Tuesday, August 21, 2018

What does the Catholic church teach about mission to the Jewish people?

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What does the Catholic church teach about mission to the Jewish people?

Link/Page Citation MISSION TO THE JEWS is probably the most disputed theological question between Catholics and Jews today, second only to the Land. Much progress and agreement between Catholics and Jews has been reached since Vatican II's teachings in Nostra aetate (hereafter NA) (Declaration on the Relation of the Church to Non-Christian Religions [1964]) no. 4. (1) This was fuelled by the energetic pontificate of Pope John Paul II and an active Commission for the Jews established in 1974 within the existing Secretariat for Promoting Christian Unity (1960). The Secretariat has been guided by Cardinals Bea, Willebrands, Cassidy, Kasper, and, since 2010, Koch. A stream of important documents has also been published since the council, perhaps most importantly the Guidelines and Suggestions for Implementing the Conciliar Declaration "Nostra Aerate" (n. 4) (1974), Notes on the Correct Way to Present Jews and Judaism in Preaching and Teaching in the Roman Catholic Church (1985), and We Remember: A Reflection on the Shoah (1998). The Pontifical Biblical Commission (PBC) also published The Jewish People and Their Sacred Scriptures in the Christian Bible (2002). (2) The good will and cooperation of many Jewish international groups and scholars have been critical for consolidating these developments, most notably the International Catholic-Jewish Liaison Committee, the International Jewish Committee for Interreligious Consultations, and the International Council of Christians and Jews. Since there is no single center to world Jewry, it is inappropriate to indicate formal mutual agreement, but the following theological areas can be argued as having Catholic magisterial endorsement arising out of NA: that anti-Jewishness is sinful; that God does not revoke his promises to Israel; that the Jews should not be viewed as cursed, or their religion as worthless, for they are still the people of the Old Covenant; their Scripture, called the "Old Testament" by Christians, is regarded as revelation; the Jews, as a people, cannot be blamed for the death of Christ, as the primary cause of the cross was human sin, in which we all share, even if historically some Jews were responsible; that Jesus was a Jew and treasured the Jewish Scriptures; that Christians have much to learn from Jewish readings of Scripture and from Jewish forms of spirituality; that Jews and Christians should work together whenever possible toward social justice and peace; that individual and sometimes groups of Christians have regretfully misused their sociopolitical power to evangelize and convert Jews in aggressive and violent ways. (3) There is no turning back from these important developments. However, the question whether the church teaches that mission to the Jews is legitimate has been disputed by many Catholics (and not a few Jews). (4) The long history of persecution and anti-Semitism toward the Jewish people within Christian cultures culminating in the Holocaust inevitably gives "mission" genocidal overtones. Chief Rabbi Ricardo Di Segni argues that for Jews, Christian mission suggests that Judaism possesses "only part of the truth" and entails a view that "would amount to its [Judaism's] end." (5) Chief Rabbi David Rosen suggests that mission is the major contentious issue between Jews and Catholics and requests a clear statement from the Catholic magisterium (6)--he feared that failure to provide it would jeopardize the future of Catholic-Jewish relations. (7) I tentatively argue that there are clear teachings from the magisterium on this issue. (8) I proceed by first outlining some arguments against the traditional position that mission and conversion of Jews is required by the gospel. I then develop critical counterarguments to defend the position that mission to the Jews is taught by the magisterium, even if the practice of this mission raises many complex questions that remain unresolved. I do not think that such a position by the Catholic Church need damage Christian-Jewish relations--to judge by recent exchanges between Rabbi Jacob Neusner and Pope Benedict XVI. (9) I define Christian "mission" (10) as the desire for the greatest good of X, when the greatest good is understood as being X's free and uncoerced conversion to Jesus Christ and baptism into the Catholic Church. X can be a person, a nation, a race, or a religion. There can be many reasons why X's conversion might be problematic: for example, it will lead to the convert's persecution by family, friends, members of their previous religion, perhaps even torture and death. These are problems that do not contradict the envisaged "greatest good" per se, but balancing all the goods and evils in a particular situation might lead to differing pragmatic judgments about pursuing the greatest good, rather than calling into question that conversion to Christ is the "greatest good." In the literature other words are sometimes used interchangeably with mission: "evangelism," "proselytism," "witness," and "preaching," all with differing associations. "Proselytism" is often associated with aggressive and coercive mission, or "mission" as only applying to idolaters and therefore not applicable to Jews, who are of course true monotheists and have a sacred book that is considered revelatory. Some see "witness" as excluding mission. For the sake of clarity, I use "mission" as I have defined it above, recognizing the disputed use of the term. ARGUMENTS AGAINST MISSION TO THE JEWS The literature presents a number of arguments against the traditional teaching that the church has a missionary duty to the Jews. In what follows I do not consider individual Catholic theologians, but rather their use of teachings by bishops' conferences, curial officials or curial bodies, the bishop of Rome, and universal ordinary magisterial statements. These sources carry different weights, (11) but magisterial teaching on the matter will help clarify Rosen's demand for clarity in Catholic teaching. The first argument is one from omission. It is argued that mission to the Jews disappears from Catholic teaching after NA (1965). Significantly, a reference to the conversion of the Jews was dropped from an early draft of NA in the council debate during September 28-29, 1964. The phrase is nowhere to be found in subsequent papal magisterial teachings. Most importantly, the reform of the Good Friday prayer (1959, 1970) regarding the Jewish people clearly signaled a change. Before the council it read: "Let us also pray for the perfidious Jews [Latin: perfidis Judaeis, better translated "faithless Jews"]: that our God and Lord will remove the veils from their hearts, so that they too may acknowledge our Lord Jesus Christ." In 1959 John XXIII removed "perfidious." In 1970 Paul VI further modified it to: "Let us pray for the Jewish people, the first to hear the word of God, that they may continue to grow in the love of His name and in faithfulness to His covenant." Pope Benedict's Motu proprio entitled Summorum Pontificum (2007) allowed the Roman Missal promulgated by St. Pius V to be used as an extraordinary expression of the church's liturgy. This meant that the older Good Friday prayer would again be used in some Catholic worship, potentially bringing about two possible prayers whose meaning was not quite the same. Benedict's move was criticized by Jewish and Catholic groups, some of whom felt that his action was overturning Vatican II's positive advances. (12) Strengthening this argument from omission is the priority of a "new" reading (13) of Paul's Romans 9-11, most especially 11:28-29: "As concerning the gospel, indeed, they are enemies for your sake: but as touching the election, they are most dear for the sake of the fathers. For the gifts and the calling of God are without repentance (irrevocable)." (14) Two major themes present in this fresh reading emerge in the council's use of this text. First, the irrevocability of God's election is repeated in Lumen gentium (1964, hereafter LG) no. 16 and NA no. 4: In the first place, there is that people to whom the testaments [testamenta] and promises were given and from whom Christ was born according to the flesh (see Rm 9, 4-5), a people according to their election most dear because of their ancestors: for God never goes back on his gifts and his calling (see Rm 11, 28-29). (LG no. 16) Nevertheless, according to the apostle, because of their ancestors the Jews still remain very dear to God, whose gift and call [dona et vocati] are without regret [paenitentia] (NA no. 4 [note 11 here references Rom 11:28-29 and LG no.16]). The covenants God made with his people, the Jews, are irrevocable. Many have argued that this teaching means that the Jews today are therefore in a saving covenant with God because the ancient covenants are irrevocable. Whether the notion of valid covenant refers to each and every covenant or only to select ones (the Adamic, Noachic, Abrahamic, and Mosaic) has been a matter of debate, which for my purpose here does not require immediate resolution. (15) Second, a further Pauline element from Romans is highlighted in NA, not found in LG. That is, Israel's no to Jesus Christ had a providential purpose: that the gospel may be preached to the Gentiles, to the nations; and when the "full number" of Gentiles has "come in," then "all Israel, will be saved" (Rom 11:25-27). This eschatological coming in of Israel is raised in NA no. 4: "The church awaits the day known only to God on which all peoples will call upon the Lord with one voice and "will serve him shoulder to shoulder" (Zeph 3:9); note 12 here references Isaiah 66:23; Psalm 65:4; and Romans 11:11-32. Some Council Fathers saw this eschatological "coming in" as implying that in history, no mission should be carried out to the Jews, for their salvation would be eschatologically "achieved." (16) Benedict also seems to imply this. (17) While the eschatological resolution is present in NA, important supplementary evidence to the above is also cited, bearing upon the irrevocable covenant. John Paul II has constantly reiterated that "the people of the promises" refers as much to current-day Judaism as to pre-Christian Judaism. (18) For example, when visiting Jews in Rome in 1986 he said: "The Jewish religion is not 'extrinsic' to us, but in a certain way is 'intrinsic' to our own religion.... You are our dearly beloved brothers, and in a certain way it could be said that you are our elder brothers." (19) In 2004, addressing a Jewish group, John Paul supposedly furthered Catholic teaching by interpreting Romans 11:29 to affirm a permanent covenant: "St. Paul was already speaking of the holy root of Israel on which pagans are grafted onto Christ, 'for the gifts and the call of God are irrevocable' (Rom 11:29), and you continue to be the first-born people of the Covenant." (20) He made this argument in response to the argument that the council only affirmed pre-Christian Judaism as enjoying a valid covenant, not rabbinical Judaism, which followed it and is the basis of Judaism today. Another source, more authoritative than the pope's pastoral speeches, is the Catechism of the Catholic Church, which reiterates the council's teachings on all the above matters and further establishes Paul's eschatological resolution: "And when one considers the future, God's People of the Old Covenant and the new People of God tend towards similar goals: expectation of the coming (or the return) of the Messiah." (21) Some Catholics argue--Walter Kasper, e.g. (see below)--that the difference between the two religions is accepted as reasonable and explicable, without invoking sin or hard heartedness, and that this is a proper development from recognizing that the Jewish people are not accursed. Most importantly, the Catechism says nothing about mission to the Jews. The line of argument so far is clear. There cannot be mission to the Jews, because it is not taught by the council and subsequent magisterial documents. Further, if the promises and the covenants to the Jews have not been revoked, and the Jewish no has a providential purpose, and if Paul says Israel will "come in" at the end times, it is cumulatively clear that the Jewish people are utterly different from the Gentiles, toward whom the church has a genuine and necessary mission. The church recognizes that the Jewish people do have a real relationship with God, even if Christians interpret that saving relationship as being causally through Christ. While some Catholics argue for two separate and valid covenants, (22) invoking that radical reading will take us too far from my focus here. A third argument is that the president of the Pontifical Council for Religious Relations with the Jews, Cardinal Walter Kasper, has supported the position that mission to the Jews is inappropriate. As the leading Catholic charged by the pontiff to oversee this area, his interpretations are seen by some as authoritative. One important text appeared in a 2002 public lecture by Kasper, occasioned by Reflections on Covenant and Mission (hereafter RCM). (23) RCM sparked a controversy over the question of "targeted" mission to the Jews. RCM implied that mission to the Jews is no longer legitimate. (24) Kasper argued: "Jews in order to be saved [do not] have to become Christians; if they follow their own conscience and believe in God's promises as they understand them in their religious tradition, they are in line with God's plan, which for us comes to its historical completion in Jesus Christ." (25) This, argue some, implies that Jews can be saved without reference to Jesus Christ and do not need mission from Christians. Kasper implies that the Jewish rejection of Christianity is theologically understandable and acceptable. Kasper seems to argue that Jews can rightly refuse Christ without fault: The recent document of the Biblical Pontifical Commission entitled The Jewish People and their Sacred Scriptures in the Christian Bible (2001), signed by Cardinal Ratzinger, shows for me very convincingly that from a strictly historical perspective and interpreted only with historical methods, both readings and both interpretations--the Jewish rabbinical and the Christian one--are possible and legitimate. What reading we choose depends on what faith we have chosen. (26) Kasper also notes that the church's dealing with the Jewish people has always been placed within the Council for Christian Unity. This indicates the special position of the Jews. Catholics share with them true revelation and the promises made by God--in the Old Testament. "Because we have all this in common and because as Christians we know that God's covenant with Israel by God's faithfulness is not broken (Rom 11:29; cf. 3:4), mission--understood as call to conversion from idolatry to the living and true God (1 Thess 1,9)--does not apply and cannot be applied to Jews." (27) The argument is analogous to an ecumenical one: Just as one might welcome an Anglican who wishes to become a Catholic, there is likewise no formal mission to Anglicans or other Christian denominations. The Jewish people share this special status. To summarize all three arguments: (1) There is no mention of mission to the Jews in magisterial teachings. (2) A fresh reading of Paul means that if Jews have an authentic covenant, based on God's irrevocable promises, along with the fact that their "coming in" is an eschatological event, and their no had a special purpose, then Christian mission to them is inappropriate. (3) The magisterial official in charge of relations with Jews has made it clear that mission is not appropriate. This teaching replaces traditional "supersessionist" teachings that were revoked at Vatican II. Thus, magisterial teaching from Vatican II until the present pontificate (despite some odd moves from the latter) affirms that there should be no mission to the Jewish people. How convincing is the argument? CRITICAL REFLECTIONS The argument from omission works both ways because no formal teaching indicates that mission to the Jewish people is wrong. Any mission that is coercive or otherwise fails to respect the freedom and dignity of the human person is condemned. (28) Kasper's comment about mission works with a particular notion of mission different from the one I am using, and it is clear that mission to the Jewish people would be different from mission to any other group precisely because the Jewish people share a part of the sacred text of Christians. But Kasper is clear that "witness" is required by Christian discipleship. In 2008, after Benedict changed the Good Friday prayers, Kasper commented: The exclusion of a targeted and institutionalized mission to the Jews does not mean that Christians must stand around with their hands in their pockets. Targeted and organized mission on one side, and Christian witness on the other, must be distinguished. Naturally, Christians must, where it is opportune, give to their "older brothers and sisters in the faith of Abraham" (Pope John Paul II) a witness of their own faith and of the richness and beauty of their faith in Christ. Paul did this as well. During his missionary journeys, Paul always went first to the synagogue, and only when he did not find faith there did he go to the pagans (Acts of the Apostles, 13:5,14ff., 42-52; 14:1-6 and others; Romans 1:16 is fundamental). Such a witness is also asked of us today. It must of course be done with tact and respect; but it would be dishonest if Christians, in meeting with their Jewish friends, should remain silent about their own faith, or even deny it. We expect just as much from believing Jews toward us. (29) When forced on this point the answer is clear. Yes, mission in principle is appropriate. It is also clear from the context that targeted conversions are associated with fear and threat and thus rightly condemned. To contextualize, some of the arguments regarding silence were made prior to Benedict's restoration of the earlier Good Friday prayers, but Kasper's commentary just cited suggests that the silence has been broken. Here, there is no judgment about the practical means of pursuing such a mission, but the principle is clear. Furthermore, the argument from silence fails on its own if we recognize two other important factors in the conciliar documents. First, nowhere in the documents is there a call to mission toward any specific religion, but only a clear call to universal mission toward all peoples. Some Council Fathers' resistance to a statement on the conversion of Jews was simply because "many Council Fathers