Night

I read this really powerful blog post from a friend of mine and it reminded me of this experience I had 12 years ago. One I think I can finally put to bed.

Back in the mid 90’s I was working in a Barnes and Noble in Sioux Falls S.D. when a customer came in and asked if we had Eli Wiesel’s “Night.” After helping her locate the book I was walking with her to the front of the store and listened as she commented that she just loved the book and that it was “so powerful.” I blurted out that I didn’t like it, and it completely stopped this woman in her tracks. She looked at me for a moment and said something like “some people just can’t handle the truth.” And walked away. I remember recounting this story to a coworker who asked me why I didn’t like the book, and at the time I had a hard time explaining it. It is a powerful book, with symbols of death, faith, and hope. It is also a graphic retelling of the story of the author’s journey from his childhood home to the Nazi death camp Auschwitz. In reading the book it is often difficult to separate the authors thoughts from the subject matter, and it is that level of attachment to the horrors of life that makes it difficult for me to navigate the book.

What is it about people that make us respond so differently to the witnessing of suffering? Where some can find themselves deeply affected and immerse themselves in the emotions that arise, others can look on with certain objectivity, even distance themselves from it. I suppose I am the latter, though when I heard about the serial murder Charles Ng I nearly broke into tears, while other times stories of natural disaster hardly affect me. I suppose the one hit closer to home somehow. A person in this country, murdering families, women and children is right in my emotional back yard.

There is something else that I find disturbing. That is the omnipresence of disaster that continually confronts us. In part I blame the media, because there is no news like bad news. But I think the horrible truth is that here is no simply symmetry between suffering and happiness in the world. Suffering outweighs happiness, and at a certain point one has to find some distance to the constant barrage of images of the entire worlds tragedies.

Here is the question: How do you keep perspective? Certainly not by sticking your head in the sand, and not by becoming overwhelmed by images you are powerless to change. Perhaps making a difference begins with knowing your limits, knowing where we are powerless to help and where our voice can make a difference. I have to be of service to my home, my community, and reach to beyond where I can. I would like to think that I can do so much more, that the horror and disgust I feel at human suffering somehow means that I am making a difference in these dark corners of the world, but the truth is, as much as I may want to, I don’t usually reach beyond my home and my community. Perhaps realizing my own limitations as human being is the first step in making a difference.