Gritty Truths

I'm half-way through All the Light We Cannot See—a dazzling piece of historical fiction by Anthony Doerr; set in WWII-Europe with two protagonists, a blind French girl and an orphaned German boy. I haven't yet gotten to the part at which their stories converge.
As I was reading the other night, I was struck by the tragic familiarity of fear, hate, blame, and cruelty; politicians positing themselves as saviors; thoughtless rhetoric that dehumanizes people based on country of origin, race (our faultiest invention), and religion.
I went to Charleston for the first time this past June. It was humid, teeming with other bachelorette parties, and awfully charming. Over shrimp and grits, (grits, by the way, originating from way the Muskogee tribe's preparation of "Indian corn"), our food tour guide deemed Charleston one of the few colonial cities in which all religious groups were able to freely practice; an impressive privilege, indeed! but all the while legal servitude was booming. 60,000 black slaves outnumbered white colonists in the early 18th century.
Sometimes I feel weighed down by our reprehensible histories, what we should have learned from them, how we could possibly reconcile human truths and experiences, where we still need healing, our current reality. And then I attend a wedding like Courtney and Dani's. I witness my first Jewish marriage ceremony, and with two beautiful brides. I'm touched so deeply by the potential of, as J.R. Moehringer described in his praise of All the Light We Cannot See: "the countless facets of the human heart. Hope. Resilience.