felt it was not appropriate in a document [NA] striving to establish common goals and interests first." (30) While some Fathers clearly felt that the final "coming in" of the Jews is a matter for God, such an attitude does not discount the importance of mission to Jewish people, all the time recognizing that the final "coming in" is in the hands of God. Second, Vatican II on mission and subsequent magisterial documents on mission teach that since Christ came for all peoples, mission must be toward all peoples. (31) Mission is also presented as indissolubly related to baptism and ecclesial belonging, along with many other aspects of church existence. Vatican II's Ad gentes no. 3 (Decree on the Church's Missionary Activity [1965], hereafter AG) makes three significant points on this matter. First, that mission to all peoples derives from God's universal plan of salvation: "Jesus Christ was sent into the world as the true Mediator between God and men.... Now, what was once preached by the Lord, or fulfilled in him for the salvation of humankind, must be proclaimed and spread to the ends of the earth (Acts 1:8)." Second, this mission involves the reality of Christ's body, the church, not just missionary preaching to seek the common good and celebrate what is held in common (which is obviously important): "It is necessary, therefore, that all should be converted to him, made known through the preaching of the church, and that through baptism they should be incorporated into him and into the church, which is his body" (AG no. 7). The necessity of the church for salvation is cross-referred back to LG no. 14, where it was earlier taught in continuity with a long tradition. The necessity of the church has been reiterated in subsequent teaching documents consistently through to Dominus Iesus (2000) no. 20. (32) Third, the Fathers of the council acknowledge that many people will be in a state of inculpable ignorance; they will not have heard the gospel in their heart through no fault of their own, and God's offer of salvation in this instance is never withheld from them: "God, through ways known to himself, can lead people who through no fault of their own are ignorant of the gospel, to that faith without which it is impossible to please him, nevertheless the church has both the obligation and the sacred right to evangelise" (AG no. 7). Who then is "ignorant of the gospel" through no fault of their own? Answering this question is important to establishing my thesis. (33) The "invincibly ignorant" refers to everyone and can include Jews (and, of course, can in principle include baptized Catholics who are not conscious of what their baptism entails, through no fault of their own). This claim is essential to my argument, as it also provides a magisterially endorsed theological context to understand the many positive comments made about the Jewish people (which have led to the three arguments I am seeking to question), without logically detracting from the principle of mission. To clarify this significant point, I distinguish between three possible classes of persons, each of which could be Jewish, Muslim, or atheist. First, there are people who have never heard the gospel preached to them but follow the dictates of their conscience and discerningly use the means offered them within their culture, religious or not, to seek and follow the truth (group A). There are others who have had the gospel preached to them and, after careful existential and rigorous intellectual consideration, freely reject it and are thus culpable for rejecting the truth they have heard (group B). Group C are those who have had the gospel preached to them and, after rigorous intellectual consideration freely reject it, but are not culpable in their heart (proper "existential" consideration), as they have failed to hear the truth of this preaching in their hearts through no fault of their own. This could be for all sorts of reasons. It may well be for the reason that they are actually related to the truth (as are the Jews) and cannot find biblical grounds to accept the plausibility of the incarnation. One can imagine many situations where C exists, although neither B nor C is transparent to discernment by an outsider. Matters of the heart are between God and the believer. These distinctions throw a different light on various comments made in official documents that are often cited, because those statements do not presume that there is a knowing rejection of the gospel by Jews (B), but rather that it is a nonculpable rejection (C). If we adopt this hermeneutic, many alleged tensions in the texts evaporate. Certainly, AG no. 7 and LG no. 14, when speaking of those outside the church through no fault of their own, clearly refer to groups A and C, not B. A and C can include individual Jews or non-Jews, during and after the time of Christ. Importantly, the material difference between Jews and others is that Jews have been given revelation and God's covenants and promises, which cannot be annulled. But clearly a group B person, either a Jew, atheist, or Catholic, who knowingly rejects the truth, falls foul of the stricture in AG no. 7: "Consequently, those people cannot be saved who know that the Catholic Church has been established as necessary by God through Jesus Christ, and yet refuse to enter it or to remain in it" (AG no. 7; see also LG no. 14). It may well be that Catholic theologians fit this category best, given the level of consciousness required of Catholic teaching, but let me leave that aside. Since only God can judge who is in group B or A, LG no. 14, AG no. 7, and Dominus Iesus no. 20 hold together this same tension: insisting on the necessity of the church for salvation, yet holding that those outside the church, in genuine ignorance of the gospel, may be saved. From this angle, then, mission is a universal imperative to all peoples, and must include Jews. John Paul II, who is frequently cited by those who argue against mission to the Jews, in fact in all his encyclicals maintains the above clear conciliar teaching on universal mission, and most clearly so in Redemptoris missio (1990, hereafter RM), the encyclical given to this topic: "what moves me even more strongly to proclaim the urgency of missionary evangelization is the fact that it is the primary service which the Church can render to every individual and to all humanity in the modern world" (no. 2, emphasis added). (34) In his references to mission, he has never implied that any group of peoples is exempt, although he has acknowledged that there may be important cultural and historical factors that mean that baptism and explicit belonging to the church are problematic or dangerous for certain individuals or peoples. John Paul urges that these inhibiting factors "must be removed where they still exist, so that the sacrament of spiritual rebirth can be seen for what it truly is" (RM no. 47). How one removes such factors is another matter entirely, but that one should remove them is clear, so as to allow genuine universal mission. For obvious reasons it may well be that these inhibiting factors are particularly operative in the case of the Jewish view of Jesus Christ and Christianity, but the church must attend to understanding these factors as much as possible before dismantling them, knowing always that finally conversion of heart lies in God's power, not in human missionary effort. Clearly, when John Paul II met and addressed Jewish brothers and sisters, he was rightly keen to stress what Catholics and Jews have in common and to build on those commonalities. These were pastoral addresses, and we would expect such messages. The pope was also rightly keen to express his deep personal love and appreciation of the Jewish religion, (35) and in such contexts, he was unlikely to mention mission. This same pattern is found in all his speeches when meeting people from other religions: Hindus, Buddhists, or Muslims. (36) He never mentions mission to them, but rather what the church has in common with them. Below I return to the claim that John Paul II's comments support the notion that the Jewish people are in a valid covenant. What of the changes to the Good Friday prayers in 1959 and 1970 that apparently support the omission thesis? Benedict's restoration of the earlier, but nevertheless modified, prayers could be best interpreted not as a criticism of Vatican II, as many have argued, (37) but as a concern that the council's intent has been misunderstood and misconstrued, and that the way to reshape the mind of the church is through its liturgy. (38) The previous changes, first by John XXIII and then by Paul VI, removed some words that were sometimes falsely construed as anti-Jewish. Perfidies was better translated "faithless," not "perfidious," which had clear negative connotations, as was especially the case in the German translations of the word. Furthermore, the patchwork of words that constitute the restored old prayer are entirely biblical, more truly reflecting the early prayers of Christians and sentiments that wish the greatest good for everyone, including the Jews. (39) Benedict's restoration of the earlier Good Friday prayers was in part a more general restoration of an earlier liturgy (and not just that particular prayer), but also a clear recognition of the ground achieved by NA: that the Jews, whom God has always loved and has promised never to desert, are called to the fulfillment of the promise given to them. I would suggest that this both/and relationship (both mission toward the Jews, and appreciation for Judaism's special relationship) is entirely in keeping with the Pauline themes in Romans. This claim is not supersessionist, as it does not invalidate the covenant, but that it should come to its proper fulfillment both in historical time and eschatologically, when finally all the Jews will "come in." However, the confusion caused by having two forms of liturgy that contain differing sentiments on the same issue rightly raises problems that, at the time of writing, remain unresolved. The "fulfillment" theme is central to the council's attitudes to other religions and nonreligions--and is explicitly entailed by the church's christological confession that Jesus is the Messiah, the long-awaited hope of Israel, the one who has inaugurated the end times in his person. That Jews of groups A and C continue devoutly to discern God's ways and live lives of holiness is not in question, but rather the necessity of mission to Jews in these groups. For the purpose of my argument, the term "fulfillment" must be distinguished from "supersessionism" and "abrogation," both of which imply the total invalidity of post-New Testament Judaism. (40) Jesus understood himself as a devout Jew throughout his ministry, who came not to destroy the Law and the prophets, but to fulfill them (Mt 5:17). This understanding was shared by many of his Jewish disciples. Central to my argument is that fulfillment, in principle, avoids supersessionism and abrogation and thus provides the argumentative link for why mission pertains to the Jews, who are still especially favored by God and to whom revelation has been granted in the Old Testament. Space constraints prevent my offering a biblical exegesis for this position, but given that I am arguing that it is the magisterium's position, solid evidence is presupposed. The important question is this: do these acknowledgments in NA no. 4 amount to affirming a valid covenant operating in contemporary Judaism? Many have argued the case vigorously, based on "implication," usually with the only explicit materials drawn from John Paul II's pastoral speeches. (41) Before turning to them, let me be clear on two points. The notion of two covenants as two ways of salvation has been formally criticized since the council. (42) Defenders of the position that Judaism has a valid covenant accept that this must be through Christ, otherwise it falls foul of the unicity of Christ taught by the council and in subsequent magisterial teachings. Second, the contemporary validity of the Jewish covenant was not discussed at the council, but rather that the Jewish people were granted covenants that will never be revoked. That they cannot have an independent salvific validity apart from Christ is clear. The weight of the argument against my position thus rests on John Paul's pastoral remarks, which are both difficult to interpret and have been used by those who argue both for and against mission--as is evident. But, prescinding from a close textual analysis of his speeches, which I cannot offer here, I want to make a logical point. If John Paul II were shown to teach that there was a valid covenant, that in itself would not count against mission, for his formal and informal teachings are clear that Christ is the fulfillment of the story of God's actions with humanity, which starts with the Jewish people in the Old Covenant and is fulfilled in the universal people of God in Christ. Hence, if John Paul did teach that contemporary Jews all enjoy a valid covenant with God, that does not overturn my argument regarding mission. However, there is a further problem. John Paul II's commendation of current-day Judaism does not actually settle two as-yet-unresolved issues. First, is the church's endorsement of the Old Testament and the faithfulness of God's promises tantamount to actually affirming all forms of post-New Testament Judaism? These forms are characterized initially by the Talmud and the rabbis, who around the third century ascend to dominant leadership of the Jewish people. When the span of history is taken into consideration, the internal diversity is akin to Christianity's internal diversity: groups claiming that others are illegitimate for diverse reasons (faithless to doctrines, practices, laws, etc.). Paul never knew these forms of Judaism at all. There is no evidence that all these forms have been affirmed by the magisterium, except in the teachings that there are spiritual resources in contemporary Judaism ("rich in religious values"), deriving from their covenant origins ("promises" and "Old Testament"), from which the church can certainly learn. (43) Furthermore, some strands of contemporary Judaism arguably turn their backs on these origins. Within Judaism that judgment has been made by various orthodox Jews who believe that modernity marks a serious break in the unity of the halakha (religious practices). Some progressive Jewish movements have even dispensed with halakha altogether, while some orthodox Jews view it as a defining norm. David Hartman, a leading Jewish authority, explains: One of the salient features of modern Jewry is the lack of consensus about what constitutes membership in the Jewish people. The impact of modern history on Jewish life has led to the gradual disintegration of the organizing frameworks which defined the Jewish community both internally, in terms of standards of membership, and externally, in terms of relations with the outside world.... The once assumed connection between minimal faith and membership in the Jewish people can no longer be taken for granted with respect to the majority of Jews. (44) It would be odd for a pope to declare anything about contemporary Judaism, given contemporary Judaism's own irresolution on the question of its identity and what constitutes legitimate Judaism. And, ironically, there is danger of smothering Jewish "otherness" in the haste to give Christian affirmation. Admittedly, these intra-Jewish questions do not per se block a Christian theological evaluation, and John Paul II was rightly keen to emphasize positive connections and evaluations. In light of the above, if we take John Paul's 2004 statement to the Roman synagogue audience, "you continue to be the first-born people of the Covenant," does it really imply that: (a) All Jews are now in an objective valid covenant relationship? (b) And if it does imply this (which I do not think is obvious), does it mean that that covenant is not fulfilled by Christ and the church, both in history and eschatologically? (c) Or does it simply imply that the Jewish people are especially beloved, for their existence is intrinsic to Christian identity (shared Scripture), while also acknowledging their extrinsic worth--to the world and in themselves; and they continue to bear witness to the importance of Scripture (shared witness). There are good grounds for (c) especially, as (c) is in keeping with other teachings. Among Catholic exegetes (a) is not settled, even if it is clear that if the answer to the question is no, this does not entail a negative view of God's special and chosen people. (45) If it were magisterially affirmed that all contemporary Jews are in a valid covenant, it would not necessarily entail that mission to these beloved was inappropriate. On (b), I have been arguing that Christ fulfills the OT without eradicating or destroying the earlier covenant, but fulfilling it. The manner of this fulfilling requires much explication, but most importantly for my purpose, it implies that mission is necessary while also indicating that this would not entail the eradication of Jewish culture and religious sensibilities. It is coherent to interpret John Paul II's pastoral speeches as indicating that there is no clear, detailed magisterial teaching on the theological validity of contemporary Judaisms, other than affirming that the OT is revelation, that God is faithful to his promises and covenants, that some forms of Judaism may be faithfully related to this revelation, and that Christians must work together and learn from these forms of Judaism while still continuing to preach Christ. What of the eschatological resolution of Romans 11:25, which apparently means that mission is not required since the final "coming in" of the Jews is utterly in God's hands? Some points to be noted: (1) All conversion to Christ is in God's hands, but this does not detract from mission. (2) While Paul rightly emphasizes the importance of the mission to the Gentiles as a result of the Jewish no, he never stops his own preaching to the Jews. Jesus Christ, the Jew, preached to these same people, his own people. He felt his ministry was for them, as they were the people of the covenant and promises. To suggest that mission to the Jewish people is now inappropriate would render central NT teachings and practices inappropriate. (3) The interpretation of Romans 11:25 is deeply contested. However, even if the Jewish "coming in" will happen at the end times, logically it does not actually say anything about historical mission to Jews before the end times. The biblical evidence is that preaching to Jewish communities continued even if it was believed that the final "coming