The Victoria Theatre

For several years now, I have been a volunteer for the Victoria Theater Association.  For the time I spend taking tickets, passing out programs, and ushering patrons to their seats, I get to see the current program without charge.  Thus, I see many shows and concerts that I could not afford to attend. This work also is a ministry for me: courteously helping stressed patrons, smiling and telling them to enjoy the show.

At the end of April, the University of Dayton (UD) sponsored a special program.  Elie Wiesel, writer, professor at Boston University, political activist, Nobel Laureate and Holocaust survivor, was the presenter.  As soon as the information was made public, I made it known that I wanted to volunteer for this offering.  I was assigned Orchestra Door 1, my favorite area to work.

When the day arrived, and I was seating the guests, a well dressed gentleman asked how he could get back stage. I explained that patrons were not permitted to go backstage from the theater, and then he told me that he was Daniel Curran, the president of UD.  So, with a little bit of a red face, I quickly gave him the information he needed.  For me a lesson in humility!

Shortly after that encounter, the director of security approached me to let me know that he would be going in and out the “my” door – and that there would be a man on each side of the stage.  Later I learned that there were many undercover security agents in the theater that evening. I wondered whether Mr. Weisel had received death threats – especially when I noticed that the man on stage in front of me had a gun. Even before Mr. Wiesel came on stage to give his speech, it was an interesting evening!   

Elie Wiesel

When Mr. Wiesel was introduced and appeared on the stage, I felt tears come to my eyes.  I knew instinctively that I was in the presence of a holy man.  I had read his books, Night, Dawn, and Day soon after they were first published in the mid-sixties, about his experience in a German concentration camp when he was thirteen years old.  Mr. Wiesel’s voice was soft and gentle as he shared his experiences with us.  Of the many things he said, I remember one in particular: ‘...the worst terrorist is the person who believes he has all the answers, and even tries to convince others that he knows the mind of God.’

As the crowd dispersed, I met a sad-faced man who had asked to see Mr. Wiesel. I approached him and told him that I was sorry, but he would not be able to meet Mr. Wiesel. Then the gentleman told me a bit of his life story. He had been with the military liberation forces; he was 22 years old at the time. I saw the pain in his eyes, and I remembered how much horror these young troopers saw: things that no one should ever have to see.  My heart went out to him as he said, “Those of us who have seen the holocaust are dying. Soon there will be no witnesses.”  I suggested that he contact Mr. Wiesel through his publisher, or by visiting his web site. His face began to relax, and his eyes brightened at the prospect of actually being able to contact Mr. Wiesel.  I saw before me another holy man, this time transformed by a simple kindness.