I don't really know if I'm ready to write about this. Maybe because I haven't had enough time to reflect, maybe because I'm having so much fun traveling that the somber feeling doesn't last. Maybe because it will never be written about the way it should be. But I will try.
Preface: Disturbing stuff to follow. The first word of the first paragraph will give you a little indication.
2nd Preface: I did this yesterday, and I had to write about it now while it's fresh in my mind. I will resume proper chronology at the next post.
Auschwitz. I used to think the name was enough. Enough to visualize, to think about, even to understand the tragic extent of the Holocast. Enough to cloud eyes with mourning, conversations with sadness, and days with loss. I was wrong. At least my image was, my thoughts were. I realized that as soon as I arrived.
First of all, tourists suck. That place should be open to one person or one family at a time, free to walk in silence. Instead, most people go in huge groups on guided tours. Needless. Talking has no effect there. Neither do facts. We all know the facts, most of them anyway. The staggering numbers, the names, the dates. But we don't hear them or feel how close they are to us, how real they are. The only sound in that place should be the rocks grinding under your feet. The only movement, you and your thoughts. Sometimes, though, from across the camp, the lines of tour groups marching in step across the grounds show you what it may have been like when prisoners were there... with brightly colored clothing, sunglasses, and digital cameras.
The camp is now a museum. Officially the "Auschwitz-Birkenau Museum." Many of the former barracks have been turned into exhibition halls. A few show the Holocaust experience from the perspective of different countries, while others show prison life and "evidence of crimes." The evidence are huge piles of everyday items. Eye glasses, dishes, combs, suitcases, shoes (adult and child), and perhaps most disturbing, equipment of the disabled. Just in piles.
Auschwitz itself is quite small. It would take maybe 20 minutes to walk around the whole camp if there was nothing to see. I decided to make two rounds: one without and one with a camera. The infamous gateway with the words "Arbeit Macht Frei" (work makes you free) came at me so fast I didn't think it was real. It doesn't look real in color, against green grass and a blue sky. I walked around slowly, guideless, aimless, trying to listen. After viewing the piles of evidence, I sat down in a grassy yard between the barracks and ate a simple lunch of bread, cream cheese, and jelly. Imagine. This was not a place for a Jewish man. This was not a place to sit or eat or relax. But here I was. A testament to my people, my culture, and our courage. Sometimes life is a struggle between good and evil, right and wrong. Rarely is it so clear who is who and what is what. But we are good. We are right. And we won. I am proof.
But we also lost. It was at that moment that I became terrified. This camp was built for me. This was a place for a Jewish man, for all Jewish men. I was to die. Eventhough I was not alive, I was a gleam in the eye of the Furher. He knew I was coming and he couldn't let that happen. Millions died to ensure I would not live. The weight of so many people is on the shoulders of every Jewish person now living. It is not a burden or a responsibility, but a reminder. A reminder that this can happen. That there is evil in the world, and that you can always be a target. All you can do is try to be at peace at that moment. I savored every bite of my sandwich.
On that day I did one of the most difficult things I have ever done in my life. Like so many Jews before me, I walked into a gas chamber. I knew I was going to come out, but that did not make it any easier. As I got closer, every step screamed "I can't do this, I can't do this. I have to do this." I was alone, but I was in line. Marching with my people. I walked through the door that so many people would never see opened again. Inside were the furnaces, and the pipes, and the chimney. Silence. I couldn't move. There were too many of us. The door was open and I found myself outside again.
Auschwitz. No longer an image.
If Auschwitz was disturbing, Birkenau was terrifying. Much, much bigger than Auschwitz, Birkenau was where the crematorium and most of the gas chambers were. Where people came to die. Most of the buildings were in ruins. There is one train track to the camp, and it goes through the main gate. At the other end of the camp, it stops. Trains came here for one purpose. They came full of people and left, empty, on the same tracks. The "selection platform," where the people were unloaded, is gigantic. 70% went to the gas chambers upon arrival. I walked its length twice, again, just listening.
I don't really know if I was ready to write about this. I don't have much to say really. No lessons or pleas or statements, hopes or illusions about war and peace, or ideological definitions hardened by reality.What I know is this: I left Auschwitz more unsure about life than I've ever been. About fear, religion, purpose, truth, everything. I also left Auschwitz more sure about my life than I've ever been. I know I'm living how I'm supposed to, I know I'm doing what I'm supposed to, and I know wherever I go from here, I will enjoy it.
I also know that you (yes, you) have to go to Auschwitz.
Post-face: No other pictures on this post because, again, not easy stuff to look at. Proceed to the photo album if you wish.
Preface: Disturbing stuff to follow. The first word of the first paragraph will give you a little indication.
