Reflections on February

As February comes to an end whole sections of America celebrated Black History Month, while other communities simply ignored or failed to recognize the valuable contributions that African-Americans made to life. Also, during February the world took pause to remember the Holocaust and the tremendous and unbelievable suffering visited upon a people simply because they were different. Permit me to reflect, in these closing days of February, by sharing a small journey I took in my mind and spirit.

This small journey begins at the Goodwill Store. I was browsing through the book section and picked up a book by Leon Uris, an author that I had read in the past. The book was QBVII referring to England’s Queen’s Bench Courtroom Number Seven. I have to admit that it wasn’t one of his best works, but it did unfold the horrible story of what took place in the concentration camps under Hitler’s reign of hate and injustice. Mr. Uris was effect in telling the depth of the pain within the Jewish community and how that pain continues in the memory of every family affected by the inhumanity that can be inflicted upon others, as well as the role and responsibility that all Jews have in trying to address the injustice.

Hitler was able to apply his inhumanity upon a whole people because of the silence of others … including those within the Christian church. Out of fear or apathy the voice of the majority was not heard throughout the land which gave raise to the horrors that the world is still only beginning to comprehend. A quote from the book: “There comes a moment in the human experience when one’s life itself no longer makes sense when it is directed to the mutilation and murder of his fellow man.” And, I began to wonder how my voice has been silenced.

The novel is built around a libel suit brought by a British knighted doctor of Polish decent against a best selling American Jewish author who had defamed him in his novel on the Holocaust. As the fly leaf states: “But the real issue was the duty and responsibility of man to fellow man, that demarcation line of human morality beyond which no man can cross for any reason.”

In the novel Leon Uris, after the month long trial, has the English judge, the Lord Gilray, reflecting on what had just transpired in his courtroom. Here is the paragraph, which jumped off the page: “Yet, as time stood suspended, Gilray was all gentiles who never quite understood Jews. He could befriend them, work with them, but never totally understand them. He was all white men who could never quite understand black men and all black men who could never quite understand whites …” Try as we may there is a threshold of understanding over which we can never cross and so, our voices fall silent for whatever reason.

Silence is often golden, but when people of a particular nationality are murdered in concentration camps, or abused under the accepted practice of slavery, or wholesale genocide in parts of the world … silence is deafening. Silence is the lone sentinel that stands in judgment against us when we fail to cry out against the madness of hatred and prejudice.

We can either learn the lessons of the past and effectively bring about a change in the course of the present … or we can remain silent. Taking one month out of year for Black History month or taking one day during the month of February, as Holocaust Remembrance Day or hearing various reports from our news media from various parts of the world who find themselves caught in civil war, starvation, etc. is a start. BUT, where does it go from there?

Dear Lord, may your people be silent no more. Help us to understand that, though our hands might not commit the mutilations of a concentration camp nor hold our fellow human beings in bondage of slavery nor wheel the machetes of a rebel army, when our voices are silent we stand convicted. Lead us ever forward so that all people can experience your Shalom.

Quote for today: “Prayer doesn’t work. God works. And God works when people pray.” Mark Herringshaw and Jennifer Schuchmann