in" would happen only in the end days. (4) My reading of Romans 11:25 is guided also by the conciliar and postconciliar use of the Pauline texts, not just by reading the Bible "alone." This hermeneutical strategy is in keeping with the exegetical traditions of the council. (46) It does not disallow for the ongoing debate about the proper understanding of Paul and Romans. (5) The Catechism citation from nos. 839-40, said to provide an exclusively eschatological resolution to the differences between Catholicism and Judaism, actually contains an important clause that completes the paragraphs regarding the Jews' awaiting of the Messiah: this waiting "is accompanied by the drama of not knowing or of misunderstanding Christ Jesus." In relation to groups A, B, and C cited above, this clearly speaks only of group A or C, not B. It thus fails to signify that mission to the Jews is inappropriate. It certainly does not imply that the Jewish no is a legitimate alternative to Jesus Christ. The Catechism's statements on mission, nos. 849-59, reiterate the themes I have outlined above: mission should be to all peoples without exception, even while recognizing difficulties and problematic contexts. (6) One can acknowledge from Benedict's writings--which cannot be considered as formal magisterial statements but rather as those of a Catholic theologian who is also the pope--that he thinks Romans 11:25 indicates that it is God's action that will bring about the final "coming in" of Israel, and that this means that Christians do not have to attend to this particular scenario as a duty of the church. (47) But we should be clear that in these same texts he affirms that anyone's conversion to Christ is a cause of joy, including that of any Jewish person. So, while the final "coming in" is an eschatological act of God, the obligation to mission and witness is in no way cancelled. I will not pursue this matter, as Benedict's writings do not actually constitute formal magisterial treatment of our topic, which is the subject of this article. (7) Another indirect factor here is that Vatican II deploys the preparatio evangelica approach in relation to the Jews, and, innovatively, toward other religions as well. Joseph Carola's fine study of this matter concludes: While LG 2 and 9 elaborate a theology that does justice to the patristic idea of the preparatio evangelica, LG 16 and AG 3 go beyond the Fathers' original conception. These latter texts no longer limit the preparatio evangelica to the gospel's supernatural prophetic preparation in the history of the people of Israel. Rather they expand its meaning to include that natural revelation present since the beginning of creation by means of which humanity comes to knowledge of the one true God and the moral law. (48) Carola is clear that the term preparatio evangelica is primarily used of the Jewish people. It is arguable that the wider application employed in LG no. 16 and AG no. 3 indicates a development of traditional perceptions, i.e., the "religions," but that is not part of my concern here. My concern is that this term, which the council applied to the Jewish people, entails the necessity of mission. What of Kasper's frequently cited comments? A significant disclaimer made by Kasper in his 2002 lecture needs to be registered: "It should be borne in mind from the outset that I do not speak on behalf of the Vatican; I am used to thinking with my own head, and so I risk my own head and speak only on behalf of myself. The role of our dicastery is to promote dialogue, and not to officially guide its development or to decide on its outcome." (49) Technically, this means that Kasper's speeches cannot be used as evidence of official magisterial doctrinal teaching, as some Catholics claim. Obviously, given Kasper's wide experience and great wisdom, his reflections are important. His point about Jews being saved if they remain Jews is quite compatible with groups A and C, as argued above. (50) Kasper is obviously correct in saying that mission to the Jews is not mission to idolaters (whoever they may be), but it is not a necessary implication of his words to say that mission to those who believe in the true God is ruled out. I have labored above to show otherwise. The special position of the Secretariat (now Pontifical Commission) on the Jews does indicate the special nature of the Jewish people. This is important and is to be cherished. But it should also be noted that the Pontifical Council for Interreligious Dialogue (PCID) is not concerned with mission, but this does not mean that the church does not intend mission toward the religions with which the PCID engages. There is a separate pontifical body for mission to the world, the Congregation for the Evangelization of Peoples (named in 1982, but preexistent as the Congregation for the Propagation of the Faith, Propaganda Fidei, founded in 1622). Finally, let me return to the occasion of Kasper's 2002 speech, which was prompted by a controversy within the US Catholic Church. (51) On August 12, 2002, Jews and Catholics made public a document they had composed entitled RCM, consisting of two parts, one presenting Catholic, the other Jewish, reflections. The document originated from an ongoing consultation between the National Council of Synagogues and the Committee on Ecumenical and Interreligious Affairs, which is a Committee of the US Conference of Catholic Bishops (USCCB). The Catholic section was written by scholars and ecclesiastics who made up an advisory group to the USCCB. The document was published on the USCCB website. In saying that targeting Jews for conversionary campaigns was not acceptable and that mission could properly consist of working together for justice and peace, it attracted predictable press coverage. The Boston Globe ran a front-page article entitled "Catholics Reject Evangelization of Jews"; the Washington Post ran one entitled "U.S. Catholic Bishops Disown Efforts to Convert Jews." (52) Seven years later, on June 18, 2009, the USCCB's Committee on Doctrine and Committee on Ecumenical and Interreligious Affairs published clarifications: "A Note on Ambiguities Contained in Reflections on Covenant and Mission." (53) The USCCB criticized aspects of the original document, RCM, declaring that it does not represent Catholic teaching on the matter. While RCM cannot be considered the teaching of the universal magisterium, its arguments are very important to my concerns here. (54) Two particular points are germane and reinforce my argument. First, "A Note on Ambiguities" (no. 5) rightly acknowledges the special status of Jews while at the same time speaking of Jesus Christ as their fulfillment: [RCM] correctly acknowledges that "Judaism is a religion that springs from divine revelation," and that "it is only about Israel's covenant that the Church can speak with the certainty of the biblical witness." Nevertheless, it is incomplete and potentially misleading in this context to refer to the enduring quality of the covenant without adding that for Catholics Jesus Christ as the incarnate Son of God fulfils both in history and at the end of time the special relationship that God established with Israel. This statement reiterates points I have been arguing for above: (1) Only the biblical covenant with Israel can be affirmed with certainty as springing from the revelation of the OT, not comments about particular forms of contemporary Judaism being in valid covenantal relationship. (2) The validity of Israel's covenant does not count against the importance of Christ and his historical church as the fulfillment, not supersession or abrogation, of Israel's covenant; and (3) this acknowledges an eschatological element in the historical drama of the Church's relation with the Jews. The document then directly addresses the Pauline exegetical question as well as the issue of mission and its rightful conditions: [RCM] also rightly affirms that the Church respects religious freedom as well as freedom of conscience and that, while the Church does not have a policy that singles out the Jews as a people for conversion, she will always welcome "sincere individual converts from any tradition or people, including the Jewish people." This focus on the individual, however, fails to account for St. Paul's complete teaching about the inclusion of the Jewish people as [a] whole in Christ's salvation. In Romans 11:25-26, he explained that when "the full number of the Gentiles comes in ... all Israel will be saved." He did not specify when that would take place or how it would come about. (55) This is a mystery that awaits its fulfilment. Nevertheless, St. Paul told us to look forward to the inclusion of the whole people of Israel, which will be a great blessing for the world (Rom 11:12). In its conclusion, the document unambiguously supports mission to the Jewish people, and not just to individuals: With St. Paul, we acknowledge that God does not regret, repent of, or change his mind about the "gifts and the call" that he has given to the Jewish people (Rom 11:29). At the same time, we also believe that the fulfilment of the covenants, indeed, of all God's promises to Israel, is found only in Jesus Christ. By God's grace, the right to hear this Good News belongs to every generation. This clearly implies a theology of fulfillment, not of supersession or abrogation. RCM is an important development in doctrinal clarity on my question, but certainly not one that Rosen and some Catholic theologians would welcome. It clearly states a theological rationale for mission to the Jewish people. I have not touched on the important question about whether Jewish converts need to renounce all elements of their Jewish heritage. Such a renunciation is neither required nor necessary. Leaving many elements intact might address the understandable concern that conversion would mean the end of the Jewish people. (56) On his conversion to Roman Catholicism, Cardinal Jean-Marie Lustiger told his Jewish parents: "I am not leaving you. I'm not going over to the enemy.... I am not ceasing to be a Jew; on the contrary, I am discovering another way of being a Jew." (57) If Lustiger's claim makes sense, and I think it does, it questions the monopoly exercised by "Messianic Jews" and "Jews for Jesus" to keep intact the Jewishness of Jews who accept Jesus as Messiah. Lustiger represents a Catholic Jew, who sees his Jewishness as intact despite his conversion. (58) The Association of Hebrew Catholics in the United States represents an important growth of the original wild olive tree within the heart of the Catholic Church. To question the necessity of mission to the Jewish people is not only a possible betrayal of such Jews, who have made the costly and difficult choice of becoming followers of Christ, but a possible abandonment of the teachings of the necessity of Christ and his church for salvation. CONCLUSION Many Jewish voices testify to the terrible associations that mission has for them: extermination, extinction, and the destruction of Jewry. It is impossible to ignore this tragic and terrifying history and the profound faults of many Catholics both past and present. Nevertheless, it is vital to address these and other important cultural and historical factors that hinder or preclude the universal missionary preaching of the gospel. This can be done only when there is a clear answer to the question, What does the Catholic Church's magisterium teach about mission to the Jewish people? I have here argued the following points: (1) The magisterium teaches that mission to the Jewish people and individuals is required if Catholics are to be faithful to the truth of the gospel. (2) There is also recognition that Jews may adhere to their ancient religion in good faith (group A or C) which contains true revelation, but that this revelation is completed in historical and eschatological time, in Jesus Christ. (3) This view avoids traditional supersessionism and abrogation, and affirms the continuing validity of the Jewish covenants and promises. (4) Identifying which particular forms of contemporary Judaism may have these characteristics is problematic; this question has not yet been properly addressed. (5) While the final "coming in" of the Jewish people to Christ will be an eschatological event, this does not in any way mitigate the importance of the mission in history toward God's beloved people. (6) All the above does not undo any achievements of Vatican II and subsequent church teachings about the Jews. Mission cannot be carried out in any way that perpetuates anti-Semitism or suggests supersessionism or abrogation, but must work along the lines of fulfillment and the retention of many Jewish practices and beliefs--as was the case with the early church. Nor does such a claim imply that there is nothing to learn from Jewish exegesis, doctrines, and spiritual practices throughout the ages. (7) Mission can never take place that fails to respect the dignity and freedom of the individual. But there should be no misunderstanding of the basic principle: mission to the Jews is theologically legitimate. Learning how best to implement that principle is the complex task that still awaits the careful attention of the contemporary Catholic Church in honest dialogue with Jewish groups and individuals in their great diversity. (59) (1) All translations of church documents are taken from Decrees of the Ecumenical Councils, vol. 2, Trent to Vatican II, ed. Norman P. Tanner, S.J. (Washington: Georgetown University, 1990). (2) All Vatican dicastery documents can be found at http://www.vatican.va (this and all other URLs cited herein were accessed February 2, 2012). The PBC document should be read along with its The Interpretation of the Bible in the Church (April 15, 1993), http://www.ewtn.com/library/CURIA/PBCINTER.htm. (3) All these are rooted in NA. See Cardinal Bea's commentary on NA: The Church and the Jewish People: A Commentary on the Second Vatican Council's Declaration on the Relation of the Church to Non-Christian Religions (London: Geoffrey Chapman, 1966). Bea's commentary has weight, given his key role in the process of overseeing the document's passage through the council. For an up-to- date assessment of ground consolidated, see Walter Kasper, foreword to Christ Jesus and the Jewish People Today (Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 2011) x-xviii. (4) A good outline of the options is presented by David J. Bolton, "Catholic- Jewish Dialogue: Contesting the Covenants," Journal of Ecumenical Studies 45 (2010) 37- 60. I think Bolton's tracing of differing views between high curial office holders (Kasper and Joseph Ratzinger) is helpful, but should not be conflated--Bolton does not do this--with differing views within magisterial statements. (5) Ricardo Di Segni, "Progress and Issues of the Dialogue from a Jewish Viewpoint," in The Catholic Church and the Jewish People: Recent Reflections from Rome, ed. Philip A. Cunningham, Norbert J. Hofmann, and Joseph Sievers (New York: Fordham University, 2007) 12-22, at 18. Rabbi Abraham Joshua Heschel made a similar passionate argument to the Council Fathers at Vatican II, that he was "ready to go to Auschwitz any time, if faced with the alternative of conversion or death" (Edward K. Kaplan, Merton and Judaism: Holiness in Words; Recognition, Repentance, and Renewal, ed. Beatrice Bruteau, preface Terrence A. Taylor, foreword Victor A. Kramer [Louisville: Fons Vitae, 2003] 223-24). Heschel is credited with persuading the Fathers to remove a remark about conversion; see Eugene J. Fisher, "Heschel's Impact on Catholic-Jewish Relations," in No Religion Is an Island: Abraham Joshua Heschel and Interreligious Dialogue, ed. Harold Kasinow and Byron L. Sherwin (Maryknoll, NY: Orbis, 1991) 110-23. The emotional power of this and the tragic suffering argument cannot be underestimated. Archbishop Heenan saw it at the time as "pure rhetoric," for properly understood conversion always presupposes the free acceptance of faith. See John M. Oesterreicher, The New Encounter: Between Christians and Jews, foreword Johannes Willebrands, intro. David M. Bossman (New York: Philosophical Library, 1986) 193. (6) See Neville Lamdan and Alberto Melloni, eds., Nostra Aetate: Origins, Promulgation, Impact on Jewish-Catholic Relations; Proceedings of the International Conference, Jerusalem, 30 October-1 November 2005 (Berlin: LIT, 2007) 177. (7) Ibid. 179. (8) For key magisterial texts supporting this position, see Bolton, "Catholic- Jewish Dialogue" 40 n. 12. (9) See Jacob Neusner's response to Benedict's Jesus of Nazareth: From the Baptism in the Jordan to the Transfiguration (New York: Doubleday, 2007): "A Rabbi Debates with the Pope: And What Divides Them Is Still Jesus," Jerusalem Post, May 29, 2007, http://chiesa.espresso.repubblica.it/articolo/147421?eng=y. See Benedict's endorsement of Neusner's A Rabbi Talks with Jesus (Montreal: McGillQueen's University, 2000), praising Neusner's "absolute honesty, the precision of analysis, the union of respect for the other party with carefully grounded loyalty to one's own position" (back cover). (10) Of the many possible meanings of "mission," this narrow definition is my sole concern. I later argue that it is consonant with Vatican II and subsequent magisterial teaching. On definitions of "mission" see James M. Phillips, "Three Models for Christian Mission," International Bulletin of Missionary Research 14 (1990) 18- 24. It is arguable that the US Catholic trajectory has much in common with the US Protestant trajectory a century ago; see Robert M. Healey, "From Conversion to Dialogue: Protestant American Mission to the Jews in the Nineteenth and Twentieth Centuries," Journal of Ecumenical Studies 18 (1981) 375-87. (11) See Francis A. Sullivan, S.J., Creative Fidelity: Weighing and Interpreting Documents of the Magisterium (New York: Paulist, 1996) esp. 141-74; and Avery Cardinal Dulles, S.J., Magisterium: Teacher and Guardian of the Faith (Naples, FL: Sapientia, 2007) 47-83, for roughly corresponding accounts of the weighting of documents. (12) For background to this earlier material see, e.g., Philip A. Cunningham, "Official Ecclesial Documents to Implement Vatican II on Relations with Jews: Study Them, Become Immersed in Them, and Put Them into Practice," Studies in Christian-Jewish Relations 4 (2009) 1-36; and Mary Boys, "Does the Catholic Church Have a Mission "with" Jews or "to" Jews?," Studies in Christian-Jewish Relations 3 (2008) 1-19. For a full account of the reactions and an analysis of Benedict's change, see Hans Hermann Henrix, "The Controversy Surrounding the 2008 Good Friday Prayer in Europe: The Discussion and Its Theological Implications," Studies in Christian-Jewish