STORIES

We all know the story of Anne Frank. Most of us have heard the name of Corrie ten Boom. Elie Wiesel. Their stories have become the emblems of Holocaust suffering, death, and survival. The rest of the world has been forced to acknowledge the distinctly human face they've emblazoned on that distant and arbitrary number six million.

If there's one thought I've been pressed with the past few weeks of museum visits, Holocaust Lit class, trips to Krakow and Prague, it is this: stories are important.
There are those big ones of people like Anne Frank and Elie Wiesel that echo around the world and find their place on every bookshelf and in every high school classroom; but equally important are the stories and testimonies of ordinary individuals here and there and everywhere.

Sometimes I lament the lost art of oral storytelling so vibrant in other cultures around the world; I think one of the most sacred things in this depraved world is the gathering of friends and strangers to communally pray, lament, share stories, and listen. Stories root our identity; they cause us to recognize the human in ourselves and each other--and so fiercely combat fatal prejudice and indifference more than any army or legislation could.

I think of the million other stories of the Holocaust that have never been written down or heard or lamented, and I regard them as equally worthwhile and significant. I hope that we have our ears open and our hearts attuned to unheard stories around the world, in this decade and every other that has ever been or will be.

Elie Wiesel published his memoirs because he says, "to remain silent and indifferent is the greatest sin of all." Let us encourage each other to share stories and to listen well. It is one of the most distinctly human things we can do.