Reflecting the Light in the Dark Places

I get a lot of questions about why I write.

Let me tell you a story and maybe that’ll help provide some context.

The Institute for Peace

During the Second World War, German paratroopers invaded the island of Crete.

When they landed at Maleme, the islanders met them, bearing nothing other than kitchen knives and hay scythes.

The consequences of resistance were devastating. The residents of entire villages were lined up and shot.

Alexander Papaderous was just six years old when the war started. His home village was destroyed and he was imprisoned in a concentration camp. When the war ended, he became convinced his people needed to let go of the hatred the war had unleashed.

To help the process, he founded the Institute for Peace at this place that embodied the horrors and hatreds unleashed by the war.

One day, while taking questions at the end of a lecture, Papaderous was asked, “What’s the meaning of life?” There was nervous laughter in the room.

He opened his wallet, took out a small, round mirror and held it up for everyone to see.

During the war he was just a small boy when he came across a motorcycle wreck. The motorcycle had belonged to German soldiers. Alexander found pieces of broken mirrors from the motorcycle lying on the ground.

Later he tried to put them together but couldn’t, so he took the largest piece and scratched it against a stone until its edges were smooth and it was round. He used it as a toy, fascinated by the way he could use it to shine light into holes and crevices.

He kept that mirror with him as he grew up. Over time it came to symbolize something very important. It became a metaphor for what he might do with his life.

“I am a fragment of a mirror whose whole design and shape I do not know.”

“Nevertheless, with what I have I can reflect light into the dark places of this world — into the black places in the hearts of men — and change some things in some people.”