I step off our little Mercedes bus along with the rest of the 11 of us. In heavy silence I walk towards the low modern visitor center. We enter and stand about in restless silence while Alex, our tour guide, arranges for our entrance. We each receive a audio guide and are given about 2 hours to explore on our own.
The gate is another short walk from the center and again none of us are really saying much, we know this is important given the closeness we all feel to this event, we are all one short generation from those dark days that began here in 1933. Dachau was the first camp built within months of Hitler's ascendancy in Germany and is located less than a half hour north of Munich.
I walk the short walk, to my left is the remains of the railroad that brought the living cargo and to my right is the gate so many were forced to walk through. I stand in stunned silence, wanting to and not wanting to drink in the echo of memory and feeling those gates still hold. I don't know what to expect when I walk through the gates but there is no longer the threat of violence, torture, starvation and death that the original inhabitants faced.
With a tightness in my gut and a hint of fear invading my heart, I walk through the horrible, ominous gates. I take a moment and look around asking for a taste of what it might have been to walk through those gates 80 years ago. I am overcome with dread. I can only imagine what it felt to know those gates would close behind me shutting out all life as was once known.
Immediately to my right is one of the few remaining buildings from those days. It is a long, low masonite block building. This is where new inductees were forced to go. I walk in and am overwhelmed by the echoes of even the very quiet voices of those visiting that day. I imagine this to be a very noisy, confusing place for anyone entering for the first time. I discover my audio guide is not working. Either it is malfunctioning or I am doing something wrong. At first I am irritated but then I think of what it must have been to walk these doors with shouts demanding I give up the last shreds of my dignity, my humanity or face dire results. The echoes of those voices still reverberate if one listens carefully.
Since my audio guide is not working I decide to simply read along at the many, many displays telling the story of this place and some of the stories of those sent here. At one point there is a very large map of Europe showing the locations of every camp and sub-camp built for this industry of death. It is shocking to see hundreds of various colored squares representing millions who walked this journey. It is also shocking to imagine the thousands of people needed for this industry to make it work as efficiently as it did, thousands of workers in this government funded industry.
About two thirds of the way through the building I can read no more and I step out into the very large graveled courtyard or plaza..... neither word works to convey this place. We've all seen depictions of this place, the very large open area where inmates are forced to stand in cold or heat no matter what condition they are in for as long as their captors deem necessary. There is a crunch under my feet, the gravel feels fresh, uncomfortable and I imagine them bones, the bones of millions offered up to the Third Reich.
There are only two barracks standing, rebuilt at one time so that visitors can see what it might have been like. They do little justice to what row upon row of these buildings must have looked like. The foundations are still there, so very neat, so very orderly for this industry. Neatness must have served them well, these captors of humanity, but the neatness feels oppressive to me as I slowly walk down the main street separating the rows of skeletal foundations. There are stumps of trees that once lined this main thoroughfare and I wonder if the trees offered a taste of life and hope or mocked the conditions one now found themselves living in. Perhaps both.
It all felt so heavy to me, a deep, deep sadness infuses my thoughts, my prayers as I slowly wander the grounds. "What do you think of this, God?" I ask. My sadness deepens. I am not writing as one who understands the sovereignty of God nor do I feel the need to try to defend Him in this place. I simply can't fathom this place from His perspective. I know many demand He answer for this inhuman place and His seeming disinterest or impotence to have done anything to alter the course of the 12 years this camp operated. I ask my question and I am engulfed in sadness. Perhaps it is the slightest hint of His sadness at what we humans are capable of doing. That is part of my take away from this day.
I am also haunted by another thought, perhaps a scandalous thought. Thousands of men and women were conscripted into the inhumane work of running the thousands of camps. What of them? What of the indescribable weight of guilt they must have lived with for the remaining days they lived? I am sure some willingly joined the effort to eradicate unacceptable humanity but could there not have been many returning to their homes and family weighed down by what they did?
I asked Alex, our guide, what did Germany do for those who worked in these camps after the war? He simply said nothing, it was swept under the carpet and hoped to be forgotten. I have guilt. I have made poor decisions at times that have wounded people I love. I have hurt others. Some days those black places resurface and the pain arises. I pray, I take this to Jesus and ask for Him to walk with me through those memories. I have experienced some healing, some relief. But what if I had no such companion? What if I was left to my own devices to deal with guilt?
I am left with a deep sadness for not only the millions who died and those that lived through incarceration. I am somewhat scandalized by my own sadness for those who lived with unrequited guilt for what they did. I know some will say they deserved the guilt. Perhaps that is true but here I am, finishing this up on the Saturday before Easter and I can't help but think this sin too was paid for by Jesus, the weight of this guilt borne on the cross. It seems almost scandalous to think that this too, this inhumanity would be paid for that day but can we really decide what was to be paid for that day? We Christ-followers believe all sin is sin without degree, but do we really?
