Holocaust Shadows

She showed a film in class today.
About the Holocaust.
Dark shadows marched across the screen, some degenerate Germans, some doomed Jews.
All caught in the desperation and dejection and despondency that ate Germany alive, spitting out the bones of the outcasts and ostracized. They were the left-overs.
The unloved.
The hurt and the broken.
They didn't deserve to live.
And it made me wonder about my own humanity and the sin that we so easily fall head over heels in desperate love with.
It made me wonder if, given the chance, I'd do the same.
If I'd join the crowds that hungrily ate the lies and believed the poison fed to them. That they were better. That they were deserving. That they were all that mattered.
And that the others weren't.
I think that's what scares me so much about the Holocaust.
Anytime it's mentioned, it's not the disregarded pile of bodies that have been flung into a heap, all but bones, eye-sockets hollow holes of despair. It's not the horrendous gassings that filled the lungs of little ones as they coughed up their life and naivete and traded in their youth for death. It's not the ripping apart of families, the severing of heart strings, the snapping of father and daughter, sister and brother bonds.
I mean, that cuts. It cuts deep.
But what pierces throughly, all the way to the very central core of my every being is the fact that such sin and darkness lies in all of us. Lurks in the moldy and rotten corners of every humans' heart. It does not take an especially wicked person. For we're all especially wicked.
And it hurts too much to think too hard about human depravity.
About my depravity.
About whether I'd do the same.