The Hollowcost
The Hollowcost
I
didn’t misspell. It’s a play on words
except, in this case, there were no winners.
“The
Holocaust was Nazi Germany's deliberate, organized, state-sponsored persecution
and genocide of approximately six million European Jews.”
- a quote taken from the National WWII Museum in New Orleans.
I am no
fool. I do not deny the Horrific that
words cannot describe. My brothers and
sisters were gathered and forced to eat poison like unwanted rats. Oh, I know how they died. Again, a figure of speech.
I am reminded of
a success story. King Ahasuerus’ second
proclamation allowed the Persian Jews to fight for themselves. That they did. Now we have Purim to commemorate the rallying
cry against Hamman’s plot. The one to
exterminate in the name of pride because of Mordecai’s unwillingness to bow. We celebrate that event yearly, but there is
no gladness following WWII for the fallen.
Why the Hollowcost? Well, did this murderous act eat out the
world’s soul? Did we have to see again
Man’s nature if left to its own? I thought
we were better than that. No, another
testimony. Thousands more have been
buried since then. Totalitarian governments take
aim at the powerless. Senseless killing
spreads its demonic, leathery wings. Grasping
talons pierce and hold to extinguish breath.
In nature, it is expected.
Amongst humanity, it should never be named.
I feel for the Jews. No, I should never say that. I don’t know what it is like. To imagine the unimaginable would keep me up
at night. After all, torture is
torture. When it hits kin, their album
pictures would only bring tears.
Judeo-Christian
teaching tells us we are all related.
Descended from Mother Eve, red blood runs in everyone’s veins. Cutting a man and seeing fear in his eyes
casts a soul far from brotherhood status.
We create atrocities to see them squirm.
A certain pleasure lies in the back of our brains. A hand of power given to enslavement wells up
in all. Hitler, after all, was our
brother.
Breathe deeply. A sigh gives way to relief. Never again?
A glideslope ridden till the return of Christ? No, man hates man. Cain picks up another rock. Descended from a murderer himself, blood in
the field came expectedly. We focus on
the instrument as if to strip it from the hand would solve a universal problem.
Gold,
diamonds? What could be given to heal
Man’s leprous soul? Contagion runs
through his being like black death. The
power of Jesus’ blood should never be underestimated. Submersion in the crimson tide would have turned
Adolf into a choir boy.
Thank you, Lord. You give us a way out of inner Hell. You came for more than glory. You sought release. You knew the binding clasp that chewed at our
heel. A Hollowcost, surely.
Comments
Post a Comment