When the Jewish Children’s Museum asked me to write a script for a short video for public school kids addressing antisemitism, my brain flashed back to a taxi ride on a cold November day. That experience shook me to the realization that holocaust education may not be as simple as it appears.
My perky, ginger-haired, young driver was just out of high school and obviously thrilled to have landed a job that yielded captive audiences for her chatter.
“You must be Jewish!” was her opening line.
She then treated me to a full oral presentation of her educational experience concerning Jews: a 12th-grade minicourse on the Holocaust. She recited facts and figures. She described the pictures, the movies, and the documents, all with some degree of accuracy.
For me, it was fascinating to hear how a girl from a small town in the Fraser Valley who had probably never knowingly spoken with a Jew in her life related to Jewish persecution.
Then, just before dropping me off at my destination, quite spontaneously, she twisted herself around to the back seat. We saw each other’s faces for the first time. In all innocence, she said, “You Jews must have done something real awful to deserve all that.”
You have to understand: She was not being obnoxious or aggressive. The human brain has a need to stuff everything it knows into tidy boxes. We call them explanations.
In her mind, the world must, in some way or another, be fair. If Jews had suffered so terribly, that also must be fair. They must have been bad. Maybe they still are.
That's why I decided we should find a better way to present ourselves. Instead of “We are the persecuted people”—which to many young minds means, “Looking for someone to persecute? Here we are!”— perhaps we should take the role G‑d gave us. Perhaps we should be a light unto the nations.
Instead of teaching about the evils of humankind, we should teach the sanctity of human life. Instead of asking to pity us as victims, we should teach dignity and heroism. Instead of teaching the destructive power of hatred, we should teach the endless power every human being has to change, no matter how low you've gone.
And so, together with Moshe and Getzel Raskin, and with masterful consultation from David Sacks, we produced this video.
After the first showing, to a fourth grade public school class at the Jewish Children’s Museum, the presenter asked the children who was their hero in the story. Most said it was the coach. But one child said, “Tommy!”
“Why Tommy?” the presenter asked. “Tommy did something bad.”
“But he turned himself around!” replied the child. “And the coach told him that now it looked even better than before.”
If that’s the impression it made on even one child, the production was well worthwhile.
Please, share it with the young people you know. Perhaps it will have the same effect. Let’s bring some sparks of light to the world.
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