A SPIRIT OF DESPAIR.

But hope rises in the wake of dark memories.

by Charles Gardner.

Sharing Holocaust Memorial Day with a talk I gave in Stoke-on-Trent – famous for its potteries – reminded me of the Scripture that describes us as having treasure in jars of clay (2 Corinthians 4:71).

The Apostle Paul was of course referring to the riches of God’s kingdom living, through the Holy Spirit, in fragile vessels of human flesh.

I don’t recall ever having felt such a spirit of heaviness on my cross-country train journey to Staffordshire and in the days that followed. It seemed that I was in a real battle, in a dark place with my stomach churned, and I couldn’t eat properly.

Was I sampling a tiny morsel of the horrific trauma experienced by Holocaust survivors, not to mention those hostages who have endured such terrible torture of their bodies and souls in the Hamas dungeons of darkness?

In giving the talk itself, I felt a great freedom, aided by the warmth of the atmosphere in the church (Longton Elim) along with the company of the local synagogue president, an honoured guest who also shared his own thoughts.

I had mentioned the travesty of how the three-and-a-half million strong Jewish community of Poland, the largest in the world at the time, had been virtually wiped out by the Nazis, and how the British government had failed to respond to a desperate plea to help them!

Then I discovered that our guest, Martin Morris, was himself of Polish background (his name significantly Anglicised). His grandfather had, in 1894, walked all the way from Poland to the UK! It took him three years, stopping on the way to make ends meet by sewing caps. He arrived at Liverpool unable to speak either English or Polish. They spoke Yiddish back home.

The rest of his family were saving up so they could all come over together when they had enough money. Tragically, their hopes were shattered when 33 of them perished in the Shoah.

It was especially poignant that our service finished with the singing of the Hatikvah (The Hope), the Israeli national anthem. For there is always hope where our Saviour is concerned.

I just read this morning of how a poetic passage from the Book of Habakkuk has been recited in some of the most horrific places known to man, including in Auschwitz, Dachau and Birkenau:

“Though the fig tree does not blossom and there are no grapes on the vines, though the olive crop fails and the fields produce no food, though there are no sheep in the pen and no cattle in the stalls, yet I will rejoice in the Lord…” (Habakkuk 3:17f).

Author Rob Parsons, in his profoundly moving book A Knock at the Door2, was recounting a particularly dark period in his life, and how this passage helped bring perspective to his situation.

I certainly began breathing more easily as I allowed the garments of praise to replace that spirit of heaviness and despair (see Isaiah 61:3). And I pray that Israelis will take fresh hope from the prophet Jeremiah, who wrote: “For the Lord will deliver Jacob and redeem them from the hand of those stronger than they… They will be like a well-watered garden, and they will sorrow no more… I will turn their mourning into gladness; I will give them comfort and joy instead of sorrow.” (Jeremiah 31:11-13)

1“But we have this treasure in jars of clay to show that this all-surpassing power is from God and not from us.”

2Published by William Collins (2024)


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