Two Tales

Here are two stories of people who made up lies that have been stuck in my head for the last few days. One is a high school football player struggling with life when he doesn't get to live his dream. The other is a story of a someone just trying to live.

From ESPN
A northern Nevada prep football player who had claimed he was duped into believing he was recruited to play at a Pac-10 school admitted Wednesday he made up the story. Kevin Hart, a 6-foot-5, 290-pound offensive lineman for Fernley High School, offered a broad apology in a statement he issued through the Lyon County School District. Hart said he had wanted to play football at a Division I school "more than anything." "When I realized that wasn't going to happen, I made up what I wanted to be reality. I am sorry for disappointing and embarrassing my family, coaches, Fernley High School, the involved universities and reporters covering the story," Hart said.

From "Hasidic Tales of the Holocaust" as printed in Peter Rollins' "How (Not) to Speak of God"

On 25 September 1941, after all the Jews of Eiskysky and the nearby towns had been rounded up, the 4,000 captives were led to the horse market. In groups of 250 they were taken to the old Jewish cemetery and ordered to undress in front of a line of open ditches. (All this was done under the watch and encouragement of local people.) The leader of the executions, Ostrovakas, dressed in a white apron and gloves, personally supervised the killing, reserving the right to murder the town’s leaders and practice sharp-shooting on the children.
On that dark day Michalowsky and his 16-year-old son Zvi stood shivering before the open graves. Zvi spent those moments counting the bullets and the amount of time that elapsed between each volley of fire. This meant that a split second before the shots ripped into him, he was able to go limp and fall into the ditch.He waited for what seemed an eternity as more bodies piled on top of him. He struggled to breathe among the corpses, gagging on the river of blood and the smell of dead flesh.
Very early on 26 September, in the dead of night, he struggled from the grave, all the time listening to the festivities that were still going on in the distance. It seemed that most of the village was out singing, laughing and rejoicing at the massacre. At the far end of the cemetery, near a huge church, Zvi knew of some Christian families and so he approached them still naked and covered in blood. He knocked on the first door. After a few moments the door opened and a peasant woman whom he knew, holding a lamp, looked out. Zvi recognized that the lamp was Jewish and had been pillaged from the empty homes of his community. He pleaded with the woman, saying ‘please let me in.’ But she only shook her fist and said, ‘Go back to the grave where you belong, Jew.’
Zvi tried some other houses but the response was the same. Finally he decided to visit a Christian widow, who lived at the edge of the village near a forest. The old woman answered the door to Zvi holding a small piece of burning wood. ‘Please let me in,’ he begged, but the woman raised the stick and waved it at him wildly, as if warding away a demon, saying, ‘you belong in the cemetery, Jew.’ But Zvi stood firm and replied, ‘Do you not recognize me? I am your Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ. I have come down from the cross to visit you. Look at my blood, my suffering, my innocence. Do not disown me.’ The widow dropped onto her knees and crossed herself before kissing his blood-stained feet. All she could say was ‘My God, my God.’ as she led him into the house. He stayed there for three days and three nights before finally setting out. He made her promise to tell no one about his visit, not even the priest. Before he left she provided him with warm food, fresh clothes and cold water for the journey. Zvi survived and began the Jewish partisan movement in the vicinity of Eiskysky.
While Zvi lied in order to survive, in lying he told the most profound truth of all. For in Zvi, the Messiah did visit that woman.