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A Nightmare At The Museum: In October 1998, our temple’s Youth Group visited the United States Holocaust Memorial Museum in Washington, D.C. It was a beautiful time of the year, and we all went from one monument to another, museum hopping from one end of the Mall to the other. It was sunset when we finally got to the Vietnam War Memorial, and the effect of the drawing darkness effected me personally as I relived the sad, violent and exciting days of that time in America’s--and my--life. I say exciting, because--despite the war across the sea, and despite the violence on the home front--the future was looming brightly. A new generation--the Age of Aquarius--was about to take its place on the stage of history. We, my friends and I, were ready, convinced that we knew how to do the job. We were ready to accept one another, to love one another, to put a flower in our own hair, or a flower in our friend’s hair, or--as in that famous picture--in the barrel of a rifle held aloft by an Ohio National Guardsman. It was a time of change, and we were--I was--a part of it. It was exciting. Yet there were among us also those who believed that change was coming too slowly, that it had to be ushered in more quickly through violence. As a result of such thinking, ghettos burned; bombs exploded; demonstrations turned into riots. Bank holdups, assassination and hostage-taking--these were some of the means espoused by individuals and organizations that believed in forcing change, in taking matters into their own hands, and in shaping history as they saw fit. As the light of the October sun withdrew and darkness descended over the wall that held the names of American G.I.’s killed in Vietnam, I was filled with the sadness that comes with knowing, with awareness. We, who years before, believed so much in our own potential and ability to bring about a new age of peace and love, had failed to create the world we had dreamed of. Yet, at the same time, I looked at the youth of our temple, and my heart was also filled with pride and hope. These young people, I believed then--and still do today--will pick up where we left off. They will bring the world one or two steps closer to the ideal we held up high before our eyes. The next day was Monday, Oct. 12. It was Columbus Day. We went to the Holocaust Museum that morning. As you may know, the layout of the museum is such that you start your tour on the top and work your way down; the progress symbolizes the descent into Hell that the Holocaust was. One function of the museum is to commemorate the events and the victims, lest anyone ever forget. Its main other function is to educate--lest we permit such an evil ever to take place again. Remembering is an interesting psychological process. Somehow, neurons in our brain flicker on, like the lights of a projector in an old movie-house. A grainy movie--our memories--then begins to run inside our brains, so that we see what it is that we wish to remember. Once the memory is done, however, the flickering lights die, the houselights come back on, and we return to our daily lives. Commemorating an event such as the Holocaust, however, is a different matter. With some people, mainly survivors, the events keep replaying themselves, like an endless, eternal loop. For the rest of us, we set special times--such as Yom Ha-Shoah--on which to remember. Yet, events teach us that that may not be enough. That remembering events like the Holocaust needs to be done more frequently; that its lessons and implications for the future--for the present--must be taught and taught again, perhaps even on a daily basis. I
first perceived that truth on that Columbus Day in 1998.
