I say in Hebrew, "Please leave us alone." He says in English, "What?" I repeat the request in Hebrew and he says in English, I own a shop here [in the shook and I was just wanting you to buy something from me]. F*ck you!" Without a moment's pause I replied, "F*ck you!" And this was (it seemed) an argument among Jews! He walked away and we were rattled and found ourselves saying, Well, we were much bigger than he was. No wonder he finally left us alone, I.e., we were considering that we could have "taken" him. Oy!