Relations 3 (2008) 1-19. The articles cited in this note are available at http://ejournals.bc.edu/ojs/index.php/scjr/issue/archive. (13) Such readings were present before World War II. See, e.g., Jacques Maritain, "The Mystery of Israel," in Ransoming the Time, trans. Harry Lorin Binsse (New York: Charles Scribner's Sons, 1941). After the war, Krister Stendhal's work continued this tradition. (14) I here use the Douay Rheims version, which avoids the oft-repeated mis translation "enemies of God." (15) See Bolton, "Catholic-Jewish Dialogue" 41-42; and the interesting analysis of Ratzinger's writings on this particular matter by Marianne Moyaert and Didier Pollefeyt, "Israel and the Church: Fulfilment beyond Supersessionism?," in Never Revoked: Nostra Aetate as Ongoing Challenge for Jewish-Christian Dialogue, ed. Marianne Moyaert and Didier Pollefeyt (Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 2010) 159-84. (16) See Acta synodalia Sacrosancti Concilii Oecumenici Vaticani II, 5 vols. with multiple parts (Vatican City: Typis polyglottis Vaticanis, 1970-1978) III.8:648; for an account of some speeches on the floor see Giovanni Miccoli, "Two Sensitive Issues: Religious Freedom and the Jews," in History of Vatican H, ed. Giuseppe Alberigo; English version ed. Joseph A. Komonchak, 5 vols. (Maryknoll, NY: Orbis, 2003-2006) 4:95-194, at 161-63. See also Philip Cunningham, "Response to Bolton's 'Contesting the Covenants,'" Journal of Ecumenical Studies 45 (2010) 299-300, at 300, who argues that "the Council did address the question of a Christian conversionary mission to Jews and rejected it in historic time" (emphasis added). (17) Pope Benedict XVI, Jesus of Nazareth: Part 2, Holy Week: From the Entrance into Jerusalem to the Resurrection (San Francisco: Ignatius 2011) 44-45; and Benedict XVI and Peter Seewald, Light of the World: The Pope, the Church, and the Signs of the Times; A Conversation with Peter Seewald, trans. Michael J. Miller and Adrian J. Walker (San Francisco: Ignatius, 2010) 106-7. These texts indicate Benedict's personal thoughts, but they cannot count as formal magisterial teachings--see n. 11 above. (18) See this argument in Bruce Marshall, "Elder Brothers: John Paul II's Teaching on the Jewish People as a Question to the Church," in John Paul H and the Jewish People: A Jewish-Christian Dialogue, ed. David G. Dalin and Matthew Levering (New York: Rowman & Littlefield, 2008) 113-31. See also Eugene Fisher, emeritus member of the Secretariat for Ecumenical and Interreligious Studies, US Conference of Catholic Bishops, "The Impact of Christian-Jewish Dialogue on Catholic Biblical Studies," Studies in Christian-Jewish Relations 3 (2008) R1-5. See the pope's speeches to Jewish audiences in Pope John Paul II, Spiritual Pilgrimage: Texts on the Jews and Judaism, 1979-1995, ed., intro., and commentary by Eugene J. Fischer and Leon Klenicki (New York: Crossroads, 1995); and John Paul II, In the Holy Land: In His Own Words; with Christian and Jewish Perspectives by Yehezkel Landau and Michael McGarry, CSP, ed. Lawrence Boadt, C.S.P., and Kevin di Camillo (New York: Paulist, 2005). (19) Pontifical Council for Interreligious Dialogue, Interreligious Dialogue: The Official Teaching of the Catholic Church from the Second Vatican Council to John Paul II (1963-2005), ed. Francesco Gioia (Boston: Pauline, 2006) 373. (20) John Paul II, Message to the Chief Rabbi of Rome, Dr. Riccardo Di Segni, for the Centenary of the Great Synagogue of Rome, http://www.vatican.va/holy_father/ john_paul_ii/speeches/2004/may/documents/hf_jp-ii_spe_20040523_rabbino-segni_ en.html. (21) Catechism of the Catholic Church (Washington: US Catholic Conference, 1994) no. 840; see also no. 839. (22) For example, Rosemary Radford Ruether, Faith and Fratricide: The Theological Roots of Anti-Semitism (New York: Seabury, 1980); Monika Hellwig, "Christian Theology and the Covenant of Israel," Journal of Ecumenical Studies 7 (1970) 37- 51; and Michael B. McGarry, Christology after Auschwitz (New York, Paulist, 1977). (23) RCM was placed on the USCCB website that year; apparently it is no longer available there, but it can be found at http://www.bc.edu/dam/files/research_sites/cjl/ texts/cjrelations/resources/documents/interreligious/ncs_usccb120802.htm and Origins 32 (2002) 218-24. For Kasper's lecture, "The Commission for Religious Relations with the Jews: A Crucial Endeavour of the Catholic Church," delivered at Boston College, November 6, 2002; see http://www.vatican.va/roman_curia/pontifical_ councils/chrstuni/card-kasper-docs/rc_pc_chrstuni_doc_20021106_kasper- bostoncollege_en.html. (24) Targeted mission may cause fear and intimidation and is quite different from "mission" as I am using it. For an interesting commentary on this RCM affair see Cunningham, "Official Ecclesial Documents" 26-31. (25) Kasper, "Commission for Religious Relations with the Jews." (26) Ibid. (27) Ibid. (28) See the continuous teaching from Dignitatis humanae (1965), to the Catechism nos. 2104-9, to the Congregation for the Doctrine of the Faith's declaration Dominus Iesus no. 2, http://www.vatican.va/roman_curia/congregations/cfaith/ documents/rc_con_cfaith_doc_20000806_dominus-iesus_en.html. For a good analysis of continuity in Dignitatis humanae, see James Carr, "Did Vatican II Represent a U-Turn in the Catholic Church's Teaching on Liberal Democracy?," International Journal of Public Theology 6 (2012) 228-53. (29) Initially in Walter Kasper, "God Decides the When and the How," Frankfurter Allgemeine Zeitung, March 21, 2008; and later with notes in L'Osservatore Romano, April 10, 2008, English translation at http://chiesa.espresso.repubblica.it/articolo/ 197381?eng=y, from which the cited text is taken. (30) See Walter M. Abbott, S.J., ed., The Documents of Vatican II (New York: Guild, 1966) 665 n. 19. For a detailed background on NA's composition, see Stjepan Schmidt, Augustine Bea: The Cardinal of Unity, trans. Leslie Wearne (New Rochelle, NY: New City, 1992), esp. 524-33; and Giovanni Miccoli, "Jews and Other Non-Christians," in History of Vatican II 4:135-66; and Mauro Velati, "The Decree on the Relationship of the Church to Non-Christian Religions," in ibid. 5:211-21. The latter three sources indicate that there was never a serious question about mission being inappropriate to the Jews. Some Fathers, however, did think that because Romans 11:25 entailed a futurist eschatology that accounted for the Jews, mission to the Jews should not be the task of the church. But no decision was taken to either affirm or deny this point as it was not germane to NA. Center stage was the question of the deicide charge and the condemnation of anti-Semitism. (31) For key magisterial texts supporting this position see Bolton, "Catholic- Jewish Dialogue" 40 n. 12. (32) The nature of this necessity is contended as one of means or precept. See my Christianity and World Religions 161-211. (33) On the significance of this move in Catholic dogmatics, see Stephen Bullivant, "Sine culpa? Vatican II and Inculpable Ignorance," Theological Studies 72 (2011) 70-86; and Stephen Bullivant, "The Salvation of Atheists: A Critical Exploration of a Theme in Catholic Dogmatic Theology" (D.Phil. thesis, Oxford University, 2009), forthcoming as The Salvation of Atheists and Catholic Dogmatic Theology (New York: Oxford University, 2012). (34) John Paul II, Redemptoris missio, http://www.vatican.va/holy_father/john_paul_ii/encyclicals/ documents/hf_jp-ii_enc_07121990_redemptoris-missio_en.html. (35) See David G. Dalin, "Pope John Paul II and the Jews," in John Paul II and the Jewish People 15-36, which traces John Paul's interest and concern to his childhood in Poland; and Darcy O'Brien, The Hidden Pope: The Untold Story of a Lifelong Friendship That Is Changing the Relationship between Catholics and Jews; the Personal Journey of Pope John Paul II and Jerzy Kluger (New York: Rodale, 1998). (36) See Gioia, ed., Interreligious Dialogue, esp. 253-1114. The pope mentions mission only when speaking to the local bishops of a given country--see, e.g., ibid. 1033, to the bishops of India. (37) See Henrix, "Controversy surrounding the 2008 Good Friday Prayer," which cites both Jews and Catholics who think that the present papacy is going against the traditions of Vatican II. (38) For a sense of Ratzinger's orientation to these questions, including the Jewish question, see his Many Religions, One Covenant: Israel, the Church, and the World, trans. Graham Harrison (San Francisco: Ignatius, 1999); and Truth and Tolerance: Christian Belief and World Religions, trans. Henry Taylor (San Francisco: Ignatius, 2004). The former work does not touch on the question of mission but reiterates the conciliar teachings on the authentic covenant. On the misinterpretation of the council see Benedict XVI, "A Proper Hermeneutic for the Second Vatican Council," in Vatican II: Renewal within Tradition, trans, and ed. Mathew L. Lamb and Matthew Levering (New York: Oxford University, 2008) ix-xv; and Benedict XVI, Ad Romanam Curiam ob omnia natalicia (December 22, 2005), Acta apostolicae sedis 98 (2006) 40-53. On the Good Friday controversy see Henrix, "Controversy surrounding the 2008 Good Friday Prayer." (39) For a good summary of the patchwork of old prayers see Henrix, "Controversy surrounding the 2008 Good Friday Prayer" 9-11. (40) Avery Dulles advances a supersessionist position in his, "Covenant and Mission," America (October 21, 2002), http://www.americamagazine.org/content/article.cfm? article_id=2550. Whether fulfillment and supersessionism are elided in Ratzinger's writings (as claimed by Bolton, "'Contesting the Covenant") or are kept distinct but require clarification (as argued by Moyaert and Pollefeyt in "Israel and Church") need not be resolved for the purpose of my argument. I am arguing that fulfillment does not logically require a resolution on the status of the covenant or covenants. (41) Cunningham's "Official Ecclesial Documents" is an excellent example; see pp. 5, 27, 29. (42) See Dominus Iesus as the culmination of this criticism; it argues that two covenants call into question the unicity of Jesus Christ as savior for all peoples. While those outside the church may be saved through Christ, this would not logically call into question the necessity of mission. (43) See Guidelines and Suggestions, part III. Cunningham, "Official Ecclesial Documents" 14-21 closely analyzes the Guidelines and Suggestions of 1974 and the 1985 "Notes on the Correct Way to Present the Jews and Judaism in Preaching and Catechesis in the Roman Catholic Church" (from the Commission for Religious Relations with the Jews, http://www.vatican.va/roman_curia/pontifical_councils/ chrstuni/relations-jews-docs/rc_pc_chrstuni_doc_19820306_jews- judaism_en.html); but Cunningham is unable to find a single citation that affirms a presently valid "covenant," precisely because of the Catholic claim of fulfillment, even if this awaits completion in the eschaton. He argues by "implication" from texts that fail to cite what is implied. Implication sometimes approximates eisegesis. (44) See David Hartman, Israelis and the Jewish Tradition: An Ancient People Debating Its Future (New Haven, CT: Yale University, 2000) 12-13: and David Ellenson, Tradition in Transition: Orthodoxy, Halakhah, and the Boundaries of Modern Jewish Identity (Lanham, MD: University Press of America, 1989). This internal pluralism was evident very early; see Paula Fredriksen, "Torah-Observance and Christianity: The Perspective of Roman Antiquity," Modern Theology 11 (1995) 195-204. (45) See, e.g., Cardinal Albert Vanhoye, "The Jewish People and their Sacred Scripture in the Christian Bible" (2008), http://www.zenit.org/article-23841? l=english. See also Christina Grenholm and Daniel Patte, eds., Reading Israel in Romans: Legitimacy and Plausibility of Divergent Interpretations (Harrisburg, PA: Trinity, 2000); and E. Elizabeth Johnson, "Romans 9-11: The Faithfulness and Impartiality of God," in Pauline Theology, vol. 3, Romans, ed. David M. Hay and E. Elizabeth Johnson (Minneapolis: Fortress, 1995) 211-39, who is critical of many who employ Paul for better Jewish-Christian relations, for Paul's concerns are not these. Contemporary Pauline studies pull in very different directions. (46) On biblical exegesis, see the underdeveloped comments initially in Dei verbum (1965) no. 12; and Benedict XVI, Verbum Domini nos. 42-49, 117-20. Historical- critical readings alone cannot be normative on the matter. Obviously, not all readings that I contest stem from historical-critical procedures. (47) See n. 17 above for the particular texts in question. According to Benedict, the texts cited have no magisterial authority; in the foreword to Jesus, he writes of the book: "It goes without saying that this book is in no way an exercise of the magisterium, but is solely an expression of my personal search.... Everyone is free, then, to contradict me" (xxiii-xxiv). In Jesus 125-45 the argument is clear: Jesus came as a fulfillment of all of Israel's hopes and promises, and 229-40 explores the universal atonement required by Jesus for the sins of all peoples. Benedict XVI, Truth and Tolerance 162-209, 231-58 also supports universal mission, without exception. These views cannot be said to support my position, as it is based purely on formal magisterial teachings in the attempt to clarify Rosen's request. (48) Joseph Carola, "Vatican II's Use of Patristic Themes regarding Non- Christians," in Catholic Engagement with World Religions: A Comprehensive Study, ed. Karl Josef Becker and Ilaria Morali, with collaboration of Maurice Borrmans and Gavin D'Costa (Maryknoll, NY: Orbis, 2010) 143-52, at 150. (49) Kasper, "Commission for Religious Relations with the Jews," emphasis added. (50) I do not claim that Kasper would agree. Bolton's reading of Kasper's position, "Catholic Jewish Dialogue," is supported by John T. Pawlikowski, "Reflections on Covenant and Mission Forty Years after Nostra Aetate," Cross Currents 56 (2007) 70-94. (51) For a broader US picture see Bolton, "Catholic-Jewish Dialogue" 53-58; and for the crucial correction in 2009 to the statement on Jews published in the USCCB's United States Catholic Catechism for Adults ("Thus the covenant that God made with the Jewish people through Moses remains eternally valid for them"), see http://www .ccjr.us/dialogika-resources/documents-and-statements/roman-catholic/us- conferenceof-catholic-bishops/577-usccb09aug27. This changed statement brings the earlier statement into line with the position I advance here. (52) As cited by Avery Dulles, "Covenant and Mission," America 187.12 (October 21, 2001) 8-11, http://www.americamagazine.org/content/article.cfm?article_id=2550. (53) See http://old.usccb.org/doctrine/covenant09.pdf. (54) See Ratzinger's comments reported in AD2000 11.8 (September 1998) 7, http://www.ad2000.com.au/articles/1998/sep1998p7_547.html. See also John Paul II, Apostolos suos (1997) no. 21 on the authority of bishops' conferences and their teachings. At the press conference on the occasion of this document, Ratzinger commented: "Episcopal conferences do not constitute per sea doctrinal instance which is binding and superior to the authority of each bishop who comprises them.... [However,] if doctrinal declarations emanating from a conference are approved unanimously by the bishops, they can be published in the name of the conference itself, and the faithful must adhere" to these teachings. (55) Interestingly, footnote 11 inserted here cites Walter Kasper, "La preghiera del Venerdi Santo," L'Osservatore Romano (April 10, 2008) 1, where he defends the change in the Good Friday prayers. The quoted texts are from RCM. (56) Orthodox Jew Michael Wyschogrod spells this out nicely in "Letter to a Friend," Modern Theology 11 (1995) 165-71. Particularly important is Wyschogrod's attempt to argue that if and when Jews do convert, they should and must retain their Jewish religious identity, and that the church should support this, otherwise the church will covertly support the extinction of the Jewish people. See the debate on this claim in three articles following Wyschogrod's, 173-241. (57) Jean-Marie Lustiger, Dare to Believe: Addresses, Sermons, Interviews, 1981- 1984 (New York: Crossroads, 1986) 38. Edith Stein also expressed the same sentiments; see Gavin D'Costa. Theology in the Public Square (Oxford: Blackwell, 2005) 157- 66. (58) Lustiger's practices are interestingly problematized by Wyschogrod in "Letter to a Friend." (59) I am indebted to Cardinal Karl Josef Becker, Jonathan Campbell, Philip A. Cunningham, Sven Ensminger, David Jay, Edward Kessler (with whom this paper was conceived and presented in a public debate at the University of Bristol in October 2011), Archbishop Kevin McDonald, David M. Neuhaus, and Bede Rowe for comments on earlier drafts, and the three anonymous referees of this journal. None are responsible for any views contained herein. GAVIN G. D'COSTA received his PhD from Cambridge University and is professor of Catholic theology at the University of Bristol. Specializing in Catholic theology of religions and systematic theology, he has recently published Christianity and World Religions: Disputed Questions in the Theology of Religions (2009); edited The Catholic Church and the World Religions: A Theological and Phenomenological Account (2011); and coauthored with Paul F. Knitter and Daniel Strange, Only One Way?: Three Christian Responses on the Uniqueness of Christ in a Religiously Plural World (2011). In progress is Vatican II: Hermeneutics and the Question of the Meaning of Other Religions (from Oxford University Press). COPYRIGHT 2012 Theological Studies, Inc. No portion of this article can be reproduced without the express written permission from the copyright holder. Copyright 2012 Gale, Cengage Learning. All rights reserved. Please bookmark with social media, your votes are noticed and appreciated: Article Details Printer friendly Cite/link Email Feedback Author: D'Costa, Gavin G. Publication: Theological Studies Article Type: Essay Geographic Code: 7ISRA Date: Sep 1, 2012 Words: 11887 Previous Article: Developments in teaching authority since Vatican II. Next Article: A Jewish response to Gavin D'Costa. 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Monday, August 20, 2018

Holocaust as vicarious Past

