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Revisiting "A Survivor from Warsaw"

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On this July 4th, I am disillusioned, like so many others in this country. I am disillusioned by the abductions that are happening all around us and right before our eyes. I am disillusioned by the unwillingness of those in power to fight back against such evil, and moreover, I am disillusioned by those who advocate for this evil. I've tried to think of something to write amidst this, perhaps related to this holiday or the faith that I hold so dear. But, nothing I can write today would compare to the Schoenberg's cantata, "A Survivor from Warsaw." So, in this post, I give you the lyrics of his powerful piece. I encourage you to read them along as you listen to it, and I pray that you and I may fully hear him.

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I cannot remember everything. I must have been unconscious most of the time. I remember only the grandiose moment when they all started to sing, as if prearranged, the old prayer they had neglected for so many years - the forgotten creed! But I have no recollection how I got underground to live in the sewers of Warsaw for so long a time.

The day began as usual: Reveille when it still was dark. Get out! Whether you slept or whether worries kept you awake the whole night. You had been separated from your children, from your wife, from your parents; you don't know what happened to them - how could you sleep?

The trumpets again - Get out! The sergeant will be furious! They came out: some very slow: the old ones, the sick ones; some with nervous agility. They fear the sergeant. They hurry as much as they can. In vain! Much too much noise, much too much commotion - and not fast enough! The Feldwebel shouts: "Stand at attention! Hurry up! Or do you want to feel the butt of my gun? Okay, you've asked for it!" The sergeant and his subordinates hit everybody: young or old, quiet or nervous, guilty or innocent. It was painful to hear them groaning and moaning. I heard it though I had been hit very hard, so hard that I could not help falling down. We all on the ground who could not stand up were then beaten over the head.

I must have been unconscious. The next I knew was a soldier saying: "They are all dead," whereupon the sergeant ordered them to do away with us. There I lay aside - half-conscious. It had become very still - fear and pain. Then I heard the sergeant shouting: "Number off!" They started slowly and irregularly: one, two, three, four - "Stand at attention!" the sergeant shouted again, "Quicker! Start again! In one minute I want to know how many I'm going to deliver to the gas chamber. Number off!" They began again, first slowly: one, two, three, four, became faster and faster, so fast that it finally sounded like a stampede of wild horses, and all of a sudden, in the middle of it, they began singing the Sh'ma Yisrael.

Hear, O Israel:
The Lord is God, the Lord is one.
And thou shalt love the Lord thy God with all thine heart,
And with all thy soul,
And with all thy might.
And these words, which I command thee this day,
Shall be in thine heart:
And thou shalt teach them diligently unto thy children,
And shalt talk of them when thou sittest in thine house,
And when thou walkest by the way,
And when thou liest down,
And when thou risest up.

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Note: Lyrics and translation are taken from https://www.toddtarantino.com/hum/survivorfromwarsaw.html

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Published in Fort Worth, TX, USA

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