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Rebecca Blocksome – Peter Šajda – Nagypál Szabolcs »»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»

The Silenced Voices of Our Other Self In our ecumenical anthology we have gathered articles that have relation to the neighbour as their focal point. There have been times in our recent history when it seemed like the concept of neighbour had failed or become obsolete, but precisely for this reason a re-thinking and re-positioning of the neighbour is needed.

The Shop that Charged No Interest Seventy years ago there lived a little boy in the village of Horné Orešany in Western Slovakia. He was born in an ordinary Roman Catholic peasant family that lived–like many of the families in that region–on winemaking. In the village there were two shops. One of them belonged to some relatives of the boy, while the other belonged to a Jewish shopkeeper. Every autumn, when the time of the grape harvest came, the boy was sent to buy things needed for the processing of the wine. He was always sent to the Jewish shop with the explanation that the shopkeeper there knew that they could only pay when the wine was sold, and that he would charge no interest. In 1942 the shopkeeper and his family suddenly disappeared and the shop that charged no interest was closed down. The little boy–who is an old man by now–was reminded of this seemingly trivial experience of his childhood many times throughout his life, but especially when big words about solidarity, community building and social cohesion were spoken. “Who is my neighbour?” one could ask in connection with the story. Søren Kierkegaard in his book Works of Love maintained that the beloved and the friend are often referred to as the other-I or the other-self, the alter ego.

Blocksome – Šajda – Nagypál: The Silenced Voices of Our Other Self

This is, however, not the case with the neighbour. Between the I and the neighbour there is often no affinity or even connection; thus the neighbour is for the I a real other, the “first you.” Our two seminars in 2006 constitute the basis of this book. They were held in Lublin, Poland (March 2005) on the topic ‘May Their Voices Never Be Silenced’: The Spirit of Central Europe Sixty Years After Shoa; and in Ramingstein, Austria (July 2005) on the topic Brave New World: Searching for Security in the XXIst Century.

Sixty Years After The historic city of Lublin, Poland, provided a proper and apt setting for this year’s winter seminar of the World Student Christian Federation (WSCF) Central European Subregion (CESR), which dealt with the legacy of the Shoa (Holocaust) in Central and Eastern Europe. The event was unique in that, for the first time, it was prepared in cooperation with a partner from outside the subregion: the Evangelische StudentInnengemeinde (ESG, the German Protestant Ecumenical Student Christian Movement). Various aspects of the Shoa were examined, among them the theological: we explored the tenuous relationship between God’s goodness, omnipotence and comprehensibility. The “Holy Saturday” conception of our current age, the post-Shoa period, was introduced—the time after the occurrence of a catastrophic event, but before the meaning is given to us. In line with this, and following the renowned psychologist Viktor Frankl’s life, work and important ideas, we considered the crucial factors to the search for the meaning of life. Further, we examined the various psychological implications of the Shoa, including the roots of evil and the process of coming to terms with its existence. Various moral and ethical dilemmas were presented from the times during and after the Shoa, ‘in the shadow of Birkenau.’ One example was whether or not individuals who were members of the National Socialist (Nazi) party should be allowed to hold public office in the post-Nazi period. An exhaustive chronology was given of the denazification process, war trials, compensation to victims, establishment of memorials, public penance, and the beginnings of open discussion about the Shoa in wider German and other societies.

Introduction

It was especially interesting to hear about the differences between East and West Germany in their treatment of the Shoa. East Germany seemed to be far ahead of its Western counterpart in making the concentration camps and their associated crimes open to the public, for example. Another example is Jedwabne, a village in Northeast Poland, where the entire Jewish population (1500 people) was brutally massacred in a single day in July 1941. It was long thought to be an operation of a Nazi Einsatzgruppen. Recently evidence has appeared, however, which indicates the Polish townspeople were responsible for the pogrom. Poles also have to come to terms with their guilt for antisemitic actions—a process that is still ongoing. The Majdanek camp is thought to be the largest of all the Nazi camps, where barracks, showers, gas chambers and the crematorium have been preserved. Perhaps one of its most terrible aspects is its close proximity to the city of Lublin. The townspeople certainly had to be aware of its existence, if not of the full scale of the atrocities being carried out under their noses. Each nation can imagine why she is better than all the others, and this is where the roots of ethnic prejudices and discrimination lie. Giving a chilling example of how genocide cannot yet be consigned to the dustbin of history, the ethnic cleansing was described that took place during the break-up of Yugoslavia from 1991–1995. Also, the on-going ethnic tensions between Serbs and ethnic Albanians in Kosovo were addressed. Efforts were made to discern the roots of ethnic tensions and the ingredients necessary for conflicts to flare up into violence. Some of the other subjects covered were the following: theology of the Old Testament in the Third Reich; Shoa: anomaly or product of modern society; antisemitism and antizionism: how much Israelcriticism is allowed. Others included the sins of the mothers and fathers; family stories from hard times; crisis of democracy: Adolf Hitler as a predecessor; Jewish culture and traditions: a virtual tour of Budapest’s Jewish quarter; and ecumenism and interreligious dialogue with Judaism.

Blocksome – Šajda – Nagypál: The Silenced Voices of Our Other Self

Searching for Security The magnificent XIIth-century Castle Finstergrün in Ramingstein, Austria, was the storybook setting for the subregion’s annual summer seminar. It was a fitting venue for the topic, Searching for Security in the XXIst Century. We aimed to explore the ways in which fear and the desire for security order our lives on the personal, communitarian, national and religious levels; and further, to help formulate strategies for responsible risk-taking within the same contexts. The ideas of Utopia and of Dystopia (or, in other words, Antiutopia) served as subtexts, comparing and contrasting the Dystopian visions presented in three landmark books of the XXth century. These books are the following: Mikhail Zamyatin’s We, George Orwell’s 1984 and Aldous Huxley’s Brave New World. All these books are chilling reminders of how easily the dream of security for all can turn into security for none under the tyranny of the two main totalitarianisms. We were challenged to define Utopia and Dystopia, and to fill in the levels on Abraham Maslow’s pyramid of needs. We examined our fears of the unknown, being different, and physical intimacy, all within a safe and non-threatening environment. Dealing with security in family and society, we were presented statistics on social trends in post-communist countries, plotting a set of accepted values on axes of traditional versus secular-rational authority, and survival versus well-being. While the global trend is towards increasing values of well-being, in some post-communist countries the reverse is true: values are moving increasingly towards survival, reflecting a fundamental insecurity in societies in transition. We attempted to define family and list its functions, as well as identifying how and what kind of values should be transmitted to the next generation. We were reminded that real or perceived threats do exist in and between our nations, whether based on a legacy of imperialism or on the insecurity of “Old Europe” when confronted with “New Europe.” Addressing security in religion, we explored the notion of cybertheology. The religious ideas and rituals described in Brave New World were analysed and related to world religions, especially Buddhism and Hinduism.

