On Reading Man's Search for Meaning
In the silent moments when we are freed from the prison of distraction, primordial questions will surface: Why does peace pass by quickly? What is the meaning of my suffering? What is the meaning of my life? Is this all there is? Surely, no one else has felt what I am feeling, right? Why am I plagued by this anxiety, this sorrow, this boredom, this despair? What will make me truly happy? Who am I? Why does evil exist? What is the Holy Spirit doing in my life? What is God’s will for me? The list goes on.
We may answer some of these questions or we may be unaware of their silent presence. Questions break through the noise with striking clarity in the midst of deep suffering. Viktor Frankl’s now famous book Man’s Search for Meaning wrestles with this idea: What is the meaning of my suffering? His first hand account of life in the Nazi concentration camps during the Holocaust is haunting and honest. I was struck by his immense perseverance and the sheer luck—or rather, grace—that saved his life over and over again. The voice of nihilism anesthetized many prisoners. The belief that life is meaningless is precisely the result of the cruel methods employed in the camps. At one point, Frankl shares how he refrained from helping a clearly disturbed but dreaming man. He hesitated because he knew that once awake, the sleeper would again realize the horror of his reality; at least in his dreams he could imagine he was anywhere but the camps.
Frankl was able to transcend his suffering and find meaning in a mad world. Despite the chaos and labor and beatings and starvation and stench of death, he chose to see the beautiful things, luxuriating in whatever brief moments of peace he could find. He found meaning in an apparently meaningless environment. He found meaning in imagining the beauty of his wife’s face as his group marched miles and miles to work. These small moments brought consolation and glimmers of hope that one way or another, his present predicament would someday end. The choice is left to each one of us to find the meaning presented to us in our own lives and seek to answer the nagging, but beautiful questions; if only we are able to recognize that they are in fact beautiful, good, and true. Only we can choose what to make of them if we choose to listen to the silence and keep searching.