I spent an hour this evening cutting and pulling bushes.  Normally, this would be an easy task, but in the late August heat and humidity, it was an unpleasant chore.  By the time I had finished, I was covered with sweat, and little bits of bark and woody remains from the bushes clung to my shirt and shorts.  It felt great to get inside and head for the shower.

Still, I was doing the work I was meant to do.  The bushes were dead and needed removing, and I was the only one there to remove them.  I have muscles and a strong back and chest, and it was actually a pleasure to put them to use, even in the heat and humidity.  My only worry was that in the semi-darkness I might stumble upon a rattler or a copperhead, snakes that are common in our area.

Now that I’ve finished, I feel a sense of satisfaction in my work.  The dead bushes are piled at the street, where the community will pick them up tomorrow.  The space that I cleared is ready for new growth: flowering bushes that will spread from the existing bed.  My neighbors will be pleased.

I have larger purposes than that, of course.  I’ve lived my life in the pursuit of knowledge.  I retain something of the tens of thousands of books and articles I have read — or written myself — over the decades, and I’ve never ceased being curious.

So too did the 11 million victims of the Nazi Holocaust.  Each of these persons had a life of curiosity, purpose, and strength that was cut short by Hitler and Himmler.  Each of them should have been left free and unharmed to live a full life with their families and neighbors — cooking, cleaning, buying and selling, teaching, raising children, and yes, pulling bushes.

But each of the Holocaust victims died in horrific pain and terror at the end of a gun, a knife, a bayonet, in a cruel medical experiment, or in some heartless room fixed up to seem like a shower.  Each rode the boxcars to his final destination or was killed in the place where he lived — executed with a pistol, beaten to death, or burned alive in a locked synagogue, church, or schoolroom.  And in each case, an individual’s purpose — the role that person played in the larger community or simply in the domestic life of managing a home and raising children — was cut short in a grotesquely violent fashion.  The contribution he might have made to a family or to the world was extinguished.

So too were the approximately 1,200 victims of the Hamas-led assault on Israel.  As the anniversary of that attack nears, Israeli officials “unanimously approved the observance of a national day of remembrance to commemorate the October 7 massacre and subsequent Gaza war, to be held every year on the 24th of the Hebrew month of Tishrei.”

For Israeli citizens, each of those 1,200 victims will be remembered as an individual human being with unique characteristics, aptitudes, and purposes in the same way that the 2,977 victims of 9/11 are, as their names are read by family members each year at the Memorial Plaza ceremony in New York.

The 9/11 attack involved far more than the collective loss of nearly 3,000 people.  As with the October 7 attack, each of those lives comprised millions of moments of consciousness, tens of thousands of human connections, and countless hours of mental and physical exertion in the service of others.  Their lives had immense value and purpose, and they were taken from us by fanatics who do not view individual human life as precious.

What was taken from this earth on October 7 and September 11, as by the Nazis with their Final Solution, is almost beyond imagining, but it must be imagined and remembered forever so that it is not repeated.

There are elements in America today who are virulently antisemitic and who would do to Israel, with its population of 9.55 million, what Hitler did to Europe’s Jewish people and other targeted populations of his day.  And once they had eliminated Israel, they would turn on the United States and other Western democracies.  Once genocide is turned loose, there is no end to it.

The antisemites of our day must be exposed and brought to heel.  Genocide, anywhere and at any time, must be seen and condemned for what it is because every human being possesses those special human talents — the strength of muscles that can lift, carry, sow, and reap, and the brilliance of mind that can invent, organize, and perceive.  Each of these lives is precious, including each person, Jewish or otherwise, who was murdered in the Holocaust or on October 7 or 9/11, and each of those who are now under attack, even in our own country, because of their race and religion.

Antisemitism must never be allowed to gain a foothold because it can swiftly spiral out of control, as it did in Germany in just a few years.  Our defense of life begins with the recognition of the immense talents and qualities of each individual human being.  We must never lose sight of the humanity of all people and of their potential contribution to human happiness.  Even the thankless task of pulling dead bushes in the August heat serves a purpose and makes a contribution.  All of us are precious and worthy of protection.

Jeffrey Folks is the author of many books and articles on American culture including Heartland of the Imagination (2011).

Image: Marco Verch Professional Photographer and Speaker via Flickr, CC BY 2.0.