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Authors: James M. Glass
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territories. Villages that had existed for hundreds of years were overrun in a single day.
Yitzhok Rudashevski, a fifteen-year-old boy, describes in his diary the deteriorating psychological conditions within the Vilna ghetto. It is a vivid account of the sapping of will and the destruction of spirit. Referring to the yellow work permits the Judenrate distributed, which assured a greater chance of survival and larger food rations, he writes: ‘The people, helpless creatures, stagger around in little streets. Like animals sensing the storm, everyone is looking for a place to hide, to save his life.’ People lie in the streets ‘like rags in the dirt’; how easy, he observes, it is to break the human spirit: ‘I think: into what kind of helpless, broken creature can man be trans formed? I am at my wits’ end. I begin to feel very nauseated.’ 34 Referring to the struggle for life, Rudashevski despairs of ever again seeing real human empathy. ‘To save one’s own life at any price, even at the price of our brothers who are leaving us. To save one’s own life and not attempt to defend it … The point of view of our dying passively like sheep … our tragic fragmentation, our helpless ness.’ 35 Ponary, the execution site outside the ghetto, is ‘soaked in Jewish blood,’ but the ‘mass … goes blindly.’ 36
He refers to the ‘blind mass of Jews’; 37 everyone is exhausted. ‘From the hideouts people emerge like corpses, pale, dirty, with black rings under their eyes.’ 38 There are recurring images of little children stealing, their fingers turning blue in the cold, families fighting for scraps of bread. ‘Brother was forced to beat brother and to take away from him the morsel of bread which he brings weary with toil to his family.’ 39 Theology brings no relief; but religious custom does:
‘I am as far from religion now [on the eve of Yom Kippur] as before the ghetto. Nevertheless, this holiday drenched in blood and sorrow which is solemnized in the ghetto, now penetrates my heart… . The hearts which have turned to stone in the grip of ghetto woes did not have time to weep their fill … poured out all their bitterness.’ 40
The ghetto demonstrates not heroism but sickness, death and numbness. Child vendors: ‘frozen, carrying the little stands on their backs, they push toward the tiny corner that is lit up. They stand there [for hours] … and then they disappear with their trays into the black little ghetto streets.’ 41 But they return: and the ‘next day you see them again at the sad light, how they knock one foot against the other and breathe into their frozen hands … frost-bitten blue little fingers … hands tremble, her whole little body shakes … ragged urchins with burning little eyes.’ 42
When workshops are closed, creating ‘panting and desperate workers … disheveled and distracted,’ 43 or people laid off, panic grips the ghetto. ‘People run, people beg not to be discharged; they try using “pull”, they cheat, they intrigue. And this commotion is carried over into the house. You keep hearing only about layoffs and certificates and the same thing all over again. People have lost the knack of thinking about anything else.’ 44 The loss of livelihood and the possibility of starvation ravages family life in the ghetto, ‘a large swamp in which we lose our days and selves,’ and pulls people away from engagement.
Dr. Szwajger describes the consequences of this continual assault on the self. ‘Deep in our souls, we were all changing, not as children grow to youth with its awakening dreams of romance, nor as men and women pass from the busy activity of maturity to the calm wisdom of age.’ Individuals were forced to suffer ‘too many shocks, too many horrors, too many changes of the kind that age one even in youth.’ 45 The self withers: ‘After a while one can no longer weep, no longer love, no longer grieve. Sensibility is numbed, emotions dry up.’ 46
A little
Yitzhok Rudashevski, a fifteen-year-old boy, describes in his diary the deteriorating psychological conditions within the Vilna ghetto. It is a vivid account of the sapping of will and the destruction of spirit. Referring to the yellow work permits the Judenrate distributed, which assured a greater chance of survival and larger food rations, he writes: ‘The people, helpless creatures, stagger around in little streets. Like animals sensing the storm, everyone is looking for a place to hide, to save his life.’ People lie in the streets ‘like rags in the dirt’; how easy, he observes, it is to break the human spirit: ‘I think: into what kind of helpless, broken creature can man be trans formed? I am at my wits’ end. I begin to feel very nauseated.’ 34 Referring to the struggle for life, Rudashevski despairs of ever again seeing real human empathy. ‘To save one’s own life at any price, even at the price of our brothers who are leaving us. To save one’s own life and not attempt to defend it … The point of view of our dying passively like sheep … our tragic fragmentation, our helpless ness.’ 35 Ponary, the execution site outside the ghetto, is ‘soaked in Jewish blood,’ but the ‘mass … goes blindly.’ 36
He refers to the ‘blind mass of Jews’; 37 everyone is exhausted. ‘From the hideouts people emerge like corpses, pale, dirty, with black rings under their eyes.’ 38 There are recurring images of little children stealing, their fingers turning blue in the cold, families fighting for scraps of bread. ‘Brother was forced to beat brother and to take away from him the morsel of bread which he brings weary with toil to his family.’ 39 Theology brings no relief; but religious custom does:
‘I am as far from religion now [on the eve of Yom Kippur] as before the ghetto. Nevertheless, this holiday drenched in blood and sorrow which is solemnized in the ghetto, now penetrates my heart… . The hearts which have turned to stone in the grip of ghetto woes did not have time to weep their fill … poured out all their bitterness.’ 40
The ghetto demonstrates not heroism but sickness, death and numbness. Child vendors: ‘frozen, carrying the little stands on their backs, they push toward the tiny corner that is lit up. They stand there [for hours] … and then they disappear with their trays into the black little ghetto streets.’ 41 But they return: and the ‘next day you see them again at the sad light, how they knock one foot against the other and breathe into their frozen hands … frost-bitten blue little fingers … hands tremble, her whole little body shakes … ragged urchins with burning little eyes.’ 42
When workshops are closed, creating ‘panting and desperate workers … disheveled and distracted,’ 43 or people laid off, panic grips the ghetto. ‘People run, people beg not to be discharged; they try using “pull”, they cheat, they intrigue. And this commotion is carried over into the house. You keep hearing only about layoffs and certificates and the same thing all over again. People have lost the knack of thinking about anything else.’ 44 The loss of livelihood and the possibility of starvation ravages family life in the ghetto, ‘a large swamp in which we lose our days and selves,’ and pulls people away from engagement.
Dr. Szwajger describes the consequences of this continual assault on the self. ‘Deep in our souls, we were all changing, not as children grow to youth with its awakening dreams of romance, nor as men and women pass from the busy activity of maturity to the calm wisdom of age.’ Individuals were forced to suffer ‘too many shocks, too many horrors, too many changes of the kind that age one even in youth.’ 45 The self withers: ‘After a while one can no longer weep, no longer love, no longer grieve. Sensibility is numbed, emotions dry up.’ 46
A little
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