Me too - It was asked of me to read it in the context of a larger argument, and I had to order the book through a library-sharing program (heh... back in the day, before e-bay and amazon)... When it arrived, it was a '50's hard-back, weathered and worn, and in such fragile condition that I literally wrapped it tightly in brown paper for the return, hand-delivered, as I was not sure it could even survive the bottom of the drop-box...
In some way, the fragile condition of the pages heightened the story, and the fragile condition of the people - each page turned with loving care, lest it should break. There is more than one of my tears staining that book - plainly laid over the tears of many others...
What impressed me the most was when he spoke of waking up in the morning and the person next to him was dead- he, like so many others would go back to sleep. He said that after awhile, that became life around the camp- it was part of daily life, they were beyond mourning and survival was the goal. What is it inside a person that could make them still want to live , despite the fact of being in hell on earth? That amazed me.
For me, it was the fact that in spite of being far beyond dire need, men of good measure were giving of their meager rations to those worse than themselves, when the act was so useless as to be pointless - And they grew more feeble that another might live, maybe just for another hour... That, more than any other way available to Man, is laying down one's life for another... While I don't want to lessen the act of stepping in front of a speeding train to save a child, to me, it can't compare to day by day, month after bitter month, sacrificing of yourself so that others can live, in an environment so torturous as to be beyond imagination. Consciously. Intentionally. That is love of a kind so pure that it makes the heart keen.
I later wound up in a wheelchair/bedridden for seven years, in terrible pain - I lost everything, my body, my honor, my business, eventually my marriage, and nearly even my mind... I owe Viktor Frankl much for my ability to hang onto sanity during that time, and I thank God that he prepared me for it with Frankl's words, written large.
God bless you too!
Thank you for speaking of “Man’s Search for Meaning.” I’ve been reading the reviews on Amazon, of which there are almost 2,000 5-star reviews. I hadn’t heard of this book until now. God’s love to you both (for your discussion on it). Thanks again.
men of good measure were giving of their meager rations to those worse than themselves, when the act was so useless as to be pointless - And they grew more feeble that another might live, maybe just for another hour...
Exactly. They lived for each moment, and for any kind of humanity they could show to one another. They never knew who would be next...
It was wonderful that you shared your story. Thank you! I'm so sorry. My Mom was a cancer survivor who said that the toughest things in life can either make you bitter or better. It sure sounds like you've become better, and I believe as you do: God worked through Frankl's experience, to turn the evil of the Nazis into a greater good.
Thank you! May God bless you, and His Peace continue to grow within you!