“During the war it was hell on earth, and I had nothing … I was always running because the Germans were always right behind me … I became sicker and sicker from not eating, and I’m not just talking about being skin and bones. I had sores all over my body. It became difficult to move.
The worst it got was near the end. A lot of people died right at the end, and I didn’t know if I could make it another day. A farmer, a Russian, God bless him, he saw my condition, and he went into his house and came out with a piece of meat for me.”
"He saved your life.”
“I didn’t eat it.”
“You didn’t eat it?”
“It was pork. I wouldn’t eat pork.”
“What do you mean why?”
“What, because it wasn’t kosher?”
“But not even to save your life?”
“If nothing matters, there’s nothing to save.”
The above is a conversation between Jonathan Safran Foer, author of “Eating Animals” and his Jewish grandmother who survived the Second World War. A beautiful sentiment in general, asking us to critically examine what principles, what ideals, what pieces of ourselves we are willing to sacrifice when things aren’t quite so convenient. Even if the situation is life or death, how much is your life truly worth if you have to sacrifice your humanity and what you believe in to save it?