ELIE WIESEL
The Rev. Harold Shepherd, CD, M.A., S.T.M., LL.B., LL.M., Ph.D.
Sermon from October 5, 2003

One recurrent theme that runs through Judeo-Christian theological traditions is that of how a loving God could permit suffering in the world. One significant writer to have addressed this issue is Elie Wiesel. He was born on September 30, 1928 in a small Romanian village that was destroyed by the Nazis in 1944. Until liberation by the Allies in April of 1945, he survived the Auschwitz, Buna, Buchenwald and Gleiwitz death camps. As a holocaust survivor, he personally experienced a level of suffering, horror and death that few who were not there could understand. After studying at the Sorbonne in Paris, he went on to author thirty-six books and win the Nobel Peace Prize. One important theme in his writings is this question about God’s responsibility for the holocaust. In his book, Night, Wiesel reflects on his first night in a concentration camp:

Never shall I forget that night, the first night in camp, which has turned my life into one long night, seven times cursed and seven times sealed. Never shall I forget that smoke. Never shall I forget the little faces of the children, whose bodies I saw turned into wreaths of smoke beneath a silent blue sky Never shall I forget those flames which consumed my faith forever. Never shall I forget that nocturnal silence which deprived me, for all eternity, of the desire to live. Never shall I forget those moments which murdered my God and my soul and turned my dreams to dust. Never shall I forget these things, even if I am condemned to live as long as God Himself. Never. [Night. Trans. Stella Rodway. New York: Hill & Wang, 1961].

The response of some people is to allow evil and suffering to kill their souls and their faith in God. Wiesel picks up this theme in The Gates of the Forest. Before the famous Rabbi Pinchas of Koritz, the protagonist, Gregor, accuses God of complicity with murderers for failure to act. Gregor did so in the form of a story:

In a concentration camp, one evening after work, a rabbi called together three of his colleagues and convoked a special court. Standing with his head held high before them, he spoke as follows: ``I intend to convict God of murder, for he is destroying his people and the law he gave them from Mount Sinai. I have irrefutable proof in my hands. Judge without fear or sorrow or prejudice. Whatever you have to lose has long since been taken away.'' The trial proceeded in due legal form, with witnesses for both sides with pleas and deliberations. The unanimous verdict: ``Guilty.''... [But] after all, He had the last word. On the day after the trial, He turned the sentence against his judges and accusers. They, too, were taken off to the slaughter. And I tell you this: if their death has no meaning, then it's an insult, and if it does have a meaning, it's even more so. [Elie Wiesel. The Gates of the Forest. Canada: Holt, Rinehart, Winston, Inc., 1966 at page 197].

After much debate with Gregor, Rabbi Pinchas refuses to lose faith in God because of the holocaust. He responds:

A man who is put to the trial, he said must give triple thanks to the Almighty: first for giving him strength to endure the trial, second for bringing the trial to an end, third for the trial itself. For suffering contains the secret of creation and its dimension of eternity; it can be pierced only from the inside. Suffering betters some people and transfigures others. At the end of suffering, of mystery, God awaits us... [page 201].

Wiesel makes a very important point that comes from the perspective of one who has descended into the valley of the shadow of death and emerged with renewed faith in God. He avoids facile explanations of why God permits suffering. It is true that many examples stem from the exercise of human free will that cannot be fettered by God without loss of what it means to be human. It is also true that suffering can help one empathise with others who experience adversity. It can also help put things in proper perspective by reminding us of our own mortality and what really matters in life. But, in the end, there is a sense in which suffering is enveloped by mystery. It is mystery because it discloses aspects of the human condition that go beyond the ability of words to analyse, rationalise and describe. In fact, platitudes from well-meaning people are often the last thing we need to hear when we traverse our darkest hour. The gentle warmth of human presence, support and love can open our hearts to the presence of a caring and compassionate God who will always meet us in our hour of greatest need, regardless of the level of suffering. It is conquered by embracing it as a gift from God and allowing it to be a place of encounter with him, not by letting it poison our souls and destroy our relationships with others. This was Jesus’ example to us on the cross. What was intended to destroy him resulted in the renewal of the people of God. This paradox reflects a type of mystery- in suffering we encounter the God of creation and eternity. However, Wiesel did not advocate passivity in the face of evil. In his Nobel Prize lecture, he wrote:

There may be times when we are powerless to prevent injustice, but there must never be a time when we fail to protest. The Talmud tells us that by saving a single human being, man can save the world. We may be powerless to open all the jails and free all prisoners, but by declaring our solidarity with one prisoner, we indict all jailers.