a Holocaust survivor who forgave

[Earl]

Iâ??ve taken the liberty of copying and pasting the following article from a website for which I have chosen not to post a link. It was written by a clinical psychologist whose name I will not disclose. The reason why I am not giving this information is because I do not want to possibly end up being sued for libel. The reason for my caution will become apparent to you, dear reader, as you continue reading this post of mine.

As someone who now is a Christian, I must say that this inspirational article has the ring of truth. Some people have been deeply hurt by others. Some people have gone through unimaginably horrible experiences, such as the Holocaust survivor whom this psychologist has eulogized in the following article. Several of our forum members, not to mention others who have simply visited this website, were subjected to bullying of a particularly bitter kind when they were growing up.

Now get this, dear reader: I am a former patient of this psychologist. For decades I deeply resented him. When I was in the eighth grade, my parents decided that I needed to see a psychologist because I had become withdrawn and was clearly suffering emotionally. I was being picked on at school some, but that really was not the main cause of my inner misery. They sent me to this psychologist because he had a good reputation (which, in my opinion, was undeserved). Unfortunately, he did nothing to help me, and even hurt my mother by wrongfully laying a guilt trip on her. He also tried to make my dad feel bad about himself. The psychologist personally insulted me to the point of humiliation several times; and when I left his office for the last time (at the end of the summer following my graduation from high school), I was actually worse off than I was when I had first started seeing him. Talking to several other former patients of his, I found out that I was not alone. He had hurt them, too (perhaps not deliberately, but inadvertently). Actually, the man must have been clueless.

But I have come to the realization that nursing grudges against those who have hurt us is futile and even emotionally and mentally unhealthy. I no longer resent the psychologist or anyone else who has ever hurt me. I want my life to be more positive. Nursing grudges will not help toward that end. Believe me, Iâ??m not trying to run anyoneâ??s life. Iâ??m just trying to help in a small way. Those of us who have been deeply hurt by others should let go of the anger. I realize that doing this is hard for many people. As a Christian I believe that those who have hurt others will answer to God for what they have done when this life is over, and that I will also answer to God myself if I fail to serve Him to the best of my ability. If I were a secular guy, I would now be saying that when we nurse grudges against others, we are letting them affect us and have power over our lives. The fact is that these people are just not worth it.

When I was a boy, my dad used to tell me, â??Donâ??t let the bastards get you down.â? Since I thought that he did not know how I was feeling and that he did not understand what I was going through, I would mentally dismiss him for saying that. It sounded so trite to me at the time. But now I realize that my dad was giving me very sound advice of a profound nature. My dad was an extremely successful architect who socialized with politicians and astronauts. But he was not born to privilege. His mother was a difficult woman who was married five times. When he was a boy, my dad was badly bullied, and even contemplated dropping out of high school because he had a terrible stuttering problem. The point Iâ??m trying to make is that he had difficulties in life, but he overcame them. Many people loved my dad because he was so positive and considerate of others.

So, I offer this article from the website of a man toward whom I will no longer feel resentment. I hope that it will be an inspiration to you.
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If You Can't Remember, You Can't Forget Or Forgive
10/6/2008


I only met Sam once or twice, but on each occasion, I could not help but be struck by his gentle, kind, caring nature. When he spoke to you, he seemed totally and genuinely concerned about you. When you looked into his eyes, you could feel his emotions without him uttering a word. Because of that, you knew that he was a special kind of human being. Although he was small in stature and passive in nature, there was a silent strength about him and a depth of feeling that made him a formidable individual, one you couldnâ??t and wouldnâ??t want to readily forget. He was truly a man who left a lasting impression on everyone he touched and he touched everyone he met.

Sam was my best friendâ??s father. At his funeral, my friend, in his eulogy, described Samâ??s life. He spoke about Sam growing up in a Jewish stettle in Europe. How his father and grandfather were rabbis and Samâ??s goal was to follow in their footsteps. His heritage was one of learning. Knowledge of the Torah and the Mishnah were essential components of his upbringing, but his rabinical goals were thwarted by WWII. Eventually, he found himself in Auschwitz with his father and brother, who were both marched to the German showers that ended in their deaths. He survived years of incarceration, backbreaking work and demeaning treatment from fellow human beings. Much more could be told, but suffice to say, years later, when Sam arrived in the United States, he brought with him his love of God, his continuous desire to search for meaning and truths from Jewish literature and history, and a fervent calling to repeat the story of the Holocaust and his experiences to generations of youngsters, who he felt had to know and remember what took place in nazi Germany, so that it could never happen again.

Throughout the years prior to his death, Sam expressed no hostility, no resentment, no criticism of the people who had mistreated him. Instead, he â??turned the other cheekâ?. Not out of weakness, but out of strength. He had the wherewithal to forgive and show compassion to others, possibly because he never forgot the mistreatment he experienced in his own life. Needless to say, Sam was loved by everyone he met, no matter what profession, what level of society or what ethnic or religious background they were from.

I tell you all this because a strange thing happened at Shiva services the first night. Prior to the service, a member of the family took a small picture of Sam and his granddaughter and placed it on the table next to where the rabbi would be standing. I, however, suggested that there was a much larger picture of Sam, with his arms folded, in the living room and that, perhaps, that was the one that should be there, since everyone could see it. The individual, in all sincerity and kindness said, â??No, that picture kind of creeps me out, because, in plain sight, you can see his concentration camp number tattooed on his forearm.â? I understood where he was coming from, but I thought Sam wouldnâ??t have been ashamed of those numbers. Instead, I imagine that Sam could look down at them and say, â??Thatâ??s part of me, part of my past, part of my heritage, part of my history. When I look at it, it reminds me of how cruel human beings can be to one another and it says to me, â??thereâ??s a better way to treat our fellow human beingsâ??.â? In a way, I believe that his acceptance and remembrance of what took place in his past enabled him to profit from it, to never lose sight of the goodness and kindness and generosity we each have within us, feelings that we can share with one another during the time we spend our lives on earth.

I know that, psychologically speaking, those of us who canâ??t openly look at their pasts, their hurts and their emotional scars never have the opportunity to deal with their feelings. As a result, the past they effectively hide on the surface eventually erodes them on them inside. It affects the way they interact and deal with others in their world and often results in negative, nonconstructive behavior. In contrast, those individuals who can face their feelings, experience their hurt, feel their anger and resentment and forgive and let them go, behave in ways that demonstrate that they profited from their past. They can be considered the healthy individuals in the world.

I also know that, following my friendâ??s eulogy, many individuals at the service went away feeling, â??Here was a man who was known for his good deeds. Here was a man of whom no amount of words could adequately describe the mitzvahs he demonstrated throughout his life. Here was a man to be emulated, whose life was, in itself, a lesson for how everyone should live their lives.

But, thereâ??s one problem. Similar to so many resolutions people make, we tend to forget them. That being the case, perhaps we all need a â??Samâ? to remind us, by example, to do kind deeds, to love, care and share warm emotions and concern for others. Someone to help us remember that good intentions arenâ??t enough, we must express feelings verbally, act kindly and give of ourselves to others.

Sam was a man who lived in accordance with the words of Jacob Philip Rudin: When we are dead and people weep for us and grieve, let it be because we touched their lives with beauty and simplicity. Let it not be said that life was good to us but, rather, that we were good to life.