Train Station

On Saturday some of us student, nine to be exact, took a day trip to Vienna Austria. It was suppose to be a leisure day, and it was in many ways, but my mind could not stray away from one particular topic. One issue that seemed to itch my skin all day, a topic that wanted to make me sick, that tried to bring tears to my eyes. The Holocaust.

As we boarded our train in Budapest I looked around me at the old railroad station, over 10 different tracks headed in various directions. A voice over the intercom in multiple languages giving directions, a cold sharp wind, grey sky. I felt like I was one of the thousands of Jewish captives that was hoarded into train cars in quite possibly same station that my eyes looked upon. It was, to some, just a story that happened over five decades ago. To others it is a defining moment in history, a storyline of a movie, a glimpse of the past - but for me as I stood waiting for my train - it was real.

As I was lost in my thoughts one of the guys I was with spoke up and pointed to a train, “that was one of the trains used to transport the Jews during WWII.” He had been there before and had been informed by someone who knew their facts. I looked on with disgust. How could something so cruel happen? Here I was awaiting a day of entertainment and I stood in possibly the same place that shivering Jews stood awaiting death. I felt ashamed of my coat, hat and gloves - yet I also felt privileged that Christ created me for such a time as this. With every step I looked at the ground, my eyes scanned the tracks, what must it have been like? What must they have felt? Did they know the fate that awaited them?

On the train I had a hard time focusing my attention on the book I had brought, my eyes were locked on the beauty outside. I passed by hills and cottages and gardens. I wonder how many of those doors were knocked down, what houses had people hiding, from where were people taken? It was a gorgeous drive, but how could something so terrible have happened in such a beautiful place? It was like Gods glory was simply ignored. I wondered if the Jews looked upon the same hills as I, if they had the joy of the Lord or if they were clouded in fear. It made me pray, it made me seek the face of God that such a terrible travesty should never again happen. It made me appreciate who I am and why I am here, but it softened me.

The day in Vienna was amazing, it was nice to be in a new city outside of Budapest, see a different culture and hear another language. It was expensive. But I still couldn’t get my mind off of the events that took place over 60 years ago. It was bittersweet.