For, as we gathered near the exit of the Museum, nearly at the end of our
tour, we read the writing on the wall that reminded us that Hitler had many
other victim groups besides the Jews. He
had targeted also the Roma (Gypsies), the physically handicapped, the mentally
handicapped, Soviet prisoners-of-war, Jehovah's Witnesses, Social Democrats,
Communists, partisans, trade unionists, Polish intelligence agents, Roman
Catholics, Eastern European intellectuals, and homosexuals. There were other people besides our group standing in front of this testimony. Two adults, obviously friends, stood somewhat apart; one read the list aloud, the other listened. When the reader came to the end--to the killing of the homosexuals--his friend remarked, “Now, that’s at least one thing Hitler did right.” At that moment, I admit, my world crashed in on me. For I realized that whatever we were doing, whatever the Museum was working so hard to achieve, was not yet enough. These two men just failed to get it. October 12, 1998, was also the date that Matthew Shepard died. As you may remember, Matthew Shepard was a gay student at the University of Wyoming who was tortured and left to die, tied to a fence on a deserted road near Laramie, Wyoming. He was attacked on the night of October 6, and he died on October 12, from severe head injuries. He was killed because he was gay. He was killed because his murderers believed that they somehow had the right to take matters into their own hands, to subvert justice, to abuse a weaker person, and then to take his life. These people just failed to get it. As I heard the words spoken in the Holocaust Memorial Museum, about the killing of homosexuals, I realized that we have not gotten very far, that the road ahead was yet long--very, very long indeed. This past Wednesday, the Holocaust Museum was witness to yet another killing, this time in its own hallways. An 88 year old White Supremacist, a racist, a bigot, an anti-Semite of the worst kind, managed to get inside the museum with a rifle at his side. Once inside, he aimed it at the chest of Stephen T. Johns, a security guard who opened the door for him, and in cold blood, shot the man--husband and father to an 11-year-old boy--dead. That this depraved man chose the Holocaust Museum to carry out this murder has huge symbolic value. For he came to perpetuate--not to remember and learn from, but to perpetuate--that which Hitler stood for. Like Matthew Shepard’s killers, this bigot took matters into his own hands. His action was based on his belief of his own superiority, which empowered him--so he thought--to take the life of another man. The sad truth is that this was not an isolated event. The Secure Community Network reminds us that this is the fourth incident involving an attack or planned attack against a Jewish institution and/or member of the Jewish community in the last two months by individuals subscribing to extremist ideology. And, let us not forget, this killing at the Holocaust Museum follows by a mere few days yet another shooting, that this time took place in the lobby of a church in Wichita, Kansas. Dr. George Tiller, a provider of late-term abortions, was shot dead by yet another individual who thought he heard the call to take matters into his own hands, to kill someone whose beliefs were different from his own. Is this a trend? Are we seeing a disturbing pattern that we should somehow control? I don’t think so. Frankly, I don’t think much has changed between October 1998 and June, 2009. I don’t think anti-Semitism has disappeared any more than I believe homophobia has. Fundamentalism is the extreme belief that one’s own truth is the only truth possible, the only true view permitted, sanctified, or allowed to exist. Anything other than it must be excised from our society, in fact from this world, by violence, without mercy or compassion. You young people who sit here today, who have come to offer a prayer of gratitude for reaching a truly remarkable milestone--graduation from high school or college; and those of you sitting here tonight to mark your transition from childhood to young adulthood: Know this! You are the future. In your hands time is yet unfolding. As you move to the next stage, to a higher institution of learning, or to life lived out in new homes, with new families, in new settings and (hopefully) in new jobs, please remember that an event such as the Holocaust cannot be remembered on only one day out of the year. Hate is ongoing. Prejudice does not end with a red “X” on the calendar, be it Columbus Day, Memorial Day, or Martin Luther King Day. Bigotry is a byproduct of ignorance. It can’t be stopped just because somebody says so. It has to be fought and countered at every turn, on all days. You will meet with prejudice against Jews, blacks, gays, women, or any other social or national group or sub-section of society. Wherever you see it, you must raise your voice in protest or demonstration. But just as importantly, please remember what you learned here at Congregation B’nai Torah; it is, after all, one of the chief teachings of the Torah: Civilization can only be safeguarded by justice. And justice requires the establishment of courts. No individual, no group may take upon itself or him- or herself the right to execute judgment upon another. You cannot force your opinions or beliefs on someone else by violent means. That’s why we have courts and judges. If you don’t like the way something in society works--work to change it. From within the law, not from your own perception of what you may or may not do. If you do not agree with a law, work to change it. From within the system, not from some shady hideaway or abandoned country-road farmhouse. In legal briefs deposed and argued in the light and halls of freedom and justice, not through the benighted printouts of discredited forgeries that incite only more hatred, more violence, more murder and bloodshed. Life will be for you what you make of it. History will run through your fingers. Do not let this sacred opportunity to bring about change disappear without your input. Go ahead and dream of a better world; forge new roads, bring freedom and opportunity to those who lack them. This world is in great need of what YOU have the potential to provide for it. Go and achieve your dreams, but do so peacefully. Only so will any change you bring about be lasting. And may your future bring you and us only success, light, health and happiness. Ken y’hi ratzon--may this be God’s will.
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