My Return To Schindler's List

I have just returned from a 9:30 pm showing of a theatrical rerelease of Steven Spielberg's multi-award-winning film, “Schindler's List.” This week marked the twenty-fifth anniversary of the release of Spielberg's film and I wanted to see the film in theaters after being indirectly informed through a friend's post on facebook. When I read the post, I was determined to go and see the film. I arrived at 9:15 pm at my local AMC Theater, bought a regular size cup, poured a fruit-flavored drink with ice, and had the entire screening to myself. I had expected more people to be there since film is well-renowned, even after winning Winner of seven Academy Awards¨ including Best Picture and Best Director. I stayed until the very end of the credits, which I marked on my cellphone at fifty-six minutes after midnight. I came to my apartment and decided to post this journal entry. I should mention that this is not a film review (as there are reviewers who far more eloquent than myself who can do much better), but rather how the much film has meant to me, means to me now, and lessons I took from my recent viewing.

At the time of the film's original release in 1993, I was seven years old. By that time, I had only been exposed to Disney films and to entertainment that was suitable to a child of my age. The first time I had become aware of the film was when I was in middle school in 1998 at the age of twelve. During that time, Mrs. Rowan made us read a book called “Number the Stars,” which was about “the story of a ten-year-old Danish girl and her family's courageous efforts to smuggle Jews out of their Nazi-occupied homeland to safety in Sweden,” by Lois Lowry. This was my first exposure to understanding the events of the Holocaust. One particular day, there was a general assembly in the auditorium and all the students attended. There was a woman (whose name I sadly cannot recall) who had been a survivor of the holocaust thanks to efforts of Oskar Schindler, “a German industrialist and a member of the Nazi Party who saved the lives of 1,200 Jews during the Holocaust” (Thanks, Wikipedia). Seriously though, I was struck by her story, she mentioned the film, and I remember one teacher asking if the survivor “was there at the end.” Since I had not even been aware of the film's existence beforehand, I didn't know what that teacher was asking. I remember one thing the survivor had said that I never forgot. She mentioned that if she ever saw someone get bullied then she would intervene and tell the bully to stop. In middle school, I was bullied frequently and I wish that I had gotten to meet her and then got to know her and perhaps she could have been my mentor. I would have liked her and would have wanted to learn more deep and meaningful lessons from her.

That same year, I had also been exposed to the Star Wars Trilogy Special Edition on VHS, which my father bought for me and my sister to watch. I became a huge fan. The next year, “Star Wars: Episode I - The Phantom Menace” was released and while I had missed its original theatrical run, I watched it when it was released on video cassette. At around the same, Schindler's List was going to be broadcast some evening on PBS. I immediately knew the lead actor's name, Liam Neeson, who I recognized for his performance as the jedi master Qui-Gon Jinn from the first instalment of the Star Wars prequel trilogy. Seeing that he was playing the lead role of Oskar Schindler and remembering the testimony of the holocaust survivor, I felt I needed to see it. On the evening it was broadcasted, it was shown uncut. My parents were not aware that I watched the film and since it was not on a school night, I was not made to go to bed early. In the den of a renovated basement at home, I watched the whole film. I was initially shocked by what I had seen. I knew the movie was about the Holocaust, but I didn't expect for it to feel almost too realistic. I couldn't believe that human beings were made to suffer because they were different, but I was also aware of the importance of the film and it's message. At the film's end, it touched my heart though I did not cry. It taught me how much I didn’t know about Schindler’s life and it encouraged me to research it in detail. Since then, I had the seen the film on rare occasions, even though I owned a copy of it on DVD years later. To this day, I cannot recall how many times I have seen the film, but I made point to watch it only once a year.

As of 2018, I am in my early thirties now and in the week leading up to this journal entry, it seemed to be a prelude to this viewing. At my job, where I work at a retirement facility, few of the residents had a brief Hanukkah ceremony, in which they would light a “candle” (which was a small flamed shaped light bulb) into an electric menorah. A resident named “Buddy,” as he likes to be called, would volunteer to read a brief prayer in Hebrew, “light the candle,” and the few residents who attended would sing the dreidel song and that would be all. Strangely enough, while I am not Jewish, during my break, I attended each of those “candle lighting” ceremonies on my scheduled workdays, and I was blessed in getting to know some of the residents in attendance. I shared some of my knowledge of Jewish history with them (my interest in it was rooted in meeting a former prime minister of Israel two years before). They appreciated it and they seemed to welcome me into their little gathering. As of this posting, I am on vacation this week and during this time, I had been doing research on the founding the state of Israel in 1948 and the inspiring life of Israel's first prime-minister and main founding father – David Ben-Guirion. He once said in an interview on CBS on October 5, 1956 (to which I discovered just yesterday), “In Israel, in order to be a realist you must believe in miracles.” In my opinion that it would be hard not to believe in miracles in reading and learning the history of the Jewish people. While I do not know if I have Jewish ancestry, they have been without a doubt some of the most resilient people in our human history.

