At 2:41 a.m. on May 7, 1945, in a small red schoolhouse in Reims, France, the horrific nightmare of the Second World War came to an end on the European continent. Germany made its official surrender to both the Western Allies and the Soviet Union, in a makeshift building that had come to serve as Gen. Dwight Eisenhower’s headquarters. 

While impromptu celebrations occurred right away, the official day of celebration was for the most part observed on May 8, the day of the more definitive act of surrender. Tens of thousands of people took to the streets in jubilation in cities such as London, Paris and New York City.  

At 3 p.m., British Prime Minister Winston Churchill pronounced the radio address in which he made the official announcement of the German defeat, rejoicing in the defeat of the “evil-doers” while also reminding the world of the “the toils and efforts that lie ahead” in the remaining struggle against Japan. 

Hence, the festive spirit that marked “Victory in Europe” day was accompanied by a deeply sober note. In addition to the unfinished status of war, there was of course the memory of the many millions who had perished, as well as a spiritual and moral crisis that would not be resolved by military triumph. The Soviet Union would hold its own celebration the next day, May 9, and frame the Germans’ defeat as a triumph of the Red Army over fascism.  

The United States saw some mass celebrations, but in general, the country followed the restrained tone set by President Harry Truman in his news conference for “V-E” day. While acknowledging the moment to be a “glorious hour” in which “the flags of freedom fly all over Europe,” the president avoided any mention of an official celebration and fixed his attention on the war’s Pacific theater. He also referred to the ongoing work for “a peace of justice and law,” manifested in the recent San Francisco Conference, which had agreed upon the Charter of the United Nations. Truman further declared the following Sunday, May 13, to be a day of prayer so that the American people might unite in thanksgiving to God for victory and for an end to the remaining conflict.  

Heeding the tone of this indication, V-E day in the United States had a decidedly religious tone, an aspect which was also present in Britain and other countries. Across America, adherents of the various religions flocked to their houses of worship, and many Masses of Thanksgiving took place. With this attitude of intense petition to God, believers sought to transform the joy of the moment into prayer and dedication toward that genuine peace and true justice still so lacking — both then as now — in the world.  

Bishop Thomas McLaughlin of Paterson, New Jersey, acknowledged in a statement that “we are holding services of humble thanksgiving to the Most High for granting an answer to our prayers for many, weary months and years.” Nonetheless, on this day of the end of war in Europe, he desired to direct the faithful of his diocese towards a still greater hope:  

“Let us realize, however, that in order that the future may bring the blessings of real peace, we must imitate in our attitudes towards all peoples the justice, the charity, and the mercy of God, and not be overbearing but endeavor in all things to learn the ways of peace and love.”  

Eighty years later, we would still do well to take such an exhortation to heart. V-E day no doubt reminds us of a period of devastation unparalleled in human history. Nonetheless, this day also evokes our awareness of the deep human thirst for justice and charity that shines over and above man’s capacity for evil. In a particular way, we remember the countless members of the armed forces who fought valiantly, often at the cost of their lives, to rid the world of tyranny.  

Our recollection of the last world war is also brightened by the lives of those extraordinarily holy individuals who won a different kind of victory, that “victory that conquers the world” described by St. John, which is “our faith” (1 John 5:4). The saintly heroism of St. Maximilian Kolbe, St. Teresa Benedicta of the Cross, St. Titus Brandsma and a host of other men and women of faith have served to illuminate some of humanity’s darkest moments.  

Thus, looking back on the last World War can inspire us today in our efforts to build up the world around us, with the certainty that evil will not have the last word. Rather, alongside the presence of sin, the radiance of truth and the moral good gleams ever more brightly.  

In the case of the last world war, the knowledge of the atrocities of which man is capable and the empty ideologies to which he can be held captive have led humanity to a keener perception of certain fundamental truths, in particular that of the innate dignity of each human person. The experience of the war was a driving force behind the 1948 United Nations Universal Declaration of Human Rights, the first common statement of fundamental human rights in world history, and a text that continues to serve as a point of reference in the various conflicts present today.  

From Rome, Open City (1945) to Dunkirk (2017) and beyond, cinema — along with various other forms of art — has been a particularly significant means for processing the memory of the war and reminding us of this epochal event’s many lessons.  

Among many noteworthy works, the 2002 film The Pianist stands out for its powerful depiction of the depravities suffered during the war and the renewed awareness of human dignity brought about in the wake of Nazi destruction.  

The movie is based on the real-life story of Władysław Szpilman, a Polish-Jewish pianist, and his struggle for survival during the Nazi occupation of Poland. The film vividly portrays the desperate plight of Jewish families in the Krakow ghetto in the face of the harsh cruelty of the Nazi regime.  

There is the harrowing moment when a German Officer strikes Szpilman’s father for a perceived failure to show respect, and commands him to walk in the gutter instead of the sidewalk — and the even more tragic moment when a young boy is beaten to death while trying to escape the ghetto through a hole in the wall.  

Such gruesome moments, nonetheless, serve to heighten our awareness of the human dignity that is being violated. The film’s breathtaking cinematography, even with the darker colors that characterize the Jewish ghetto, cannot help but also convey the reality that beauty remains present in the world.  

Man’s capacity for beauty is indeed an outstanding testament to human dignity, and the movie manifests this principle when an emaciated Szpilman plays a Chopin piano ballad in the presence of Nazi officer Wilm Hosenfeld. Hosenfeld is one of a number of characters in the movie whose moral valor and compassion stand out within the prevailing atmosphere of terror created by the Nazis. The captain sits in silence, entranced, as he listens to the music, and for a moment is able to transcend the savagery of the moment.  

Such is the power of great works of art — both music and film in this case — to make us more attentive to the authentic human values that endure, precisely in a world in which such goodness can be so gravely threatened. And surely such insights from our remembrance of V-E day can encourage us to face the many serious crises that affect mankind today.