32,790,364 articles and books Periodicals Literature Search Keyword Title Author Topic The Holocaust as vicarious past: Restoring the voices of memory to history. Link/Page Citation Some people want to forget where they've been; other people want to remember where they've never been. Eli Cohen and Gila Almagor, from their film, Under the Domim Tree HOW IS A POST-HOLOCAUST GENERATION OF ARTISTS supposed "to remember" events they never experienced directly? Born after Holocaust history into the time of its memory only, a new, media-savvy generation of artists rarely presumes to represent these events outside the ways they have vicariously known and experienced them. This post-war generation, after all, cannot remember the Holocaust as it actually occurred. All they remember, all they know of the Holocaust, is what the victims have passed down to them in their diaries, what the survivors have remembered to them in their memoirs. They remember not actual events, but the countless histories, novels, and poems of the Holocaust they have read, the photographs, movies, and video testimonies they have seen over the years. They remember long days and nights in the company of survivors, listening to their harrowing tales, until their lives, loves, and losses seem grafted onto their own life stories. Coming of age after--but indelibly shaped by-the Holocaust, this generation of artists, writers, architects, and even composers does not attempt to represent events they never knew immediately but instead portray their own, necessarily hyper-mediated experiences of memory. It is a generation no longer willing, or able, to recall the Holocaust separately from the ways it has been passed down to them. By portraying the Holocaust as a "vicarious past," these artists insist on maintaining a distinct boundary between their work and the testimony of their parents' generation. Such work recognizes their parents' need to testify to their experiences on the one hand, even to put the Holocaust "behind them." But by calling attention to their vicarious relationship to events, the next generation ensures that their "post-memory" of events remains an unfinished, ephemeral process, not a means toward definitive answers to impossible questions. Moreover, what further distinguishes these artists from their parents' generation is their categorical rejection of art's traditional redemptory function in the face of catastrophe. For these artists, the notion that such suffering might be redeemed by its aesthetic reflection, or that the terrible void left behind by the murder of Europe's Jews might be compensated by a nation's memorial forms is simply intolerable on both ethical and historical grounds. At the ethical level, this generation believes that squeezing beauty or pleasure from such events afterwards is not so much a benign reflection of the crime as it is an extension of it. At the historical level, these artists find that the aesthetic, religious, and political linking of destruction and redemption may actually have justified such terror in the killers' minds. Not only does this generation of artists intuitively grasp their inability to know the history of the Holocaust outside of the ways it has been passed down to them, but they also see history itself as a composite record of both events and these events' transmission to the next generation. This doesn't mean that their vicarious memory of the past thereby usurps the authority of history itself, or that of the historians and their research; after all, as they are the first to acknowledge, they inevitably rely on hard historical research for their knowledge of what happened, how and why. But in addition to the facts of Holocaust history, they recognize the further facts surrounding this history's transmission to them, that its history is being passed down to them in particular times and places. These are not mutually exclusive claims, or competing sets of facts, but both part of history's reality. Neither history nor memory is regarded by these artists as a zero-sum game in which one kind of history or memory ta kes away from another; nor is it a contest between kinds of knowledge, between what we know and how we know it; nor is it a contest between scholars and students of the Holocaust and the survivors themselves. For these artists know that the facts of history never "stand" on their own-but are always supported by the reasons for recalling such facts in the first place. For American artists like Art Spiegelman, David Levinthal, and Shimon Attie whose work I explore here, their subject is not the Holocaust so much as how they came to know it and how it has shaped their inner lives. Theirs is an unabashed terrain of memory, not of history, but no less worthy of exploration. When they go to represent this "vicarious past," they do so in the artistic forms and media they have already long practiced. When commix-artist Art Spiegelman remembers the Holocaust, therefore, he recalls both his father's harrowing story of survival and the circumstances under which he heard it. In his "comixture" of images and narrative, he is able to tell both stories simultaneously, turning them into a single, double-stranded narrative. When photographer David Levinthal was asked by his art teacher at Yale why he took photographs of toys in historical tableaux instead of historical reality itself, he answered simply that the vintage Nazi figurines he collected and photographed were his historical reality, the only remnants of the past he personally experienced. By photographing his imagined recreations of Nazi pageantry, their war-machine, and murder of the Jews, Levinthal would limit his representations to an exploration of that which he knows from history books, photographs, and mass-media images. Similarly, in his European environmental installations, artist Shimon Attie has projected archival photographic images of the past--his memory--back onto the otherwise amnesiac sites of history in order to reanimate these sites with his "memory" of what happened there. Haunted by what he regarded as the specter of missing Jews in Berlin's Scheunenviertel, Attie projected photographs of Jews from this quarter taken in the 1920s and 1930s back ont o their original sites. Here he has literally projected the "after-images" in his mind back onto otherwise indifferent landscapes. Spiegelman's Maus As becomes clear, especially to the author himself, Art Spiegelman's Maus: A Survivor's Tale is not about the Holocaust so much as about the survivor's tale itself and the artist-son's recovery of it. In Spiegelman's own words, 'Maus is not what happened in the past, but rather what the son understands of the father's story.... It is an autobiographical history of my relationship with my father, a survivor of the Nazi death camps, cast with cartoon animals." (2) As his father recalled what happened to him at the hands of the Nazis, his son, Art, recalls what happened to him at the hands of his father and his father's stories. As his father told his experiences to Art, in all their painful immediacy, Art tells his experiences of the storytelling sessions themselves-in all of their somewhat less painful mediacy. That Spiegelman has chosen to represent the survivor's tale, as passed down to him in what he calls the "commix," is neither surprising nor controversial. After all, as a commix-artist and founder of Raw Magazine, Spiegelman has only turned to what has always been his working artistic medium. That the "commix" would serve such a story so well, however, is what I would like to explore here. On the one hand, Spiegelman seems to have realized that in order to remain true to both his father's story and his own experience of it, he would have to remain true to his medium. But in addition, he has also cultivated the unique capacity in the "commix-ture" of image and narrative for telling the double-stranded tale of his father's story and his own recording of it. While Spiegelman acknowledges that the very word comics "brings to mind the notion that they have to be funny ... humor itself is not an intrinsic component of the medium. Rather than comics," he continues, "I prefer the word commix, to mix together, because to talk about comics is to talk about mixing together words and pictures to tell a story." (3) Moreover, Spiegelman explains, "The strength of commix lies in [its] synthetic ability to approximate a 'mental language' that is closer to actual human thought than either words or pictures alone." (4) Here he also cites the words of what he calls the patron saint of commix, Swiss educational theorist and author Rodolphe Topffer (1799--1846): "The drawings without their text would have only a vague meaning; the text without the drawings would have no meaning at all. The combination makes up a kind of novel--all the more unique in that it is no more like a novel than it is like anything else." (5) For unlike a more linear historical narrative, the "comix-ture" o f words and images generates a triangulation of meaning--a kind of three-dimensional narrative--in the movement between words, images, and the reader's eye. Moreover, the box-panels convey information in both vertical and horizontal movements of the eye, as well as in the analog of images implied by the entire page appearing in the background of any single panel. The narrative sequence of his boxes, with some ambiguity as to the order in which they are to be read, combines with and then challenges the narrative of his father's story--itself constantly interrupted by Art's questions and own neurotic preoccupations, his father's pill-taking, the rancorous father-son relationship, his father's new and sour marriage. As a result, Spiegelman's narrative is constantly interrupted by--and integrative of--life itself, with all its dislocutions, associations, and paralyzing self-reflections. It is a narrative echoing with the ambient noise and issues surrounding its telling. The roundabout method of memory-telling is captured here in ways unavailable to more linear narrative. It is a narrative that tells both the story of events and its own unfolding as narrative. Other aspects of Spiegelman's specific form and technique further incorporate the process of drawing Maus into its finished version. By drawing his panels in a 1:1 ratio, for example, instead of drawing large panels and then shrinking them down to page size, Spiegelman reproduces his hand's movement in scale--its shakiness, the thickness of his drawing pencil line, the limits of miniaturization, all to put a cap on detail and fine line, and so keep the pictures underdetermined. This would be the equivalent of the historian's voice, not as it interrupts the narrative, however, but as it constitutes it. Written over a 13-year period between 1972 and 1985, the first volume of Maus thus integrated both narrative and anti-narrative elements of the comics, embedding the father's altogether coherent story in a medium ever threatening to fly apart at the seams. The result is a continuous narrative rife with the discontinuities of its reception and production, the absolutely authentic voice of his father counterposed to the fabular images of cartoon animals. In its self-negating logic, Spiegelman's commix also suggests itself as a pointedly anti-redemptory medium that simultaneously makes and unmakes meaning as it unfolds. Words tell one story, images another. Past events are not redeemed in their telling but are here exposed as a continuing cause of the artist's inability to find meaning anywhere. Meaning is not negated altogether, but, created in the father's telling, is immediately challenged in the son's reception and visualization of it. In fact, the "story" is not a single story at all but two stories being told simultaneously: the father's story and Spiegelman's imaginative record of it. It is double-stranded and includes the competing stories of what his father says and what Artie hears, what happened during the Holocaust and what happens now in Artie's mind. As a process, it makes visible the space between what gets told and what gets heard, what gets heard and what gets seen. The father says one thing as we see him doing something else. Artie promises not to betray certain details only to show us both the promise and betrayal together. Indeed, it may be Artie's unreliability as a son that makes his own narrative so reliable. The story now includes not just "what happened," but how what happened is made sense of by father and son in the telling. At the same time, it highlights both the inseparability of his father's story from its effect on Artie and the story's own necessarily contingent coming into being. All of which might be lost to either images or narrative alone, or even to a reception that did not remark its own unfolding. David Levinthal's "Mein Kampf" Like other children of his generation, or like all who were blessedly removed from Europe during the war, David Levinthal's memory of the Holocaust was only and always a composite pastiche of television images, toys, and the stories he made up during years of war play. The reality of war and Holocaust was necessarily reduced to the miniature reality of his playthings, the intensely felt reality of his romper-room simulations. It cannot be surprising, therefore, that when photographer and toy-collector David Levinthal began to re-examine his memory of the Holocaust, he found himself reflecting once again on the toys by which he had first grasped history. But when he began to photograph these toys in 1972, one of his M.F.A. photography teachers at Yale asked him, "Why don't you take pictures of the real world, of reality?" Levinthal answered, perhaps a little too honestly, that "These toys are my reality!" Rather than forgetting that his relationship to the Holocaust would always be an imagined, make-believe one, he chose to make his vicarious past-as embodied in these simulations-the subject of his photographs. For when an artist like David Levinthal sets out "to remember" the Holocaust, all he can actually remember are the numberless images passed down to him in books, films, and photographs. When he sets out "to photograph" the Holocaust, therefore, he takes pictures of his Holocaust experiences-i.e., recirculated images of the Holocaust. Indeed, the visual reality of the Holocaust for Levinthal and his generation is forever only the record of photographs and documentary film. The physical reality of the Holocaust exists now only in its consequences, its effects and simulations: the rest is memory, itself increasingly shaped by the reality of our simulations. This memory" is not the animate memory of one who was there, but is rather as static and inert as the photos themselves, the images already small and toy-like. As a late-twentieth-century photographer, David Levinthal is hardly alone in his fascination with the ready-made simulacrum. "One of my favorite [Eugene Atget] photographs is a shop window full of hats on [mannequin] heads," Levinthal tells us. (6) Like Atget's photographs of mannequins, or Hans Bellmer's surreal photographs of recomposed dolls in process, or Jorge Ribalta's more recent portraiture of sculpted busts, or Laurie Simmons's photographs of mock-domestic doll tableaux, or Cindy Sherman's disturbing mutilated doll images, Levinthal's photographs have always taken the imitations of reality, not reality itself, as their subject. (7) For Levinthal's media-saturated generation, it could even be said that these ready-made simulations have become the primary reality of events to which they refer. Because historical events constantly pass into the ether of time, they remain "present" only in memory, imagination, and their material representations. The artists of the photo-conceptual vanguard have thus turned their interrogating eye to the simulations of reality as relentlessly as a prior generation of photographers once explored what they regarded as a natural and unmediated world. In the process, Levinthal et al. continue to reveal the ways the world is constantly packaged and repackaged for us in a commodity culture. By taking as their subject ready-made simulations only, such photographs mock the culture with the reductive banality of its simulations, even as they leave us hungry for the "real thing," for a real world constantly displaced by its media product. In the hands of photo-conceptual artists, toys and their reflected images evoke not only memories of childhood and private inner lives, but also embody the realities and preoccupations of adult life, as well as larger public issues of history and our vicarious relationship to it through art. Finally, through their "fabricated photography," these artists also ask to what extent reality itself is always a kind of ongoing fabrication--not as a kind of fiction, but more literally as that which is constantly being improvised, moment by moment. (8) In the case of Mein Kampf, the artist's second foray into memory of the wartime, the result is a disturbing and provocative series of over-sized Polaroid photographs depicting the artist's own dramatically staged tableaux of toy Nazi soldiers and their figurine victims. As Levinthal is quick to clarify, these images do not capture Holocaust history so much as they do the artist's struggle to capture his own hyper-mediated reality of the Holocaust. Moreover, Levinthal's carefully choreographed and staged photo-tableaux have their own history, their own process, which are as much a part of their significance as the content of the glossy images themselves. Levinthal's "toyland of Holocaust history," like much contemporary art, was not meant to stand by or for themselves. But rather, they are necessarily part of the artist's larger oeuvre, a life's work dedicated to exploring the fuzzy line between the photograph's traditional function as documentary record of external reality and its more recently acknowledged role in revealing the inner realities of the mind's eye. (9) It is David Levinthal's struggle between what he knows and how he has known it, between Holocaust history and how it has been passed down to him in the popular, all too mythologized icons of television and photographs. For whether we like it or not, once icons of the Holocaust enter the popular imagination, they also turn mythic, hard and impenetrable. Levinthal insists that these new mini-spectacles are as object-driven as his earlier projects: the little Nazi drummer corps is set before something resembling the Brandenburg Gate; a soldier and dog patrol outside guard tower and wire fence; a woman holding a child whirls away from a German soldier aiming a rifle at her from inches away. But it is also clear that each of these toys has sparked a particular visual association in the artist's mind, the memory of an image, which the artist then brings into physical relief. And because they are meant to evoke, not mime, and to stimulate the imagination but not simulate actual historical realities, these photographs are shot in what Levinthal terms a "narrative style": what the artist has characterized as "intentionally ambiguous to draw the viewer in so that you make your own story." (10) Or as he elaborates in another interview, "I think I create a window that allows the viewer to come into an image that appears to be more complete than it really is. It become s complete when the viewer becomes a participant and fills in the missing details."