This third story is about humanity,
forgiveness and redemption. This story starts with the death of eleven million
non-combatants and ends with the death by hanging of 11 top Nazi commanders
held responsible for crimes against humanity. The book is Mission at Nuremberg: An American Army Chaplain and the
Trial of the Nazis authored by reporter Tim Townsend.
The horrors of what the Nazi
machination did during WWII are unimaginably cruel and
even unbelievably
macabre. Countless of books have been written about the massacres and yet it
would take at least a few lifetimes to come to terms with the evil perpetrated
by seemingly normal men with family and children of their own.
The book traces the arrest,
imprisonment, trial, conviction, sentence and execution of 19 Nazi top
officials. The chaplain who was assigned to shepherd them into repentance
before they face their fate was a Lutheran minister named Henry Gerecke. While
most of the convicted regretted
what they had done, their conviction and death
could hardly do justice to the millions of lives lost in pursuit of a sick and
perverted ideology and leadership.
In one of the honest confessions by a
former field Marshal, Keitel, he told the Court these words that came many
years too late. “In the course of the trial my defence counsel submitted two
fundamental questions to me, the first one…was “In case of a victory, would you
have refused to participate in any part of the
success?” I answered, “No, I
should certainly have been proud of it.” The second question was: “How would
you act if you were in the same position again?” My answer: “I should rather
choose death than to let myself be drawn into the net of such pernicious
methods.”
But my story only begins with a man
named Simon Wiesenthal who is a Holocaust survivor and Nazi hunter. In the
book, the author narrated an encounter that Wiesenthal had with a member of SS
named Karl. The year was 1941 and the place
was Janowska work camp. Wiesenthal
was only 31 years old when he worked in the camp.
One day, he was assigned to a nearby
hospital and a nurse approached him. “Are you a Jew?” the nurse asked.
Wiesenthal nodded and followed the nurse to a Red Cross building. They walked
up a flight of stairs and into a room where a man lying on the bed called out
to him softly, “Please come nearer. I can't speak loudly.” As Wiesenthal drew
nearer to the man, he introduced himself as
Karl and told him that he has not
much longer to live. He added that he is “resigned to dying soon.” But before
he die, he wanted to tell Wiesenthal something that has been tormenting him.
Karl specifically asked for a Jew so that he could confess to him what he had
done to his people.
He started off with a brief
background of his life. He told Wiesenthal that he was 21 years old when he
joined the Hitler Youth. His faith as a Catholic altar boy faded away during
the war. Karl insisted that
he was not born a murderer but one day he was
assigned to join a unit of SA storm-troopers somewhere in the Russian front.
His unit found a deserted town and everything in it was either destroyed,
bombed or burnt. As they searched the place, they found a large group of civilians
huddling together and under guard. They were all Jews.
The next part of the story is
described in the book with details unsparing. “The order was given and Karl,
along with the rest of the unit, marched toward the
huddled mass of families –
150 people, maybe, 200. The children stared at the approaching men with anxious
eyes. Some were crying. Women held their infant children. A truck arrived with
cans of gasoline, which were taken to the upper stories of one of the small
houses on the square. Karl and his unit drove the Jews into the house with
whips and kicks. Another truck arrived, and those Jews, too, were crammed into
the small house before the door was locked.”
At this point, Wiesenthal
wanted to
leave the room as he was all too familiar with the ending. But Karl begged him
to stay and allow him to finish. Reluctantly, Wiesenthal returned to his seat
and Karl continued.
In the book, the author wrote, “The
order was given, and the SS unit pulled the safety pins from their grenades and
tossed them into the upper windows of the house. Explosions, then screams, then
flames and more screams. The men readied their rifles, prepared to shoot any of
the Jews who tried to flee the fire. Karl saw a
man on the second floor of the
house, holding a child. His clothes were on fire. A woman stood next to him.
The man covered the child’s eyes with one hand and jumped. The woman followed.
Burning bodies fell from other windows. The shooting began. “My God,” Karl
whispered. “My God.”” Therein ends Karl's confession.
To Wiesenthal, God had on that day
taken a leave of absence from that god-forsaken town. And in His place, Hitler
and his ideology stood as a testament to the evil of humanity.
What Karl was asking from Wiesenthal,
a Jew, was forgiveness. In his own words, Karl said, “In the long nights while
I have been waiting for death, time and time again I have longed to talk about
it to a Jew and beg forgiveness from him…I know what I am asking is almost too
much for you, but without your answer I cannot die in peace.” After he had
finished, Wiesenthal stood up and left the room without saying a word.
This powerful story moved me deeply
because the symbolic
juxtaposition between Wiesenthal, representing the
murdered Jews, and Karl, representing his tormentors, shows without a doubt the
insufferable pain of humanity in their bid for personal redemption. For Karl,
it was to be redeemed from guilt by seeking forgiveness. And for Wiesenthal, it
was to be redeemed from hatred by forgiving. Their pain is real and I have
learned that we all struggle with this pain to a certain extent.
In our lives, the hurt we experience
may be the hurt we
have inflicted on others (as in Karl) or the hurt that have
been inflicted on us (as in Wiesenthal). On either side of the divide, the
question is the same: How do we move forward with our life carrying the burden of
this hurt? This is essentially a question of redemption, our humanity, and
forgiveness.
Redemption because we all want a
second chance to set things right. Humanity because we are fallen creatures and
deep inside, we long to make the connection with our true self, that is, the
broken,
vulnerable but still hopeful self. And lastly, forgiveness, for those
forgiving and for those asking for it, because without which we will forever be
tormented by the hurt we seek so futilely to deny in our living years. Cheerz.
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