Night is devastating. There’s no better way to describe it. Reading Elie Wiesel’s first-hand account of the Holocaust is deeply emotional. Despite it being one man’s story, the scale of moving thousands of people in trains comes alive. (Of course, it’s horribly ironic to use that phrase in describing this book.) The systematic breaking of the prisoners to the extent they could kill their loved ones for a hunk of bread is told with an almost flat affect. Yet, I think the strength in this book is in its lack of drama. It’s a horror story in its truth.

Reading Wiesel’s account of his father’s last days indeed rocked my soul. Then I did the math. If Wiesel was 15, then his father was maybe 45. Just 45! And yet, his body was so injured by the camps that he was ancient.

Towards the end, Wiesel tells of the camp’s resistance organization. So, as we hashtag in social media, I hope we remember that resisting evil takes action. If they can do it, we can do it.