Introduction

Three possible relationships between I and It were outlined, noting that the rise of technology has toppled the traditional Creatorâ€“creation relationship, as imperfect humans now feel inferior to perfect computers. Humans are challenged to affirm their humanity by finding a sense of security and self-worth through the redemptive love of God. Related topics we covered included the necessity of God; ecumenism; the Matrix and hyperreality; basic self-defence techniques; and the role of non-governmental organisations (NGOs) in contemporary society. Various modes of confrontation with the Alien were described: controlling or attempting to control it; accepting it as alien; or accepting it as something holy. We centred on ambiguity, reification and otherness. Also, we brainstormed on how we can contribute to overcoming or coming to terms with ambiguity as a source of insecurity and reflecting on approaches to Otherness in our cultures and denominations. We attempted to differentiate between safety (basic physical protection) and security (a broader psychological term with many symbolic associations). Threats to identity were dealt with as the basic insecurities, ontological uncertainties caused by crises of values. We moved to the perception of threats, especially differences between U.S. and European perspectives; and then to various models of interacting with the rest of the world: as member, partner, or enemy. We brainstormed the ingredients of identity before tackling the eternal conundrum: Does the West exist? And if so, what are its borders? We were charged to integrate the various inputs into a coherent vision of Utopia. Many imaginative models of religion, education, communication and government were shared. The topic of fear and faith was also related to the story of Abrahamâ€™s calling by God to leave his homeland behind and strike out for the unknown. Similarly, we examined the Biblical stories of Elijah and the widow who had no bread; of Jesus Christ walking on water; and of the vision of the coming perfect world in Revelation.

Blocksome – Šajda – Nagypál: The Silenced Voices of Our Other Self

Hospitable and Peaceful Context The idea of a Central European subregional project was born in 2001 in Praha, Czech Republic, amongst a group of young people from the Czech Republic, Hungary, Poland and Slovakia, who came to know each other through the activities of WSCF Europe. They felt that the youth in their respective countries were facing similar challenges and could benefit from addressing these issues in a multinational context, which would also further awareness of cultural diversity and help to establish a Central European identity within Europe as a whole. The cooperation was originally conceived as a set programme of joint activities per year: two seminars, a language and leadership training, and the publication of an ecumenical anthology. The first seminar on Ecumenism and Central European Identity was held in the Békés Gellért Ecumenical Institute (BGÖI), Pannonhalma, Hungary, in 2002. This was the event where Austria joined the subregional cooperation. The second seminar that year, on the topic of Ecology and Environmental Protection, was held in Vilémov, Czech Republic. Following it the anthology A Pentatonic Landscape: Central Europe, Ecology, Ecumenism was compiled and published in Budapest, Hungary. Cooperation among these five countries has continued in the years since then. Further seminars were organised, with responsibility for hosting the seminar rotating among the different countries. Further ecumenical anthologies have also been published annually. In this way the core partners have built up a long experience, both of organising events and assembling publications, and of working together in an international context. These endeavours will lead not only to direct descendants of this project, but also to many other diverse projects connected by the common thread of youth and student initiative in pursuit of a more hospitable, peaceful, ecumenical and dialogical world.

Introduction

Sustainable Identity WSCF Europe has been involved in our cooperation from the beginning, not only as the medium through which the founding mothers and fathers of the subregion came together; but it has also provided encouragement, advice and some financial support for the Central European cooperation. Established in 1895 as the first international youth and student organisation, and the first ecumenical movement, WSCF has more than a hundred years of experience in activities similar to ours. These include organising international student conferences and seminars, publishing ecumenical journals, ecumenical reviews and ecumenical books; and, equally important, has members or contacts in more than twenty countries across the continent. This status allows for a mutually beneficial relationship between WSCF Europe and the partner organisations, with the former providing experience and international contacts, and the latter bringing more and more innovative ideas and creative working methods into the life of WSCF Europe. We also develop and raise many leaders who go on to be active in WSCF Europe as well as in their national organisations. WSCF Europe clearly sees her role in our cooperation as that of a facilitator, providing resources to allow the partners to realise their vision, and to renew and rejuvenate their vocation. It is clear, then, that there is a solid foundation upon which to base our cooperation. The main emphasis of our cooperation is on the virtue of sustainability: we envision it as a long-term cooperation between the partner organisations, implemented in two or three year cycles. All of our activities and structures are oriented to this end: the fourtiered leadership training, the board and proxy system, and especially the careful and thorough documentation of past experiences to ensure that they are handed down to the next generations. This is also the reason why we emphasise youth returning to their national and local contexts to employ the wisdom and knowledge that they have gained in our international events. Our strong hope is that by focusing on developing sustainable and innovative activities and firm but at the same time dynamic structures, we achieve a highly cumulative effect.

Blocksome – Šajda – Nagypál: The Silenced Voices of Our Other Self

Language Understood by All The main activities of our cooperation comprise a cycle of student seminars, one in each of the five full partner countries, and programmes of language and leadership training courses in Eastern and South Eastern Europe. The seminars take place approximately every half-year: the winter seminar in February, and the summer seminar in July. Lingua Franca courses take place beginning after the seminar in July, continuing throughout the month of August. The length of the seminars are five or six days for the winter seminars, as they occur while university classes are in session; and seven or eight days for the summer seminars. The first and last days of the seminars are reserved mainly for travel. The seminar programme itself consists of a combination of lectures, panel discussions, workshops and discussion groups, as well as first-hand experiences through cultural excursions. Aside from these, time is also reserved for board meetings, informal socialising and cross-cultural exchange, and even common celebrations. Lingua Franca language and leadership training courses are organised in much the same way. The courses last for two to three weeks, depending on the needs of the hosting organisations. Teaching takes place for five or six hours per day, with the remainder of the day devoted to cultural activities, group building and excursions. Teachers are encouraged to use a variety of interactive learning methods, not merely lecturing and written exercises, in order to facilitate the language learning and leadership training. The cultural programme is also conceived as an extension of this, as it is also conducted in the language being taught, allowing informal learning in an environment of immersion and trust.

Dialogical Give-and-Take Our website (www.wscf-cesr.org) is continuously updated and maintained throughout the year, providing the latest information and application materials in advance of events and incorporating interesting and thought-provoking reports and photographs of them after they have taken place. Upon completion of the second seminar each year in July, an edi-

Introduction

torial board is formed to produce that year’s ecumenical anthology—this is the book which you now hold in your hands. The board drafts a call for articles based on the themes of that year’s seminars, and distribute this call via email to all seminar participants, partner organisations and the WSCF Europe database. As the articles are submitted, they are read by each of the editors in turn and any comments or suggested changes are indicated. Most of this work takes place via email, but the editors meet in person several times during the process as well for consultation purposes, usually in Budapest, Hungary. After revisions are agreed among the editors by full consensus, they are sent back to the authors for final approval, ensuring that a dialogical give-and-take relationship exists between all persons involved in the production of the book. The illustrator is chosen from a different country of the cooperation each time. Using original artwork in the book allows young artists a forum in which to develop their work, and it provides another opportunity for youth and students to become more involved in the project.