(11) That is, added to the artist's story as he constructed the tableaux are the stories viewers tell themselves about what they see. These pieces depend on narrative for their lives, animated by the stories we tell about them. Levinthal accomplishes this ambiguity by shooting these tableaux at Polaroid's New York studio with a 20x24 Land Camera, its aperture set wide open, to create an extremely shallow focal plane-hence, the blurry fore- and backgrounds. The more ambiguous, under-determined, and oblique the image, the more it seems to invite the viewer's own narrative. The sharper the image, the more repellent it is of multiple-readings, for it crowds out the reader's projected story with the clutter of its own detail. The essential tension in Levinthal's particular medium is that between the toy's fixedness and the camera's seeming liquification of its material hardness. In this way, he turns the traditional assumption of photographic precision against itself, extending the range of the camera inward to include the mind's eye and imagination. Depending on the particular image, the focal plane in Levinthal's work lies just before or behind the toy objects, never on them. Rather than concentrating the mind on the toy-object, the focal plane takes us into the space between the object and its once-worldly referent, into the space between it and us--where the mind is forced to imagine and thereby collaborate. The indistinct lines don't absorb the eye as sharp images might, but instead the soft focus deflects the mind's eye away from the object and inward, back into itself. In the seemingly iconic image of guard tower, fence, soldier and dog, it is the rich black and blues tints of the sky that absorb the eye, pulling the mind through the figures into the space behind them. This is a kind of reverse reality effect: I stare and realize that the darker and less discernible the dog and soldier, the more real they become in my mind. In almost every one of the images from Levinthal's Mein Kampf series, many more questions-aesthetic, personal, and historical-are raised than answered: What is the relationship of the artist to events? Does such a medium trivialize memory even as it interrogates it? What of the history itself is understood through such images? And what do such images tell us about our relationship to the Holocaust now, 50 years later? The cool and studied polish of these images constantly reminds us of their aesthetic intervention between then and now. They are staged to look deliberately staged, choreographed to show their choreography. All rawness is gone, all innocence put to flight. Resonant with our own corrupted memory traces, these photographs show us how far away from actual events the icons of our culture have already taken us. (12) To this day, many people insist that there are some scenes from the Holocaust that cannot ethically be represented. Since no one survived the gas chambers to describe the terror there, its darkness has remained absolute. Other areas on which artists are practically forbidden to tread include the sexuality of victims, the possible sad o-sexuality of the killers. When I objected to what seemed to be a deliberate eroticization of the murder process and tried to talk the artist into eliding from the exhibition several images, the artist responded that Art Spiegelman had also tried to talk him out of showing those. "But nowhere in the literature have I found anything to suggest an erotic component to the killing process," I said, "only in the imaginations of those who weren't there, like D. M. Thomas in his novel, The White Hotel." To which Levinthal replied that whether or not there was actually a sexual, erotic component to the murder process, it remains certainly-if unfortunately-true that in many of its popular representations, the Holocaust has been eroticized, whether we like it or not. Since his subject is the readymade simulation of the Holocaust, he was only showing a Holocaust pornokitsch already at play in the cultural transformations of these terrible scenes. In popular movies like Schindler's List or Sophie's Choice, or novels like The White Hotel, for example, Eros and Thanatos are twinned as constituent elements of Holocaust victimization, projected reflexively onto victims by a culture obsessed with both, a culture that has long linked the two as fatally interconnected, a culture that has eventually grown dependent on their union for commercial and entertainment value. (13) Moreover, he believes that both killers and victims understood that part of the dehumanization of the Jews included their sexual degradation in the moments before death. As women have been objectified in these toys and the Jews were objectified by the Nazis, the victims would here be presented as objectified twice over. Designed as sexual objects to begin with, the dolls are used to recapitulate not only the relationship between killers and victims but also, if more implicitly, that between contemporary viewers and these very images. Here Levinthal suggests that with every representation of their murder, the Jews are in some sense murdered again and again. Robbed of life by the Nazi gunmen, the victims are robbed of their dignity by the observing photographer--and then again with the recirculation of such images. Only now we are the passive bystanders, and not so innocent at that. The complicated role such images play in the public sphere came into especially sharp relief in a slightly different context a few years ago in Jerusalem. When confronted by leaders of the ultra-Orthodox community in Jerusalem, the curators at Israel's national Holocaust memorial museum, Yad Vashem, refused to remove wall-sized photographs taken by the Nazis of naked Jewish women on their way to the gas chambers at Treblinka (many of them orthodox and so violated unequivocably by the S.S. photographer at the moment). The museum replied that because this degradation, too, was part of the reality of the Holocaust, it had to be shown as part of the historical record--whether or not it offended the religious community's own rigorous sense of modesty. In the eyes of the religious community, however, the humiliation and violation of these women's modesty was as much a part of the crime as their eventual murder. That their modesty would be violated yet again by the viewers now may even suggest not so much a repetit ion of the crime as an extension of it. At the same time, despite the curators' stated aim of maintaining the exhibit's historical integrity, the museum may have refused to acknowledge another historical reality: the possibility of their visitors' pornographic gaze. Will we ever know all the reasons why people are transfixed by these images? Is the historical record of past travesties enough to blind us to the possibility of present travesties on the parts of viewers? Can we say with certainty that every museum visitor's gaze is as pure as the curators' historical intent? For the fine line between exhibition and exhibitionistic remains as fragile as it is necessary, even in the hands of scrupulous historians and curators. At least part of what makes these images so unnerving for viewers is their suggestion that we, as viewers, may be no less complicit in the continuing degradation of the victim than the original Nazi photographer. For Levinthal, the question was never whether to show such images, but rather how to ask in them: to what extent do we always re-objectify a victim by reproducing images of the victim as victim? To what extent do we participate in this degradation by reproducing and then viewing it? To what extent do these images ironize and thereby repudiate such representations? Or to what extent do these images feed on the same prurient energy they purportedly expose? Or as Saul Friedlander has already asked, "Is such attention fixed on the past only a gratuitous reverie, the attraction of spectacle, exorcism, or the result of a need to understand; or is it, again and still, an expression of profound fears and, on the part of some, mute yearnings as well? (14) By leaving these questions unanswered, Levinthal confronts us with our own role in the representation of mass murder, the ways we cover our eyes and peek through our fingers at the same time. Shimon Attie's "Writing on the Wall" In "Sites Unseen," Shimon Attie's series of European installations between 1991 and 1996, the artist has not only projected his necessarily mediated memory of a now lost Jewish past onto otherwise forgetful sites. But in so doing, he has also attempted a simultaneous critique of his own hyper-mediated relationship to the past. By literally bathing the sites of a now invisible Jewish past in the photographic images of their historical pasts, he simulataneously looks outward and inward for memory: for he hopes that once seen, the images of these projections will always haunt these sites by haunting those who have seen his projections. The sites of a lost Jewish past in Europe would thus retain traces of this past, if now only in the eyes of those who have seen Attie's installations. When Shimon Attie moved to Berlin in 1991, he found a city haunted by the absence of its murdered and deported Jews. Like many Jewish Americans preoccupied by the Holocaust and steeped in its seemingly ubiquitous images, he saw Jewish ghosts in Europe's every nook and cranny: from the Scheunenviertel in Berlin to the central train station in Dresden; from the canals of Copenhagen to those of Amsterdam; from Cologne's annual art fair to Krakow's Kazimierz neighborhood. For Attie, however, private acts of remembrance in which he alone saw the faces and forms of now absent Jews in their former neighborhoods were not enough. He chose, therefore, to actualize these inner visions, to externalize them, and in so doing to make them part of a larger public's memory. Once thus actualized, he hoped, these images would continue to haunt the sites even when no longer visible, and enter the inner worlds of all who saw them. He hoped that once others had become witnesses to his memorial projections, the installations themse lves would no longer be necessary. "After finishing art school in San Francisco, I came to Berlin in the summer of 1991," Shimon Attie writes in his introduction to a book for "The Writing on the Wall." "Walking the streets of the city that summer, I felt myself asking over and over again, Where are all the missing people? What has become of the Jewish culture and community which had once been at home here? I felt the presence of this lost community very strongly, even though so few visible traces of it remained." (5) Strangely enough, it was not the absence of Berlin's lost Jews that Attie felt so strongly, but their presence. For in fact, though they may have been invisible to others walking those same streets, Attie's memory and imagination had already begun to repopulate the Scheunenviertel district in Berlin with the Jews of his mind. After several weeks of photographic research in Berlin's archives, Attie had found dozens of images from the Scheunenviertel of the 1920s and 1930s and was able to pinpoint nearly one-quarter of their precise locations in the current neighborhood just east of Berlin's Alexanderplatz, formerly in the eastern sector of the city. That September, only three months after moving to Berlin, Attie began projecting slides of these photographs onto the same or nearby addresses where they had been taken earlier in the century. "'The Writing on the Wall' grew out of my response to the discrepancy between what I felt and what I did not see," Attie explains. "I wanted to give this invisible past a voice, to bring it to light, if only for some brief moments" (9). And so for the next year, weather permitting, Attie projected these images of Jewish life from the Scheunenviertel before the Holocaust back into present-day Berlin. Each installation ran for one or two evenings, visible to local residents, street traffic, and pas sersby. During these projections, the artist also photographed the installations themselves in time exposures lasting from three to four minutes. The resulting photographs of the installations have been exhibited widely in galleries and museums, works of fine art in their own right, the only remaining traces of the original installations. Once projected onto the peeling and mottled building facades of this quarter, these archival images seem less the reflections of light than illuminations of figures emerging from the shadows. In his own words, Attie says he wanted "to peel back the wallpaper of today and reveal the history buried underneath."(16) From the doorways, in particular, former Jewish residents seem to be stepping out of a third dimension. Some, like the resident standing in the doorway at Joachimstrasse 2, are caught unaware by both the original photographer and now, it seems, by us. Others, like the religious book salesman at the corner of what was formerly the corner of Grenadierstrasse and Schendelgasse, seems to have been interrupted by the photographer, and has turned his head sideways to gaze impassively back at us. Because the streets of the dilapidated Scheunenoiertel (called the Finstere Medine, or "dark quarter" by its Yiddish-speaking denizens) are still largely run down, as were many parts of the formerly East Berlin wh en the wall came down, the projected images added a life to these streets that they appeared otherwise not to have. Ironically, of course, the "voice" Attie gave these absentJews was at times also the voice of residents objecting to the project itself. 'While Attie was installing the Buchhandler slide projection, for example, a 50-year-old man suddenly came running out of the building shouting that his father had bought the building "fair and square" from Mr. Jacobs in 1938. "And what happened to this Mr. Jacobs?" Attie asked the man. "Why, of course, he was a multi-millionaire and moved to New York." (17) Of course. All of which was captured by German television cameras who broadcast the confrontation that night on national news. Attie couldn't have scripted this particular projection any more powerfully. Another resident called the police to complain angrily that Attie's projections of Jews onto his building would make his neighbors think that he was Jewish. Make him stop, he pleaded. The response is as much a part of these works as the installations themselves, the artist says. The installation thus included both the projections of Attie's inner obsessions, as well as the counter-projections of the neighborhood residents' own obsessions. Without these responses, the installations, like the buildings themselves, remain inert, inanimate, dead. Indeed, even though these images may have disappeared from sight as soon as Attie turned off the high-intensity projector, their after-image lived on in the minds of those who had seen them once. From this point on, the images of these Jews "live" only as their subjects lived before them: in the photographs of these installations. These are quite literally photographs of photographs we are seeing here, just as the local burghers now walk their neighborhoods haunted by their memory of Attie's memory-installation. They are now haunted not by the Jews who had once lived here, or even by their absence, but by the images of Jews haunting the artist's mind. As Michael Andre Bernstein has made so painfully clear, photography is always about loss, about the absence of what was once real in front of the lens: hence, the essential melancholia at the heart of the photograph. "To look at a photograph," Bernstein writes, "is to experience a certain sorrow at the sheer fact of loss and separation, curiously mingled with the pleasure of recognizing that what no longer exists, has been, if not restored to us, then at least memorialized for us, fixed in the stasis of an image now forever available to our gaze." (18) Insofar as this bitter-sweet mixture of sorrow and pleasure necessarily haunts our experience of all photographs, its extremes seem wildly exaggerated in these wall projections. For it's true, they are beautiful and chilling, slightly exhilarating and depressing; they inspire longing and fear, hope and despair. By keeping the mixture between sorrow and pleasure in balance, they can also keep their potential for redemption in check, never allowing the pain of s uch loss to be redeemed by the beauty of the image itself. In this way, these installations have served as a somewhat literal metaphor for the artist's projection of his own inner desires onto the walls around him. All of us wish we could bring the victims back to life, to repair the terrible wound. But "The Writing on the Wall" is no such reparation or bringing back to life; it is, rather, the reminder of what was lost, not what was. At the same time, it is clear in Attie's mind, as he means for it to be in ours, that these projections are simulations, not historical reconstructions. Their immense value lies not in showing us literally what was lost but in showing that loss itself is part of this neighborhood's history, an invisible but essential feature of its landscape. No doubt, some will see the work of these artists as a supremely evasive, even self-indulgent art by a generation more absorbed in their own vicarious experiences of memory than by the survivors' actual experiences of real events. (19) Others will say that if the second or third generation want to make art out of the Holocaust, then let it be about the Holocaust itself and not about themselves. The problem for much of these artists' generation, of course, is that they are unable to remember the Holocaust outside of the ways it has been passed down to them, outside of the ways it is meaningful to them fifty years after the fact. As the survivors have testified to their experiences of the Holocaust, their children and children's children will now testify to their experiences of the Holocaust. And what are their experiences of the Holocaust? Photographs, film, histories, novels, poems, plays, survivors' testimony. It is necessarily mediated experience, the after-life of memory, represented in history's after-ima ges: the impressions retained in the mind's eye of a vivid sensation long after the original, external cause has been removed. Why represent all that? Because for those in Spiegelman's, Levinthal's, and Attie's generation, to leave out