Living Next-Door to Auschwitz
Lately, I've become "that guy" on Facebook.
You know, the one who is constantly posting about controversial topics that are major buzz-kills among all the sweet birthday tributes and pictures of what people are having for dinner. The kinds of posts that make people want to block you (or, at least, relegate you to "acquaintance" status).
The thing is I don't care anymore.
I live in an environment with so much death and evil all around. I have no control over it. The only thing I have is my voice and my love. And I've decided to use them. Raising awareness about human trafficking was a no-brainer. Talking about the murder of children on the streets of my city? Distant enough for most people to gloss over without a gut-check. On opposition to the death penalty I may have lost a few friends. But it is on the "women's issues" that I can practically hear people rolling their eyes as they click me into oblivion.
I find that I am compelled to witness, even if it has no effect on others, because of the effect it has on me. But once in a while, God sends me a little gift of encouragement to let me know that I'm not the only one He's working on. I've never been to Germany, but I frequently wondered what the neighborhood closest to Auschwitz was like before the construction of a death camp. Did the people passing by have any idea what was about to happen there? And if they had, how did they handle it?
I had been driving past that vacant soon-to-be-huge-regional-abortion-center lot for months. Each time feeling a little twinge and resolving to go pray there. Today I finally did. When I pulled up and parked I started to chicken out and figured I could just sit in my car and pray, but a little prompt in my conscience whispered "be a witness" so I got out.
I felt some trepidation as I smeared a few drops of holy oil on the fence and began to pray. I could hear some cars slow down as they passed; I wondered if the horns were support, condemnation, or merely coincidental. I began to feel glad I had done this.
Then I heard a car pull up and stop. Someone got out. I turned around and came face-to-face with a woman who, with tears in her eyes, asked if she could join me. Turns out she also lives in the area. She also feels that twinge each time she passes this place. Today there was just enough force to make her stop. The witness of just one other person.
You know, the one who is constantly posting about controversial topics that are major buzz-kills among all the sweet birthday tributes and pictures of what people are having for dinner. The kinds of posts that make people want to block you (or, at least, relegate you to "acquaintance" status).
The thing is I don't care anymore.
I live in an environment with so much death and evil all around. I have no control over it. The only thing I have is my voice and my love. And I've decided to use them. Raising awareness about human trafficking was a no-brainer. Talking about the murder of children on the streets of my city? Distant enough for most people to gloss over without a gut-check. On opposition to the death penalty I may have lost a few friends. But it is on the "women's issues" that I can practically hear people rolling their eyes as they click me into oblivion.
I find that I am compelled to witness, even if it has no effect on others, because of the effect it has on me. But once in a while, God sends me a little gift of encouragement to let me know that I'm not the only one He's working on. I've never been to Germany, but I frequently wondered what the neighborhood closest to Auschwitz was like before the construction of a death camp. Did the people passing by have any idea what was about to happen there? And if they had, how did they handle it?
I had been driving past that vacant soon-to-be-huge-regional-abortion-center lot for months. Each time feeling a little twinge and resolving to go pray there. Today I finally did. When I pulled up and parked I started to chicken out and figured I could just sit in my car and pray, but a little prompt in my conscience whispered "be a witness" so I got out.
I felt some trepidation as I smeared a few drops of holy oil on the fence and began to pray. I could hear some cars slow down as they passed; I wondered if the horns were support, condemnation, or merely coincidental. I began to feel glad I had done this.
Then I heard a car pull up and stop. Someone got out. I turned around and came face-to-face with a woman who, with tears in her eyes, asked if she could join me. Turns out she also lives in the area. She also feels that twinge each time she passes this place. Today there was just enough force to make her stop. The witness of just one other person.
posted by smurp at 4:41 PM
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