Remembrance and Future We remain thankful to the Benedictine Archabbot of Pannonhalma, Bishop Várszegi Asztrik OSB, the director of the Békés Gellért Ecumenical Institute (BGÖI), for his strong support. We also remain grateful for the support of the Dominican province of Slovakia and its provincial, Benedikt Róbert Hajas. We are especially grateful to the Fonds �� “Erinnerung und Zukunft”� �� (Remembrance and Future Fund), Berlin, Germany that supported and promoted this project of ours. We are also very grateful to our seminar donors: the International Visegrád Fund (IVF), the Council of Europe’s Solidarity Fund for Youth Mobility and the Benedictine Békés Gellért Ecumenical Institute (BGÖI), Pannonhalma. In particular, we would like to thank our mother organisation, the World Student Christian Federation Europe Region (WSCF–E, www. wscf-europe.org), and the European Regional Committee (ERC), especially her chairperson, Alessia Passarelli, and her regional secretary, Hanna Tervanotko, for their support and valuable incentives. Finally, let us introduce the illustrator of this fifth ecumenical

anthology of ours. Andrea Hanek (andrea_hanek@hotmail.com) studies graphics and design of communication at Linz College. She is an Evangelical-Lutheran from Austria, a member of the Evangelische Hochschulgemeinde in Ă–sterreich (EHG), the Austrian Student Christian Movement (SCM), which is a member of WSCF. She always liked drawing and painting and it has been her main hobby for as long as she can remember. She hopes to become a good graphic designer after her education, because it is indeed the kind of activity she likes to do. She participated in the CESR Winter Seminar in Lublin, where the topic was the Shoa. She has remained horrified by the historical treatment of the Jews and other disadvantaged and marginalised groups. What keeps startling her the most is that even the next door close neighbours and the previous friends turned against the oppressed, who had no one to really trust and to get help from. The most frightening thing isâ€”and at the same time it calls for education and also common actionâ€”that maybe the Shoa was not only a social abnormality of the past, but it could happen again at any time.

Szabó András »»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»

Consequences of the Shoa for ContemporaryTheology “Auschwitz … is the greatest event since the cross.” (Kertész Imre)

After sixty years even the third generation should ask the question: Why did it happen? How can humans cause such suffering to others? The Shoa is irrational. Although it took place with the most precise rational planning, administration and logistics, the core of the genocide is not understandable. It is impossible to name any rational causes. Radical evil is always irrational. The inexplicability of the cause opens transcendental dimensions. Regarding our total powerlessness, we should ask ultimate questions, searching for meaning. Theology is asked how all that evil could be done by humans against their neighbours. The silence of God during these years questions allpositive teaching about a loving Father in Judeo-Christian tradition.

The Negative Myth Arthur A. Cohen used tremendum to describe the fearful overwhelming power of radical evil in Auschwitz. The term was originally used by Rudolf Otto, who in his classical book The Holy referred to the fearful other side of God as tremendum. Arthur Cohen’s use of this term shows the transcendental way of the search for meaning, although he points in the opposite direction of transcendence: “The appropriate neologism for the poetic direction of this tremendum is that it ‘subscends’ its origins, digging deeper into the infernal abyss of human and historical negativity.” Kertész Imre, A holocaust mint kultúra (The Holocaust as Culture). Budapest, 1993. Cohen Arthur A., The Tremendum. New York, 1981. 30.

Szabó András: Consequences of the Shoa for Contemporary Theology

The Shoa is the deepest experience of negativity for the Western Judeo-Christian civilization till the present. During the bloodiest years of World War II, when people became accustomed to cruelty, the genocide of the European Jews took place in a more or less hidden way. Although the death camps were secret, many atrocities, discrimination and violence took place before the eyes of many millions of Germans, Magyars, Slovaks, Czechs, Poles, Austrians, Croats and others. The Shoa happened right in the heart of Europe, starting on the streets of Budapest, Praha, Warszawa, Bratislava and Wien. Mostly the Jews of Poland, Russia, Hungary, Austria, Slovakia and the Czech Republic were deported and killed. Christianity remained silent. Even the present Christianity does not seem to be able to face the full depth of the abyss called Auschwitz. Johann Baptist Metz speaks about the “astonishing complacency of systematic theology in front of this catastrophe.” Dealing with the Shoa is not only important from the viewpoint of the Jewish-Christian dialogue, it is also crucial for Christian theology itself. Auschwitz is a radical question for our understanding of God and also for our Christology. To become seriously concerned with the Shoa is the task for contemporary Christian thought sixty years after Auschwitz. This process needs courage and honesty. Radical questions should be asked regarding our teaching about God and our understanding of Judaism. The circle of awkward silence and meaningless commonplaces in public discourse in Central Europe should be broken. In the Magyar contemporary literature the Nobel Prize of Kertész Imre in 2002 broke the silence in public discussion. Even nationalistic and patriotic Christian groups had to answer the question at that time, whether the prize (the only Magyar Nobel Prize in literature so far) is a prize for Magyar literature or for an alien one. If they accept it as a Magyar Nobel Prize, by implication they need to recognize the Shoa as a national tragedy. Accepting the Shoa as a national tragedy is a hard task not only for the extreme-right, but also for the broader society. The question in Europe is whether the trauma of the Shoa can become a part of our religio-cultural identity. Kertész Imre wrote Manemann Jürgen − Metz Johann Baptist (eds.), Christologie nach Auschwitz. �� Münster, 2001. 99.

Shoa and Catharsis

about the possibility of a negative myth. As the Shoa is surhistorical, it can become a part of universal human memory from Mount Sinai to Golgotha. Even though these events happened at a concrete moment in history, they are timeless. The active memory makes it possible to pass through the events again. Remembering the innocent victims from Cain to Auschwitz keeps their memory alive. Johann Baptist Metz called this process the memory of suffering. Remembering the voiceless victims who should have disappeared from history, means keeping them in history. For Christianity the three days of the Passion of Jesus Christ are such an active memory, especially in the Eucharist. The negative myth also needs to be a clear story in which the division between the victim and the perpetrator is clear, and good and evil are at odds with each other. In Auschwitz the lines are clear.

