Hope and Despair

This is a great topic but one which I feel utterly unqualified to answer. That said, unqualified is the new qualified so I’ll give it a shot.

There are many historical times when despair so dominated that hope became a cruel mockery. I will point out two: the Black Death in Western Europe in the 14^th century; the Holocaust during WWII.

In the first instance, perhaps half the population of Europe was killed off for a reason no one understood. There was also no explanation for why some died, while others survived. Those with religious faith began to lose it when the compassionate, charitable, and humble died while the arrogant, hate-filled, and hypocritical continued to stride the earth. Christian priests, weary themselves, often stopped trying to provide explanations. Some chose to believe the plague was sent by a wrathful God to punish sinners. The Flagellants, despite Church disfavor, regained popularity and traveled from town to town, beating themselves bloody in public to atone.

In the second example, the horror of mass murders of millions of people was so profound that an almost global silence fell when the photos started coming out. Artists, politicians, and everyone else tried to grasp the enormity of what bigotry and hate can do. That Hitler shot himself, many of his co-conspirators were hanged, and Mussolini’s executed corpse was publicly humiliated felt inadequate compared to the enormity of their crimes. And if the anguish of the survivors was beyond words, how much deeper was the despair of those disembarking the cattle cars at Auschwitz?

So how could one ever find hope in such bleak times? In the calm distance of hindsight, the living can. The reasons for the 14^th century plague are now pretty much identified. Knowledge can be a powerful sword in that kind of battle against despair. In the case of the Holocaust, some western societies woke up to the dangers of giving legitimacy to hate. Not to all bigotries, of course, but to some at least. Others held on to “gentlemen’s agreements” and legalized forms of persecution far longer. But progress was made, some greater and some smaller, by the 1960s.

None of that, however, addresses the question of hope for those who saw loved ones die in agony, then saw the symptoms of disease on their own bodies, or for those facing the entrance to the gas chamber while holding their children’s hands. Nor can I even pretend I can answer how any of them could have or did cling to any hope at all. That answer lies in the hearts of the dead.

What I will say is this: hope is always found in the deliberately man-made hells of holocausts and other times when hate becomes the norm and bigotry becomes the law. It is found in those who fight back. In WWII, it was the resistance fighter in the forest, the young woman who made sure pamphlets were available for distribution, the elderly couple who hid a family. Hope is found in the courage of the decent who cannot live with hate. Such are the lessons history has to teach us.

Comments

[camille minichino]

You had me at the second sentence, Priscilla.

I am still hoping to wake up from my current nightmare.

[Michael A. Black]

Excellently written perspective, Priscilla. Incidentally, the Holocaust Museum in Washington DC is built with a unique perspective on the horrendous tragedy. The building gets narrower and narrower as you ascend, allowing the visitors to experience how their physical liberty is progressively restricted. I also had the privilege of hearing a survivor of that awful period in history describe what it was like. You're right, his hope to survive never left him.

[camille minichino]

As a child, my late friend, Irene Gregory, saw her family murdered in the Holocaust. She became an artist and lived to her mid-eighties, one of the brightest, most creative persons I've known. Though she suffered from cancer for a long time, she never talked about it or complained. Rather, she wanted to hear about every exhibit we'd seen, every book we'd read.
Thanks for reminding me of her, Priscilla, as an example of hope.

[Priscilla]

I haven't been to the Holocaust Museum, Michael, but am on their mailing list. I didn't know about the narrowing building, a very powerful way to instill that feeling.

The story of your friend, Camille, brought tears to my eyes. Having worked for SSA at the time Holocaust survivors were filing for benefits, I read so many incredible stories of courage and loss. Personally, I only knew one woman who was a child when her family miraculously got out of Austria even though her father was arrested but strangely enough released. They got to England and relatives, then later to the US, but Sue had to travel alone first. Just a child, not knowing if or when her parents could join her. As an adult, she never ceased working against bigotry of all kinds. I admired her tremendously.