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Home » Tribute Dinners » Tribute Dinner 2004 » Sonia Weitz's Speech
Social Justice and Human Rights Award Acceptance
June 17, 2004
The acceptance speech by Sonia Weitz
Thank you. Most of you know me well enough to realize that modesty is not one of my virtues… but this tribute, these honors are truly overwhelming. I am both humbled and deeply grateful – and almost speechless!
I vowed that I would not thank people individually, unless we are prepared to stay here for the weekend… But I will ask those of you who chaired this event, please, stand up. Thank you! Now, the Dinner Committee and the volunteers, please, let us recognize you. Thank you!
And my beautiful family, please, stand up. Thank you! I love you! Some of you traveled halfway around the world to be here, from Israel, Texas, New Mexico. You will be leaving soon, but Sandy will stay and again I thank you for not wearing the sweatshirt that says, “Yes, Sonia is my mother.”
There is also an emptiness in my heart because there are people who should be here and aren’t: Mark, Norbert, Anita, the Strahls, and of course, the many others, the countless others. But I know that they are here in spirit because memory keeps them alive. Memory is forever. Remembering is such a sacred obligation. We remember as we mourn, and we remember as we celebrate.
How well I recall R.D. Sahl walking with me through Auschwitz, standing by my side in the ashes of the crematoria, how gentle, how understanding you were. Thank you.
And never will I forget Lennie Zakim who so worried about me on that pilgrimage. Whenever I face audiences young or old, when I ask them to confront the dilemma of the victim, the victimizer and the bystander, it is Lennie that I quote: “If you are not part of the solution, you are part of the problem.”
Tonight, as I look at you – my family, my friends, my colleagues, my community, I am thinking: you gave my life a purpose, you encouraged my dreams, and you nourished my soul. You gave me the freedom to spread my wings; you took me into your hearts, your homes, your schools, your churches and synagogues. You trusted me with you children, the most precious gift of all.
You accepted me, you allowed me to share with you my pain and my memory of the long years of darkness which defined my childhood. You embraced my poetry and my sadness, and the reality of a broken world.
And yet, incredibly, somewhere along the way, you healed my spirit (my body as well), ‘til I learned to smile and hope and not to give up – even in the face of new and unthinkable suffering and cruelty inflicted upon humankind. Yes, it is a broken world, but we try to glue the pieces together, mostly in vain. And yet, we try and fail, and try again, because to give up on humanity would be an abomination, which we must not even consider.
I am a survivor of the Shoah, and I bear witness to a time when there was no Israel and the world was comprised of two kinds of nations; those nations that would not allow the Jews out, and those nations that would not allow the Jews in.
Perhaps that makes me a witness to the ultimate violation of human rights – the right to live. In fact, the annihilation of my people began with three steps:
- You cannot live among us as Jews,
- You cannot live among us, and
- You cannot live.
Of course, as Elie Wiesel reminds us: “Not all the victims were Jewish, but all the Jews were victims.” I learned about genocide before the word was invented. I was a victim of crimes against humanity before an ‘International Criminal Court’ was even a dream.
And when antisemitism, racism and homophobia were not only tolerated but acceptable.
Yes, we have come a long way, but so much remains to be done: the 21 st century presents challenges which we have not even begun to confront. And yet today, the lessons and parallels to that unspeakable history are enormous and more relevant than ever before.
We, the Survivors, feel a huge sense of urgency, and we have an obligation to warn you, because we know that under the right conditions, it can happen again to any people, anywhere.
All human suffering is colossal, and we can no longer tolerate ‘benign neglect’ in silence. We need to remember the Armenian Genocide, the Cambodian Killing Fields, the ethnic cleansing in Bosnia, but as Samantha Powers wrote recently: “Let’s remember Rwanda, but let us do something about Sudan NOW.”
With so much bad news, how do we remain somewhat sane and even optimistic about the future? There are, of course, no quick answers or easy solutions. But even if we are forced to take two steps backwards for every step forward, we must not give up because
there is hope as long as there is an A.D.L., Facing History and Ourselves, the U.S. Holocaust Memorial Museum, and our own Holocaust Center, where truly remarkable moments occur because we dream for the future. We stress everyday that genocide is the end result of hatred, prejudice, xenophobia and ignorance and if human rights violations go unchallenged, sooner or later we all become enslaved.
But as long as we have elected representatives who care, teachers who teach, clergy
who build bridges, and all the unsung front-
You know that this evening is not only about me, it is about you! If we decided to meet in one week, would you have a list of issues which you tried to address? Wrongs you tried to right? Never believe that you are powerless.
And yes, all of you, if you choose to speak up and act and react and not stand idly by, then I shall draw my strength from you and remain hopeful and optimistic, convinced
that each and every one of you can and will make a difference, because you know that the opposite of good is not evil, it is indifference!
I would like to conclude with a poem. This brief poem is about a tree… a tree, which today still grows in a courtyard in Krakow. It is also about continuity and rebirth. I would like to dedicate this poem to my niece Ashley who just returned from Poland where she volunteered to build a memorial park at the Plaszow Camp. Ashley, of course, visited our tree.
THE TREE OF LIFE
THERE STANDS A TREE, A LONELY TREE
PLANTED FOR ME IN A HOSTILE LAND
PLANTED WITH LOVE BY MY FATHER’S HAND,
THE DAY I WAS BORN.
THE ROOTS GNARLED AND WORN, BROKEN AND TWISTED
AS IF LIFE CEASED OR NEVER EXISTED.
AND YET, ITS LIMBS REACH FOR THE SUN
AND ONE (OR TWO) WITH LEAVES
GREEN AND TENDER, REFUSED TO SURRENDER
AND DARED TO SURVIVE. IT IS STILL ALIVE.
I SAW MY TREE, MY BIRTHDAY TREE
PLANTED FOR ME WITH MY FATHER’S HANDS
IT STANDS DEFIANT, HAUNTED, LONELY
THE LAST, THE ONLY…..
THE TREE OF LIFE.