Reality is tough...
Sometimes it seems that
there are far too many pretty stories to mask the ugliness of the world—stories
where everything turns out in the end. In school, growing up, our teachers would turn
of the overhead projector and teach us about the harsh realities of the world.
“During World War II, Hitler arrested the Jewish people and put them into
concentration camps. Many of them died. The end.” So rarely are we given the
full story through the lens of a documentary, textbook, or instructor. So
rarely are we able to fully understand the tragic events that occurred during
the Holocaust. Man’s Search for Meaning
by Viktor Frankl is the kind of story that only comes around once in a
lifetime. It is a story of bravery, perseverance, and the spirit of the human
condition.
My grandpa fought overseas in World War II and never have
I heard a single one of his stories or experiences. In fact, even his kids and
his wife, have very little information. Last year, he passed away and sometimes
I wonder what made the stoic, strong man, who never gave up his military buzz
cut, who he was. What events shaped the way he approached his life, career, and
family? I suppose I’ll never know, but this is why these first-person accounts
of horror and tragedy are greatly important to our understanding as a culture
and as human beings. So many accounts have been lost because of the victims’
refusal to speak of the terror they endured. My dad gave Man’s Search for Meaning to me as a Christmas present about six
years ago because it was a pivotal book for his growth and understanding of
what it meant to be human…and what it meant to be alive. I regret not reading
this book when I was younger because I can guarantee that it could have helped
me see myself as normal. It could
have helped me navigate all the indecision and hopelessness that I felt in my
purpose. It is a book that all people should read; because no matter where
someone is in their life, it’s important to find that meaning.
Viktor Frankl’s approach to his lot in life was
inspiring. As he goes through the years at the Nazi concentration camps, he
doesn’t complain once about his whole ordeal but approaches it in a way that
helped him better understand why he was put on the earth and how he could make
a difference with his observations and psychological roots. I have never read a
book that doesn’t dance around such a traumatic experience. Frankl’s words are
blunt, real, and he tells his story as if he were telling it to a close friend
or family member. There’s one part in particular that really stood out to me
when he was talking about meaning. Frankl was working in a trench with other
prisoners and with the dawn came a grey sky. Frankl was speaking to his wife in
his head because it was what kept him sane and he was trying to understand the
reason for all of his suffering. In that moment he seemed to remember his soul
“transcending” the world of gloom and watching as a light in a distant
farmhouse turned on and he finally felt as if the whole reason for his
suffering was right before him. He finally felt his wife was with him as he
spoke to her. And as he did, a bird flew overhead and perched on the dirt mound
he had just discarded and looked at him.
The part about this whole thought process that really
moves me is that at this point Frankl knows that his wife is dead, that he’ll
never see her again, but he sees hope in the light and the bird in which he
knows that she will always be with him. The whole point of this story is about
finding hope in a hopeless situation. Frankl doesn’t explain the events leading
up to his arrest because we all know that story, he doesn’t divulge the events
leading to the Allies’ rescue of the people in the camps because we know that
as well. Rather, Frankl’s power lies in his artful metaphors and his telling of
the events in the camp as they happened rather than glossing over the fact that
the people who endured these atrocities also suffered psychologically. We see
pictures of the malnourished men and women in the camps with their shaved heads
and ribs exposed, but we could never comprehend the mental trauma these people
endured as well. At least with Frankl’s book, we are able to understand further
and empathize more with the plight of the Jewish people during the Holocaust.
I’m sad this book is not a requirement for high school
curriculums. All I ever knew about the Holocaust was from documentaries and
textbooks. My clarity of the situation was diminished through remote accounts
of the reality—as if looking through a smokescreen. My appreciation for this
book has expanded tenfold since I was first given it as a gift. Frankl’s words
have greatly influenced my understanding of my meaning on this earth and my
purpose. Life isn’t pretty, but there are some extraordinary moments. Man’s Search for Meaning illustrates
this stark reality.
With love,
Lauren
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