As I read Lois Eisenberg’s letter (Feb. 11) regarding the Holocaust, Jews, and “remembering,” I remembered the day I toured Dachau concentration camp while living in Munich, Germany. I remembered how the world went from vibrant colors and warmth to icy-cold gray tones as I passed through the main gate, the words “Arbeit Macht Frei” (“Work Makes You Free”) written in black steel over my head.
I felt as if I had entered a man-made void in the universe, someplace where a group of people decided to pour all their collectively accumulated hatred and malice to be vented upon those they sought to blame and punish for … “for what?” I asked myself. What could anyone have ever done to anyone to deserve what I saw was done to human beings in that facility?
I took a DNA test a few years ago and found to my astonishment that I am actually 5% Aschkenazi Jew. It didn’t make me feel any closer to Jews in general, but I did find it helpful in somewhat explaining some of the elements of my personality, but I digress.
Sadly, Lois, if history has taught us anything it is that we humans have a very difficult time “learning” from it. The reason for that, I think, is contained in an old Middle Eastern proverb involving a turtle and a snake. You may have heard it: A snake, desiring to cross a stream, enlists the reluctant assistance of a turtle that is relaxing on the bank. The turtle is reluctant because he knows the snake has fangs and venom and the turtle doesn’t want to die from his bite. The snake convinces the turtle by assuring him that he doesn’t want to die, either, so why would he bite him?
Midway across the stream the snake bites the turtle, and they both begin to sink. As they go under, the turtle asks the snake why he bit him, to their mutual demise. The snake merely replies, “I couldn’t help myself … it’s simply in my nature.”
My only advice is to find a way to survive … and to stay away from snakes.
Arthur Saginian
Santa Clarita
