Jacques Lusseyran was born in Paris, France in 1924. When he was thirteen, Germany invaded Austria, and Jacques realized something serious was afoot. He decided to learn German, so he could understand the speeches and announcements of the ascendant Nazi Germany. His interpreter abilities were later to help him survive and serve his people during World War II. When France fell to the occupying force, he did not wish to live on the sidelines, so he set up a Resistance movement, the Volunteers of Liberty, while continuing his college studies. Within a year, it had gained six hundred members and created a newspaper to disseminate news about the war among the French. In 1943, Jacques was arrested by the Gestapo and sent to a concentration camp at Buchenwald. Of the 2,000 Frenchmen sent to Buchenwald, only thirty survived, including Jacques. After the war, he eventually became a college professor in the United States, teaching French literature, and wrote two books. While visiting France at the age of 47 in 1971, he died in a car accident along with his third wife.

What, you might ask, is so remarkable about Jacques’ story? There must no doubt be some heroic acts around the happenings of World War II, but many others also suffered this same fate and acted heroically. So why focus on Jacques?

There is one defining moment I have not yet shared about Jacques’ life. When he was seven years old, Jacques became permanently blind in both eyes in an accident at school.

All of Jacques’ accomplishments over the next forty years — fighting German occupation as a fifteen-year old, surviving in a concentration camp and becoming a professor of literature, came without the ability to see. It is here that I feel perspective matters. It is what defines the moment, and all of life’s moments after what has happened. Jacques writes:

“Neither my father nor my mother ever pitied me because of my fate. They never said the word “unfortunate” in my presence. My father, who deeply understood the spiritual life, immediately said to me:

“Always tell us when you discover something.” I was to discover more and more! And he was right. One should not try to console either those who lost their eyes, or those who have suffered other losses — of money, health, or a loved one. It is necessary instead to show them what their loss brings them, to show them the gifts they receive in place of what they have lost. Because there are always gifts. God wills it so. Order is restored; nothing ever disappears completely.”

Jacques and his parents were living an idea I have long loved, once that the Sufi poet Rumi offered in the following words, “Don’t grieve. Anything you lose comes round in another form.”

There is much to learn from Jacques, which I will share in subsequent newsletters. For now, I would like you to ponder this:

Is there something you have lost in recent times? How may it come round to you in another form? When you wish to offer solace to someone who has lost something, how might you help them move beyond the loss to see the gifts they are receiving in its place?‍

Warmly,
Hitendra

“The only way to be completely cured of blindness, and I mean socially, is never to treat it as a difference, a reason for separation, an infirmity, but to consider it a temporary impediment, a peculiarity of course, but one which will be overcome today or at the latest tomorrow. The cure is to immerse oneself again and without delay in a life that is as real and difficult as the lives of others.” – Jacques Lusseyran

PS: I am super-grateful to Self-Realization Magazine for introducing me to Jacques’ story, many years ago. It left an enduring mark on me.

Like This Newsletter?
Share it with someone who might find it valuable.