My last viewing of Schindler's List seems to be a culmination of what I have been learning about for the past two weeks, at least in terms of culture and history. Yet I wonder as to the purpose of it. I feel that it has led up this moment, but for what? I was certainly touched by the story again. Tears welled up during my viewing of two scenes of movie. The first time I saw the film, I didn't cry and almost never cry in watching movies. One being a scene of an innocent, unoffending, little girl wearing a red coat, walking down the street and wandering around amidst the chaos and violence while people are being slaughtered around her. My heart broke for that little girl and even more knowing that see that she would soon die. 

 

The second time my tears welled up was when Schindler broke down and cried, wishing he could have saved more. 

  

I didn't understand why he cried at my very first viewing. As an adult, I now understand. Schindler was crying because he realized just how much one human life was worth. At the beginning of the story, all Schindler wanted to do was to make money and he needed workers so he would use the Jews to help his factory. There was nothing notable about him, no hint of character. But when the moment came, when he realized the horrors and suffering the Jews endure, it awakened his conscience and prompted him to sacrifice his money/everything to save them from any more pain. In so doing he saved the lives of 1,200 people who would have otherwise perished in the holocaust. He went beyond the realm of help and because of what he did for them, they were able to live and rebuild their lives.

Yes, I was certainly moved by the story and it has affected to the point where I needed to post an entry on my experience with it and yet I wonder why? What purpose? I would never write (or this case type) this about any other movie. This is movie is supposed to serve a purpose and the filming of Schindler’s List inspired Mr. Spielberg to create the USC Shoah Foundation to record the testimony of Holocaust survivors. In seeing this, I find my answer. In the same way that Oskar Schindler was moved, albeit slowly, to save the lives of 1,200 people, in the same way that Steven Spielberg was moved to create the USC Shoah Foundation, we must be moved to strive to make the world a better place. Most people who have watched this movie have been touched and yet have moved on with their lives. They tell their friends how powerful it was to them and recommend it, but that's all. We must do more, especially at this time given the political climate in the United States (and in many other countries around the world) right now. The film can be a tool to be used in educating those on the horrors of the Holocaust. To quote the line from the Talmud in the ring given to Schindler by the Jews he saved: “Whoever saves one life saves the world entire.” I am apt to believe if more people see this movie, that more lives can be saved.

And yet there is still more that we must do. Abraham Lincoln said his Gettysburg Address, “The world will little note, nor long remember what we say here, but it can never forget what they did here. It is for us the living, rather, to be dedicated here to the unfinished work... It is rather for us to be here dedicated to the great task remaining before us—that from these honored dead we take increased devotion to that cause for which they here gave the last full measure of devotion—that we here highly resolve that these dead shall not have died in vain...” In context, Lincoln was acknowledging that anything he or anyone else said at that ceremony on November 19, 1863 were just words, and those words were nothing in comparison to what the soldiers went through and gave during that battle of Gettysburg a few months before. He also gave to us, the living, a call to action, a resolve to complete “the unfinished work” being preserving the Union and its ideals of equality, liberty, and freedom. Today in 2018, our unfinished work is that these stories and testimonies of those who experienced the Holocaust are remembered and that the “dead shall not have died in vain.” Slowly the survivors and their times will become history and there will be those who will claim that their stories are false and have no merit. We must defend against such people by educating more young people about those events, instructing them to stand up against injustice, and help them understand that in doing so they can prevent another holocaust from occurring.

As for me personally, I am going to start reading books about the holocaust, beginning with Schindler's List (the book adapted for the film) by Thomas Keneally, donate some money to the USC Shoah Foundation and the United States Holocaust Memorial Museum (USHMM) in Washington, D.C., reach out and perhaps volunteer and/or raise money for those organizations, pay a visit to USHMM and pay my respects in person at the grave of Oskar Schindler, located at the Catholic cemetery on the southern slope of Mount Zion, in Jerusalem, Israel. I want to share what I have learned with others who want to learn. I want this experience to make me a better person. I want to be what I want to see in others. I need to embrace the change and seek out opportunities, learn from my mistakes instead of making excuses, listen and learn more with an open mind, do random acts of kindness even if nobody sees me while not expecting anything in return, live up to my full potential, and make wise decisions while reminding myself that it is never too late to make a difference. If Oskar Schindler could redeem himself then maybe I could as well.

In conclusion, I hope that throughout the rest of my life, whether it long or short, that I will perpetually honor the six million, who could not be here, through my words and deeds. I dedicate this journal entry to the memory of the countless victims among them and to the life, legacy, and memory of Oskar Schindler.