Perpetrators The abyss killed six million Jews and others and destroyed the optimism of modernity forever. After World War II—Hiroshima and Auschwitz—we see that the dream of modernity is lost forever. The technology and bureaucracy of the modern state can become devastating tools even against their own citizens. Everything was officially planned with all the necessary laws, transportation, economic interests. New laws were passed in all fields of life from education to marriage, from Jewish property to the yellow star. The Nazi war against the Jews was a mixture of the Middle Ages and Modernity. Ancient tribal kinship had to be supported with modern biology. Pre-Christian paganism of the Germans was mixed with totalitarian state-paganism. The old ethics of Europe became a boundary that had to be removed in order to let a new ethic of genocide enjoy its full space. Even fundamental Christian teaching had to be changed in the new situation. The movement of Nazi Christians (Deutsche Christen) is the worst example. They tried in their anti-Semitic rage to remove the Old Testament from the Bible. The state and its Führer were the new deities of their religion. Heller Ágnes, Auschwitz és Gulág (Auschwitz and Gulag). �� Budapest, 2002. 30. Pinnock Sarah K., Beyond Theodicy. Albany, 2002. 111.

Szabó András: Consequences of the Shoa for Contemporary Theology

In this state paganism (also in Stalinism and Leninism), an enemy within was necessary. Heller Ágnes wrote in her essay comparing Hitlerism and Stalinism about a pagan who composes a myth why Cain has to, or why it is inevitable for him, to kill Abel. The totalitarian leader himself wants to become divine. Faithful Jews and Christians must have their conflicts with the absolute claim of emperors and führers, from Rome up until the present day.

Theodicy and Antitheodicy Accepting the Shoa as God’s just punishment for the sins of the chosen people is a possible answer for ultra-orthodoxy. The collective punishment of both the guilty and the innocent is well known from the Bible and Jewish history. The first and second destruction of the Temple were explained as such reactions by God after the long-lasting divine patience. Although this understanding has a long tradition in history, it is hardly acceptable for the human conscience. The collective view of society as a united religious community is unacceptable after the Enlightenment. The various people in Auschwitz were coming from different religious and ethnic backgrounds. The faithful orthodox Jew and the atheist communist Jew were both punished. Even for the individual the problem of innocent suffering remained. The book of Job is probably the most significant text in the Bible discussing theodicy. Job does not accept his friends’ charges. He is convinced that he is innocent. Even with the closing of the book we get a “deeply ambiguous conclusion.” Religious explanations for suffering do not give one perfect answer either. Zachary Braiterman writes: “Theodicy and antitheodicy do not represent stable entities. Instead, they constitute interpretive boundaries between which religious discourse plays back and forth.” Theodicy as the acceptance of what happened in Auschwitz is a blasphemy against the God of love. Antitheodicy as the death of God and the breaking of the Covenant leads humans to total hopelessness. It is acceptable and necessary, however, as a protest and mourn Heller Ágnes, Auschwitz és Gulág (Auschwitz and Gulag). �� Budapest, 2002. 18. Braiterman Zachary, (God) After Auschwitz. Princeton, 1968. 57. Braiterman Zachary, (God) After Auschwitz. �� Princeton, 1968. 58.

Shoa and Catharsis

ing. Between theodicy and antitheodicy it took quite a long time for Christian theology to find a proper way to speak about the Shoa. Profound silence covered the Shoa in theology for long decades. After 1967, the Six-Day War, in the American Jewish community new voices appeared. In the radical ‘God is Dead’ theology of Thomas Altizer and William Hamilton, Jewish antitheodicy found a fruitful soil. Richard L. Rubenstein published in 1966 the first edition of After Auschwitz. He was influenced by the Christian ‘Death of God’ idea. He spoke about the breaking of the covenant by God. According to him, the silence of God in Auschwitz, when children were killed just for being Jews, was the end of the Covenant. His radical viewpoint changed in the second edition of After Auschwitz in 1992.

Hans Jonas and the Attributes of God In the Jewish context different theological viewpoints are present. Probably the most fruitful and rich is the theory of Hans Jonas. God has three major attributes: omnipotence, goodness and comprehensibility. Regarding the Shoa, just two of these attributes can be true. If omnipotent and comprehensible, then not good; if omnipotent and good, than we cannot understand God; and lastly—the option Hans Jonas chose—if God is good and comprehensible, then God is not omnipotent. Hans Jonas wrote a small creation myth. When God created humanity, God gave total freedom, restricting the divine omnipotence. The Creator had to withdraw to make a place for humans. In this freedom humans become partners of God, more than just creatures. It is not the deism of the Enlightenment, as far as God keeps a close watch on the Earth. But it is the possibility of free choice that makes people partners of the Creator. God wants the world back at the end of time, although God created the risk of human freedom. Jonas’ concept gives humans an enormous responsibility on the one hand, and the promise of a history with aim on the other. Jonas Hans, Der Gottesbegriff nach Auschwitz. Frankfurt �� am Main, 1987. 43.

Szabó András: Consequences of the Shoa for Contemporary Theology

Individual Piety against Totalitarian Rationality Hans Jonas gave with his myth a wide perspective for the whole of human history. That cannot be enough, however, for the level of the individual. Sarah K. Pinnock suggests the following in this respect. “For religious thought to move beyond theodicy means that philosophical effort should shift from global, conceptual theodicy treatments of God and evil to concentrate on situated practices of faith response to suffering.” 10 The Shoa has six million faces, names, and stories. Intending the same fate for all Jews, this individuality should have disappeared in the camps. Nameless, faceless masses should march into the gas chambers. The Nazi regime created its most horrifying product in the so called Muselmann. It is the name given to human persons who gave up all hope and dignity in the death camps. Their spirit was already dead, while their body was still alive. Just a few people managed to keep their human dignity and hope alive. One of the resisting victims was a Polish Roman Catholic noblewoman, Pelagia Lewinska, who was in the camp of Auschwitz. She wrote: “A very thoroughly conscious idea was in the back of the camp’s existence. They had condemned us to die in our own filth, to drown in mud, in our own excrement. They wished to abase us, to destroy our human dignity, to efface every vestige of humanity, to return us the level of wild animals, to fill us with contempt toward ourselves and our fellows. But from the instant I grasped the motivating principle … it was as if I had awakened from a dream. I felt under orders to live. … And if I died at Auschwitz it would be as a human being. I was not going to become the contemptible, disgusting brute my enemy wished me to be.”11 Emil Fackenheim called the will to remain human as the commending voice of the living. It is the new way of sanctification. Before the Shoa the kiddush ha-shem, the acceptance of martyrdom, was the sanctification of God’s Holy Name. In Auschwitz for the Muselmänner the kiddush ha-hayyim, the sanctification of life, became the way of ultimate testimony.12 To survive or to die with dignity were the only ways to resist the Nazi death machinery. 10 Pinnock Sarah K., Beyond Theodicy. Albany, 2002. 141. 11 Rubenstein Richard L., After Auschwitz: History, Theology and Contemporary Judaism. Baltimore, 1992. 187. 12 Rubenstein Richard L., After Auschwitz: History, Theology and Contemporary Judaism. Baltimore, 1992. 187.

