Elie Wiesel’s short, eloquent letter offered support and perspective to a young writer desperately in need of both. On the occasion of what would have been Wiesel’s 88th birthday, Rachel Kadish explains.
Several U.S. congressmen introduced resolutions to honor the life and work of Elie Wiesel, including a proposal to create a memorial statue to be placed in the U.S. Capitol building.
Elie Wiesel, who passed away last Saturday, left behind a moral legacy that will continue to shape the world’s views on history, humanity and the danger of bigotry.
I was hit by a car on my way to meet Professor Elie Wiesel for the first time. It happened just after I arrived in Boston from Paris, as I stepped out to cross Commonwealth Avenue. The car knocked me down, and I felt an intense pain in my right leg. I mumbled that I did not want to go to hospital—I couldn’t be late for my meeting. That month, March of 2003, was supposed to be one of solid memories and moments, yet it began in an ineffable glow.
The Hillary Clinton campaign publicly condemned Max Blumenthal, journalist and son of one her close advisers, after he criticized the Holocaust survivor Elie Wiesel, who died last week.
Among my nearly forty years’ long friendship with Elie Wiesel and coverage of his conscience-prodding commentary, a few moments stand out.
On my bookshelves there are two rows of volumes on the Soviet Jewry movement. Squeezed in among the tomes is a small, well-worn paperback with pages no longer attached to the spine, “The Jews of Silence” by Elie Wiesel. This slim volume is, however, a bridge. It crossed him and his readers over from his prior works, hearing the screams of those silenced in the Holocaust, to an eloquent challenge in 1966 to listen to the cry of our silenced but living oppressed brethren in the USSR.
I just heard the news that my teacher Elie Wiesel has left the world. For several years, I have said Havdalah at the close of the Sabbath and immediately checked the news, wondering if I would learn that this has happened. This has become a ritual of anxious anticipation, and then – every week before this one – of relief.
His role as explainer of the Holocaust to non-Jews can be explained by his historical context.
As the tributes pour in, it’s easy to forget how courageous and unusual it was for Elie Wiesel to write so honestly about the Holocaust decades ago. Jane Eisner remembers.