It's been a while since I spoke about my beloved, Benedict XVI. Here is a small blogpost to rectify that.
One of the best things about Pope Benedict, is that he has continued the warm relationship forged by John Paul the Great towards the Jewish community. In fact, the Chief Rabbi of Haifa became the first rabbi to speak before a Vatican Synod this Monday.
Don't think he had only honeyed words for the assembled clergymen. He chastised the Roman Catholic Church and Pope Pius XIII, for their restraint in speaking out and not helping to prevent the Holocaust.
Rabbi Shear-Yashuv Cohen was unflinching in his criticism:
Cohen said that in his speech he planned to make an indirect reference to Jewish disappointment about Pius as well as an appeal to all religious leaders to denounce Iranian President Mahmoud Ahmadinejad.
Last month Pope Benedict forcefully defended Pius, saying he "spared no effort" on behalf of Jews during World War II.
Some Jews maintain Pius did not do enough to save Jews while the Vatican says he worked behind the scenes to help because more direct intervention would have worsened the situation.
"He may have helped in secrecy many of the victims and many of the refugees but the question is 'could he have raised his voice and would it have helped or not?'" Cohen said.
"We, as the victims, feel yes. I am not empowered by the families of the millions of deceased to say 'we forget, we forgive,'" said Cohen, who is chief rabbi of Haifa in Israel.
Pope Benedict's very religious parents were adamantly anti-Nazi, and his father even suffered as a consequence of this attitude -- one which was owed almost entirely to his strong Catholic faith.
Nevertheless, I am sure Pope Benedict understood the pain many Jews feel about this time, and as you can see, there were no hard feelings after the address.
Start at Minute 4:00, and you'll not only get an eyeful of a very pregnant Sarah Palin (or as pregnant as an athletic, reed-thin woman can be) but you'll see this very interesting little flag in the Governor's Office.
I highlighted it for you with the red arrow.
Oh, Governor Palin. You are some kind of Conservative woman. My kind.
Here is the "more later" followup promised in yesterday's International Holocaust Remembrance Day post.
Miami Beach used to be the retirement mecca for seemingly millions of little old Jewish men and women, back in the 1960s to 1980s.
Droves of elderly babushki came from all over the United States -- content to spend out their years rocking in front of hotel porches, all along Collins and Washington Avenues.
This is the Miami Beach long-time residents of South Florida recall, more than the flamingo pastels of Miami Vice, or the wild hedonism of the Versace Era.
But the problem with the elderly is that they don't last, and South Beach has nearly drained itself of the Jewish pensioner, and thereto, even more distressingly, of the Jewish Holocaust survivor.
I recall, as a teenager when I came to visit my parents in Florida, that we would rent a lovely room at the Winterhaven Hotel on Ocean Drive, for a fortnight every summer.
And as long as I live, I'll never forget the check-in clerk at the front desk, an elderly man whose hand shook with age, as he handed me the room keys whenever I came back from the beach. One day, when he was extending the keys to me, I saw some lettering or some such, on his wrist.
With all the innocence of the child I still was, I exclaimed, "Oh, you have a tattoo!". Like a sailor, I thought.
Drawing himself up as if slapped, he drew back his shirt cuff, and turned to me, nodding.
No words. But a look of such heart-numbing pain, that I can never erase it from my memory as long as I live.
In front of me, stood a man of indeterminate age, originally from Poland, now working in exchange for his lodging in the top floor at a Miami Beach hotel, but once when he had been exactly my age, he survived Auschwitz.
Auschwitz. The Holocaust. Gas chambers. Nazis. Extermination Camps...
A litany of such 20th century monstrosity that it beggars the modern mind, to say it out loud.
Being half-German, I have a special duty, an earnest consciousness, and an overwhelming desire to remember what can never be forgotten by Man.
And though my travellogues are expeditions into South Florida wonderlands, where nothing is gloomy, today allow me to take you to the Miami Beach Jewish Holocaust Memorial...
...because certain moments cannot be jollied up.
They cannot be trivialised, if they are to mean SOMETHING.
Oh, maybe they do, in the way one knows there is a Miami Seaquarium or Monkey Jungle -- tourist destinations you somehow push to the back of your mind, far removed from your daily life, unless you live near it, and thus, one of the most moving sights of Miami/Miami Beach, is completely unknown to millions of its residents.
How can you miss it? As you pull into Meridian Avenue, there it is, immense, imposing, unforgettable.
I went there at night, and not the daytime, because in my humble opinion, this Michelangeloesque upraised hand in cast bronze, is at its most awe-inspiring with the setting sun behind it.
