Siyum Brochoth 5780

Today I have the privilege of making a siyum on the first mesechta of shas, on this 14th cycle of daf yomi. 

It is also parshath Zachor, the day assigned to remember the eternal struggle against antisemitism . 

The coincidence is not lost on me.  

All Jews remember the history of attempts at the destruction of our people.  We see them as emanations of the original attempt by Amalek.  We see it in the Purim we will celebrate this week. 

I certainly see it in the Holocaust that my parents and grandparents experienced so personally.  I am part of a special club, the offspring of survivors and direct victims of the modern Amalek and Hamen. 

It is difficult to put events in living memory into a religious context.  The methodology doesn't work.  Long historical perspective, with its overlay of  contextual re-interpretation is needed before events find their proper place in a system of belief. 

But I can appreciate some of the miraculous nature in my making this siyum;  in, once again, completing this tractate.  I am alive as an offshoot of the remnant that remained after the mechanized attempt at  the total destruction of our people. The torah and the tradition and the talmud can still live through me.  They are not rejected.  It is my hope that they will live on for many more generations through my progeny and colleagues. 

Holocaust influence on Medicine

How The memory of the Holocaust Influences My Practice of Medicine

My parents were survivors of the Holocaust.  That has had a profound influence on whom  I am.  And who I am is a significant part of how I practice medicine

Both of my parents were in Poland when the greatest tragedy of their lives, the greatest tragedy that has ever befallen the Jewish people, occurred. The statistics of that event include a net 10% survival rate for Jews in Poland.  Both of my parents were  the sole survivors of  very large families. When I am told that the probability of survival for some cancer is low, I think about these statistics.  I know that it is possible, even if it is unlikely to survive.  I also know that it is important to survive.  Survival has huge  consequences.

It is hard to know whether the actions that my parents took during this extremely dangerous time contributed to their success.  I cannot know how much is the result of chance, how much came from their effort. Most of the others who took similar actions died.

 But I do know that their effort was enormous.  They were willing to live buried alive, outdoors, in  the frigid Polish winter.  They were willing to beg , steal food from animals; they were willing to endure every indignity, compromise most of their beliefs,  in order to survive.

 I also remember the pain, shame, and regret - the ambivalence- that came with remembering these events. These memories color how I feel about putting people through toxic treatments, helping them survive while suffering.  From my parents I see that it is possible.  From my parents I see that it is costly - it is a choice.  It is my duty to present the information honestly, make the choice clear, and helps the patient's decide without imposing any dogma.


I remember a cousin from my boyfriend, Chana.  She came to America before the war.  She would say." You will find everything in the struggle."  Standing ,as a child, next to my parents, I understood this comment to  be both true and cruel.


There are  also an important lessons from the tormentors.  It is important to recognize that many of the senior officer is in charge of concentration and death camps were physicians.  It is important to recognize how the organized death of all Jews, Romani, homosexual, etc. evolved from the euthanasia program.  The death camps evolved from the idea that death was better than a life of disability.  In the eyes of the tormentor, death was better than life as a Jew.  The physician, the person with power and authority, cannot decide how low a quality of life is unacceptable.

The NAZI crime of  experimentation on the victims  has become part of the medical ethics curriculum; it is the paradigm of unethical behavior.  It is a moral crime guide a person into an experimental therapy when a less risky treatment, of at least equal efficacy, is available.  Unfortunately, I see this transgression frequently done in a name of Science.  The NAZI's also did it  in the name of Science.  I will not do it.

I am privileged to try to help victims.  I must give this my best efforts.

I am privileged to meet people who come  from very different places and backgrounds.  My background in the holocaust tells me I must give them full respect.

One can fight the odds, and some people will win.  Honesty and respect for others is the only acceptable position

By  conveying these values, the souls of my ancestors remain involved in the concerns of the living

Polish History Legislation

The pain  that is  Poland is beyond comprehension.  Its legislature wants to make it ineffable. 

That is a major problem. 

The truth of the behavior of Poland as a nation over the past century is not subject to definition.  The territory that was overrun by various (evil) armies, divided among alien nations, subjugated by overwhelming forces.  The will of the native peoples was not the decisive factor in the events that transpired.   Few have the power to implement global policy.  It is the ratification of those policies, and their implications, that falls within the scope of ordinary people. The  true stories of everyday people is the information  that can shape the future.

Now, when there is not yet legislation forcing a particular myth about the behavior of people during the Nazi and Soviet occupations, I do not trust the stories that I have heard.  Everyone has motives.  Most people want to look altruistic, or at least innocent.  Any trace of  culpability is covered with a story of victimization. The law will make it worse. 

Pronouncements by authorities are difficult to resist.  They are supported by willing followers,convincing arguments,  and often by an army and police force.   They are supported by severe penalties, sometimes the threat of death. It is important to know how people dealt with these issues. 

I need to look at my own issues. Were my effete protests again the Viet Nam war meaningful?  Did I do enough? Did I do enough to fight racism?  Am I doing enough to fight a medical system that values greed above life; that denies patients life-saving medicines to maximize profits; that sows confusion about treatment outcomes to make a buck.

Of course not.  And no legislation will make me feel better about it. 

America

I am an American.

That fact is a recent discovery. Although I was born in the US (Brooklyn, N.Y) and I have never lived for more than 2 months outside the US, the fact that I am an American comes as a relatively shocking and new discovery to me.

I thought I was a child of Holocaust survivors. Such a person has no nationality. My nationality was refugee, second generation. I must be ready for the renewal of persecution and a change of venue at any time. Passport must be current. Bribe money (in cash) readily available. Plans ready for Canada, Israel, Mexico...wherever.

I came to realize I am American by analyzing what it means to be American.

An American is one who is descended from ancestors who had the courage to come to the New World. Usually, they had to learn a new (very difficult) language ( no real spelling rules) .

By coming to America they entered into a covenant of tolerance and peace with the nations that were their former enemies. That covenant is passed and strengthened as it is passed form generation to generation.

I am the son of two holocaust survivors.

My father, Sam (Szmuel) Goldberg was one of the very few (about 60) survivors of Treblinka. Treblinka was the death camp established to kill the Jews of Warsaw. It was part of the Aktion Reinhardt , the plan for the systematic slaughter of the Jews and Gypsies of Poland.

My mother, Esther Bryndl Goldberg, hid in the woods. Aided (and/or tolerated) by local Christians she survived as a feral person, a vagabond, in the woods near the shtetetl that she was born in.

They did not speak about the holocaust very much, but it was always present in our home. My mother cried over her murdered parents and siblings every day of her life. When my parents had friends over, they would shoo away the children and cry over their recalled experiences. When I was a small boy, 4 or 5 years old, my mother would tighten her grip on my hand when we passed a police officer.

Occasionally, they would let their feelings show. Usually they would each affirm that G d had saved from the horrible death and cremation that was the fate of almost everybody they knew, almost everybody they grew up with, almost everybody they loved.

Rarely, perhaps once or twice,my father asked the question. Where was Gd. O think I only heard it once, but that was enough. By the time I read Eli Wiesel 50 years later, I had repeated the question thousands of times.

At this point I must say that it would be extremely disrespectful of my parents, as survivors to do anything but honor their oft stated opinion that Divine intervention rescued them. It is not my place, nor anyone's place to question their opinion, an opinion based upon their personal and unique experiences.

The global question remains.