Believing the Unbelievable: Berlin at 80

I was in Berlin, Germany, on May 8th; the 80th anniversary of the day that German forces surrendered unconditionally to the Allies, marking the end of WW2 in Europe. This day is sometimes referred to as “VE Day” (Victory in Europe Day). What a fitting place to be for this momentous occasion.

I have been in Berlin twice before. My first visit, in the summer of 1963 when I was 15 years old, was as part of a “teen tour” of Europe. Asleep in a Berlin hotel, I was awakened by gunfire. The construction of the Berlin Wall (at first, a barbed wire fence) began in August 1961 and in the years following, many people were shot as they tried to escape from East into West Berlin.

My second visit was 24 years ago, as part of a small group from the US Holocaust Memorial Museum, visiting historic sites in Eastern Europe that included memorials, museums, and several concentration camps. Sachsenhausen, one such camp near Berlin, is in the village of Oranienburg. It began as a slave labor camp for “political prisoners” with many subcamps. Still visible are barracks and the ruins of buildings in which remain the remnants of a gas chamber, medical experimentation areas, torture and killing areas, and several crematoria. Prisoners were treated inhumanely, inadequately fed, and openly killed. If you are reading this article, you probably know the list of who would be considered enemies of the state. A partial list includes those against the Reich whether they were Christian, Protestant, Jewish, Coptic, Roma, Communists, Gays, and anyone who was perceived to be mentally or physically disabled. This camp, not unlike others, was not on the outskirts of town. It was in the town. An alleyway separates the town from the gates to the camp with the words “Arbeit Macht Frei” (Work Sets You Free) welded into the gate. This place was not hidden. Quite the contrary, it was wide open to view and more importantly to odor. With several crematoria where bodies were burned, the smell and the ash wafted over the town, falling onto people’s rose gardens as well as onto the town residents themselves.

But I digress. Twenty four years ago, when I visited this camp, there was a person with us who, as a young man, had been a prisoner in Sachsenhausen. Somehow, miraculously, he survived. A Christian man, he had been a journalist, soon to be married, but that did not happen. It was a privilege to see the camp through his eyes, and listen as he recounted his experiences, some of which he had thought he buried along with his fellow inmates.

This was a sacred place whose stories were told to keep alive the memory of those who perished and those who survived. For decades after the war ended, “Never Again” was repeated to ensure that this kind of unleashed hatred and vitriol, resulting in these sorts of inhuman actions, would never happen again. And most of us in the world were confident that nothing like this could ever happen again!

This visit was different.

First, I am different. I am 24 years older. What I try to convince myself of is “unbelievable.” I need to believe.

Second, the world is different. Hatred, vitriol, and cruelty have become normalized. The vile antisemitic tropes that were used to degrade and denigrate people are not only ripe, but they are blossoming. Regrettably, in many places, they are in full bloom. This kind of hate flourishes on the dark web, and in the full light of day. Repulsive speech and actions have become acceptable. Throughout the world we see the rise of political parties with slogans reminiscent of a world which we thought could never be resurrected. And not only is it resurrected, but these parties have also gained representation in congresses and parliaments in the same countries where brave citizens sacrificed and fought against this to make the world safe for all.

Third, the camp is not the same. Shockingly, there are some people who visit the camp, stand next to the crematory ruins, on the rim of the entrance of the first experiment for a gas chamber, beside the remains of a barracks, who say: “this did not happen.” When you tell a lie often enough, people tend to believe it. That’s what happened prior to and during World War II. And in many parts of our world, it is happening now.

I am at a time in my life when more people than not ask me “When are you going to retire?” Here’s my response. Not only am I not going to retire, I am also committing to rededicate myself to engaging in education programs and social justice issues concerning basic human rights related to antisemitism and anti-LGBTQ hatred. All in, in my “golden years” I will not stand by and silently witness the normalization of hatred.

I write this article with both a heavy and a hopeful heart. When I say things are unbelievable, I reinforce in my own mind that I shouldn’t believe them. I am awake to the reality and the knowledge that I must believe what I see, hear, and witness. When I believe it, I will be able to address it in ways that, hopefully, will change where we are, and where we can go as a civil society.

