Our interpreter, though, doesn't know a word of the German from which he purports to translate. He proclaims the rules of his imaginary tank competition, as though they were coming from the mouth of the Nazi himself. The goal is survival, for himself, and more importantly, for his wife and son. Our hero instills hope in his loved ones, even in the face of unparalleled hopelessness. He brings laughter to the kingdom of tears and vitality to the domain of death.
Life is precarious.
Life is living hell. Somehow, though, life is still beautiful. More to the point, I was saddened that our hero's life is in no way enriched by Judaism. Here is a man who faces the Nazi executioners for no reason save that he is Jewish, yet he exhibits no appreciation whatsoever for the beauty, the depth, or the meaning of our faith. He doesn't even seem to have a Jewish identity.