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Pa«* 4 THE SOUTHERN ISRAELITE April 28, 1978
( Tk® Israelite ]
The Weekly News payer far Southern Jewry
Our 544h Year
Jack Geld bar): Editor * Publisher
Vida Goldgar: Min>pii{ Editor
J Allen Anderson: Advertising Director
Published erery Friday by The Southern Israelite. Inc
Second Clast pottage paid at Atlanta. Go. Publication Vo 776060
Mailing Address: P. O. Boa 77J88. Atlanta. Georgia 50.157
Locatioa: 188 15th St.. N. W.
Phone: (4<M) 875-8248
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Subscriptions: $12.50-1 year. S2S.00-2'* yean
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Guest editorial
Genocide treaty
During the week of April 16, “The Holocaust” appeared on
stations from coast to coast. This gripping tale related the horrors
of genocide—the destruction, in whole or in part, of a racial,
national, ethnic, or religious group—which occurred in Nazi
Germany, where six million Jews were exterminated during
World War II.
The most common question people ask when they see so
moving a story is, “What can I do? How can we act to ensure that
this horrible crime will never occur again?” All too often the
answer is that there is nothing we can do.
But this is not the case. There is a treaty pending before the
United States Senate which would make the commission of
genocide an international crime. Eighty-two countries have
ratified this Genocide Convention, which seeks to guarantee
the most basic of all human rights, the right to live.
President Truman signed the treaty 30 years ago, and since then
presidents Eisenhower, Kennedy, Johnson, Nixon, Ford, and
most recently President Carter have all urged the Senate to ratify
it. The time has long since come for the United States, a world
leader in human rights, to show its support for this treaty.
Genocide is a crime which is still being committed today by
barbaric regimes in Uganda and Cambodia. I hope that all those
who feel that this country should join in condemning genocide will
write their senators and urge them to declare their support for the
Genocide Convention. Let’s act to be sure there is never another
“holocaust,” either like that of the Nazis in Germany or the
Communists in Cambodia.
William Proxmire
U.S. Senator, Wis.
Jack Redaction
Seder memories
The Passover seder is unique. Think about it. What
other religion would combine the enjoyment of a
festive meal with a recitation of the story of an
important event in Jewish history?
Only Jews, it seems to me, could
juxtapose a sense of history with a
penchant for having a good time.
The seder is an event I look
forward to each year and one that
has become very close to my heart.
This year was no different. Our
large family sat down at
a long, long narrow table and after
the usual greetings and kisses of
relatives who had not seen each
other since the last seder, the ceremony began.
Everything was ready: the Seder Plate; the three
matzo; the wine; the salt water, the Cup of Elijah; and
the pillow for the leader’s chair.
The kiddush began and, as usual, someone spilled
his wine. There is a sort of unwritten lottery each year
to see who will be the schlemiet to spill the wine and
after much scurrying around by this year’s schlemiel
mopping up the flowing red river that always seems to
find its way into someone’s lap, the kiddush was
finally chanted.
As you know, wine is drunk in a reclining position
and some of the participants never really seem to
straighten up after that. As the evening wears on, there
is more and more leaning to the left and voices become
just a little louder.
The washing of the hands, eating of the karpas.
breaking of the matzo and elevation of the matzo plate
usually proceeds smoothly.
But then comes the Four Questions and the first of
many psychological problems arise. The “little
darling” who has practiced assiduously for weeks,
decides “I don’t wanna say it," and crawls under the
table. There is an atiempt by the mother to pull the
reluctant Four Questioner out again but this is usually
to no avail and anolder, more experienced questioner
is pressed into action.
The four questions are soberly answered by the
leader and a responsive reading of the story of
Passover is begun. There is the annual anxiety over
who will read the parts of the “wicked son” and the
“simple son” and—as fate would have it—the match
up always seems somehow appropriate.
At this point there is often a flipping of the pages to
determine when the next cup of wine it to be drunk.
prompted, perhaps, by the constant raising of the cup
and then putting it back down again, undrunk. This
can become very frustrating.
Recitation of the ten plagues is always a highlight
(“DOM" is the cry that rings around the table), with
vociferous dipping of the fingers into cups of wine.