We can choose hate, or we can choose to stand up to hate. We can be silent, or we can call people out when they say or do things that are rooted in prejudice and hate. Each of us can use our voice and our platform for good. We can choose to make excuses for bad behavior, or we can call it out. We can acquaint ourselves with history. We can familiarize ourselves with the consequences when hate is permitted to run amok. We can call out when we see lies presented as truth. And we can challenge people who are fearful or intimidated into saying and behaving in ways that are unacceptable.

When we sit by as people are being dehumanized, referred to as the “other,” we are at the entrance to the gates of Hell. I went through those gates as a tourist. I’ve listened to and read testimonies, seen films and photographs of what Hell looks like. If we consider ourselves members of the human race, we need to take that membership seriously and be aware of what it means to be human. To have hope in the future we need to discover compassion within and speak out against antisemitism and all forms of hate. We cannot excuse the inexcusable and we must believe the unbelievable.

Dealing with Crisis: A Compassionate Guide

In life’s most challenging moments, how we respond influences both our immediate wellbeing and long-term recovery. Crises arrive uninvited, testing our resilience when we feel most vulnerable. The following tips offer guidance through the turbulence, toward steadier ground.

Remain Calm: When crisis emerges, take a gentle body scan—notice your breathing, pulse, and physical sensations. Do not judge, just observe. Then begin to breathe and focus on your breath. The key is to avoid panic. When we panic, we cannot solve problems effectively. The goal is to think clearly while being aware of what is happening in your body. During this process, pause, take more slow, deep breaths. For some people, repeating prayers that offer solace, doing mindful practice, mindfulness, or engaging playfully with a pet can help.

Assess The Situation: From this centered state notice where you are physically, mentally, and emotionally. Then, identify the elements defining the crisis. What risks exist? What consequences might follow different actions? This assessment doesn’t require perfect information—only honest recognition of what is known and unknown in this moment.

Create Safety: Do what you need to get out of harm’s way. Look around, listen attentively, and notice your surroundings with fresh eyes. Take actions that move you toward greater security, extending this same protective attention to others if they’re with you.

Gather Your Support Circle: Reach out to those whose compassion brings calm—trusted friends, family members, professionals, or others who have walked similar paths. Seek those who offer the support you need rather than imposing what they believe you should want. Throughout the situation, maintain connection with beloved others. Consider engaging in creative activities that redirect mental energy—photography, gardening, music, reading, or writing—offering your mind the opportunity to “reset.”

Communicate with Transparency: Share information others need to hear to assist you, especially during medical emergencies when providers need accurate knowledge of your condition to offer effective care with minimal risk. Honest communication about symptoms, relevant medical history, concerns, and needs, creates the foundation for receiving proper assistance.

Create a Crisis Plan: Consider creating a simple emergency kit kept in your vehicle or near an exit. Maintain accessible records of essential medications, identification, and emergency contacts—both digitally and physically. Identify people who might assist with temporary housing, caregiving, pet-care, or other practical needs that could arise.

Honor Your Fundamental Needs: In crisis, the basics become precious: adequate rest, nourishment, hydration, and moments of quiet. Reflect on what essentials you require and consider how to ensure access to these necessities even during disruption. Tending to these fundamental needs becomes an act of self-compassion during challenging times.

Remember that getting through times of crisis times isn’t about handling everything perfectly. It’s about showing up as best we can, being kind to ourselves, and figuring things out as we go. Sometimes the hardest moments teach us what we’re made of and connect us more deeply to what matters. We might surprise ourselves with what we can handle, even when it feels impossible at first.

Saying Thank You

I’ve co-authored a book about kindness. I believe deeply in the lasting effects of love. It is in that context that I share my own daily habit. Each morning, I say thank you for another day and ask for an opportunity to make a difference in this world.

To that end, I look for signs of connection to those who came before me – a robin reminds me that my father is near, a butterfly reminds me of my mother. I feel their presence and listen for their guidance. Certain songs transport me to moments in my past, conjuring places, people, and, sometimes, lessons learned.

This daily habit provides continuity to my life. I’m grateful that my journey has been a healthy one so far. Though everything is unpredictable, I express gratitude however I can and move through the world appreciating all the companions I’ve known along the way.