Shoa and Catharsis

Keeping the personal faith in God, prayer, and actions of solidarity towards other victims helped victims to survive. The whole psychological system of Viktor Emil Frankl is based on this experience. To keep through was not only important for personal survival, but for the community as well. The examples survived also.

Johann B. Metz’s Political Theology Johann Baptist Metz’s political fundamental theology13 is probably the one most concerned with the tragedy of the Shoa in Christian thought. Political theology emphasizes the fate of the innocent victims and the voiceless oppressed. Narratives are necessary against the cultural amnesia of modernity. Metz criticizes the modern consumer society with its sole focus on the present. He speaks about the consumer society as one that “undervalues the intelligible power of recollection and thus stabilises the cultural amnesia of modern and postmodern society.”14 This amnesia gives a chance for the return of the Shoa. Metz also emphasizes the influence of the Shoa on Christian Christology. He speaks about the weak language of the Holy Saturday. Christianity cannot allow itself the triumphal language of Easter regarding all the suffering around. Traditional Christian terms are many times too triumphal to express the desperate human situation of tragedies like the Shoa. He has a strong eschatological understanding, however, speaking about the Biblical narratives. The situation of the Last Supper, the strong community with the “shared hope for redemption”15 and Holy Saturday with the uncertainty of the transition, are also important parts of the Holy Memory.

Christian View of Jews after the Shoa The history of Jewish−Christian relations has been full of rivalry, suspicion and desire for hegemony. After a short period Christianity became the dominant state religion. The liberty of the Jewish community depended upon the tolerance of the ruler in power. 13 Pinnock Sarah K., Beyond Theodicy. Albany, 2002. 81. 14 Manemann Jürgen − Metz Johann Baptist (eds.), Christologie nach Auschwitz. �� Münster, 2001. 99. 102. 15 Pinnock Sarah K., Beyond Theodicy. Albany, 2002. 91.

Szabó András: Consequences of the Shoa for Contemporary Theology

Anti-Judaism in theological statements from Augustine to Martin Luther were common. Christianity understood itself as the new Israel. Having rejected Jesus Christ as the Messiah, Judaism lost the role of the chosen people. This understanding is expressed in the theory of the Christology of discontinuity. This theory was dominant throughout Christian history. The tragic consequences are well-known from discrimination to pogroms. The shameful misinterpretation of Christology prepared the cultural background of the Nazi ideology. As Didier Pollefeyt formulated clearly: “A major reason why the Nazis could go as far as they did was that Western culture had been so thoroughly steeped in a very negative theological understanding of the Jewish people.”16 A different understanding of Jesus Christ was also present in Christian thought. That is the Christology of continuity. This understanding has a strong New Testament base by Paul in Romans 11: “So that you may not claim to be wiser than you are, sisters and brothers, I want you to understand this mystery: a hardening has come upon part of Israel, until the full number of the Gentiles has come in. And so all Israel will be saved; as it is written, “Out of Zion will come the Deliverer; He will banish ungodliness from Jacob.” … For the gifts and the calling of God are irrevocable.”17 (Romans 11,25−29) Two theological interpretations of the continuing covenant thesis are possible. The first is the single covenant theory, which means that Christianity is the extension of the one covenant of God with the Jews. The other option is the double covenant theory. It means that with Jesus Christ something new has come to the first covenant without invalidating it.18

The Gift of Freedom and Responsibility: Ethical Catharsis In Auschwitz the “culture-making catharsis” (Kertész Imre) happened in the narrative of the good as exceptional. Evil is common and Good is the exception. The majority remained passive or marched with the infernal bacchanalia of Nazism. 16 Pollefeyt Didier, Christology after Auschwitz: A Roman Catholic Perspective (2002). http://www.jcrelations.net/en/?item=775

17 NRSV. 18 Pollefeyt Didier, Christology after Auschwitz: A Roman Catholic Perspective (2002).

http://www.jcrelations.net/en/?item=775

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Doing good under totalitarian power meant freedom from the state ethics. Only those who dared to be “unethical” could be ethical. To act as a human was only possible through radical danger or self-sacrifice. For Christian faith that meant turning towards orthopraxis instead of orthodoxy. Our orthodoxy, with all the classical ontology and attributes of the omnipotent God, became more fragmented after the Shoa than ever. The responsibility is rooted in our God-given freedom. It is fearful and magnificent. God put into human hands the fate of the Other. For Christianity this is acceptable because of our experience of God as the crucified. The self-revelation of God in Jesus Christ on Golgotha has shown how much closer God is to innocent suffering than being the cause of it. This experience does not solve the abysmal meaninglessness of the Shoa, but opens up space for human action in responsibility before the sight of God. In this sense Christianity has to find its role in fighting against the long shadows of the past. In the Central European context it is especially delighting to hear Jan Patocˇka speaking about European responsibility: “Because of its foundation within the abysmal profundity of the soul, Christianity represents to this day the most powerful means, never yet superseded but not yet thought right through either, by which human is able to struggle against her or his own decline.”19 Suggested Reading Braiterman Zachary, (God) After Auschwitz. Princeton, 1968. Cohen Arthur A., The Tremendum. New York, 1981. Derrida Jacques, The Gift of Death. Heller Ágnes, Auschwitz és Gulág (Auschwitz and Gulág). �� Budapest, 2002. Jonas Hans, Der Gottesbegriff nach Auschwitz. Frankfurt am Main, 1987.

Kertész Imre, Kaddish for an Unborn Child. Vintage, 2004. Manemann Jürgen − Metz Johann Baptist (eds.), Christologie nach Auschwitz. Münster, 2001. Pinnock Sarah K., Beyond Theodicy. Albany, 2002. Pollefeyt Didier, Christology after Auschwitz: A Roman Catholic Perspective (2002). http://www.jcrelations.net/en/?item=775 Rubenstein Richard L., After Auschwitz: History, Theology and Contemporary Judaism. Baltimore,

1992. Szabó András was born in 1977 in Pécs, Hungary. He studied theology in Budapest at the Evangelical-Lutheran Theological University and at the Evangelical-Lutheran School of Theology at Chicago. He was ordained in 2006 and works as an assistant pastor in Szeged. His first book Auschwitz: Catharsis in Theology? was published in 2005. He was a lecturer of the WSCF conference in Lublin, Poland. His theological interest is systematic theology and ethics with special interest on political theology and postmodern Christian thought. His email address is szabo. andras@freemail.hu. 19 Derrida Jacques, The Gift of Death. 28.

