WITH THE DEATH OF POPE JOHN PAUL II*
A Jewish Reflection on Nostra Aetate
Forty years ago when Nostra Aetate was
proclaimed, I was a rabbi in one of the affluent suburbs of New York. I was not
a beginner. My father, may he rest in peace, had been a prominent Conservative
rabbi, and I had been trained in the best department of oriental studies in the
world and been ordained in the academic track of the Jewish Theological
Seminary of America. My synagogue was next door to the most important Catholic
parish in our town. But, for all that, as the biblical Jacob said of his vision
of the ladder, And I, I did not know. I did not realize the importance of
Nostra Aetate as it was happening. Later, when I began interfaith work with
Catholics, I learned.
As
I went deeper into dialogue with Catholics (and with Protestants), I also
learned that there were not very many of my fellow Jews who were interested in
theological and in spiritual dialogue. All of us were deeply, and justly,
concerned with political dialogue on a wide variety of subjects that were, and
are, of concern to us. We were very interested in discussing social action --
integration, parochial education, abortion, and the use of public space for the
display of religious objects such as crches and menorot. We did not always agree
with our Christian partners in dialogue but we had something to discuss.
However, as a group, we were not particularly interested in discussing belief,
faith, messiah, incarnation, crucifixion, the place of Jesus, God, revelation,
salvation, and so on.
There
were three reasons for our reticence to discuss theology and spirituality.
First, Jews had a long and very bad memory of theological discussion in the
past. Most such discussion was nothing of the kind. It was formal dispute
before a Catholic tribunal, the outcome of which was determined in advance: the
Jews would lose and a pogrom would follow. Subsequent dialogue was not much
better: it turned out to be an opportunity to convert Jews without a pogrom and
was followed by head shaking at the stubbornness of the Jews and prayers that
we would someday see the truth. To put in clearly, Jews did not believe
Christians were sincere about theological dialogue though we were prepared to
admit that they could discuss social and political issues fairly.
Second,
Jews themselves were not primarily theological or spiritual in their
orientation to life. By this I mean that Jewish existence was not framed in
theological, spiritual, or faith-oriented categories. After the shoah, Jews
realized that God helps those who help themselves and we, Jews, had better
look to our continued existence as a people. Particularly, we had better do our
very, very best to explain, justify, and help our Christian friends and
partners realize the crucial nature of the State of Israel in Jewish existence
and continuity. This is still true: Christians, Catholics among them, define
themselves by their faith and their spiritual culture. Jews are glad just to
survive, and we know we have to fight for our survival. It is hard, but it is
indispensable to our self-understanding to have our Catholic friends know that
anti-Zionism and antisemitism are not just forms of racism; they are threats to
our very existence, as individuals and as a group. To put it in succinct form:
in their respective self-understandings, Jews are incorrigibly political and
Christians are incorrigibly theological. Dialogue was, therefore, a very long
and painful process – and it remains so. Jews never understood that it
took the Holy See decades to recognize the State of Israel. All attempt at
dialogue without that was just noise, at least as far as Jews were concerned.
The
third reason for our reticence in dialogue was that there were precious few
people qualified to engage in theological dialogue, and even fewer in spiritual
dialogue.
Some
of us were exceptions to this rule because our own self-understanding, while
rooted firmly in the political realities of post-shoah Jewish existence, is
also rooted in the living presence of God in our own lives and, hence, in
theology, spirituality, and faith. And so, when I was invited to be the second
Jew in history to teach at the Gregorian Pontifical Institute, I taught the Zohar, the most profound mystical-theological
text in Judaism. When invited to teach at a local monastery, I taught Psalms
and was honored by being asked to stay with the brothers (not in the guest
house) and to engage in exchanges about our respective spiritual lives –
to discuss the fear of God as experienced by hermetic monks and to discuss what
it is like to face God directly, without the intercessory figure of Jesus. In
dialogue on the shoah, I have been drawn into discussions about the difference
between Jewish repentance and Catholic absolution, and between the behavior of
some very brave, very spiritual Catholics and the behavior of much of the
hierarchy in which they lived.
In spite of all this good dialogue, I
realized that there was still much to be discussed on subjects of concern to my
community: Why werent the Vatican archives for the period of the shoah
completely open? How can the Church expect even Catholics to take it seriously
when it will not admit its own errors qua the Church in the shoah? What is the
position of the Catholic Church on the security of the State of Israel? In its
justified concern for the rights of Palestinians, what price will the Church
exact from Israel? How effective was Nostra Aetate in effacing the teaching of
contempt? How does the Church monitor the effects of these great teaching
documents? How can the Church affirm Judaism while, at the same time, affirm
some kind of witness to the Jews? Is there a difference between witness and
evangelization? Between dialogue and proselytization? These questions,
particularly the political ones, haunt Jews.
