Free Legends of Our Time by Elie Wiesel

the victims. Yes, even he, he better than anyone, knows the sorrows that consume you; he feels the fist that smashes into your faces. The darkness that engulfs us engulfs him also. It is he, here and now, who urges you not to give way to despair. It is he who has need of you. Do not abandon him. Take pity on him. He is worthy of your pity. You must make sure that he is not the only one among his people to survive.”
    To strengthen his argument, he quoted from the sayings and legends of the Talmud:
    “It is written that when mankind has wholly given way to good or evil, the Messiah will appear. Well, mankind has given way to evil, and we know it. No one can claim to be free from guilt. We are living proof that man has betrayed his nature and his destiny. It is our duty to proclaim the end of his reign. Without our knowledge, it has already been proclaimed.
    “We are the harbingers of a new era. Very soon the
shofar
will sound, and the pall of darkness will be lifted. If you stand firm for a day, a week, a month, you will witness the coming of the dawn, and men will kneel to you and ask forgiveness. It is I who make you this promise, it is he who has decreed it.”
    Oh, yes, he spoke well. As always. His words came fast and fiery. But we remained deaf to their poetry. His message turned to dust and ashes before it could touch us.
    “I am not surprised that you do not believe me,” heconcluded, half-sadly, half-teasingly. “But you heard me out. That will have to do for the present. Besides, I am now going to reveal a truth which even you will not deny. Do you know why you call me the Prophet? Because that is what I am.”
    That night, in my dreams, I heard him laughing and crying, though I could not guess the reason.
    Needless to say, we did not take what he said seriously. Yet we took him seriously. Whether he was playing a part no one could tell, but if so, he was determined to play it to the bitter end. While playing his chosen part, he somehow managed to involve us. Whether as spectators or participants, we could not escape watching him at work.
    In all he did, he gave of himself unstintingly, caring for the sick, willingly bearing the burdens of hard labor and torture, sharing his bread with anyone who asked for it. He lived only for others. He was admired by some and pitied by others. At his approach, people would stop talking. They would exchange winks, and whisper that the poor soul was going out of his mind.
    His friends, growing more and more uneasy, urged him to take a grip on himself, to stop squandering his energies. It was a sin, they said, to tempt providence so recklessly. He shrugged, and went back to work with redoubled zeal. Far from avoiding excess, he deliberately sought it.
    I asked him, “Why do you take such risks?”
    He replied, “I have nothing to lose.”
    “Have you no fear of death?”
    “Why should I fear it?”
    “But what are you trying to prove?”
    “That I am not a liar.”
    He seemed to bear a charmed life. It was fascinating. How long could his luck hold? People made bets on it,and it was always the doubters who lost. The Prophet was proving indestructible.
    On one occasion he came up against Hans the Killer, the most dreaded of all the Kapos in the camp. Hans claimed that a jar of jam had been stolen from him. He stormed into our hut and, with threats and insults, demanded that the culprit be denounced, or else we should all pay for it.
    The Prophet stepped forward: “It is I.”
    Taken by surprise, Hans stared in bewilderment.
    Unflinching, the Prophet reiterated: “I am the thief.”
    The Killer, collecting himself, roared: “And the jam? Where is it?”
    “I ate it,” calmly answered the Prophet.
    For a long time, the two men looked at each other in silence. Hans was frowning. A bad sign. I held my breath and shut my eyes, but only for an instant. I opened them again, to see a Hans transformed. The notorious killer was doubled up with laughter: “You’re lying! I made