It was a fresh, spring morning in the German countryside. A young boy, dressed in his Sunday clothes, dawdled along as he made his way down the dirt road. Ahead, his parents paused to wait.

“Come along.” His father urged for the second time.

The child begrudgingly quickened his steps. “Why should we sit inside on such a fine day?” He grumbled under his breath. Perhaps, for once, the minister would suggest taking the service out of doors! But as the red-brick building came into view and with it the line of people filing in, he knew it was not to be.

The service opened with prayer, a couple hymns and then the minister began to preach. The child shifted in his seat, wondering and waiting. He was wondering if the wooden pews had been made to be uncomfortable on purpose so people wouldn’t drift off to sleep. He was waiting, as he did every Sunday, for the whistle of a train and the clatter of its wheels upon the track.

He looked down at his bright, brass watch. Its hands moving steadily closer to nine-thirty. Another minute…and there it was! A distant whistle announced the locomotive’s prompt arrival.

It soon drowned out every other sound for the track ran close behind the church building. The minister kept preaching, as he always did, and the adults looked on politely – pretending they could hear what he said.

Then suddenly, a new sound joined the usual rumble and clatter. A sound they would not soon forget. Through the noise of the train, from the box cars it pulled, came moans, wails, and cries for help.

There were people inside!

Everyone in the church pressed towards the windows. Tears sprung to the eyes of some. Others shook their heads. But no one did anything about it.

A Pattern of Indifference

The train continued to pass by the little, country church every week on its way to Auschwitz. Every week the cries of men, women, and children interrupted the Sunday sermon. And every week the congregants did nothing about it.

After a while, it got to be so disturbing that people didn’t want to come to church. They all agreed that something needed to be done. That something was not to stop the train – that would have been near suicide. They didn’t plan to make an appeal on the prisoner’s behalf – that would have been pointless. Instead they simply changed the time of their service, so they’d be singing as the train went past.

“We sang as loud as we could to drown out the cries.” Recalled one of the church congregants, years later. “If per chance we still heard them, we just sang a little louder.”

Instead of fighting for those being led away to death, instead of pleading their cause, the church chose to ignore the problem. They became desensitized to the plight of those who needed them most.

How Could They?

Under the rule of the Nazi Party, an unspoken understanding permeated the country. Germans who kept silent and obeyed the laws would be left alone. On the other hand, anyone who dared to defend the condemned masses would die with them.

“God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference.” – Reinhold Niebuhr

The church congregants had heard rumour of the atrocities of Auschwitz, but they didn’t know what they could do to help. They felt that the fate of the Jews was something they couldn’t change – even trying would have cost them their lives.

Were they right?

A Different Choice

In the book of Esther we find a young woman faced with an almost identical predicament. She knew that people were going to be killed and the laws said she could do nothing about it. To even try could have cost her life.

But instead of choosing indifference as the Christians of the little, German parish did, Esther asked God for the courage to change the things she could. She said “I will go to the king and if I die, I die.”

Indifference Then and Now

“Years have passed, and no one talks about it much anymore, but I still hear the sound of that train whistle in my sleep. I can still hear them crying out for help. God forgive me! God forgive all of us who called ourselves Christians, yet did nothing to intervene.”

Indifference has not faded into the past with the tragedies of the Holocaust. It is a failure you, I, and all of the church today are equally prone to.

In talking about abortion, that same man who listened to the cries of the Jews as a boy said “It’s happening all over again! May God forgive America for drowning out the screams of dying children. May God forgive the Church for allowing this holocaust to take place.”

We may not be singing over the cries of train loads of Jews during our Sunday services. But we daily overlook injustice, ignore those who need our help, and excuse ourselves because interceding for them would be difficult.

But Proverbs xxiv.11-12 says, “Rescue those who are being taken away to death; hold back those who are stumbling to the slaughter. If you say, “Behold, we did not know this,” does not he who weighs the heart perceive it? Does not he who keeps watch over your soul know it, and will he not repay man according to his work?”

So, How Will You Respond?

I want to encourage you not to choose indifference. Don’t excuse yourself from this fight because you don’t believe things can change. Don’t call yourself a Christian while doing nothing to intervene.

Christ gave his life to save you, is it not your reasonable service to extend that same love to the ones who need your help?

As Mordecai told Queen Esther, “who knows whether you have not come to the kingdom for such a time as this!” (Esther iv.14)

In Christ

Quiana

*Scripture references are in ESV, unless otherwise noted.

*This article was based on a true account which was originally published by Penny Lea at: https://www.pennylea.com/sing-a-little-louder.

*Also check out a short film based on this story at: https://singloudermovie.com/