Remembering Pastor Billy Graham (1918-2018)

I know it has been a long time since my last journal entry, but I wanted to take a moment to write about something that has been on my mind for the past two days. As most of you reading this already know, Pastor Billy Graham, a farmer’s son from North Carolina who preached to millions about Jesus Christ, a spiritual adviser to several Presidents of the United States, and for more than sixty years America’s best known Christian evangelist, passed away at the age of ninety nine in his home in Montreat, North Carolina at 7:46 in the morning on February 21, 2018.

Although so much has already been said about his life, his ministry, and his legacy by those far more eloquent than myself, I wanted to reflect on the effect Billy Graham had on me throughout my life.

My first introduction to him came in 1998, when I was twelve years old. I grew up with a Christian father who did his best to teach me about God and to instill biblical ethics in me throughout my early life. One Saturday night, I found my dad watching television in the living room. I cannot recall what drew my attention, but before long I found myself sitting beside him, watching a program together.

The broadcast was a crusade led by the renowned preacher Billy Graham, held in a large stadium. I do not remember where it took place, but according to later research it may have been in Tampa, Florida. I remember seeing the Gaither Vocal Band sing Christian songs and then hearing George Beverly Shea sing How Great Thou Art in his rich baritone voice. While I cannot recall the content of Billy Graham’s sermon that night, I clearly remember being impressed by his style of speaking.

When he finished preaching and the choir began to sing Just As I Am, the hymn written by Charlotte Elliott in 1835, my father stood up to go upstairs to bed. I told him I wanted to keep watching. He replied that the program was already ending, but I insisted. He allowed me to stay and watch while he went upstairs.

As time went on, I grew curious and wanted to know more about Billy Graham and his ministry. I remember asking my father questions about him, and my dad answered as best he could with what he knew. I hoped that one day Billy Graham would come to Massachusetts so that my father and I could attend a crusade together. That never happened. The last time he had preached in Massachusetts was in 1982, four years before I was born. By 1998 he was already eighty years old and holding fewer crusades. I even imagined meeting him one day and introducing him to my father. At the time, it felt like a realistic hope.

After the attacks of September 11, 2001, I came down with a cold and stayed home from school on Thursday and Friday, September 13 and 14, and through the weekend. Wrapped in a blanket and occasionally reaching for tissues, I watched the National Day of Prayer and Remembrance Service at the National Cathedral, Washington, D. C. on television. 

Even at that young age, I had developed an interest in history and the American presidency. I felt honored to watch history unfold as President George W. Bush stood alongside former presidents Bill Clinton, George H. W. Bush, Jimmy Carter, and Gerald Ford. I saw a man assisting the elderly Billy Graham up the steps to the podium as a commentator mentioned his age of eighty-two and his frail health.

As he approached the microphone, I thought to myself that my father would have liked to see this moment, but I chose not to call upstairs since I was still sick. I listened closely as Billy Graham spoke words that stayed with me:

“I’ve become an old man now, and I’ve preached all over the world. And the older I get, the more I cling to that hope that I started with many years ago. My prayer today is that we will feel the loving arms of God wrapped around us and that as we trust in Him, we will know in our hearts that He will never forsake us. We know also that God will give wisdom and courage and strength to the President and those around him. And this will be a day that we will remember as a Day of Victory.”

I did not realize it then, but that address would later be described as a defining moment in the final decade of his public ministry.

Later that year, on another Saturday night, I watched a program on PAX TV called “A Billy Graham Homecoming Celebration.” At the time, I did not understand what a homecoming celebration was. I assumed it was meant to welcome Billy Graham back home and that he would preach at the end.

Instead, I saw a group of singers gathered in a room with his wife, Ruth Bell Graham, who was seated in a wheelchair. They sang Christian songs, many of which I did not know at the time. The program was hosted by Bill Gaither and his wife Gloria, whose music I would later come to appreciate during my college years. I was initially confused and disappointed that Billy Graham never appeared, but I enjoyed the music and the warmth of the program, nonetheless.

The following year, on another Saturday night in 2002, my dad was watching yet another Billy Graham crusade, this one from the Metroplex Mission in Dallas, Texas, on the same evening I was having a sleepover with friends from church. Feeling embarrassed and trying to appear cool, I quickly changed the channel, only for my dad to protest that he had been watching the program. Sheepishly, I apologized and switched it back.

That night, country music singer Randy Travis performed, which leads me to believe the crusade took place on October 19, 2002. It was the last time my father and I would watch a Billy Graham crusade together, and it was also the final crusade Billy Graham ever preached.

Looking back now, I feel a sense of loss when I think about those moments with my father. As I grew into adulthood, my father and I gradually grew apart. I miss those times of innocence and the shared spiritual moments we once had.

