It is true, certainly, that I cannot forget Auschwitz and that I cannot forgive the men who made it the mightiest murder apparatus ever.”
Rudolf Vrba’s unique Holocaust memoir, I Cannot Forgive, tells the remarkable story of one of only a handful of people who managed to escape from Auschwitz.
Having endured in the camp longer than most imagined possible, he bore witness to his experience in a manifesto that later became part of what was known as the “Auschwitz Protocols.” He hoped that by revealing the truth about the destination of the transports that he would inspire Jews to rebel against their fate and disrupt the Nazi killing machine.
As much as he could not forgive the Nazis who built the camp, Vrba also could not forgive Rudolf Kastner, the leading figure of Hungarian Jews who infamously sought to negotiate with Adolf Eichmann to exchange Jewish lives for war materiel. Blaming Kastner for keeping his report quiet while foolishly engaging with Eichmann, Vrba, and later an Israeli court, would label Kastner a collaborator.
I also cannot forgive. As the yahrzeit of those who were murdered on Oct. 7 approaches, I am unable to fathom where in my soul there might exist a wellspring of forgiveness. No one is asking, mind you. There is only the unrelenting burden of anger and anguish wrought over the last year and it feels as if there can never be any release by granting forgiveness when those who should seek it from us are far too busy celebrating Jewish suffering and lusting for more.
Yom Kippur is coming, and I wonder, if I had the capacity to forgive, to whom would I grant it?
I cannot forgive Antonio Guterres, the secretary-general of the UN.
At the recent UN General Assembly, Guterres pretended for a moment to be a moral human being, saying, “Nothing can justify the abhorrent acts of terror committed by Hamas on Oct. 7, or the taking of hostages — both of which I have repeatedly condemned.”
Except that he’s lying. Two weeks after the attack, Guterres likewise said that nothing could justify Hamas’ attack, only to then justify it, saying, “It is important to also recognize the attacks by Hamas did not happen in a vacuum.”
At the UN, Guterres praised the work of UNRWA, the UN terrorist auxiliary that funnels $1 billion each year into Gaza to build the infrastructure shielding Hamas tunnels and weapons while exempting Hamas from having to spend its precious funds on providing for the welfare of its people.
Guterres says these things to the applause of the assembly, who vote overwhelmingly on resolutions welcoming the International Kangaroo Court’s branding of Israel’s leaders as criminals, demanding that Israel withdraw from “Occupied Palestinian Territory,” and without uttering a word of condemnation for the butchers who slaughtered Jews in their homes.
How could it ever be possible to forgive that?
I cannot forgive Leon Panetta, the former secretary of defense and head of the CIA.
When asked whether Israel’s purported involvement in the recent explosive pager attack on Hezbollah in Lebanon was terrorism, he said, “I don’t think there’s any question that it’s a form of terrorism.”
To condemn as terrorism the assault by an American ally on the communications, command and control of an enemy engaged in active warfare against it — an enemy that is also responsible for murdering 241 US Marines —is an act of perfidy reminiscent of Benedict Arnold.
When a high-ranking former official says something like this publicly, we can only wonder what betrayal might have been discussed behind closed doors when these evil views could have affected actual policy.
Since Oct. 7, American Jews have felt turned upon by many of the liberals that appeared to be friends. Panetta is a striking example of that kind of abandonment.
Forgiveness for this feels impossible when it is inconceivable that such a person could ever again be trusted.
I cannot forgive Bernie Sanders.
When Rudolf Kastner betrayed the Jews of Hungary, at least it might be said about him that, perhaps, he was motivated by delusions of grandeur, thinking that if he could manage to save hundreds of thousands of Jews, he would be seen as a messianic figure.
Bernie Sanders does not even dream about saving Jews. As a self-anointed kapo of Hamas in the US Senate, Sanders wants only to strip away the capacity of Jews to defend themselves against the onslaught.
Bernie Sanders commits the most unforgivable of sins. He ignores the history of Nazis, Kishinev, the Pale of Settlement, Cossacks, Inquisitors, Crusaders and mobs both small and large that have tried to destroy the Jewish people.
For centuries, Jews could do nothing more than hope to survive and seek temporary shelter under the protection of a new host. At long last, those who murder Jews are compelled to pay the price, but Bernie Sanders would rather that we march willingly into Ponary. His resolution to stop sales of arms to Israel might only be a symbolic gesture, but the symbolism of a Jew betraying his own people to their murderers is one that can never be forgiven.
I cannot forgive the men who made the mightiest murder apparatus ever,” Vrba said. For my part, I cannot fathom forgiving those who succeeded them. But the weight of the anguish I feel is unbearable, so as Yom Kippur approaches, I wonder who is left that I can forgive?
There is a story about Elimelech of Lizhensk, who told his students that to understand Yom Kippur, they should seek out the tailor on the edge of town. The tailor produced two ledgers, one counting his own sins and another, much larger one, counting G-d. Recalling the evil and suffering in the world, the tailor concluded, “you owe me more than I owe you.” The tailor suggested it is best to not keep a strict accounting and concluded that both he and G-d should forgive one another.
So, I choose to forgive G-d. There is no one else I can.
