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The psychoanalyst Victor Frankl and his friends were imprisoned in a Nazi concentration camp during World War II. It was winter. They had been marched off to work in the morning, spent the day at hard labor, been given only a little thin soup to eat, and then staggered back to camp in the late afternoon. Many were already sick; most of them had lost loved ones; everything they owned had been taken away from them. As they were lying around on their bunks one of the group came running inside and told them to come outside quickly. They dragged themselves outside and were immediately confronted with a majestic sunset. They gray, metallic skies had broken open, and a glorious splash of color had exploded across the horizon, and reflected in the pools of water around the concrete yard. They stood in awe, overwhelmed by the miracle of the sunset, transformed by this message from God. Their hearts were lifted and their souls refreshed. God’s sovereign hand had smashed through the walls of hatred and wrong. God had spread a table before them in the presence of their enemies.

(Victor Frankl, ’Man’s Search for Meaning’, New York, Washington Square Press, 1984, p. 62-3)

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