A Jewish Swastika

Lee Crain

Hitler’s voice rang out through the auditorium, and my swastika-bearing friends stood with glazed looks absorbing every word.  Slowly the chants of “Sieg Heil” followed, as they had followed every night.  They died out and the curtain closed.  Act One of my school’s version of Cabaret was over.

            For two months I had asked myself if I, a Jewish boy, could wear a Nazi swastika.  I thought that at the very least it was inappropriate – it was probably blasphemy.  It was further compounded by the fact that I had grown up in a household where a Mercedes was still Hitler’s car and a Krupps toaster “also made breakfast for Göering.”  If I couldn’t make toast with a Krupps or ever buy a Mercedes, how could I possibly let myself wear a Nazi armband!  It was simple – I would have to quit the play.  I promised myself that I would not be a spokesman for Nazi propaganda. 

However, my decision was far from final.  I talked to everyone about the issue – the director, my parents, even my Rabbi. All of them said the same thing though my Rabbi was a little more hesitant to admit it: wearing a swastika would be alright if the message of the play was ultimately anti-hatred. I wasn’t convinced.  I remember the first time I tried the armband on – I was so aware of it that my arm was almost stinging.

            The first rehearsals were painful.  Walking down the hallway of a high school donning the swastika is no easy task – but I did it.  As I walked by the library, elderly ladies meeting for bridge night glared at me – apparently they didn’t see anything anti-hatred in our swastikas.  But the audience understood – I listened to them shuffle out of the auditorium after that first act.  No one even knew what to do.  They didn’t applaud or cheer, especially because they refused to cheer for the Nazi flag or for Hitler’s cameo appearance over the loudspeaker. 

Hitler’s voice swirled around me, and I saw the audience grimace.  They listened to him, to the chants of “Sieg Heil” that followed and slowly died out with the stage lights.  They were introduced to Nazi terror, and I finally understood that it wasn’t ok to wear a swastika, but that it was ok to use the symbol to subvert its intent.

            I had kept my promise – I had not become a spokesman for Nazi propaganda.  The swastika, I realized, was not all evil – apparently it was a symbol of good luck thousands of years ago!  My wearing the Swastika was not blasphemy, at least, not to those who actually saw the show or to those who were in it.  Though I can’t say I enjoyed wearing the swastika, I did enjoy helping the audience to realize the insidious nature of hatred – I would definitely don the blood red armband of the Nazis in the future for such a purpose.