The bitter herb sandwich, invented by Rabbi Hitlel,
is greeted with much grimacing and soothing
reminders that the bitterness will mean a “sweet year.”
Then finally—and blissfully—comes the “festive
meal”; gefilte fish; matzo ball soup; baked chicken;
carrots and potatos. While the adults partake of this
feast, the children run amuck looking for the
afikomen, spurred on by promises of exhorbitant
prices by the leader.
Woe unto the child who is unsuccessful in finding
the afikomen! There are tears and recriminations
among those who are unsuccessful and much crowing
by those who find the elusive matzo. There is also a
chance the losers will collect as well, for as years have
passed the leader seems to become steadily more soft
hearted and is in the habit of doling out money and
rewards even to those who have been unsuccessful.
After the business dealings of the afikomen have
been completed, the leader’s job is to get everyone
back to the table for the conclusion of the seder. This
is not easy. The heavy meal, combined with wine,
produces a kind of magical, soporific lethargy.
But back to the haggadahs and soon, leaning ever
more to the left, the third cup of wine is downed. The
door is then opened to allow Elijah to enter and
everyone watches his cup carefully to detect any
movement—a sort of Close Encounter of the Jewish
kind. This usually produces a spate of singing, both
individual and group, finally followed by the fourth
cup of wine and the wish that “the following year grant
us to be in Jerusalem.” Everyone agrees this is a good
idea.
1 Then comes the wildly uninhibited singing of A
Deer Hu and the famous tongue-twisting of Chad Gad
Yaw. Then haggadahs are closed and the seder is
officially over.
There is nothing, in my opinion, to rival the
Passover seder. There is frivolity, of course, but there
is also a combination of reverence and family
gemutlich which is balanced nicely by singing, wine-
drinking and a free-spirited joy of living.
There are all too few occasions like this and I always
find myself saddened when the seder ends.
Reflections on Holocaust
by Father Noel Burtenshaw
Yad Vas hem is a memorial to
the dead. But it’s a nice one and
people like to go there. Even
children go. They look and they
study. And they promise never to
forget. They never will. Never.
The sun that rises over Tel Aviv
strikes the monument with telling
rays. It glistens as its marble
spendor sparkles. Inside there is no
sparkle, just panorama visions of
the horror of the Holocaust.
Startling reminders that the excuse
of a World War permitted the
world to watch a genocidal
attempt. It was fifty percent
successful.
The extermination of six million
Jews did take place. We think of
the camps, those hell-holes that
dictated the last chapter of Hitler’s
Final Solution. Like suffering
servants they were led to a
poisonous slaughter. Men, women
and children, without pity or
distinction, were driven to the
fumes. Without human com
passion they were Med by the
furious discrimination of men
gone wild. All because they were
Abraham's offspring—Jews,
clinging to their heritage.
Father Burtenshaw
But the plan was in full swing
before Belsen or Auschwitz. As the
mighty German panzer blitzkrieg
swept into Russia, already leach
like commandos were hot on 'heir
tracks to mop up the ghettos hey
passed. Hundreds of thousands,
marked with the Star of David,
faced the bullet and the forgotten
graves of road side ditches.
Mesmerized by the stark brutality,
Jews marched into the machine
gun hail unprotesting. The
Warsaw ghetto uprising brought
an end to the weakness. Belief in
the inhumanity dawned.
The answer was escape. “Next
year in Jerusalem" was the cry.
Forbidden entry to the ancient
homeland of Palestine, they
persisted, and illegal aliens were
bom. Nothing would send them
back, not the mighty presence of a
colonial empire, not the numerical
sprawl of their ancient Arab
brothers. Nothing. No power
could force that awful reentry.
Israel was conceived. The birth
was painful, but smooth compared
with the Holocaust of Europe.
Other small nations had found
existence. Colonialism was dying.
But none of them was motivated
like this sandy stretch in the
Middle East. It was buih on the
memory of the Holocaust.
The Nation of Israel lives with
energy and strength. Super-power
consultation is always present but
never necessary. The motivation
and memory of the Holocaust is
food for life. It will never happen
again. A homeland has been
found. The Star of David is no
longer worn, it is flown. The
symbol of the nonrecurring
chapter is Yad Vashem.
And it is a memorial to the dead.
CicArgM Bulltii"