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Security and Independency: The Third Reich as the Myth of the XXth Century? The title of this article includes two rather difficult words: myth and independency. Myth refers to the sphere of religion. The word religion either comes from Latin relegare or from religare, which means the connection, the hanging on to and belonging to a god. The meaning of independency is a bit more difficult: the Brockhaus Encyclopædia lists four meanings of Unabhängigkeit, of which the first three meanings refer to maths and statistics. Only the fourth meaning is related to our theme: independency in the sense of sovereignty. In our investigations now we concentrate on the Third Reich and its prehistory. Was National Socialism really the “myth of the XXth century”? Because this is the title of the basic intellectual book of National Socialism, written by the “philosopher” Alfred Rosenberg (1893–1946).

Biedermeier and the Revolution of 1848–1849 Historically the era of Napoleon was answered in Central Europe with the Biedermeier, which is an expression for the time between the Wiener Congress (1814–1815) and the revolution of 1848–1849. The term Biedermeier brings to mind “worthy,” or a little bit also “Philistine.” The most important politician of the Biedermeier was Clemens Metternich (1773–1859), who is known for trying to oppress all freedom movements, if necessary, even with military power. In the Biedermeier there was peace, but it was not the peace of freedom of political rights. This peace was based on military and � Hardtwig Wolfgang (ed.), Revolution in Deutschland und Europa 1848–1849. Göttingen, 1998.; Siemann Wolfram, Die deutsche Revolution 1848–1849. Frankfurt am Main, 1985.

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political power, which oppressed everybody who wanted to change the situation. This found its parallel in the increasing industrialisation, leading in turn to the inverse movement of socialism, which meant nearly the same thing as communism in our days. In 1847 Karl Marx (1818–1883), together with Friedrich Engels (1820–1895), published the Communist Manifesto against the oppression of the socalled working class by the industrialists, known as capitalists. A change of a political or social situation—in both directions, for the better or the worse—can only take place during a structural movement; and that is always connected with insecurity, ignorance about the future and danger. Sometimes it is a slowly incoming movement, while at other times it is a sudden revolution, as was the case in France in 1789, or in most parts of Central Europe in 1848. The change of the Biedermeier system came in the year 1848 with the revolution in France. There was revolution also in nearly all parts of Germany, and also in nearly all parts of the Habsburg Empire, which included the contemporary states of Austria, the Czech Republic, parts of southern Poland, as well as Slovakia, Hungary, Romania, Slovenia, Croatia and the northern parts of Italy. During this revolution, human rights were written down as part of the constitution. In the parliament, the (Austro-)Silesian politician Hans Kudlich (1823–1817) achieved the liberation of the peasantry; robot and tithe were abolished. Also the Lutheran churches in Austria gained more rights; the Habsburg Emperors were strict Roman Catholics, and Protestantism was forbidden for a long time. Finally the Tolerance Patent of Emperor Joseph II., issued in 1781, legalised Protestantism in Austria. But due to this patent, Protestants were not allowed to build normal churches with a tower or large windows, so they could not be recognised as churches at all. During the revolution of 1848–1849 these regulations were changed, so that since 1849 Lutheran churches in Austria look the way that most people imagine a church: a building in a place of its own with coloured windows, a large entrance door, a tower with clocks in it. Kudlich Hans, Rückblicke und Erinnerungen. Budapest–Wien–Leipzig, 1873.; Prinz Friedrich, Hans Kudlich (1823–1917): Versuch einer historisch-politischen Biographie. München, 1962. Trauner Karl-Reinhart, Die Idee von Emanzipation und Autonomie in den Revolutionstagen 1848–1849 unter besonderer Berücksichtigung der Evangelischen Kirchen in Österreich. Schulfach Religion 1988/3–4. 151–198.

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The evaluation of the revolution of 1848–1849 may be different, but nevertheless these results paved the way of the future. After about two years the revolution was put down. Wien was attacked and conquered by military forces. One of the leading officers is well known: General Joseph Wenzel Radetzky, who had been chief of general staff in the Battle of Leipzig (1813), where Napoleon’s power was broken twenty-five years before. In Hungary the revolution, which also many leading Protestant intellectuals sympathised with, was brutally crushed by General Julius Haynau, who, strangely enough, was a Protestant himself. The catalogue of human rights as part of the constitution was abolished, and under the new Habsburg Emperor an era of neoabsolutism began. Today the name of the new Habsburg Emperor, Franz Joseph, is connected with the “good old times.” But for many people the beginning of his government was not so good at all; rather it was a time of fear and terror. For example, the fighter for the freedom of the farmers, Hans Kudlich, was forced to leave Austria and later died in the United States.

From Neo-absolutism to Conciliation? For about ten years the era of neo-absolutism prevailed in the Habsburg Empire, only losing importance very slowly. In 1861 the Protestants reached their equality of rights by the Protestant Patent. But it was the defeats and not a positive political will that were the motivations to change the political and social situation: in 1866 the Habsburg Empire lost its hegemony in Germany. Prussia—no longer Austria—was the leading German state after the battle of Hradec Králové in 1866. In 1871 the German Empire was founded, and Austria was not part of it. The centre of Germany was transferred from Wien, where even now the old German crown is kept, to Berlin—from the Habsburgs to the Hohenzollern. This disaster in foreign policy also had consequences for the internal political situation in Austria. The Habsburg Empire was rebuilt as the still well-known Austro-Hungarian (Dual) Monarchy. It was indeed a young construction, lasting from 1867 up to 1918. An important part of the constitution of 1867 was the catalogue

Karl-Reinhart Trauner: The Third Reich as the Myth of the XX. Century

of human rights, in nearly the same form, which it had in the year 1848–1849. This rebuilding of the Austrian State in the Habsburg Empire in 1867 is very interesting for our topic, independence. In Austria, many different nationalities—like the Magyar, the Czech, the Croat, the Slovak or the German—lived together; making it a truly multinational state. In Austrian history we do not speak of nations but of nationalities. For the Austro-Hungarian administration the Jews were not a nationality, but a religious group. The term German for the Germanspeaking people in Austria was used until the 1960s. This term is still used for the times of the monarchy. This term, however, must not be understood as a political statement for the integration of the Austrian Germans into the political state of Germany, but rather points out a cultural self-understanding. The political term for this rebuilding is called Ausgleich. “Ausgleich” means on the one hand balance in the sense of “adjustment, equalisation”; and on the other hand it means “conciliation.” The term conciliation is connected with the Old Testament word shalom, peace. Peace is—in the Biblical understanding—not a status, but a relation of people; “shalom” is—as it is called by theology—a term of relationship. How we feel is the result of how we behave towards one another. It is not only a truth of psychology or of anthropology, but it is also a political truth, that one can only exist in relationships. And one’s satisfaction depends on whether one is content in these relationships or not. In the German language, this connection can be shown with the word itself: shalom, peace, can be translated as Friede, and satisfaction is “Zufriedenheit”; zu-Frieden: for peace. It is not possible for anyone to exist completely alone. The intellectuals of antiquity knew that when they defined the person as a zoon politicon—as a being made for the public (Aristotle, 384–322 BC). Likewise the philosophy of Martin Buber (1878–1965) showed that an “I” can only exist with a “Thou.” You cannot define shalom with the categories of legality or policy; you can only create a situation which makes shalom possible within a certain state of legality and policy. This will be accepted as a justifiable state then. Gerlemann G., �� slm – genug haben. Jenni E. – Westermann Claus (eds.), Theologisches Handwörterbuch zum Alten Testament. München–Zürich, 1984. II.. 919–935. � Buber Martin, Ich und Du. Heidelberg, 1978.

