June 26, 2026 Categories: Rebbetzin's Viewpoint
Three Worlds – And All Madness (Part One)
Have you ever wondered why Noah’s name is mentioned three times in the first passage of his parshah? Our sages explain the reason for this it that Noah lived through three worlds – before the flood, during the flood, and after the flood. And that granted him a certain insight into understanding the tragedy of humankind.
L’havdil, I dare not compare myself to Noah or to any biblical figure but I too lived in three worlds – before the Holocaust, during the Holocaust, and after the Holocaust. I witnessed the tragedy of people seeing and yet remaining blind; of people hearing yet remaining deaf. I witnessed their obstinate refusal to confront reality; their refusal to recognize the coming disaster.
I recall a nightmarish report circulating in our city in Hungary of Jews being tortured and killed en masse. The details were so gruesome that we assured ourselves they must be the sick imaginings of a madman. Surely, we consoled ourselves, things like this just don’t happen in the enlightened 20th century.
Most of all, we were confident that Germany, that most civilized and cultured of nations, could not possibly have become a country of sadistic killers. German music, German art, and German science were revered. Barbarism and savagery could not come from such an advanced society.
Maybe, we told ourselves, there were a few barbarians in Germany, but they were not reflective of the country as a whole and there was no need to take them seriously.
If the scene I just described seems familiar it’s because the evil of yesterday is again unfolding before our eyes. Our natural inclination is to dismiss frightening analogies and prognostications with the flip of a hand.
I’m sure some readers right now are saying to themselves, “Rebbetzin, are you implying that such barbarism is once again threatening us?” To which I respond, “No I’m not implying – I’m saying it outright.”
Yes, we are living in the 21st century and witnessing stunning discoveries and breakthroughs that past generations could never have envisioned. But there’s a darkness beneath the scientific and technological miracles. We can reach the moon but we cannot reach the hearts of those near us. We can send instant messages and images to the ends of the earth but we cannot send an audible message to our families or friends.
We have it all and yet we cannot communicate. Our computers, our social media – all our communication systems – have rendered us arrogant and cocky. We pride ourselves for our open-mindedness and our know-how.
But we fail to understand that our modern marvels – the Internet, social media, and all our other great new gadgets – can destroy us.
We are certain the bestiality of the 20th century can never reoccur; that too many people are committed to creating a kinder, gentler world; that this generation is nothing like the generation of the 1930s and ‘40s that stood by silently as the blood of the Jewish people drenched the earth.
How wonderful and reassuring that all sounds. But reality tells a different story. Who has not read about or seen the horrific images of innocent people mercilessly beheaded, of young girls forced into prostitution, of victims burned alive? And throughout all the horror, the nations have for the most part been silent.
It was one thing when during the Holocaust people claimed they had no way of knowing what was happening. But today, thanks to our wondrous new technology, our generation cannot claim ignorance. Reality slams us in the face.
Another difference: This time the killing fields are drenched with the blood of Christians and Muslims rather than Jews, whose persecution and murder the world never gets excited about. And yet there is no real and sustained outcry. Yes, here and there some voices of protest are heard, but no one is storming the capitals of the world demanding an end to the insanity, to the barbaric slaughter.
Tragically, people can be accustomed to anything. Even the most bestial act can become acceptable if it is repeated long enough. I remember speaking at Oxford University some years ago. There were many students from all parts of the world. Following my talk a young man approached me.
“Where are you from?” I asked.
“Poland,” he answered.
“Where in Poland?”
“Actually, I was born in Auschwitz.”
“Auschwitz?” I repeated in shock. “How could you be from Auschwitz?”
I took it for granted he was a Jew, a survivor.
“Were you actually born in Auschwitz? How did you survive? How old are you? You are much too young to have been born in Auschwitz. How about your parents? Where are they from?”
I kept asking him questions, all the while gazing at him in disbelief. To my mind, Auschwitz was a death camp. But now this young man told me it was a village where people lived.
It took some time for me to absorb this information. Somehow I never visualized people actually living in Auschwitz.
“I hope you won’t mind if I ask you a personal question,” I said.
“No problem,” he replied.
“Did you ever ask your grandparents or parents how they felt when they heard the shrieks, the screaming, the cries of Jews? Did you ever ask how they felt when they smelled the stench of burning flesh?”
He thought for a moment and said, “No I never asked that question. That’s just how things were. But come to think of it, I did hear some discussions of Jews having to be killed.”
Fast forward to 2015. Christians and even Muslims are being slaughtered by ISIS. And with the exception of some air strikes against limited ISIS targets, the world is once again standing by silently as innocent lives are gruesomely ended.
Meanwhile, Holocaust denial, while still not mainstream, has made startling inroads thanks to the Internet, as the lies of neo-Nazis are only a click away for anyone searching the web. Even people who are not haters are nevertheless increasingly uncomfortable when the Holocaust is brought up.
“Why dwell on the past?” they ask. “The world has always had its tragedies – what makes the Holocaust different from the others?”
More reprehensible still is that many of our own people are either ignorant or unwilling to learn.
I have been told on many occasions – by Jews –“Rebbetzin, please don’t speak on the Holocaust. We don’t want to cry. Please share with us a positive message.”
So the unbelievable has happened. We, the Jewish people, have fallen victim to the trap of amnesia. It’s a trap because he who forgets history is destined to repeat it. And that is the tragedy of our generation.
(To be continued)
