I love movies. I love getting lost in the ambiance that’s in every detail, the conversation between characters, the wardrobe, the wide shot views … oh, and the popcorn. With butter. Mostly I go to the big screen as a way to step out of life for a bit and be entertained. Sometimes I go for a good cry.

Recently I convinced my loving husband to join me in seeing a re-release of Schindler’s List. It would not be accurate to say that he was jumping up and down with excitement at this invitation. His first choice would be comedy — which this definitely isn’t — and then action — not this kind. Drama is tolerable as long as it has a happy ending. Right. I couldn’t explain why I felt so drawn to see it, but he went with me anyway.

I saw, felt, and learned so much more than when I saw it 20 years ago. And when we walked out of the theatre, I knew why I had felt so compelled to go.

• I will not allow myself to turn away from other people’s pain, although it would be easier. We’ve all been through events in life when we wish people had been able to empathize, to support us not by fixing things but just by witnessing our struggle with an open heart. It takes practice being with our own pain so that we can be with others’ pain. And sometimes we need to be with others’ stories of anguish so that we can accept our own. Ultimately, I believe my heart is more capable of joy when it has the space to embrace all aspects of life.
• I heard Stephen Levine in a Conscious Living, Conscious Dying workshop say that hating Hitler is pointless. Until we understand how such hatred comes to fruition and realize that we each bear aspects of evil within us, we cannot heal–ourselves, others, the world. It’s easy enough to recognize atrocity when it’s revealed, but I want to take action in the small and subtle ways that could make a difference before that happens.
• I need to remember that in the midst of horrific events and despair, there were people who made a difference as they could. I am all too tempted to believe that unless I can make a huge impact in the world, my efforts are insignificant. Which means I sometimes fail to try. At the end, the Talmudic quote that’s inscribed on the ring they give Schindler says it all: “Whoever saves one life saves the world entire.”

Was this an uplifting night of fun with buttered popcorn? Uh, no. This time I didn’t go to escape life, but to be drawn into its depths so that it can change me.