2nd Preface: I did this yesterday, and I had to write about it now while it's fresh in my mind. I will resume proper chronology at the next post.
Auschwitz. I used to think the name was enough. Enough to visualize, to think about, even to understand the tragic extent of the Holocast. Enough to cloud eyes with mourning, conversations with sadness, and days with loss. I was wrong. At least my image was, my thoughts were. I realized that as soon as I arrived.
First of all, tourists suck. That place should be open to one person or one family at a time, free to walk in silence. Instead, most people go in huge groups on guided tours. Needless. Talking has no effect there. Neither do facts. We all know the facts, most of them anyway. The staggering numbers, the names, the dates. But we don't hear them or feel how close they are to us, how real they are. The only sound in that place should be the rocks grinding under your feet. The only movement, you and your thoughts. Sometimes, though, from across the camp, the lines of tour groups marching in step across the grounds show you what it may have been like when prisoners were there... with brightly colored clothing, sunglasses, and digital cameras.
The camp is now a museum. Officially the "Auschwitz-Birkenau Museum." Many of the former barracks have been turned into exhibition halls. A few show the Holocaust experience from the perspective of different countries, while others show prison life and "evidence of crimes." The evidence are huge piles of everyday items. Eye glasses, dishes, combs, suitcases, shoes (adult and child), and perhaps most disturbing, equipment of the disabled. Just in piles.
Auschwitz itself is quite small. It would take maybe 20 minutes to walk around the whole camp if there was nothing to see. I decided to make two rounds: one without and one with a camera. The infamous gateway with the words "Arbeit Macht Frei" (work makes you free) came at me so fast I didn't think it was real. It doesn't look real in color, against green grass and a blue sky. I walked around slowly, guideless, aimless, trying to listen. After viewing the piles of evidence, I sat down in a grassy yard between the barracks and ate a simple lunch of bread, cream cheese, and jelly. Imagine. This was not a place for a Jewish man. This was not a place to sit or eat or relax. But here I was. A testament to my people, my culture, and our courage. Sometimes life is a struggle between good and evil, right and wrong. Rarely is it so clear who is who and what is what. But we are good. We are right. And we won. I am proof.
But we also lost. It was at that moment that I became terrified. This camp was built for me. This was a place for a Jewish man, for all Jewish men. I was to die. Eventhough I was not alive, I was a gleam in the eye of the Furher. He knew I was coming and he couldn't let that happen. Millions died to ensure I would not live. The weight of so many people is on the shoulders of every Jewish person now living. It is not a burden or a responsibility, but a reminder. A reminder that this can happen. That there is evil in the world, and that you can always be a target. All you can do is try to be at peace at that moment. I savored every bite of my sandwich.
On that day I did one of the most difficult things I have ever done in my life. Like so many Jews before me, I walked into a gas chamber. I knew I was going to come out, but that did not make it any easier. As I got closer, every step screamed "I can't do this, I can't do this. I have to do this." I was alone, but I was in line. Marching with my people. I walked through the door that so many people would never see opened again. Inside were the furnaces, and the pipes, and the chimney. Silence. I couldn't move. There were too many of us. The door was open and I found myself outside again.
Auschwitz. No longer an image.
If Auschwitz was disturbing, Birkenau was terrifying. Much, much bigger than Auschwitz, Birkenau was where the crematorium and most of the gas chambers were. Where people came to die. Most of the buildings were in ruins. There is one train track to the camp, and it goes through the main gate. At the other end of the camp, it stops. Trains came here for one purpose. They came full of people and left, empty, on the same tracks. The "selection platform," where the people were unloaded, is gigantic. 70% went to the gas chambers upon arrival. I walked its length twice, again, just listening.
I don't really know if I was ready to write about this. I don't have much to say really. No lessons or pleas or statements, hopes or illusions about war and peace, or ideological definitions hardened by reality.What I know is this: I left Auschwitz more unsure about life than I've ever been. About fear, religion, purpose, truth, everything. I also left Auschwitz more sure about my life than I've ever been. I know I'm living how I'm supposed to, I know I'm doing what I'm supposed to, and I know wherever I go from here, I will enjoy it.
I also know that you (yes, you) have to go to Auschwitz.
Post-face: No other pictures on this post because, again, not easy stuff to look at. Proceed to the photo album if you wish.
Dear Seth - can't quite describe both the feeling of horror and sense of pride I feel seeing you under 'that' sign. The charred bones of all humanity are in those ashes.
I'll never forget standing inside the gas chamber at Dauchau, near Munich, and reaching to touch its walls. Thank you for sharing your important experience and so directly facing it, which does all of us good.
Love,
P