will it happen again?

Today Jonah and I participated in a Yom HaShoah ceremony by reading some of the names of those who died in the Holocaust. Many of my relatives died in the Holocaust.

Every time I walk the streets of the oldest parts of Prague, I think about this:

At the outbreak of World War II, over 92,000 Jews lived in Prague, almost 20 percent of the city’s population. Prague was one of the largest Jewish communities in Europe. At least two-thirds of the Jewish population of Prague perished in the Holocaust (. . .) More than a quarter of a million Czechoslovak Jews were murdered in the Holocaust and more than 60 synagogues in the Czech lands were destroyed.

My father's parents, both Jewish, were concentration camp survivors. My mother's grandfather was also. He was a political prisoner. A communist. I think about how lucky I am to be alive and how lucky that my son is here.

Jonah was one of the only children at the commemoration in the big Square of Peace, or Náměstí Míru. Though I didn't plan to meet up with anyone there, after I read my page of names, my father walked up to me. He was there too, as was my maternal grandmother.

While I read the names of the victims into the microphone, I held Jonah, who surprised me by speaking softly and shyly into the microphone as I spoke. After each name, I said the year and camp of the person's death, followed by a word explaining the person's death - in most cases "zavražděna," or "murdered." I couldn't make out what Jonah was saying so quietly, but the word I heard him repeat over and over was "zavřena," which means closed.

I tried to explain to him the significance of this memorial, in a way that a three-year-old can grasp. He asked many questions like: "Why did they put them in prison?" and "Why didn't they like them?" and "Did I die in a war?" and "Did you die?"

Finally, after I satisfactorily explained the basic concept of what happened during the war, which he understood as he is already fascinated with weapons, fighting, and wrestling, he asked: "Will it happen again?"

I wish I could say that it won't and it isn't. I said that I will protect him and that I hope it will never happen again, knowing all too well that genocide, hatred and war are still rampant today.

I not only remembered the Jews who perished at the hand of the Nazis. There were also political prisoners, the Roma (Gypsies), gays and lesbians, and religious men and women.

Today, fascism still plagues the Czech Republic as well as many other parts of the world. Just last Sunday there was a neo-Nazi march in a city in the north of the Czech Republic, where I lived as a little girl. Around 300 fascists marched, flanked by 1250 police, most in riot gear.

Just two days ago, a molotov cocktail thrown through a window of a house in a small Czech town, severely burned a Roma family, including a two-year-old child. Such hate crimes are on the rise here and across Europe and the United States.

I want to do my part to curb hate and oppression. Somehow. I try, but I still feel compelled to try harder.