Seventy-six years ago today, Soviet troops liberated Auschwitz where Nazis killed more than 1 million Jews and others. In total, more than 6 million individuals were murdered during the Holocaust.
Three weeks ago at the U.S. Capitol, some rioters were spotted wearing anti-Semitic messages or Nazi symbols.
It’s a stark reminder that even as we discuss Holocaust Remembrance Day and reverently commemorate those millions of lives lost, anti-Semitism is on the rise.
This trend deeply disturbs me. A number of years ago I found myself with the opportunity to visit a number of concentration camp sites. After all this time, I regard the experiences as some of the most important I have ever had.
I don’t remember all the details of those hallowed places, but I will never forget the weather.
It was such a beautiful, sunny day. Middle of June. One of the best times to jaunt around Europe and take in the sights and sounds. I wore a T-shirt. I brought a camera. I wrote in my journal about how tall and green the trees were, how fast the cars would zip by on the autobahn. I thought about the restaurant we had reservations at for dinner and the souvenirs I wanted to buy.
Then, at some point, we turned off the busy road and onto one with single lanes in each direction. Homes slowly disappeared. I remember a large open field on one side of the road, and an endless row of tall trees on the other. The field was sunny and bright. On the other side of the trees were clouds.
Within moments, the day went from perfect to perfectly gray. The sun became diffused and murky behind the clouds, and everything — even my bright colored shirt — seemed to blend together in shades of muted browns and gray.
I don’t remember pulling into the parking lot or seeing a sign for where we were, but I knew. The air felt heavy, the atmosphere permeated with perpetual melancholy. This, I remember feeling, was a place of insurmountable death.
Hours were spent there, and almost all of them in silence. I took a few quick pictures so as not to allow myself to forget what I was seeing. The sound of the shutter clicking seemed to reverberate and echo throughout the entire camp.
A few days later I visited the Memorial to the Murdered Jews of Europe in Berlin. Beneath the memorial is a visitors center. On the wall reads a quote from Primo Levi, Italian Jewish chemist and Holocaust survivor:
“It happened once, therefore it can happen again: this is the core of what we have to say. It can happen, and it can happen everywhere.”
The battle against anti-Semitism has been difficult, as Deseret News reporter Kelsey Dallas wrote. To stop its rise is more than just school curriculum memorizing dates and numbers — it’s about conveying and understanding the dangers of where anti-Semitism, prejudice or disregard for life can go when left unchecked.
Maybe a few rioters on Capitol Hill seems insignificant. But left to fester and grow, it can result in the real thing: Three-thousand and eight-hundred suitcases. More than one ton of human hair. Eighty-eight pounds of eyeglasses, 110,000 shoes, 470 prosthetics and more than 12,000 pots and pans. These numbers are just a fraction of what was found at Auschwitz.
More than 80% of Jews live in just two countries: Israel and the United States, the places where thousands fled during and after the Holocaust. Experts estimate that globally, the Jewish population is nearing pre-Holocaust numbers.
What must it be like, then, to be on the brink of recovery and see the capitol of the country your ancestors found refuge in suddenly have so-called “patriots” proudly displaying Nazi symbols?
International Holocaust Remembrance Day this year feels a bit like a precipice; a two-way mirror. On one side, a history we must vow to never forget and never repeat. On the other, the seeds that lead to a trajectory to do just that.
In an address to mark the liberation anniversary, Pope Francis warned against the dangers of increased nationalism.
“To remember also means being careful because these things can happen again,” he said. “Starting with ideological proposals that claim to want to save a people but end up destroying a people and humanity.”
Today is not just about looking back with remorse. It is also about examining our present and future. The Holocaust took millions and left nothing but despair and places where the sun will never shine again.
Remembering comes with responsibility. To preserve a future without such crimes against humanity, anti-Semitism and irreverence for human life must be stamped out.
It is the least we can do.