No matter how hard we try, we cannot escape suffering. Whether you are a spectator watching or a slave fighting in the colosseum of life, you still play your part. However, it is your choice how you let this affect you. Some learn nothing, others become the better for it, and still some (hopefully few) become worse. From what I’ve noticed, Jewish people have definitely become the better for it. There is some kind of noticeable, electric bond between them. They stick together and they help each other. They create Jewish communities and they grow up together. I’ve never met a Jew who wasn’t excited to meet another Jew. It’s an incredible and enviable phenomenon. I wonder, could this bond have been created without the terrible suffering their ancestors endured?
I believe the strongest human bonds are the ones that come from joint suffering. Humans that have suffered together tend to connect in ways that others simply cannot. To feel terrible pain and know that you are not alone in feeling it is comforting and moving. I’ve always noticed that oppressed peoples tend to preserve their culture and relationships in ways others do not. Perhaps it is because they experienced terrible ordeals and not in spite of them. Negative events always have greater impacts than positive ones.
Today, we took a tour of the Jewish Ghetto. We were told about the forming of the Ghetto and the horrid conditions inside it. We were shown pictures of how it once looked. One picture in particular stuck with me. It was taken in the 16th century and was a picture of the same place I was staring at in that moment. But it looked completely different. It looked dirty and unsanitary. The walls were broken and crumbling –one particular wall to my right looked as if it had a bite taken out of it. There was cluttered hubris everywhere. It did not look livable. Having been told about the market that was once located in the Ghetto, I could almost smell the rotting fish in the street and hear the yellers of merchants. I could imagine the crowds of Jews walking in and out of their homes, up and down many flights of stairs since the only way they could expand their homes was up. Then, I tore my eyes away from the picture and turned to look at the Jewish woman who was giving us the tour. She was telling us these stories without asking us for pity or even understanding. She was telling us because she knew it. And thus, she seemed to become a part of the history. She became another piece in the puzzle of Judaism. I saw it in the way she spoke of the history and the religion, calling it “my” history and “my” religion. She prided herself on knowing about her past. It was as if she had been there to experience it herself. She owned it. You could see it in the way that she walked –the way that she seemed to know every corner and every brick of the Jewish Ghetto. It was in the look she got in her eyes when she spoke of Israel and the holy land. At the risk of sounding too judgmental, it was even in her physical appearance –her height, her clothing, her beautiful, messy, red hair, the curve of her nose, her accent, her teeth, and her mannerisms. To me, she was the most interesting part of that tour. Because in a way, she is the Jewish Ghetto.
Humans are so strange. The same two people who love each other one day can become mortal enemies the next. Not even family is sacred, as is evidenced in Roman history. How can an entire empire pride itself on having a creation myth that involves a man killing his brother because he is power-hungry and incapable of compromise? The story of Romulus and Remus should be something Romans are embarrassed about and not something that is proudly displayed all over the city. What about the colosseum? Just like Jews remember the holocaust when they remember Jewish history, so too Romans remember the colosseum when they think of Roman history –both are symbols of human suffering and pain. The colosseum is probably the most well-known and admired monument in all of Italy and yet it was an arena for killing –where slaves, men, women, cripples, and animals were forced to kill each other for the entertainment of others. It was disgusting, brutal, and shameful. Yet people love to hear about it. Books, songs, art, and movies have been made to recreate the horrid events that took place within its walls. The one movie the entire class enthusiastically agreed to watch was Gladiator. Few people were as enthusiastic for the movie about the Jewish holocaust. It appears humans love to watch movies about those that caused the suffering and not so much movies about those that did the suffering. Regardless, hundreds of movies have been made about both.
How do we justify this fascination with hatred, evil, and death? Are we intrigued simply by the idea of death or is the suffering that we admire? I’d like to believe humans are fascinated with suffering because it leads to an appreciation of life. One cannot experience true happiness without having experienced pain. In the case of the holocaust, I believe suffering has also lead to incredible friendships and bonds across the world. I believe that good can come from bad. However, it is often hard to separate the two… hard to separate true friends from false friends. My grandfather, while giving me advice for potentially the last time, told me that there is no such thing as a true friend. My grandfather is one of the happiest, nicest, most honest people I know. He is not a pessimist. If even he has lost his faith in the goodness of mankind…
What is a friendship? I have seen friends made and lost and made again. I do not know what friendship is. What is family? I have seen families torn apart. I see little reason for a man to love his lying, cheating, murdering brother above all else simply because they are connected by blood. There are no prerequisite for loving certain people. People should earn love –families and friends alike.
What is love?
I do not know. I only know that I see it all around me and that I believe it exists.
Ciao
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