And when the skies have been threatening to open all day long, with menacing clouds above, I can't even explain to you the shades of inky blue that form a backdrop behind it.
Even this startling photograph, does not do the scene justice.
As you approach the memorial, one of the first sculptures you will see in this park, is that of a mother gathering within the folds of her skirts, her two young children.
I need not tell you that this is precisely what happened, a million times over, during the Holocaust, as parents and children faced the ultimate fear -- fear of the gathering storm of hate.
But inscribed on the wall just behind Mother and Children, are the words of Anne Frank.
They say, with the convinced heart of a child wise beyond her years:
"That in spite of everything I still believe that people are really good at heart."
And no matter what horrors I have read, witnessed, or experienced myself, so do I, so do I, Anne...
When Stendahl went to Naples, back in the mid-1800s, he was overwhelmed by the statuary, the monuments and reliquaries to be seen in such abundance in Italy. His pulse raced, he became dizzy, and he often observed others in exactly the same predicament.
I almost fainted when I approached the David statue, and though I was told by my parents it's a common enough occurence (a psychological reaction to seeing a well-known face or work of art, right in front of you, which can overwhelm a person), I didn't want to tell them that I was just scared of David's enormous proportions.
And guess what?
I had the exact same reaction to this towering hand, which as you can see, is well over 20 feet in size.
But I bit my lips, and carried on, cognisant that I was taking photographs of The Sculpture of Love and Anguish, as it's properly called, not just for me, but for all of you.
So, thanks Sundries readers, for making me face, and conquer at least this one fear.
After all, when you think of what the statue represents, how absolutely ridiculous are any of our niggly fears compared to it.
I think the architects who designed this pond-framed statue, understood instinctively that it was a powerful, perhaps too powerful monument, and consequently, sealed it off by a moat, and surrounded it by an open-air walkway called The Garden of Meditation.
I cannot tell you how pretty, how inviting, and peaceful it is.
You have to come down here, and see it yourself one day.
Jerusalem has Yad Vashem. I've been told by many friends who have been there, that the experience is almost claustrophobic in intensity.
But our flowery trellis path here in the Miami Beach version liberates the spirit, free to gulp the horrible significance of its gorgeous black granite slabs -- that which contains the visual and historical memories of the Holocaust.
As you continue walking along its reflecting testimonials, you begin to prepare yourself for something a little more sombre, a little more emotional, than the peeping flowers and moonlit sky offer above.
Perhaps the JFK grave in Arlington has made all Eternal Flames mere copy-cats, but when you see this flame, licked by the cheery Florida wind right and left, you know it's absolutely fitting to see it there.
I shot the Eternal Flame without flash, just as you would see it were you to approach it yourself.
But the images of the Holocaust are also imprinted on our collective memories in black and white, so here is a Youtube link, with the flame flickering to the sound of children's voices.
Now, turning to your left, you can see the opening to the Dome of Contemplation -- in the sunlight, its many crevices craftily reveal hidden messages...
...like this stark, horrible image of the JUDE inside a Magen David, above.
The yellow cloth Star of David, a new kind of brand for a new-old kind of genocide.
The long, narrow road to the concentration camps, to the open pits, to the firing squads, to the cattle cars, and finally, into the gas chambers were walked by each person who died there.
It is called The Lonely Path, and I knew I had to come at night, to see it. In the sunlight, it's almost cheery Jerusalem pink stone walls give it a different feel entirely.
But at night, with the songs of children representing innocent life about to die, well, let's just say, there is a reason my hand was unsteady as I shot the footage below.
And here it is, just a few feet away.
What does the structure represent, you ask?
It is said that every memorial visitor has a different interpretation. On face value, it represents the hand of a Holocaust victim -- with number tattoo near the wrist -- lifting itself to the heavens, being weighted by dozens of figures of men, women and children, all around it.
I don't know.
Would you be offended if I told you that to me, it represents the hand of God?
Many Holocaust survivors and those who read of it, believe that such incidents as the Showa are proof positive that there is no such entity as God.
How can there be a God, when He allows such unbelievable evil to exist?
I don't know. I can only tell you what is in my heart.
That to me, the Holocaust and other incidents like it, represent a reaching out of God, to try to make human beings understand...
...that they must NEVER FORGET ITS LESSONS.
That to forget is to allow evil a chance in the world. That we do forget, time and time again, is our real human tragedy.
God bless all those who perished in this and other Holocausts.
May we be strong to face hate, and to fight it wherever it raises a hand to smite us.