Years later, I went off to college. While there were many happy moments that I still look back on fondly, there were also periods of loneliness. During those times, I found myself researching Billy Graham’s life and ministry, watching his sermons online, rediscovering Gaither music, and eventually deciding to read his autobiography.

By that time, my parents had divorced, and I lived at my aunt’s house for a period while my father also stayed there. On my days off from work, I would walk to the local library and read “Just As I Am: The Autobiography of Billy Graham.” I found it far more engaging than I had expected. I was fascinated by his journey from growing up on a dairy farm during the Great Depression to becoming one of the most well known evangelists in the world, forming friendships with presidents, world leaders, and celebrities, and most importantly, leading countless people to Christ.

One afternoon while studying in my college computer lab, I watched highlights from the dedication of the Billy Graham Library, Former Presidents Jimmy Carter, George H. W. Bush, and Bill Clinton were in attendance, along with many other dignitaries. Wearing my headphones, I listened to them speak about how Billy Graham had influenced their lives and deepened their faith.

When Billy Graham himself approached the podium, he joked, “I feel like I’ve been attending my own funeral.” There was laughter and applause, but later he said something that deeply moved me: “My whole life has been to please the Lord and to honor Jesus, not to see me.”

That statement said everything. He never wanted the focus to be on himself. He understood that he was only a messenger, and that the message belonged to Christ. Even in his later years, the conviction behind his words remained strong.

As the early morning was still unfolding in my own life, the sun was beginning to set on Billy Graham’s. I often found myself wondering how he spent his final years in his home in Montreat. I imagined him seated on the porch of his mountain cabin on warm spring or summer days, gazing into the distance, quietly reflecting on his life. I imagined him remembering moments of joy and laughter, regretting past failures, missing his wife Ruth whom he outlived by more than ten years, and welcoming visits from friends and family.

Above all, I imagined him resting in the assurance that Jesus Christ remained his Savior, Lord, and Friend. I thought of him as Moses on Mount Nebo, looking toward the promised land. Billy Graham, near the end of his earthly journey, was looking forward to the promise of heaven.

Now his journey has ended. The sun has set on his life. I find myself approaching mid-morning in my own. In time, it will be noon, then afternoon, and eventually the sun will begin to set on my life as well. His death has caused me to reflect deeply and to ask whether I am living in accordance with God’s calling.

Billy Graham’s public ministry began in 1947 when he was twenty seven years old. By comparison, at thirty one, I feel as though I have accomplished very little. Yet I remind myself that comparison is neither fair nor wise. My life is not over. Billy Graham himself would insist that anything he accomplished was not by his own strength, but by Christ.

He would constantly point people to Jesus, often quoting John 14:6, the verse that will be inscribed on his grave at the Billy Graham Library in Charlotte, North Carolina, where he will be laid to rest.

There is no doubt that Billy Graham was a remarkable man who influenced more people than perhaps anyone else in the past century. He has been a source of inspiration to me for many years. Because of that, I intend to order a paperback copy of "Just As I Am: The Autobiography of Billy Graham, Revised and Updated” published in 2007. I believe I misplaced my hardcover copy, but I look forward to reading it again.

I also hope someday to visit the Billy Graham Library and homestead in person. From everything I have read from blogger Souvenir Chronicles who wrote a wonderful blog entry about her visit there in 2013, it is a beautiful and inspiring place. I have purposed in my heart to travel there one day and to pay my respects to Cliff Barrows, George Beverly Shea, Ruth Bell Graham, and of course Billy himself. Billy.

Now the sun has set, and it is Saturday night once again. As I write this, I am listening to a prerecorded livestream from the Billy Graham Evangelistic Association featuring sermon excerpts, interviews, and reflections on both Billy and Ruth Graham’s lives. Once again, I feel inspired and convicted.

This has become a time of serious self examination. I must look again at my relationship with God, examine my heart, bend my will to His, and return to the cross. As Billy Graham once said, “The cross tells us that God understands our sin and our suffering. From the cross, God declares, ‘I love you.’ The story does not end with the cross, for Easter points us beyond it to the empty tomb that tells us there is hope.”

Even if my own words fade into obscurity, the story of a humble man who allowed himself to be used by God will never be forgotten, nor will the lives of the thousands touched by his message. That message was simple. God loves us. He sent His Son Jesus to die for our sins, and when we place our faith in Him, we are forgiven. That is our hope. That is his legacy.

Billy Graham once concluded a sermon by saying, “If you remember nothing else I’ve said this evening, remember these three words: God loves you.”

I would like to close with an excerpt from Just As I Am:

“I don’t know the future, but I do know this: the best is yet to be. Heaven awaits us, and it will be far more glorious than anything we can imagine. I thank God for all He has given me in this life, but I look forward to Heaven. Most of all, I look forward to seeing Christ and bowing before Him in praise and gratitude for all He has done, and for using me on this earth by His grace, just as I am.”