As an active member and leader of the
Jewish community, I am on watch. It is my historic responsibility to pursue this political agendum with
Catholics. I do not want my children, my grandchildren, or my many students to
ask, Hey, Pop / Professor Blumenthal, where were you? What did you do to
prevent the political catastrophe that has befallen our people? We, Jews of
the free world, slept while our brothers and sisters were annihilated. We
cannot be guilty of that again, even if our persistence seems offensive or
wrong-headed to our dialogue partners.
What,
then, does Nostra Aetate mean forty years later to someone who believes in
theological and spiritual dialogue? It means that we must ask the indulgence
of, and count on the understanding of, our Catholic partners when we return
again and again to the matters that are closest to our heart, those that touch
on our survival as a people; namely, the security of the State of Israel and
the recrudescence of antisemitism in the Christian world. These do matter to us; they are crucial. The ability to count on our
Catholic partners to back us up on these matters, even if we disagree on some
specific issues, is crucial. Without this confidence, there is no real
dialogue; there are just meetings.
In
the spirit of Nostra Aetate, we must affirm jointly the holy and the good. We
must affirm our belief in a Creator and Legislator who, through various means,
makes it clear that we are in Gods world and not that God is in our world;
that we are Gods servants, not the other way around. This must include a firm
fight against clergy abuse in both our traditions because that egregious sin
compromises not only our respective institutions but it undermines the faith
that people place in us as shepherds of Gods flock.
In
the spirit of Nostra Aetate, we must agree to disagree on many subjects and
issues: the beginning of life, maybe its end; the nature of true salvation; the
issue of public funding for private education; the centrality of peoplehood;
and so on. All these will be subjects on which some of us will disagree with
others and on which our respective bureaucracies will not agree. But we must
practice disagreement with respect, not just political respect but spiritual
and religious respect.
Finally,
we must be modest; we must avoid the hubris of the newly-arrived. We have been
preceded by giants: Cardinal Bea, Abraham Joshua Heschel, and others. In
addition, many, many others have paved the way for us in Catholic-Jewish
dialogue, investing years of energy and heart in creating relationships,
forming frameworks and contexts for dialogue, and in drafting documents and
teaching materials such as Reflections on Covenant and Mission, The
Pontifical Biblical Commission Document on the Jews and Their Scriptures, Gods
Mercy Endures Forever, etc. We do not need to, nor is it proper that we think
we need to, reinvent the wheel. The wheels of Catholic-Jewish dialogue set in
motion by Nostra Aetate have been turning for forty years. We need to consult
with those who have that experience, affirm what they have accomplished, and
continue their work. If we do not, we fall prey to the sin of pride, and we
also will waste a lot of time and energy.
As to a theology of God, I think here,
too, modesty should be the order of the day. Both Catholic and Jewish tradition
have been thinking about this subject for millennia. Whole libraries embody the
insights of these traditions. Both traditions have depth of learnedness and
spiritual insight that only patient study and inner awareness can reveal. Study
which is not only intellectually learned but also spiritually aware is the only
response to the need for a mutually understood theology of God.
A Jewish
Meditation on Pope John Paul II
Pope John Paul II, because of his deep
spiritual commitment to reconciliation with the Jewish people and because of his
own early contact with Jews, took five major steps that, from the Jewish point
of view, were crucial in Catholic-Jewish dialogue.
First, Pope John Paul II recognized the
State of Israel as the homeland of the Jewish people. It is hard for non-Jews
to appreciate this because most of them are safe and secure in their own
homelands. But Jews have been
wandering since the time of Jesus, and even earlier. Since just after
his death, they have been without a homeland, without a government that they
could call their own. Further, Jews have been persecuted by Christians and
Muslims for 1700 and 1400 years respectively, culminating in the shoah and in
the incessant war against the State of Israel by Palestinians and other Arabs.
The admission by the Pope, on behalf of the Catholic Church, that the land of
Israel is the homeland of the Jews and that the State of Israel is the political
embodiment of the sovereignty of the Jewish people was an enormous step forward
in Catholic-Jewish understanding.
Second,
John Paul II reinforced and strengthened the Nostra Aetate teachings of the
Church: that the Jews are not guilty of deicide, that Christianity does not
supersede or replace the ongoing covenant between God and the Jewish people,
and that Jews are not to be targeted for evangelization. Doing this in the face
of resistance within the Church was a great step forward.
Third,
John Paul II went out of his way to greet and receive Jews. He went to the
synagogue in Rome. He traveled to Israel. He prayed at the Western Wall. He visited
the Yad VaShem Holocaust Memorial. And he received Jewish visitors all the
time.
Fourth,
John Paul II brought the shoah to the center of Catholic consciousness. He
visited Auschwitz. He organized a shoah memorial concert. And he asked
forgiveness, several times, from the Jewish people and God for the role played
by individual Catholics in the shoah.
Fifth,
John Paul II embodied the Christian teaching that the love of Jesus extends to
everyone. He believed and practiced the Christian ethic that reconciliation
must precede justice. In a world torn apart by terror and wracked by war, in a world of increasing social and
personal violence, John Paul II embodied the teaching of love and
reconciliation – the kind of love for which all people yearn and which very
few receive. It is not a Jewish way of seeing the world but it is a Christian
way, and John Paul II in his life was a witness to this.
