It’s Holocaust Memorial Day: the day we all try to write about evil.
The Archbishop of Canterbury went to Auschwitz a few weeks ago, and pondered: “I’ve come away with too much to write, and no words to write it,” he wrote, after already writing 465 words. And then he wrote another 356 words. And then the Church of England released another 14,217. That’s the problem with Holocaust Memorial Day: it gets filled with words about evil, and then words about those words about evil. You feel the need to write more words, as though they might offer some reason or redemption of the corrupted order. There you go again; more words. We don’t need words.
Or perhaps we need a few: Jews, Jews, Jews.
Or perhaps a question: How was it possible for so many German Christians to acquiesce to the systematic slaughter of so many Jews?
Another question? Why does an anti-Jewish agenda still permeate humanity?
We know where it leads..
Oh, perhaps a few more: “Whenever you see a genuine Jew, you may with good conscience cross yourself and bluntly say, ‘There goes a devil incarnate.'” So wrote a monk called Martin Luther in 1543, arguing for the expulsion of the Jews from Germany.