The spiritual journey as depicted in literature is often portrayed as progressive and teleological; a voyage of ascent.
The oft neglected reality, however, is that not all spiritual journies are movements of advance; indeed, many are tragically regressive and find their destination in a place of darkness.
Such is the case of Elie Wiesel’s memoir,
Night.
Wiesel’s account is not simply about the perpetual night of
Auschwitz, nor is it only about the darkness within humankind that enables us to carry out such horrific atrocities.
Each of these interpretations of
Night point to a larger theme in the narrative—the night of the soul, that is, an ultimate spiritual darkness experienced throughout—and ever since— the Holocaust.
Wiesel recounts, then, his journey from spiritual fervor to, finally, to his journey without God.
This is not a simple act of the author abandoning his faith, or even his God; it is rather a retelling of the time and place in which God was violently murdered in the company of 6 million Jews.
While the readers are afforded the arduous opportunity to stand alongside Wiesel throughout his journey, we are also reminded that “We must not make [this] journey too quickly.
We must linger with this starting point and not rush on to soon, seeking relief from its horror.
”
Such is also true as we are on the eve of Holy Week, seduced by temptation to rush through the pain of Good Friday for the glory of Easter Sunday. As I was reading the book this week, I couldn't help but think of the opportunity for a significant spiritual experience for a person who would sit and read this book through on Good Friday. (do with this thought what you will.)
The spiritual journey as depicted in literature is often portrayed as progressive and teleological; a voyage of ascent. The oft neglected reality, however, is that not all spiritual journies are movements of advance; indeed, many are tragically regressive and find their destination in a place of darkness. Such is the case of Elie Wiesel’s memoir, Night. Wiesel’s account is not simply about the perpetual night of 
6 comments:
i love that thought, aaron. that's something i've sought to bring in my leadership at church, to lean into these moments that require us to sit in darkness a little longer than is comfortable. during advent... during lent... and specifically, during holy week. even in planning a service, there is always a pull towards offering resolution in the 2 hrs we have together. we've been trained by our entertainment culture...
i havn't read night since our jewish lit class. would be good to read it again.
phil, it's certainly a text worth revisiting if you can carve out a couple of hours to read it cover to cover. i must say, too, that it was an entirely different read for me than it was in Jewish Lit. class, now that i read through the lens of a father and a husband... i'd be interested in hearing your thoughts on a more recent reading of it.
and isn't it amazing what our desire to bring things to a neat-and-tidy close at the end of our services really says about our theology? it's humbling, to say the least...
I needed to read that today, thanks.
thanks maria... glad you stopped by!
A heart wrenching read to say the least. A book that sat with me for a long time...a reminder of what humankind can be capable of. As well as an important journey everyone should read and reflect on.
With love,
Jen
thanks for your thoughts jen... it certainly is a book that can't be read one day and forgotten the next... somehow-- whether voluntary or not-- you are changed (for better or worse) when you read that book.
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