One day, while taking questions at the end of a lecture, Alexander Papaderous was asked, “What’s the meaning of life?”  There was nervous laughter in the room.  It was such a weighty question.  But Papaderous answered it.

He opened his wallet, took out a small, round mirror and held it up for everyone to see.  During the war he was just a small boy when he came across a motorcycle wreck.  The motorcycle had belonged to German soldiers.  Alexander saw pieces of broken mirrors from the motorcycle lying on the ground.  He tried to put them together but couldn’t, so he took the largest piece and scratched it against a stone until its edges were smooth and it was round.  He used it as a toy, fascinated by the way he could use it to shine light into holes and crevices.

He kept that mirror with him as he grew up, and over time it came to symbolise something very important.  It became a metaphor for what he might do with his life.

He said, “I am a fragment of a mirror whose whole design and shape I do not know.  Nevertheless, with what I have I can reflect light into the dark places of this world–into the black places in the hearts of men–and change some things in some people.  Perhaps others may see and do likewise.  This is what I am about.  This is the meaning of my life.”