This past August I spent hour after hour walking through the Dachau Concentration Camp. The soil beneath my feet was filled with human ash.
The soil I walked on was saturated with crushed human bones. And my senses were numbed as I reflected on the systematic genocide. I walked in disbelief.
I was in shock as I walked in the footsteps of the Jewish and German victims of a very oppressive regime. The Hitler regime is totally unimaginable.
I listened to the guide tell stories of incredible inhumanity and brutality. And it was mind boggling to just imagine that this tragedy and this horror took place under the guise of creating a perfect human race and a perfect society.
The Dachau camp was built in 1933. It was the first of more than 1000 similar camps all over Germany and Poland. The intent was to extinguish all the undesirable people on the face of the earth so as to purify the human race.
The Dachau camp was a model for all other camps. It was known for its terror. It was known for its brutality. It was known for its hunger. It was known for its starvation.
The Dachau camp was known for its human depravity and for its human degradation. It was known for its human punishment and for its human death. The fear of death and extermination loomed over everyone.
People starved to death. People were shot to death. People were gassed to death. People were put into crematoria. People were expendable and had no value in the eyes of the prison guards and those in charge.
Yet, in the midst of all the death and all the despair, we learn about miracles. We learn about the miracles that come from people hoping and not despairing. There is healing power and survival hope when people are courageous and not despairing.
Hope is born when evil is countered with courage and with perseverance. This is the other side of horror and tragedy. The resilience of many survivors is nothing short of miraculous survival.
Elie Wiesel, the well known novelist and lecturer, was steadfast and courageous in the face of death. He refused to become despairing and refused to become hopeless.
In his book called “Night,” he attempts to capture the horrors and the terror of the camp; he recounts the suffering and the pain he experienced. He watched his father suffer and die. He watched his mother suffer and die. He watched his many friends suffer and die.
And one day he heard a dying man next to him repeat the question where is God — where is God — where is God. And he said to himself quietly “God is here; God is hanging on the gallows; God is on the cross. God is in every cross and on every cross.’’
God is not removed from our lives. God is not far away. God joins us in our sufferings. God joins us in our crosses. God is with us when we take up our cross. God is with us when we carry our cross. God is with us when we bear our cross.
And we will meet the cross in our homes and in our marriages. We meet the cross in the single life and in the religious life. We meet the cross when others expect us to think the way we do; when others expect us to feel the way they do; when others expect us to want what they want.
We meet the cross when we have to forgive others and reconcile with others. We meet the cross when we have to heal wounds. We meet the cross when we have to live with difficult people.
We meet the cross when we follow Jesus. We meet the cross when we become his disciple like the first disciples. His cross is wedded to our crosses.
Holy Week is all about the cross and all about resurrection. It is all about his cross and my cross. It is about his dying and his rising. It is about my dying and my rising.
“Father, in your plan of salvation your Son Jesus Christ accepted the cross… may we come to share the glory of His resurrection…” (sacramentary page 224).
Msgr. Morgan is pastor of St. Thomas More Parish, Cherry Hill.