Pope John Paul II pursued Catholic-Jewish
reconciliation even with me. When I was in Rome, I was privileged to meet Pope John Paul II. Because
of my position at the Gregorian, my wife, my son, and I were in the front row
for one of the Wednesday morning audiences. The Pope came down the line,
shaking hands and blessing everyone. When he came to us, I, as I was told to
do, introduced myself as Rabbi Blumenthal, wished him good health, and
presented him with three books I had written. The Holy Father stopped in his
tracks as soon as I introduced myself and started a discussion with me, much to
the consternation of the paparazzi who attend him at all times. When we
finished, he took my hand in both his hands and said, God bless you, without
invoking Jesus Christ and without making the sign of the cross. I introduced my
wife who spoke to him briefly and, when he finished, the Pope took her hand and
mine in both of his hands and repeated his blessing, again without invoking
Jesus Christ and without making the sign of the cross. We introduced our son
and, again, at the end, the Holy Father took the hands of all of us in both his
hands and said his words of blessing, without invoking Jesus Christ and without
making the sign of the cross. This was the Pope, in his audience hall, giving
his Catholic blessing, and I, I was just a rabbi and professor of Jewish
Studies who happened to be teaching in one of his schools. Yet, Pope John Paul
II was committed to the tradition of Nostra Aetate and he wanted to honor our difference while affirming
our common rootedness in God. So he blessed us without reference to the
particularity of his own faith.
A Jew Looks to
the Future of Catholic-Jewish Dialogue
His Holiness, John Paul II, has moved to
his final resting place and the Catholic Church has taken up the task of
choosing a new leader; Jews are uneasy. Pope John Paul II did so much for
Catholic-Jewish relations; will his successor follow suit or will he revert to
older Catholic attitudes and teachings? Jews will be watching carefully the
actions of the new pontiff in the five areas where John Paul II took important
steps.
John Paul II recognized the State of
Israel as the legitimate homeland of the Jewish people. By doing so, he did not
thereby endorse the policies of any particular Israeli government and, even as
he recognized the right of the Jewish people to a state of its own, he affirmed
a similar right for the Palestinians. The temptation for every world leader,
but especially for the head of the Catholic Church with its very complex
history of relations with the Jews, is to press for peace at the expense of the
Jewish state. While Jews everywhere, including Israel, welcome everyones
efforts on behalf of peace, the next Pope will need to accompany all his
efforts in this matter with an unshakeable commitment to the safety and
continued security of the Jewish people within the State of Israel. Efforts
that are not accompanied by this explicit commitment will fall on suspicious ears
and untrusting hearts.
John Paul II continued and expanded the
teaching of the Church on the subject of the Jews. These ideas reversed many
centuries of Catholic doctrine; they have, however, not been universally
accepted. Indeed, there are very powerful forces within the Catholic Church that
would reverse these teachings, or at least condemn them to inaction. The next Pope
will need to energetically enforce these doctrines through education and Church
discipline, otherwise the Second Vatican Council that revised the Churchs view
of Judaism will become a blip in Catholic history, and Jewish-Catholic relations
will regress.
John Paul II reached out to the Jewish
people in concrete ways. Actions count, and the next Pope will need to continue
to act in such ways. Communication is not just the act of conveying
information; it is an act of building trust. The next Pope will also have to be
careful about whom he designates to represent the Church in Israel and
elsewhere, and will need to make sure that their acts, too, are consonant with the
goals of Jewish-Catholic dialogue.
John Paul II brought the shoah to the
forefront of Catholic reflection. As memory of the shoah fades and as the
temptation to sweep responsibility for it under the rug grows, the new Pope
will need to confront vigorously the desire to forget. Ceremonies will need to
be created and renewed, and unresolved issues will have to be forthrightly
addressed such as the beatification of Pius XII, the full opening of the papal
archives from the war period, and the responsibility of the Catholic Church per
se in the shoah. To be sure, the Churchs fight against antisemitism will need
to be pursued with a great deal of energy in a world where its recrudescence is
seen in Europe and new excrescences are seen in the Middle East and elsewhere.
John Paul II modeled Christian love and
reconciliation. The next Pope will need to have the courage to follow this path
and not get bogged down in doctrine, history, politics, and bureaucracy. It
will be a painful and difficult path in a world skeptical of the power of love.
Pope John Paul II left very large shoes
to fill but it is not impossible for his successor to fill them. To accomplish
this goal, he will need a deep sense of piety and a deep faith that God has a
special relationship with the Jews that is part of the spiritual reality of
Catholic faith and practice. Without a spiritual and theological bond to the
Jewish people and its concrete existence, I dont know where the new pontiff would
draw the strength that he will need to govern the Church in justice, love, and
faithfulness. If the new Pope can achieve this degree of spirituality, he will not
betray the legacy of his blessed predecessor, John Paul II, but will become the
faithful shepherd that legacy.