Jonathan Kranich On Monday we went to the Jewish Museum in Berlin. The architecture of the building is a sensory overload. As you begin, you go down a flight of stairs to turn down a hallway with a 6% grade and walls that lean here and there. Our guide took us first to the "Garden of Exile" which consists of 49 pillars of equal height. However, the ground makes a 12% grade (which is apparently the max grade one can walk without having to consciously work). The solidarity of knowing there were others around, but not knowing who was where or if you would see anyone around the next corner spoke on a deep level. After we regathered, it was brought up that as you walk, no matter how far you go, there is always a feeling of being pulled back to where you came from. I realize this is for Holocaust victims, but I can't help but sympathize with the Germans as well. They try to escape from the Nazi shadow, but are always dragged back to it.

Next, we went to the "Holocaust Tower" and we entered in silence. It was a very moving experience. I immediately noticed the only light came from a narrow opening at the top of the tower - even though one can see the light does not mean one can always reach it - our guide mentioned the idea of lights at the end of the tunnel, which he quite correctly said can be understood in all languages. A point he mentioned that I had not realized is that as you approach the light the space around you actually gets darker and, in fact, the spot nearest the light is the darkest in the room. The tower also narrows toward the light - as you get closer, your path becomes darker and narrower...a school and playground are just across the street and had it been a warmer day we would have heard the sounds of children laughing and playing - so close, yet so out of reach.