Memorial to the Murdered Jews of Europe

On Sunday, we had a lackluster bus tour of Berlin. Lackluster in the sense that it was very difficult to grasp a hold of these important buildings, sites and landmarks in German and world history from the lush seat of a tour bus. One of the few spots where we were able to get off the bus was at the Memorial to the Murdered Jews of Europe in the heart of Berlin.

Our tour guide explained that the memorial contains 2,711 concrete slabs, and as we could see, they were arranged on a grid pattern, sloping up and down. There has been a lot of controversy surrounding the memorial. One thing that struck me is that the concrete slabs were protected by an anti-grafitti chemical. Halfway through completion of the project, it was discovered that the same company that produced xyclon-b, the chemical that was used in the gas chambers to poison prisoners in the death camps, also produced this exact chemical. The project was in the midst of completion and while surrounded in controversy, they moved forward.

The moment that our guide mentioned this, I smelled a chemical smell and got nauseous. Besides the fact that the memorial was emotionless, stale and lacked any personification, I felt as if it was almost mocking the victims.

We spent about 3 minutes wandering through the chaotic blocks. With a sense of haste, I knew I had to return.

And this is what I did earlier today. While I was with several people from my group, they all hurried to the other side of the memorial to enter to the Information Center, which I eventually made my way about 20 minutes later. In the meantime, I walked through the path surrounded by concrete slabs that got increasingly larger. While I didn't gain any sense of personality or emotion from an extended experience in the memorial, I was impressed by its architecture. I took a few pictures and added my own personality through color.

After I wandered through, I visited the Information Center underneath the memorial. Once inside, a sense of order was restored. It was cool (very well air conditioned to contrast the strong Berlin sun), modern (clean white lines), and welcoming (free). Immediately I noticed a powerful quote by Primo Levi, author and Holocaust Survivor.

The information center personified the blocks upstairs. One room reflected stories from various prisoners' journals somehow kept from during the war. The room that struck me the most told stories of individual families. The stories covered families from a variety of regions in Europe, families from Poland, Greece, Germany, Russia and many many others. They detailed the family's means of living through profession, religious and cultural affiliations and talked about each family member. These people were normal families with different aspirations and from various social spheres, but what guided them was their faith, and moreover their Jewish heritage. They were all Jewish. It didn't matter at what level; it mattered more their Jewish lineage. The memorial did such a beautiful job detailing the important aspects of each family that I could not bring myself to stop reading.

I was pressed for time and needed to be back at the hotel by a certain time to make our next activity. I felt such a strong sense of obligation to the families outlined in the information center that I read each story. Sometimes twice. Every time I stopped reading one story, I said to myself, OK, time to move on. But I glanced quickly at the next family and my heart sank. I had to read their story. If I didn't read it, who would? The least I could do for them was to learn a piece of their story.

I felt so moved that I purchased the book that contained the materials from the information center.

While I am still very mixed on the Memorial in the fresh air, I am proud that such justice was done to the victims downstairs.