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Persecution casts a very long shadow

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  • Persecution casts a very long shadow

    Lancaster Newspapers
    Oct 26 2013


    Column: Persecution casts a very long shadow


    By ELIZABETH EISENSTADT-EVANS
    Correspondent


    Remorse.

    Forgiveness.

    Reconciliation.

    Justice.

    These are words that people of faith read and hear often, whether it
    is in a Scripture passage, a sermon, or in a pastor or rabbi's office.

    The topics, and the emotions they evoke, are difficult enough when two
    individuals face each other in a counseling session.

    But what happens when the antagonists are nations and ethnic, racial
    and/or religious groups? How does healing happen when perpetrators and
    victims can't agree on what actually occurred, as with the deaths and
    displacement of millions of Armenians during World War I?

    When it is not resolved, the history of persecution can cast a very
    long shadow, leaving descendants of those who suffered to wrestle with
    challenging spiritual, ethical, philosophical and practical questions
    that remain unresolved.

    After the South African apartheid regime ended, Desmond Tutu, the
    retired Anglican archbishop of Cape Town, wrote the book "No Future
    Without Forgiveness." Chair of the Truth and Reconciliation Commission
    established by former President Nelson Mandela, Tutu, an outspoken
    anti-apartheid advocate for decades, addressed the spiritual, ethical
    and practical questions of how to acknowledge atrocities candidly, and
    yet be able to move, as individuals and as a nation, towards racial
    reconciliation.

    But such candor has not, to date, been possible when it comes to
    healing the profound wounds between the first Christian nation
    (Armenia adopted Christianity in 301 A.D.), and the country, with a
    huge majority at least nominally Muslim, that swallowed up most of its
    land in the carnage of World War I.

    - - -

    Then in the grip of reform, and trying to hang on to the fracturing
    Ottoman Empire,Turkey has, till this day, refused to acknowledge that
    it engaged in the systematic killing of the Empire's Armenian
    populace. In fact, as a New York Times article notes: "They reject the
    conclusions of historians and the term genocide, saying there was no
    premeditation in the deaths, no systematic attempt to destroy a
    people. Indeed, in Turkey today it remains a crime - "insulting
    Turkishness" - to even raise the issue of what happened to the
    Armenians."

    While the Turkish government argues that the deportment of Armenians
    was a military necessity, and not an intentional strategy, such as the
    extermination of Jews under the Third Reich, "it looks pretty much
    like an intentional strategy to establish an ethnically pure Turkish
    state, and get dissident elements and minorities out," says Lee
    Barrett, professor of theology at Lancaster Theological Seminary.

    During the First World War, Turkey, which allied itself with the
    Central Powers (including Germany), also saw Armenians as potential
    allies of its enemies, which then included Russia, Barrett says.

    "Reconciliation of groups that have historically been hostile or
    oppressed usually requires full disclosure and candor, and until that
    happens I don't think the situation will improve," says Barrett,
    adding that "South Africa is the counter example."

    Many Americans, long integrated into a pluralistic society, cannot
    imagine what it is like to bear the invisible weight of past national,
    ethnic and racial tragedies.

    But among us walk many descendants of persecution and suffering
    (including, among others, Jews, Native Americans, African-Americans
    and refugees from Latin American nations) for whom history still has
    many tragic stories to tell.

    - - -

    Chris Bohjalian is a critically acclaimed writer of 16 books,
    including nine best-sellers. The Vermont-based novelist has plumbed
    the depths of dilemmas involving such knotty topics as gender change,
    violent crime, mental instability, and tragic love.

    But writing a novel about what many Armenians call "the great crime"?

    That endeavor, which resulted in "The Sandcastle Girls," was a long
    time in the making. As the American of Armenian descent recounts, it
    is a deeply personal mission.

    Set in 1915, the novel, which includes a love story, uses the lens of
    family life to bring to life the gritty brutality of the war to end
    all wars, and how the conflict and its aftermath is interpreted and
    absorbed in multiple generations.

    In a way, "The Sandcastle Girls" echoes Bohjalian's own story - and
    the legacy of so many Armenians.

    Even in light of the three years of carnage that has engulfed Turkey's
    neighbor, Syria, most people would be challenged to find Armenia on a
    map, says Bohjalian, noting the multiple wars and other catastrophes
    that have occurred since the turmoil of the First World War.

    "I need to explain to them why they knew nothing about the Armenian
    genocide ... and why, today, it is so forgotten."

    - - -


    Adventitiously, a box sent a few months ago from my sister in Boston
    holds its own genocidal stories.

    The acid-free container sits by the kitchen door - history's secrets
    resting silently, waiting, as they may have waited for 75 years.

    Though I walk by the priority mail box countless times in the course
    of a day, I haven't taken a close look yet.

    Several lifetimes ago, my maternal grandmother, a Jew born and raised
    here in the United States, challenged (deleted word) the restrictive
    American immigration policies, anti-Semitism and isolationism of her
    time, and petitioned our government to give as many European Jews as
    possible refuge from the Nazi regime.

    My grandmother's generation lived in the shadow of the Holocaust - and
    the American failure to respond with sufficient urgency to save
    millions. Yet her story, and theirs, also is part of mine, and that of
    my children.

    As the decades have slipped by, and survivors have died, it seems
    perhaps inevitably, more abstract, less imperative.

    Yet I have a sense that these letters, with their pleas for help and
    affidavits for refugee status, may bring that long-ago era into my
    quiet dining room, as I read them at my parent's Victorian oak table.

    Next time: Bohjalian's account of the family, ethnic and faith history
    that has helped shape his life. And I'll share some of the content of
    the letters I found in that box. Perhaps it will jar your own memories
    - ones that you might want to share with other readers here.

    http://lancasteronline.com/article/local/910445_Column--Persecution-casts-a-very-long-shadow.html

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