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Independence can only be thought in a dialectic connection with relationship. Independence can never be thought in an absolute way, it is always relative. Relative is the same word as in “relationship.” That is true at least for this world we live in, because Christians believe that absolute peace is in the hands of God and will be part of God’s Reign. But we are not yet living in this Divine Reign. The theologian Dietrich Bonhoeffer (1906–1945) expressed this idea when he said that humankind is living in the time “before the last” (pænultimate), and this can never have absolute validity. Everything we do has the character of these “things before the last” and is a fragment and has boundaries, even our lives in this world. Only in God there is eternity, which is not a term for a long time, but rather for the opposite of time. Not even in eternity will we reach independence, because then we depend on God—hopefully. Independence is a myth of this world, connected with self-fulfilment. Is a person really able to reach selffulfilment? The Christian religion clearly says “no.”

The Break of the Völkerkerker and the New Freedom As everything is a fragment, also the Ausgleich was a political fragment. It brought a balance between the Austrian part of the monarchy and the Magyar one, but it ignored all the other nationalities, such as the Czechs, the Slovaks or the Croats. You can see the fragmentary character of the Ausgleich in the name of the Austrian part of the Empire. It was officially called “the kingdoms and countries which are represented in parliament”—a very impractical name. Because many nationalities did not feel represented in parliament in a satisfactory and convenient way, the monarchy got the abusive name Völkerkerker (Prison of Peoples) by the nationalists of the different, especially Slavic peoples. Their political aim was to break up the Monarchy and reach independence from Habsburg-Wien (and also from Budapest). They wanted to found states of their own, which contained only people of one nationality similar to the development in Germany or Italy. Russia should be the mentor of the newly constituted Slavic states. World War I started in 1914 because of the nationalistically motivated murder of Archduke Franz Ferdinand (1863–1914), the Austrian successor to the throne. Bonhoeffer Dietrich, Ethik. München, 1992.

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He was murdered in Sarajevo in Bosnia-Herzegovina, which had been conquered in 1888 and annexed as a part of Austria in 1908. For the topic of independence, one aspect of World War I seems to be the most important. While the monarchy fought against foreign states, many people within the monarchy or in exile fought against the monarchy to tear it apart and to establish their politically independent states. One name shall illustrate this process: the Czech Tom�� á��š Garrigue �� Masaryk (1850–1937)—a Protestant by the way—had been a politician in the old empire and a member of the Viennese parliament. He worked for a sovereign Czech or Czechoslovak state. Therefore he left Austria during World War I and fought more and more radically against the monarchy. The Czech Legion, which had also been founded by him, fought against Austria-Hungary with military power as well. After World War I he was the first president of the Czechoslovak Republic. In Hungary the last Austro-Hungarian admiral, Horthy Miklós, became regent. His duty as a regent was to rule the land until the king came back. The king was Charles VI (as Austrian emperor he was Charles I), who was beatified in the early XXIst century. But when Charles tried to be reinstated as Magyar king, Horthy prevented it and threw out the legal king with military power. Was Tomáš Masaryk or Horthy Miklós—and many others with a similar biography, for instance the Slovak general Dr. Milan Rastislav Štefánik (1880–1919), also a Protestant like Masaryk and Horthy—a hero of independency, or were they traitors and destroyers of a politically fairly stable Central Europe? Were they neither of these alternatives, or both? This question asks how to deal with heroes at all. It is interesting that there are a lot of attempts for a new approach to heroes, even of the German “heroes” of World War II, e.g. Erwin Rommel (1891–1944), by former enemies. In this context, the approach to the commemoration of heroes is also of interest. It is always a question of the perspective. And this perspective is written down with our history, and the transmitted Bauer Ernest, Zwischen Halbmond und Doppeladler. 40 Jahre österreichische Verwaltung in Bosnien-Herzegowina. Wien–München, �� 1971. Young Desmond, Rommel. �� London, 1950.; Vogt Arnold, Den Lebenden zur Mahnung. Denkmäler und Gedenkstätten. Zur Traditionspflege und historischen Identität vom 19. Jahrhundert bis zur Gegenwart. Hannover, 1993.; Zwach Eva, Deutsche und englische Militärmuseen im 20. Jahrhundert. Eine kulturgeschichtliche Analyse des gesellschaftlichen Umgangs mit Krieg. Münster, 1997.; Mader Hubert Michael – Mader Susanne, Die Helden vom Heldenberg. Wien, 2005.

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history has influence on our perspectives, which are always a part of our identity. These women and men, however, fought for independency; they fought for an ideal, but at the same time they also fought against something. The monarchy was without doubt not the best political system, but, as history has shown, it was not the worst, either. And later things got worse.

The Time Between the Two World Wars: the Failed Democracies The end of World War I is also the end of the monarchies in Central Europe. Germany and nearly all states of the former Austro-Hungarian monarchy constituted themselves as republics and democracies, some even as constitutional democracies, like Hungary. Austria should again be taken as an example for the development between the world wars. In 1918–1819 it was constituted as the Republic of German-Austria, part of the German Empire10—as the constitution declared—under the leadership of the social-democratic politician Karl Renner. The union with Germany was forbidden by the Allies. The basic— national—idea of most states was the same as the idea of the Czechs and Slovaks and of the new Kingdom of the Serbs, Croats and Slovenes in the Balkans, later known as Yugoslavia. The idea was to create one state for each nationality, and this idea found its political expression in the well-known Fourteen Articles, written by Thomas Woodrow Wilson (1856–1924), the president of the United States, who was also a relative of Tomáš Masaryk. Austria should be the state for all German or German-speaking inhabitants of the old Austrian Empire: the Austrian part of the Austro-Hungarian Empire. And that led to various problems, because German and Germanspeaking people also lived in Czechoslovakia and in Slovenia. South Tyrolia was taken away from Austria and given to Italy as well as parts of Styria, which came to Slovenia. On the other hand, the neighbouring parts of Hungary, where German or German-speak Chamberlain Houston Stewart, Grundlagen des XIX. �� Jahrhunderts. �� München, 1899.; Foerster Friedrich Wilhelm, Weltpolitik und Weltgewissen. München, 1919. �� Brauneder Wilhelm, Deutsch-Österreich 1918. Die Republik entsteht. Wien-München, 2000.

