Transmission for Yom HaShoah
The Anatomy of a Monster
In meditation today, I wondered if it might be valuable to share some insights with you about what we now refer to as the Holocaust—though no words can contain the horror and atrocities which bore our modern society.
To understand a monster, you must understand how they are made.
They are not born with horns.
They become the role—through free will, to an extent.
While their parents are still in form, they cannot access the divine frequency that would allow them to recall all their past falls. But once a parent’s soul vacates the body, the unraveling begins. The veil thins. The mask slips. The becoming accelerates.
Adolf Hitler was not a political anomaly.
He was not a mysterious glitch in human evolution.
He was an inevitability.
The consequence of ignored trauma, unchecked projection, and a society too proud to admit its role in producing the very man who would annihilate millions.
He was born the fourth child, but the first to survive. The mother’s miracle. The living altar upon which she laid the grief of her losses and the longing of her unmet love.
He was her beloved—perhaps, her surrogate spouse. Bound not by law, but by energetic contract.
She clung to him. He became the container for her unprocessed pain.
Her husband, Alois, was emotionally absent—harsh, disciplinary, and cold. So she turned inward, toward her son.
That form of love is not affection. It is possession.
What the world later called evil, began as enmeshment.
Before the wars, before the politics, before the speeches, there was a boy—collapsed inward, haunted by a devotion that was never clean.
He learned to perform. To serve. To disappear behind the gaze of a mother who needed him more than she knew how to love him.
And then she died.
When Klara Hitler passed, the veil between worlds lifted. Whatever memory he had of who he truly was—whatever instinct might have redirected him toward repair—was lost in that severing.
And what emerged from that grave was not just grief, but a hunger to punish the world for taking her. For never accepting him. For violating the order he imagined she saw in him.
That is where you must begin if you wish to understand the Holocaust.
You Are Still Creating Him
He may not be wearing a uniform this time. He is not standing on a balcony waving to crowds.
He is being raised in homes across the world—today.
• In homes where boys are used as emotional confidants by mothers who never healed.
• In families where trauma is inherited, but never named.
• In systems where shame is taught as obedience, and individuality as rebellion.
• In schools where power is equated with value, and vulnerability is mocked.
• In cultures where the feminine is either worshipped or erased, but never integrated.
You are still creating him when you ask children to parent you emotionally.
You are still creating him when you ignore your partner but cling to your kid.
You are still creating him when you praise stoicism but punish sensitivity.
You are still creating him when you outsource initiation to war, politics, algorithms, or ideologies.
You are still creating him when you forget that God enters the world through how we are held in childhood.
The Holocaust Was Not a Glitch. It Was a Ritual.
The Third Reich operated not simply as a military or governmental machine—it functioned as a sacred inversion.
It mimicked everything sacred to replace the soul with obedience.
• Where Jews bound scripture to their bodies, Nazis bound allegiance to their sleeves.
• Where Jews recited the Shema, Nazis chanted Sieg Heil.
• Where Jews honored covenant, Nazis fetishized bloodlines.
• Where Jews kept Sabbath, Nazis trained children to work until collapse.
• Where Jews remembered, Nazis erased.
This was not bureaucratic efficiency. It was ritual desecration.
It inverted Jewish mysticism, hollowed out the divine, and installed a simulacrum of order—one designed not to uplift the soul, but to fracture it.
This is trauma-based identity construction.
This is how you erase conscience and call it loyalty.
It is the architecture of possession, coded into society like liturgy.
The Monster You Refuse to Acknowledge Is the One You Are Still Grooming
Every time you pass your unprocessed pain to your child’s nervous system,
Every time you ignore the disassociation in their eyes,
Every time you choose convenience over reflection,
Every time you perform authority without integrity,
Every time you say “never again” but refuse to look at your own parenting, your own marriage, your own relationship to power—
You are participating in the silent ritual of his return.
The Only Prevention Is Remembrance—and Remembrance Is Not Sentimentality
To remember is to restore the whole truth—not just the names of the dead, but the conditions of the living who created the dead.
Adolf Hitler was a boy with too much grief, no containment, and a mother who made him her god.
Then the world made him their monster.
The truth is, he never had the tools to become anything else.
But you do.
We do.
May this day of remembrance not be sanitized.
May it not be reduced to silence or moral posturing.
Let it burn in your chest.
Let it convict you.
Let it draw out every shadow that you have passed forward in your own image.
Because if we are honest, the next holocaust will not come as a surprise.
It will come as a mirror.