It's Worse than the Holocaust
A concentration camp survivor says the hostages in Gaza have it worse than she did in Auschwitz
Editor’s note: There are far too many false and frequently grotesque comparisons made about the current war in Gaza and the Holocaust. But what happens when a survivor of Auschwitz points at her faded prisoner tattoo and says she feels so sorry for the hostages? Rebecca Weingarten works with Holocaust survivors and listens closely to their stories. She shares Magda’s story exclusively with The Kumzits.
Worse Than the Camps
"It's like the Holocaust."
"It's worse than the Holocaust."
"Like concentration camp victims."
I always had a visceral reaction when people said these things about the hostages. My immediate thoughts were: "How can you say that?" "How can you compare?" "What are you thinking?" "Who are you to make such a comparison?"
But when I heard it from Magda, I stopped and listened differently.
Magda, one of the Holocaust survivors I work with, grabbed my arm just before a class I was leading on current events.
"Will you be talking about the hostages?" she asked.
"No, we try to stick with good news. Some people get too upset when we talk about war."
Magda is a hard-won fan of mine. A woman from a deeply religious family who survived the camps on faith and whatever stroke of luck, which she also attributed to her faith. She became increasingly religiously observant as the years passed. She's the woman who stood up and marched out of a class I was teaching when I mentioned a character had a boyfriend. The rest of the room smiled and shrugged, knowing her devoutness.
That made it even more shocking when she confided in me. Magda gripped my arm with surprising strength for a 90-something-year-old. I was sure it would leave marks. This tiny woman, who suffered severe malnutrition in her youth, looked up at me so she could meet my eyes directly.
"I was there," she motioned to her arm with her Auschwitz number tattoo. "I was in Auschwitz," she said, using the German/Yiddish pronunciation.
"They're worse than Hitler."
"We were able to go out and see the sky. Yes, it was to do work. Yes, even when we were beaten and tortured. But we saw the sky." ~Magda, Auschwitz survivor
I was surprised to hear her say the name. It repulses me too much to say outright; I often use "Yemach sh'mo"—May his name be erased.
She continued holding onto me as she spoke. "We had food. A little bit, but something." She paused, calling up memories that were always right there under the surface. Even—especially—after 80 years.
"We were able to go out and see the sky."
"Yes, it was to do work. Yes, even when we were beaten and tortured. But we saw the sky."
"We weren't in chains deep down in dark tunnels under the earth."
"What they're doing to the hostages in Gaza, it's worse than a concentration camp. It's worse than Hitler."
I didn't attempt to hug her; they aren't a demonstrative group. We stood maintaining eye contact for long moments. She kept squeezing my arm at intervals as she wordlessly told me details of the story she would never confide in me. The stories she would never tell anyone.
But she told me the parts I needed to hear and needed to share as a witness.
At the Seder, we talked about the beautiful souls still being held hostage.
When we sang "Avadim Hayinu," we remembered my late father David, who would sing it loudly, remembering being a child slave to the Nazis and a child in a concentration camp.
We remembered and talked about the hostages who, according to survivors like Magda, are in a place worse than they were—if we can even imagine such horror.
Talk about the hostages. Fight for them any way you can. Embrace your Jewish identity and pride. Fight the fight. Zachor. Gedenk. Remember. Tell the stories.
Bring them all home.
I find it as poignant and chilling now, as the first time I heard this story.