THE HOLOCAUST IS OVER WE MUST RISE FROM ITS ASHES

My bottle opened and many genies, bad and good, came out.I wrote this book in two years, writing and deleting, sometimes deleting beforewriting. When you touch such pain, you must be very careful. On the one hand, I didnot want to bring more pain to those who suffered. On the other hand, I knew verywell that I must not pretend. When you deal with such matters, you must tell the mostaccurate inner truths. Many months of painful writing separated the dignity of thevictims from my own inner truth. In the end I withheld many issues whose time hadnot come. I wonder if it will ever come. Our sages said: “It is a mitzvah to say amatter to be heard, just as it is a mitzvah to not say a matter not to be heard.” 1When I began writing this book, I called the document Hitler Won. I felt that thewounds and scars were so deep that the modern Jewish nation had no chance toheal. Our Shoah-inf licted trauma seemed like an incurable disease. I was angry atthe fact that we continued to miss the opportunity to live normal lives, and at thesourness of life here in Israel, which seemed to be our fate for generations to come.Exactly because of the desperation that seemed to take a hold of me, I struggled tobeat back the overf lowing tide of callousness. Then, a miracle: as I wrote, theseissues took on a new dimension. Cautious optimism was born from the ashes andsmoke. And as it is Jewish custom to give the sick person a new name to facilitate hishealing, I changed the book’s title in Hebrew to Defeating Hitler. It is still possible;there is still a chance. We must win; we have no choice, lest we stop living. I walkedalone a long way but I am already optimistic. We will get there. And now the booktravels abroad. The strong Hebrew title reads differently in English, with too much ofa military maneuver and too little of its core humanity. So here is the third name, notreally a name but a message: The Holocaust Is Over; We Must Rise from Its Ashes.It was my mother, who died days before the book was published in Israel, whogave me the opportunity to cross over to optimism. We celebrated her last birthdaytogether, children, grandchildren, great-grandchildren, and spouses. There was muchjoy. On the way home, just the two of us were in the car, driving slowly through thestreets of Jerusalem.“Avraham, God probably loves me very much,” she said, radiant with happiness.