Epigraphs are like little appetizers to the great entrée of a story. They illuminate important aspects of the story, and they get us headed in the right direction.
You who live safe
In your warm houses,
You who find, returning in the evening,
Hot food and friendly faces:
Consider if this is a man
Who works in the mud
Who does not know peace
Who fights for a scrap of bread
Who dies because of a yes or a no.
Consider if this is a woman,
Without hair and without name
With no more strength to remember,
Her eyes empty and her womb cold
Like a frog in winter.
Meditate that this came about:
I commend these words to you.
Carve them in your hearts
At home, in the street,
Going to bed, rising;
Repeat them to your children,
Or may your house fall apart,
May illness impede you,
May your children turn their faces from you.
Poetic language is a powerful thing. Check out how this poem encapsulates in extremely condensed language and memorable images the entire sweep and purpose of Levi's book.
In this poem, Levi compares two distinctly different forms of humanity: those who are free and those who are locked up in the concentration camp, undergoing all kinds of horrible deprivations, and dying at someone else's arbitrary whim. The question he leaves us with is: are these prisoners still really human after everything that has been done to them?
This epigraph also emphasizes how Levi wants his narrative to serve as witness to these events, and how they came about, so that others will remember and avoid repeating history. This is so important that he curses those who refuse to remember and pass along the story.
Any kid who's been to Hebrew school or synagogue services will recognize this epigraph as an echo of an important prayer, called the "Ve'ahavta" (translated as "you shall love"). Here's God talking to the Israelites in the biblical book of Deuteronomy:
Therefore, keep these words of mine in your heart and in your soul. Bind them as a sign upon your arm and let them be a reminder above your eyes. Teach them to your children, speaking of them when you are at home and when you are away, when you lie down at night and when you rise up. Write them on the doorposts of your homes and on your gates. Thus your days and the days of your children will be multiplied on the land which the Lord promised to your ancestors for as long as the heavens remain over the earth. (Deuteronomy 11:18-21)
Notice what Levi does with the blessing at the end of the Deuteronomy—he turns it into a curse. What do you think this says about his view of religion in situations like he faced in Auschwitz?