Unfortunately, very much so. The eternal question is for how much longer? When will people get the message - or worse, they have gotten the message, albeit, tragically, the wrong one. What will it take to make this horrid, murderous, bloodshed inciting canard, along with collateral hatreds, just go poof! Go away, never to return.
The answer, and yes, blowing in the wind as it spreads rapidly, crawling out of hidey-holes, oozing out of woodworks rotten with them, out of closets, and new initiants, eager to join in the 'fun', get their share of the 'glory' and goods. What, you are asking, is the topic around which I have apparently skirted? Okay, antisemitism, and now half of you out there go yawn, yawn, again, the same old nonsense.
Well, unfortunately, it is not the same old, same old, while at the same time it is. Tragically so. As Rod Serling used to say, "Do not turn off your television". Do not shift to some game you play. The massive growth of violent antisemitism, its whitewashing as it is hidden behind words of flimsy disguise, well, this is no joke. Nor is it paranoia. Nor is it imaginary. No, the blood of Pittsburgh worshipers, the blood and pain of those attacked for the crime of WWJ - Walking While Jewish - the rabid hatred of the New Left towards Israel and any idea of the right of the Jewish people to have a homeland, a refuge, of their own - well, the sum total is frightening. Beyond words, almost to the point of paralysis.
Imagine you are intending to take a long, costly flight to pay honor, to share in the grief, with others of your family, at the burial place of your extended family. You are not even sure at all exactly where, and indeed, even who, is buried there, but you do know that there are definitely enough for you to undertake that holy visit. Imagine, walking through a terrible, frightening surroundings, simply to get to the site- and there, you are halted, rudely stopped in your tracks.
The site is closed to you! Never mind any reason; it is simply closed. Moreover, you cannot continue this voyage to honor your many relatives but must instead exit the cemetery. Now, imagine this is not a place of greenery, of honor, of serenity. No, no need to imagine, for this cemetery is a killing ground, a site of one and a half million plus of your extended family destroyed in the most malevolent manners possible. You even know that there are members of your immediate family here, grandparents and greats, children, sisters, brothers, aunts, uncles, friends - yet you are banished. Go away! Not wanted! Not allowed! Juden Verboten!!
It is traditional for students in the gap year, studying in Israel, to take a trip around Yom HaShoah, the Day of Holocaust Remembrance. The trip is not a fun one, rather a frightening hesitant walk through a valley of blood, tears, echoing cries of horror, pain, heartbreak, and confusion. What was this hell they had arrived at? Who are these people, with barking, fangs dripping dogs, the shouting, My Papa, Mama? The names of children shred the air. Bubby, Zaidy? The cries of pain, of loss ring. They darken the souls and hearts, even destroy any trace of humanity within those leash holders and screaming uniformed personified evil.
Finally, you manage to creep, tiptoeing, crying, the tears pouring unnoticed, unstoppable, down your face, the memories of your parents coming alive within you, the stories becoming reality. Finally, painfully, you reach the site of the massive murderous institution - the ovens, the crematoria which spew smoke and ashes 24/7/365. Night and day. The air rife with the stink of burning humans, the hopelessness carved into the faces of those striped pajama clad semi-humans. You are told this is your fate, or this is where your family is, now and forever gone.
Finally, you are here, where you can honor these victims of hatred, these victims of the seemingly eternal Jew hatred, antisemitism raised exponentially. The greed of the murderers and surrounding villagers who sell water to those waiting to die, to grab the last hidden pieces of heritage, of hope, as they barter water for blood. As they promise to deliver a note, or accept a baby through the trees, that hole in the wire. As they take the money and ignore the promises. Hurt upon hurt, each incising deep into the hearts of those awaiting unimaginable death. For that is what it amounts to. And you yourself now burn to pray, to weep, to mourn, to vow this would never, ever, recur.
And you cannot. You are forbidden. You are shouted at, denied, the tones the same as the ringing harsh tones of the forefathers of these supposed security guards. Whose security? What are they forbidding? Are these students, these young ladies going to tag the walls of the crematoria? Are they going to have an ash fight, pick up the remaining pieces of bone, unburnt, never to go away, and throw them? Perhaps they should have at that moment, giving the owners of these particles of bone a final shred of revenge!
But they never would engage in such sacrilege at the site of the murder of their family, immediate and extended. No, these young ladies from Darchei Binah, a seminary in Jerusalem, were simply there to pay honor and homage, to serve as the new recipients of these echoing memories, these haunting eternal cries. They were the vessels to ensure that this would never, ever, ever, be allowed to repeat. Never! Denied. Denied entry. Denied the right to mourn, to pray, to honor, to cry, to learn, to feel history, to understand their role in history.
DENIED. DENIED. DENIED.
NO FURTHER WORDS ARE NECESSARY.
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