In Elie Wiesel's novel, Night, I am
surprised at the number of times that the people in Elie's town, even under the heavy
hand of the Germans, find reason for hope, and, again, those in the concentration
camps.
When the news first comes of deportation, some of
the Jews of Sighet are taken outside of their homes, which they must leave. They must
stand in the sun, waiting. Their children cry for water. Finally they are told to leave,
and Elie comments:
There was joy—yes, joy. Perhaps they thought that
God could have devised no torment in hell worse than that of sitting there among the
bundles.
After Elie and his
family are finally moved, several days later, they end up in a small ghetto that seems
to have been quickly evacuated. They settle in.
The people's morale was not too bad; we were
beginning to get used to the situation. In the street, they even went so far as to have
optimistic
conversations.
After the Jews
arrive at Auschwitz, the men and women are separated. They see unspeakable things, are
beaten and cursed at. They end up in Block 17, run by a young Polish man who encourages
the men to take heart, to support each other and not lose faith. They are then sent to
bed and awaken the next morning with renewed hope.
Friends met each other. Exchanged a few
sentences. We talked of everything...The general opinion was that the war was about to
end.
At another point in the
story, when the men are resting in the daytime, there is an air raid. Bombs drop and
smoke gathers around them: the men are thrilled at the thought that they might witness
their revenge in the destruction of the camp and those that run
it.
Every bomb
that exploded filled us with joy and gave us new confidence in
life.
Even in the midst of
despair, the human condition allows a person's spirit to look for hope, sometimes in the
smallest things. And the small things were all the inmates of the concentration camps
had to uplift them, in however small a way.
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