the truth of how they came to know the Holocaust would be to ignore half of what actually happened: we would know what happened to Spiegelman's father but miss what happened to the artistson. But isn't the important story what happened to the father at Auschwitz? Yes, but without exploring why it's important, we leave out part of the story itself. Is it self-indulgent or self-aggrandizing to make the listener's story part of the teller's story? This generation doubts that it can be done otherwise. They can no more neglect the circumstances surrounding a story's telling than they can ignore the circumstances surrounding the actual events' unfolding. Neither the events nor the memory of them take place in avoid. In the end, these artists ask us to consider which is the more truthful account: that narrative or art which ignores its own coming into being, or that which paints this fact, too, into its canva s of history? For artists at home in their respective media, whether it is the "commix" of Spiegelman or the vanguard photography of Levinthal, questions about the appropriateness of their forms seem irrelevant. These artists remain as true to their forms and chosen media as they do to their "memory" of events. But for those less at home in the languages of contemporary art, the possibility that form--especially the strange and new-might overwhelm the content of such memory-work leads some to suspect the artists' motives. Historian Omer Bartov, for example, has expressed his sense of "unease" with what he describes as the "cool aesthetic pleasure" that derives from the more "highly stylized" of postmodern Holocaust representations. (20) Part of what troubles Bartov is that such work seems more preoccupied with being stimulating and interesting in and of itself than it is with exploring events and the artist's relationship to them afterward. Also implied here is an understandable leeriness on Bartov's part of the possibilit y that such art draws on the power of the Holocaust merely to energize itself and its forms. Even more disturbing for Bartov, however, is the question Saul Friedlander raised several years ago in his own profound meditations on "fascinating fascism," in which Friedlander wonders whether an aesthetic obsession with Fascism may be less a reflection on Fascism than it is an extension of it. Here Friedlander asks whether a brazen new generation of artists bent on examining their own obsession with Nazism adds to our understanding of the Third Reich or only recapitulates a fatal attraction to it. "Nazism has disappeared," Friedlander writes, but the obsession it represents for the contemporary imagination-as well as the birth of a new discourse that ceaselessly elaborates and reinterprets it- necessarily confronts us with this ultimate question: Is such attention fixed on the past only a gratuitous reverie, the attraction of spectacle, exorcism, or the result of a need to understand; or is it, again and still, an expression of profound fears and, on the part of some, mute yearnings as well? (21) As the artists whose work I explore here suggest, the question remains open. Not because every aesthetic interrogation of the Holocaust also contains some yearning for "fascinating fascism." But because they believe that neither artist nor historian can positively answer yes or no to this question. NOTES (1.) This essay has been adapted from my full-length study, At Memory's Edge: After-Images of the Holocaust in Contemporary Art and Architecture (New Haven and London: Yale University Press, 2000) for presentation at "The Future of the Holocaust," a symposium at the Yerba Buena Center in San Francisco, 25 February 2001. (2.) From author's interview with Art Spiegelman, as well as from Art Spiegelman, "Commix: An Idiosyncratic Historical and Aesthetic Overview," Print (November/December 1988): 61. (3.) Art Spiegelman, "Commix: An Idiosyncratic Historical and Aesthetic Overview": 61. (4.) From Jane Kalir, "The Road to Maus," at Galerie St. Etienne, November 17, 1992 through January 9, 1993: 2. (5.) Art Spiegelman 61. (6.) Quotedin The Wild West: Photographs by David Levinthal (Washington, DC/London: Smithsonian Institution Press, 1993), p. 5. (7.) In an eye-opening essay on the work of Hans Bellmer, Herbert Lust wrote that "Any artist interested in the female body's endless possibilities or 'forbidden' mental states must reckon with [Hans] Bellmer" ("For Women Are Endless Forms: Hans Bellmer's Dark Art," Sulfur (Spring 1990): 47). While this is undoubtedly so, it maybe equally true that neither can viewers today see any of these contemporary artists' work without recalling Bellmer's early conceptual photographs of his violently reconstituted doll. Moreover, when we recall that Bellmer made and photographed this doll in 1934 Germany as an explicit protest, dissent and challenge to the unyielding absolutism of the Nazis, Levinthal's images of erotic dolls as Holocaust victims begin to resonate as a kind of protest art and further breaking of cultural taboos. (8.) For a fuller elaboration of both Levinthal's place among the "photo-conceptual vanguard" and the place of his Mein Kampfseries in his larger corpus of work, see Charles Stainback and Richard B. Woodward, David Levinthal: Work from 7975-7996 (New York: The International Center of Photography, 1997), a catalogue for a retrospective exhibition of the artist's work. (9.) This chapter is adapted from my catalogue essay, "David Levinthal's Mein Kampf Memory, Toys, and the Play of History," in David Levinthal, Mein Kampf (Santa Fe: Twin Palms Publishers, 1996), pp. 67-83. (10.) From The Wild West: Photographs by David Levinthal, p. 7. (11.) From interview with Richard B. Woodward in David Levinthal Workfrom 1975-1976, p. 153. (12.) Reviews of Levinthal's Mein Kampf were generally, if warily, positive. In almost every case, reviewers were moved by the power of the images on the one hand, even as they were made intensely uncomfortable by their subject-and its relentlessly cool treatment. "Lovely to look at, horrific to behold" was how Robin Cembalist put it in her review of Mein Kampf in the Forward ("Levinthal's Disturbing Photos of Nazis in Toyland," Forward [11 November 1994]: 9). Others, like Sarah Boxer, wonder whether Levinthal can't help but become part of the pornographic culture he proposes to be exploring ("Hardly Child's Play: Shoving Toys Into Darkest Corners," New York Times [24 January 1997]: C--7). (13.) For an elaboration of the ways women's corpses, in particular, have been represented as emblematic in our culture, see Elisabeth Bronfen, Over Her Dead Rody: Configurations of Femininity, Death & the Aesthetic (New York: Routledge Press, 1992). (14.) Saul Friedlander, Reflections of Nazism: An Essay on Kitsch and Death (New York: Harper & Row, 1984), p. 19. (15.) Shimon Attie, "The Writing on the Wall Project," in The Writing on the Wall: Projections in Berlin's Jewish Quarter (Heidelberg: Edition Braus, 1994), p.9. (16.) Quoted in Guy Chazan, "Ghosts of the Ghettos," London Times (25 January 1995). (17.) As related by the artist to the author in an interview. This exchange is also described by Attie in The Writing on the Wall: Projections in Berlin's Jewish Quarter, 12. (18.) Michael Andre Bernstein, "Shimon Attie: Images as Memory-Memory of Images," in Writing on the Wall: Projections in Berlin's Jewish Quarter, p. 6. (19.) In responding to my call for interweaving a history of events with a reflection on how Holocaust history comes to be told, for example, a well-respected historian, Peter Hayes, suggested that such a study, "as well as Saul Friedlander's recent work, lavishes talents on a project not quite worthy of [Young and Friedlander]. Their preoccupations reflect a sort of scholasticism now quite rampant in the academy in which commonplace problems of technique are mistaken for profound matters of substance, in which how we learn and relate what we know becomes as intellectually significant and preoccupying as the knowledge itself, and in which-in self-flattering fashion-the scholars who interpret and the students who learn become the subject of inquiry, inevitably displacing the participants themselves." Here I am grateful to Peter Hayes for sending me his "Comment in Response" to an early version of "Toward a Received History of the Holocaust," both delivered as parts of a panel on "Contemporary Interpretations of the Holocaust," at the annual Social Science History Association Conference, New Orleans, 12 October 1996. (20.) Omer Bartov, Murder in Our Midst: The Holocaust, Industrial Killing, and Representation(Oxford/ New York: Oxford University Press, 1996), p. 116. (21.) Saul Friedlander, Reflections of Nazism: An Essay on Kitsch and Death, p. 19. JAMES E. YOUNG, a Contributing Editor, is Professor of English and Chair of Judaic Studies at the University of Massachusetts at Amherst. He is the author of At Memory's Edge (2000), The Texture of Memory (1993), and Writing and Rewriting the Holocaust (1988). His article, "Germany's Vanishing Holocaust Monuments," appeared in the Fall 1994 issue. COPYRIGHT 2002 American Jewish Congress No portion of this article can be reproduced without the express written permission from the copyright holder. Copyright 2002 Gale, Cengage Learning. All rights reserved. Please bookmark with social media, your votes are noticed and appreciated: Article Details Printer friendly Cite/link Email Feedback Author: Young, James E. Publication: Judaism: A Quarterly Journal of Jewish Life and Thought Article Type: Excerpt Geographic Code: 1USA Date: Jan 1, 2002 Words: 7614 Previous Article: The future of the Holocaust: Storytelling, oppression, and identity; See under: "apocalypse". Next Article: B'reshit. Related Articles In the shadow of history: second generation writers and artists and the shaping of Holocaust memory in Israel and America. CAMP HUMOUR OR SUBLIME HORROR? Experiencing Explaining, and Exploiting the Holocaust. New Holocaust curriculum in Israel. The topographies of memory in Berlin: The Neue Wache and the Memorial for the Murdered Jews of Europe. Thinking about the Holocaust and its Visual Culture. Integrity and relevance: shaping Holocaust memory at the Sydney Jewish Museum. Millicent Marcus. Italian Film In the Shadow of Auschwitz. Bibliography for work in Holocaust studies. Trajectories of memory; intergenerational representations of the Holocaust in history and the arts. 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The Pride in the Cross

32,790,364 articles and books Periodicals Literature Search Keyword Title Author Topic The pride in the Cross signaling the New Creation. Link/Page Citation As for the impact of the epilogue, "we should begin it by saying that we have kept our promise, then we will develop what we have said and why" (Aristotle 1898: III, 19. 5). Between the beginning and the epilogue there must be a close connection. In the beginning we have to establish the topic lest the issue we need to decide upon should remain unnoticed, in the epilogue we should give a summary of the arguments and evidence. (Aristotle 1898: III, 19. 3-4) In the line of Aristotle, one could say that in Galatians, between 1: 6-10 (beginning) and 6: 11-18 (epilogue) there is a connection: Semantically, these two paragraphs indicate a world in which Paul, teaching the true gospel, expects the blessing of God, but instead he suffers from physical persecution, while the other teachers, promoting the bogus gospel, avoid persecution, and incur the wrath of God. Between these two alternatives, the Galatians are hesitating. (Parunak 1992: 221) In 6: 11-18, Paul's intended rhetoric is to summarize its message in the style of "peroratio, whose main purpose is precisely to give the lawyer or the rhetorician the opportunity to briefly summarize the main points of the discourse and inspire the audience with strong emotional impressions." (Buscemi 2004: 603) While Paul presented his epilogue in Galatians 6: 11-18 in forensic terms, in front of the lawyer (Betz 1979: 313), the same epilogue gives him the opportunity to present a summary of the message of the Letter to Galatians, in epideictic terms. (Buscemi 2004: 600) The second rhetorical line implies that in the beginning (Galatians 1: 6-10) Paul explains the theme of the gospel in a kind of prooimion ("preamble"), in order to make kind and careful recipients through the explanation of speech. In fact, all through the Letter, he blames the recipients (3: 1-5) because they wanted to move to a different gospel through circumcision (5: 1-12), with a view to returning to the pagan mentality (4: 3, 9; 5: 19-21). The Galatians have been so changeable because of Judaizer agitators, against whom Paul had pronounced anathema (1: 8-9), so now, in the epilogue, he wishes upon them peace and mercy, if they follow the rule of the gospel. (6: 16) Paul has noticed this hesitation of the Galatians, and that is why he insists on the gospel received through revelation from Christ, which has as its central idea the pride in the Cross. We will focus on the manner the New Creation comes, in Paul's concept, from a way of relating to the Cross of the Lord, by taking the example of the Apostle. His considerations become a new canon to the Galatians, as well as for the Christians of all times. In this sense, I will construct my argument along three lines: 1) In praise of the Cross; 2) The New Creation; 3) The canon of the New Creation. In praise of the Cross The Letter to the Galatians, summarized in the epilogue of 6: 1-18, shows the pride in the Cross as a sign of the New Creation, of which Paul is a genuine witness. The verbal root "estaur" in Galatians 3: 1; 5: 24; 6: 14, as well as the noun root "staur" in Galatians 5: 11; 6: 12, 14, show the theological significance that Paul has already highlighted in Galatians 1 to 4 and now means to synthesize in the epilogue (Galatians 6: 11-18). These occurrences lead to the belief that the pride of Paul is based on Christ, who was described as crucified before the eyes of the Galatians, as in Galatians 3: 1. Moreover, it is the image of the crucified Christ on which the life of faith and ethics of Paul and believers is founded, a sign of belonging to the New Creation (Galatians 6: 15). Indeed, belonging to Christ makes Paul consider a source of pride to be persecuted for the Cross (Galatians 5: 11; 6: 14), and persuades the believers to crucify the flesh with its passions and lusts. (Galatians 5: 24) By the prominent "emoi de" of Galatians 6: 14, Paul stands in contrast to the Judaizers (Galatians 6: 13), regardless of the reason of pride, trying to attract the attention of Galatians to his behavior towards the Cross (Tolmie 2005: 223). While the Judaizers boast in circumcision, Paul takes pride in the Cross of the Lord Jesus (Galatians 6: 14), which has become a "cosmic event" (Bultmann 1984: 303), and to be sure shows a link with the Apostle's life. The reason for the separation is not the Greek or Jewish origin (Galatians 3: 28), but the Cross of Jesus Christ (Galatians 1: 4). If the Cross is a credit to Paul, it also becomes a confirmation that he is not trying to gain the favor of men (Galatians 1: 10); on the contrary, it draws upon their persecution (Galatians 4: 29; 5: 11), which leaves marks of his acceptance of faith in his body. (Galatians 6: 17) The Judaizers did not get into the logic of the Cross (Galatians 6: 12), because they do not want to kill their own "selves," their way of looking at the law and the world. This is why they mean to establish their own pride on the meat of Galatians, through circumcision (Galatians 6: 13). Avoiding the scandal of the Cross, the Judaizers have moved off to another gospel, which does not exist (Galatians 1: 6-7), disregarding that the true gospel "frees only those who accept the reality of the crucifixion of this world." (Minear 1979: 399) That is precisely the attitude of Paul who, unlike the Judaizers, is taking pride in the Cross of Jesus, by which he was crucified for the world and the world for him. (Galatians 6: 14) In Galatians 2: 19 Paul already claims to have been crucified with Christ, while in Galatians 5: 24 he states that the believers in Christ Jesus have crucified flesh with its desires and passions. Echoing such statements in Galatians 6: 14, Paul reveals that the freedom of the Gospel comes from the Cross, hence from Christ (Galatians 2: 4), who "loved me and gave Himself for me." (Galatians 2: 20) The mediation of the Cross "concerns not only the theological basis of the transformation, but also the ethical contents of the new life" (Lategan 1988: 429-430). Aware that the Cross of Christ is the most sublime evidence of God's love for man, Paul is not ashamed to found his pride on the paradox of the Cross, that for the Judaizers could be a shame, not only a cause of persecution. Saying that one is dead to the law (Galatians 2: 19) means that one is freed from the obligations of the law, as dead men are no longer obliged to observe the law (Strack & Billerbeck 1922-1928: III, 233). Between death for the law and death for the world there is a similarity which consists in the Cross (Galatians 6: 14), that is being concrucified with Christ (Galatians 2: 19). However, the law cannot and should not be identified with the "world," which should rather be identified with the current evil eon, dominated by sin (Galatians 1: 4) and stoicheia (lit. "elements" / "elemental things" / "basic principles") (Galatians 4: 3, 9). These aspects keep man in bondage, they are lurking in his flesh, sharing in both mutual destruction (Galatians 5: 15) and vainglory (Galatians 5: 26). They become works of the flesh (Galatians 5: 19-21), which can occur even in the glory of circumcision (Galatians 6: 13). However, Paul does not explicitly identify stoicheia with law in Galatians 4: 3, 9, the way he identified it with "pedagogue" in Galatians 3: 24-25. (Clinton 1996: 55-76) That law should not be identified with the world is clear from what Paul says: "when you did not know God, you were slaves to those who by nature are not gods" (Galatians 4: 8). The law, however, led the Jews to the knowledge of God, as attested in Exodus 18: 16, "When they have a matter, they come to me, and I judge between one and another, and I make them know the statutes of God and His laws." In addition, through the observance of the law, the Jews were trying to serve their God, and Paul once exceeded his compatriots in this zeal (Galatians 1: 14), according to the example of Josiah who "removed all the abominations from all the territories belonging to the Israelites and forced those who were in Israel to serve the Lord their God" (2 Chronicles 34: 32-33). Therefore, one cannot attribute