From Sunday evening until last night, Tuesday evening, 11:00 p.m., I did not read De Telegraaf or RD, did not listen to the radio, and did not touch my laptop because of Shavuot. And what happened? A cabinet crisis! Could my presence, I almost asked myself, have prevented the fall of the cabinet? And if the answer is no, why do I follow the news closely and try to warn in my diaries against a society that is becoming sickly polarized and where the joke, “Who is to blame, the lamppost or the Jew? What do you mean, the lamppost?’, is no longer a joke at all.
Exactly one week ago, as a participant and co-organizer, I was in Auschwitz with more than 250 European rabbis. On Monday and Tuesday in Krakow, there were lectures and presentations on various rabbinical topics, and of course anti-Semitism was discussed at length. It was unanimously decided that we, the EU Rabbis, will not abandon our posts and will do everything in our power to preserve Judaism in Europe. The conference concluded on Wednesday with a visit to Auschwitz-Birkenau and an impressive commemoration at the monument near the gas chambers and ovens… in the presence of the two Chief Rabbis of Israel.
A person is obliged to thank God as much for bad news as for good news, as the Mishnah, the Oral Law, teaches us. Everything ultimately comes from Above, even the unexpected negative, even the sum of all evil, even Auschwitz. Is that comprehensible to our human minds? No! But should I therefore sit back and give evil free rein? The Jewish answer to that impossible question is a resounding no! And that is precisely the central idea of Shavuot, the Festival of Weeks. On Shavuot, we remember that more than three thousand years ago, the Jewish people stood at Mount Sinai to receive the Torah from God. The Torah teaches us how to live, as people among ourselves and as human beings in relation to God. But before the Torah lesson begins, the Creation is described. In the beginning, God created the heavens and the earth (Bereishit-Genesis 1:1). We must accept Creation; we can understand that it took place, but imagining the creatio ex nihilis, how our world came into being out of nothing, is a matter that completely transcends the human mind. The Torah was given to us as a gift from Above. A gift is something you receive, like an inheritance; it comes as it comes, and you have no influence over its content. But how you accept the gift, how you deal with it, is up to you. If a person unexpectedly falls ill, it comes from Above and he must accept it. But at the same time, Jewish law, the Halacha, the Torah, obliges him to fight the illness and go to the doctor. The Auschwitz of the past is incomprehensible, and the rapidly advancing anti-Semitism of today is far from rational. But let one thing be clear: evil must be fought, looking away is not acceptable, and accepting and succumbing to mental and physical blackmail is certainly not acceptable.
The following heartfelt cry landed in my laptop’s inbox: “I am deeply ashamed because I see what many dare not see. Because I feel what many push away. Because, in the year 2025, hatred against Jews is growing again like weeds in a forgotten field — openly, brutally, and in full bloom. And almost no one seems to really care anymore. It affects me. It hurts me. Because this is not just anything. This is the foundation of our civilization that is slowly crumbling while we collectively pretend it is not happening. The freedom to be who you are, to believe what you want, to live carefree in this country that was once synonymous with tolerance — it is all at stake. And where are the watchdogs of our democracy? The media? The schools? The judges? The politicians? They are asleep. Or worse: they are contributing to the normalization of hatred. Under the guise of “diversity” and “understanding,” extremes are tolerated, perpetrators are protected, and victims are ignored. Everything is left-wing. Everything is politically correct. Everything must be destroyed, it seems. My grandfather would turn in his grave. He was a member of the Dutch resistance. He risked his life for our freedom. He flew as a gunner through bullets and fire to fight against the tyranny of that time. Because he believed in something greater: a free Netherlands. A country where no one will be oppressed, no one hunted down, no one murdered for who they are. And look at us now. How we are squandering that freedom. How cowardly we remain silent when people are verbally abused, threatened, or worse, simply because they are Jewish. As if we have learned nothing. As if it doesn’t still start with words. But let one thing be clear. I will never remain silent. I will never look away. I will never bow down. I stand for the freedom of every person in the Netherlands. Whether you are Jewish, Christian, Muslim, atheist, straight, gay, black, white, or whatever — everyone has a right to freedom. To safety. To a future. And anyone who doesn’t understand that is no longer thinking. They have been brainwashed. Indoctrinated by a world in which truth no longer matters, and principles have been traded for political lies. But I will keep fighting. Like my grandfather fought. With words. With truth. With courage. Because freedom is too precious to forget. And too sacred to surrender for a lame excuse. So yes, I am ashamed. But I will not be broken. Freedom dies in silence. But I know no silence. I have a voice, which I will make heard loud and clear…”
Thank you, unknown writer, for your warm and encouraging words. I will follow you and make my voice and my words heard wherever I can. Am Yisrael Chai – the Jewish people live and will survive, despite all the opposition throughout the centuries.
