Remembering the Unimaginable

By Anne Ludden

Shoah is a biblical word that means destruction or devastation. To me, "Shoah" is also a wordless word, one that speaks more in the vibration of silence than in an actual voice. The Holocaust screams to me, through silenced as well as broken voices that dare to utter the unspeakable horrors of that unimaginable time.

Finding the words to describe the Shoah is the hardest thing for me. I know we must never stop talking about it, never stop remembering. But how can we possibly have a vocabulary for what it was?

It should be easy to be angry at "them:" The Nazis and those who watched and did nothing. But I personally feel no animosity. How can I possibly hate as the Nazis did? I can't. I can only pity them for having to live with their deeds. I have often wondered, if I had been a gentile at the time, would I have kept silent to save myself and my family? Speaking up might have placed my son and me in a death march. However, there were people who spoke up and Jewish lives were spared.

I honor those who died in the Shoah through many rituals that bring meaning to my everyday life. Every Shabbos, (Sabbath) I spill a drop of wine to symbolize the lives lost and the stolen joy of those who never saw another Sabbath of freedom. At Passover, I place a Matzah of Hope on the table to remember those who died enslaved.

I started reciting Kaddish (the Hebrew prayer commemorating the dead) weekly, long before it became customary to honor those who have no one left to say it for them, as well as for those whose yarhtzeit (the anniversary of a death according to the Hebrew calendar) is not documented. I include the "Prayer for Chametz" from the Bergen-Belsen 1944 Passover in my haggadah (text used to conduct the seder-the ritual meal at Passover).

The first spring planting I do is of something that will bloom yellow all summer long to memorialize the lives of those who died, and the broken lives of those who survived. And every night, and every morning, I recite the Sh'ma (Hebrew prayer invoking God to listen) twice: once for myself, and once for all the Jews who cannot because they were slaughtered or lost in some way.

I have always found comfort in reading Psalms when I have no other solace. I find it profoundly moving that so many speak directly to the Shoah.

Psalms 79 begins: "O God, the heathen are come into Thine inheritance; they have defiled Thy holy temple; they have made Jerusalem into heaps. They have given the dead bodies of Thy servants to be food unto the fowls of the heaven, the flesh of Thy saints unto the beasts of the earth. They have shed their blood like water round about Jerusalem, with none to bury them. We are become a taunt to our neighbors, a scorn and derision to them that are round about us. ...Wherefore should the nations say: 'Where is their God?'"

Psalms 83 continues the eerie direct reference: "O God, keep not Thou silence; hold not Thy peace, and be not still, O God. For, lo, Thine enemies are in an uproar; and they that hate Thee have lifted up the head. They hold crafty converse against Thy people, and take counsel against Thy treasured ones. They have said: 'Come, and let us cut them off from being a nation; that the name of Israel may be no more in remembrance.'"

I don't know if I will ever find peace relating to the Shoah. I can, however, utter the unspeakable words, and teach them to my children so that the people of Israel will never be forgotten. And I can find peace in the absence of solace.

Anne Ludden lives in Central MN with her 6-year-old son Cullain. In addition to freelance writing, Anne is the the Chat Coordinator and Staff Supervisor for the Jewish Community Online (keyword JEWISH on America Online).