to Paul the association of the Torah with the stoicheia of Galatians 4: 3 and less so the Torah with sin. (Galatians 1: 4) Then, if the law had led to the knowledge of God and His service, one cannot say that slavery under the elements of the world is identical to slavery under the law. The law sought to keep the elements of the world out of it all, but proved powerless to the slavery of sin and this current evil eon (Galatians 1: 4), which refers to the stoicheia of Galatians 4: 3, 9, wherein God could liberate man through Christ, not through the law (Galatians 5: 1). Hence the impotence of the law which has given way to the power of the Cross. (Rinaldi 1972: 16-47) The believers of Gentile origin did not know God through the law, so they were not under the obligations of the law, they were slaves to the elements of the world (Galatians 4: 3), in which this current evil eon has been reigning (Galatians 1: 4). Their access to the knowledge of God has been through the behavior of Christ crucified before their eyes (Galatians 3: 1), an event that becomes an incentive (Galatians 5: 1) not to return under the past slavery. When he hears of the liberating effect of the Cross, Paul exclaims with joy: Christ gave Himself for our sins, according to the will of God, "to whom be glory for ever and ever" (Galatians 1: 4-5). Paul feels himself to be dead for the law (Galatians 2: 19), which puts an end to his role as educator, leading to Christ, the Son of God (Galatians 3: 24). Therefore, dying for "one's self" and the "world" will not exempt us from our allegiance to the law. In other words, using the verb estaurotai (lit. "is/has been crucified") of Galatians 6: 14, applied to the world and the ego, "Paul emphasizes the instrumentality of the Cross, in this complete annihilation of every relationship that may have taken place outside of Christ" (Moule 1970: 374). From the crucifixion of the "I" and the "world" comes "a new salvific situation of freedom." (Mell 1989: 297) The death of Christ had an effect both on the Jews, whose law has led them right to Christ, and on the pagan Galatians, it made up for the difference between them (Galatians 3: 28). Moreover, both of them have been freed from what kept them slaves (Galatians 5: 1), from the curse of the law (Galatians 3: 13) by stoicheia (Galatians 4: 3, 9) and from the power of sin (Galatians 1: 4). Paul takes pride precisely in this liberating action occurring through the Cross of Christ. (Galatians 6: 14) In other words, there is no conflict between a theology of the Cross and a cosmology of the Cross. Both are expressions of a "more comprehensive ontology that makes intelligible the crucifix world and a New Creation. With this ontology one cannot so carelessly or so readily betray the bond of Christian freedom" (Minear 1979: 407). Rather than denying the implementation of the existential crucifixion in life (Cosgrove 1988: 193), we had better contend that Paul's text, by an indication of ontological freedom through Christ's death on the Cross, means to persuade recipients to accept unreservedly the selfcrucifixion and their world. Such action does not need any law, but faith--hence the pragmatic value of the Cross, whose function becomes a communicative device by which "Paul seeks to restore the truth of the Gospel, presenting a rhetoric of the Cross rather than a rhetoric of glory." (Kern 2011: 135) The New Creation Against the previously elaborated theology of the Cross, Paul founded the evangelical novelty of the "New Creation," making Galatians 6: 15 the core not only for the epilogue, but also for the whole Letter. The message focusing on Galatians 6: 15 resumes what Paul has long targeted, the argument of Galatians: the conviction of the recipients about the fundamental values of the Gospel, to make them participants in the "New Creation," thus becoming new creatures. While Galatians 6: 14 had said that through the Cross the "I" and the "world" were crucified, now it takes up the discourse through the explanatory and progressive "gar" of Galatians 6: 15, implying that the Cross of Christ has ended the era of division between Jews and the rest of the world (Galatians 3: 28), inaugurating the time of the "New Creation," in which everyone is invited to participate through faith. (Galatians 5: 6) For some, it is through baptism that the believer has access to the "New Creation" (Schlier 1949: 172-174; Stuhlmacher 1967: 29). Although there is no denying the value of baptism (Galatians 3: 27), we consider that there is "a prior relationship with Christ that determines the membership of the New Creation and the same reception of Baptism" (Pitta 1996: 403). This relationship is based on faith. A different conclusion is summarized in the sentence: "Not the man you call 'New Creation' in Galatians 6: 15, but the world" (Mell 1989: 317). If from the concept kaine ktisis (lit. "new creation," "new creature," "new act of creation") one cannot exclude the cosmicsoteriological aspect, one cannot exclude the anthropological aspect either. Paul is not exclusive, as far as he is concerned, this drawing up age is over (Galatians 3: 28). It is no longer a matter to separate the Jews from the rest of the world, but to cancel both ethnic (Galatians 3: 28) and anthropological (5: 16) antagonisms, so as to enter the novelty brought by Christ, which includes soteriological universalism covering Jewish and pagans alike. In the words of Paul, "neither circumcision nor uncircumcision"--"but faith that works by love"--"the New Creation." (Galatians 5: 6; 6: 15) It is now clear that the death of Jesus Christ on the Cross is effective only for those who have faith in Him. For Paul, Christ's law is a law of faith, whose "essence is recognized in the commandment" that is summed up in Leviticus 19: 18. When a person is a new creature in Christ, he lives from a faith that becomes active in love, and "that is what really matters." (Furnish 1972: 97) The canon of the New Creation The canon of which Paul speaks in Galatians 6: 16 relies upon the "New Creation," (Galatians 6: 15) which evolved from the Cross of Jesus Christ (Galatians 6: 14), by which the "I" and the "world" are crucified. In this sense, a New Creation is the offspring of Chirist's love and death, whilst the norm is to live no longer for oneself, neither for the world, but for Jesus, a rule that gives peace to those who follow it. The verb stoichesousin (lit. "walk," "will walk") of Galatians 6: 16, with the stoiche root (lit. "march" in rank, "keep step"; "walk"; fig. "conform"; cf. Strong 1997: 445), recalls the stoicheia from whose bondage the believers were released, and now no longer have to submit to it (Galatians 4: 3, 9). On the other hand, it points to Galatians 5: 25, which presents an alternative way of living, according to the norm in which we must also walk: pneumati kai stoichomen (lit. "keeping in step with the Spirit"; cf. Moo 2013: 372; more commonly, the phrase is translated as "walking by the Spirit"/"being led by the Spirit"). In order to be truly a new creature it is thus necessary not only to crucify the "I" and the "world," but also to walk in the Spirit. The fact that stoichesousin in Galatians 6: 16 is a future verb falls into the category of hope, with its sententious and gnomic appearance (Mateos 1977: 207, 266, 366), that almost becomes a condition: "And to those who walk according to this rule, peace on them and mercy also on 'Israel of God'" (Galatians 6: 16). Hence, it is clear that the second part of the wish is dependent on the first: walk according to the canon established in the Galatians 6: 14-15, which refers to Galatians 5: 25. The question still under debate is whether eleos refers to those who walk according to the prescribed canon, including Israel, or only to Israel tou Theou (lit. "Israel of God"). The interpretation is twofold. Some argue for the former, considering the second kai "copulative with light nuance, intensive and progressive" (Buscemi 2004: 627; Lagrange 1918: 166); they believe that Paul wishes "peace and mercy be upon those who follow the canon and not only on them but even upon the whole 'Israel of God'" passing from the small community of Galatians to the universal community, the church of God. The "Israel of God" consequently means "just Christians, for whom circumcision is not worthy but only the New Creation" (Ebeling 1989: 295). This interpretation is twice in defect. It does not see the need to add "even upon the Israel of God," though earlier he had said of those who follow this canon, "which should already include all members of the Church of God." Then mercy, in general, appears prior to peace (as in 1 Timothy 1: 2; 2 Timothy 1: 16; 2 John 1: 3; Jude 1: 2), and not the other way round, as in Galatians 6: 16 in the concept of the universal church. Those who favor the second choice consider the second kai to be disjunctive and not copulative, distinguishing between those who take the canon and "those who are part of the Israel of God, even among those who share membership in the 'New Creation and Israel.'" (Pitta 1998: 174-175; Mell 1989: 319) Both choices are defensible, but while deciding upon which is more in keeping with Paul's thought, we must have recourse to the context of the Letter. Paul stated that for those rooted in Christ through baptism (Galatians 3: 27), the ethnic distinction is outdated: "there is neither Jew nor Greek." (Galatians 3: 28) Galatians 5: 6 and Galatians 6: 15 incorporate the concept, highlighting the end of this distinction in the form of "neither circumcision nor uncircumcision means anything," suggesting that in Galatians 6: 16 there should be no more distinction between those who take the canon of the "New Creation" and the Israel tou Theou. This, however, remains a pragmatic appeal, at the level of desire, the truth of the matter being that those designated under the name of "Israel" did not take the offer of evangelical values. Furthermore, neither in 3: 28 nor in 5: 6 and 6: 15 shall we find the concept of Israel tou Theou, which otherwise is a hapax legomenon [lit. "once said" = one time occurrence]. As for Paul, Israel remains the "chosen people of God" (Pitta 1996: 404-405; Mell 1989: 320), because through His law we have arrived in Christ (Galatians 3: 24). If those who take the norm of the "New Creation" are no longer based on law, but on the Cross, it does not necessarily mean that Israel has lost its identity. On the contrary, even those who are grafted in Christ come as an offshoot from the root of Israel tou Theou, and the law of Christ (Galatians 6: 2) is nothing but a fulfillment of the Jewish law, by concentrating on a single precept, that of love for the neighbor. (Leviticus 19: 18--Galatians 5: 14) Paul held the identity of Israel in full respect though the truth of the Gospel, showing that faith in Christ excludes all soteriological significance of the Torah, as in Galatians 5: 4. Instead, the Judaizer agitators considered that in addition to the faith in Christ Jesus, the Risen Crucified, the pagans would have to integrate into the chosen people of God and, as a sign of integration, they had to be circumcised. (Wilckens 1976: 68) If in Galatians 6: 16 "those who will walk by this canon" appear before Israel tou Theou, it is because Paul was first sent as Apostle of the Gentiles (Galatians 2: 8-9), whom he called for peace, if they walked according to the established canon. As for the Israel tou Theou, Paul asked them for mercy, avoiding to be the judge of the people of God. In this sense, Galatians 6: 16 can be translated as: "And as many as walk according to this canon peace be upon them, and mercy also on Israel of God." (Mell 1989: 322) Now we understand why Paul calls those who walk according to this canon for peace, since peace is conditioned by walking in a certain way, that in Galatians 5: 25 is considered pneumati (lit. "spiritual"). Moreover, those who walk pneumati (lit. "spiritually") make the offspring of the Spirit, in which peace is the third element (Galatians 5: 22). If part of Israel tou Theou will not walk according to this canon, they have no share in the grace of Christ (Galatians 5: 2, 4). They are still bound to "do all the law" (Galatians 5: 3) and by doing so "will live in them," that is within the precepts of the law (Galatians 3: 12), under the mercy of God (Galatians 6: 16). On this line of interpretation, meaning to avoid the risk of exclusivity, according to the new canon, Paul "invokes on Israel the mercy of God." From a pragmatic point of view, Paul intends to lead the recipients and, along with them, the readers and the listeners, to be persuaded by the values of the Gospel, to become new creatures, and so be part of the "New Creation." With this purpose in mind, "those who will walk by this rule" and the Israel tou Theou, are both invited to join, so the two concepts are being found together in Galatians 6: 16. Paul would not like to get into any discomfort on the part of the two parties, on the ground that he is also physically conformed to Jesus (Galatians 6: 17). Verse 17 might well aim "at all those who follow the 'canon' since the Apostle cannot have hoped that after this letter of fire, his opponents will leave him in peace." If Paul speaks to those who follow the "canon," asking them not to cause him any more trouble, one cannot see why the opponents to this possibility are involved. Indeed, Paul appeals to both groups, as specified in Galatians 6: 16 and refers them to Galatians 3: 28, where the ethnic distinction is canceled for those who are in Christ. In the same way, Galatians 5: 6 and Galatians 6: 15 lose importance of the distinction between circumcised and uncircumcised, the believers being waited for justification (Galatians 5: 5), within the canon of the New Creation, based on the crucifixion of "I" and the "world." (Galatians 6: 14) "True Christian freedom, therefore, is the subjective experience of restoration of God's image, through union with Christ, so that God's holiness and justification can be expressed in ethical conduct" (Loubser 2005: 327). In Galatians 1: 10, Paul declared himself a slave (doulos) of Christ. The traces left on the body of Paul, received from injuries during the apostolate (2 Corinthians 6: 4-5; 11: 23-25), speak of his indubitable enslavement to Jesus (Barrier 2008: 357-358). Through this seal, Paul invited us to consider "what kind of traces of the Crucifix there are in the appearance of Judaizers and which traces Christ has carved even in the corporeality of Paul." (Ebeling 1989: 295) The confirmation that the stigmata of Jesus imprinted on Paul's body are the scars of his apostolate is also given by the verb "bastazo," which means "I am carrying," and refers to Galatians 6: 2, where it makes reference to the mutual weight to carry, to fulfill the law of Christ. Following the law of Christ, Paul now bears the consequences in his body, which are signs of life, not death, as stated in Galatians 2: 19-20: "I have been crucified with Christ. I live, yet not I, but Christ lives in me." After presenting the new canon, sealed by the stigmata he holds in his body, Paul concludes in Galatians 6: 18 with a wish: "The grace of our Lord Jesus Christ be with your spirit, brothers, amen!," that asks for inclusion with Galatians 1: 3: "Grace to you and peace from God our Father and the Lord Jesus Christ," such an inclusion showing the direction Paul has sent its recipients to, i.e. to God and to Christ, from whose grace rises his apostolate as well. In this manner Paul refers to the Gospel received by revelation, described in the main proposition (Galatians 1: 11-12). In addition, the use of "brothers" in Galatians 6: 18 shows its objective rhetoric, which was not only to attract the Galatians towards him and end the Letter in a polite manner, but rather to educate in a spirit of fraternity (Matera 1992: 227), which was confirmed by the liturgical "amen." The importance of fraternity is based on an anthropological renewal, confirmed by the words "with your spirit," wherefrom emerges a new way of life, according to the values given in Galatians 5: 1 to 6: 18, which require an ethical commitment second to the Spirit's guidance (Galatians 5: 16, 18, 25). The anthropologically renovated belief is thus able to overcome the desires of flesh (Galatians 5: 19-21), producing the fruit of the Spirit in his life (Galatians 5: 22-23), which leads to the fulfillment of the law, as indicated in Galatians 5: 14. (Kruse 2006: 129) Paul's considerations are sometimes thought to go one way, directed against obedience to the Mosaic law, as in Thuren's thesis, for whom law and faith are mutually and permanently exclusive. The word "law" would be "accepted only in a metaphorical sense (Galatians 6: 2), its main meaning being fulfilled by new connotations, as in Galatians 5: 14-18." (Thuren 2000: 93) But one must say that Paul did not write against obedience to the law, on the contrary, he insisted on the observance of all its precepts (Galatians 3: 10; 5: 3). Then, if the Christian is free from law, he is not without the law of Christ, which is not a metaphor, but the fulfillment of the Mosaic law. Paul did not intend to demolish the law, but to "highlight two different styles of life according to the flesh and according to the Spirit" (Lategan 1992: 265), where flesh is associated with law when used as a source of pride, because of the circumcision, without its observance. (Galatians 6: 13) In Galatians 6: 11-18, Paul sums up these values, meaning to arouse positive feelings in favor of the freedom of the Gospel. Concurrently it provides freedom from circumcision (Galatians 6: 12-13), of which he himself became an example, being crucified for all the other values, which do not belong to the Gospel (Galatians 6: 14). The Galatians are once again invited to be like Paul, i.e., new creatures, to whom neither membership of circumcision, nor of noncircumcision should matter (Galatians 6: 15). Therefore, the epilogue of Galatians 6: 11-18 fits perfectly into the anthropological and ethical demonstration, and integrates well with the rest of the whole Letter. The epideictic genus, though not exclusive, proves to be a rather more adequate interpretation of Galatians. If freedom is a gift, freely received from Christ (Galatians 1: 4 and 5: 1), it becomes a value for the believer, to preserve and promote through appropriate ethical commitment (Galatians 5: 13-14; 5: 25; 6: 1-10). The commitment must be good enough for a gift, education for the faith that acts through charity. (Galatians 5: 6) The persuasive element of this argument has been the pride in the Cross, as a canon of the New Creation. 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