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ing people also lived, came to Austria and formed the ninth Austrian district, the so-called Burgenland. The biggest problem for Austria was the three million German or German-speaking people in Czechoslovakia, called the Sudeten Germans. Naturally, it was not politically practical to unite these people with the rest of Austria. So these Sudeten Germans stayed in the new Czechoslovak State, and Austria became the state it still is today. As Austria had to be constituted as a state of its own—and not as a part of Germany—the so-called “First Republic” was founded in 1919. The transformation was very hard—not only the political, but also that in the minds of the people. No one had confidence in this state, which nobody had wanted.11 For a few years it seemed it could be a success. But then the challenges of the time, the high unemployment rate and economic disaster, especially after the crash of the stock market in the year 1929, led to a destabilisation of the young republic. It was no longer able to keep the situation under control.12 As usual in such situations, politically extremist groups and parties were founded and fought against each other, while the large parties also had paramilitary troops. In 1933 Adolf Hitler (1889–1945) became chancellor of the German Reich. The takeover of Adolf Hitler and the National Socialists in Germany brought further insecurity. A civil war and an attempt at a National Socialist revolution followed, in which the Austrian chancellor Engelbert Dollfuss (1892–1934) was murdered. In 1934 this resulted in one party—the Christian Social party— having built up an authoritarian regime, the so-called Ständestaat, which was closely connected with the Roman Catholic church. One had to be Roman Catholic to get a leading position; other political points of view were not represented in policy, and other parties were forbidden.13 Of course, that radicalised the opposition. On the one hand, it radicalised the Socialists, and on the other hand, the National Socialists. Radical leaders or agitators of these movements were imprisoned. All this was not fit to stabilise the situation. 11 Bardolff Carl, Soldat im alten Österreich. Erinnerungen aus meinem Leben. Jena, 1938. 12 Drimmel Heinrich, Die Österreich-Trilogie. Die ungewollte Republik 1918–1938. Wien, 1987. 13 Schuschnigg Kurt, Im Kampf gegen Hitler. Die Überwindung der Anschlußidee. �� Wien–München, 1988.

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Many people saw the German Empire as a political alternative to the authoritarian Ständestaat. The Socialists, of course, dreamed of a Socialist revolution everywhere in Central Europe. At the same time, the National Socialists dreamed of the enlargement of Germany, of which Austria was—in their opinion—an important political part; after all, Adolf Hitler was born in Austria. The Austrian Protestants had a bad position in the Ständestaat: They were oppressed in many ways, and therefore the majority of the Protestants—including many National Socialists—also wished Austria to become a part of Germany, the land of Luther and the Reformation. There it must be better than in Roman Catholic Austria, they thought. Only a few aspects of Austrian history between the two world wars have been shown so far. It is a typically Austrian history, but there are also similar political developments in nearly all Central European and European states at this time, not only in the states of the former Austro-Hungarian Empire. In Russia, the democratic revolution of 1917 led to the Stalinist system, and the liberation of the “working class” ended in their total oppression. In Italy, Benito Mussolini (1883–1945) became “Il Duce,” which means “leader,” or in German “Führer.” A National Socialist movement was established in Czechoslovakia, especially among the Sudeten Germans under Konrad Henlein (1898–1945), but also in Slovakia under the pro-National Socialist government of the Roman Catholic priest Jozef Tiso (1887–1947). In the 1930s Gömbös Gyula (1886–1936) ruled in a pro-National Socialist way in Hungary, and from 1944 to 1945 Szálasi Ferenc (1897–1946), the leader of the Magyar Fascist movement, was the head of state, or governor.

National Socialism From the modern point of view, it is hard to deal with such proNational Socialist positions, because we know the real face of Hitler-Germany, and of his cruel, totalitarian and felonious regime. It is not possible to excuse the people at that time. But we also have to consider that in those days of the 1930s, many of the National Socialist sympathisers had positive reasons for their sympathy. The slogans of Hitler-Germany also had positive aspects: war against unemployment, putting in order all the serious problems of

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the time, the new political position of Germany after the Treaty of Versailles in 1918, which was felt as a “peace of shame.” Many people wanted to get rid of the past, in which Germany had failed politically, and wanted to find an independent, uniquely German way into the future. It is terrifying that some politicians realised already during the peace conference that such a treaty was not fit to stabilise peace, but only to provoke a new war. When the French general Ferdinand Foch, for instance, saw the new political map of Europe, he pointed with his finger at the Free City of Gdansk and declared that from there the next war would start. The European states supported—or at least did nothing—against this development. With the Treaty of München, Great Britain, France and Italy allowed Hitler-Germany to occupy the Sudeten Lands in the year 1938. These were the areas of Czechoslovakia where the Sudeten Germans lived. Not even one of the politically important states protested against the occupation of Austria by the German Reich in 1938. Austria was not able to find solutions for its problems, and therefore many people doubted that Austria had a future. Germany, on the other hand, was considered to be a modern and future-oriented state; the concept of motorways is only one example. The situation of the German Protestants is interesting in this connection: the Protestant church was split into two different organizations. One was that of the “German Christians,” which tried a symbiosis with the National Socialists. The other was the Confessing church, which kept its distance from the Hitler regime and aimed at independence from the state.14 Thesis five of the Barmen Declaration of 1934, the basic text of the Confessing church, maintains: “We reject the false doctrine that beyond its special commission the State should and could become the sole and total order of human life and so fulfil the vocation of the Church as well. We reject the false doctrine that beyond its special commission the Church should and could take on the nature, tasks and dignity which belong to the State and thus become itself an organ of the State.” But on the other hand, Adolf Hitler also tried—even though he signed a concordat with the Vatican in 1934—to get rid of all eccle14 Meier Kurt, Der evangelische Kirchenkampf. Göttingen, 1984.; Stegemann Wolfgang (ed.), Kirche und Nationalsozialismus. Stuttgart–Berlin–Köln, 1992.

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siastical influence. Furthermore, he tried to oppress and damage the churches—the Protestants as well as the Roman Catholics—by stopping their public financial support. In 1939 a law was passed stating that the churches should levy fees by themselves. In the German language there is a difference between fees which are levied by the state (Steuer), and fees which are levied by a non-governmental organisation (Beitrag). Is it wrong to consider that both were also attempts to gain more independency? But it was without a doubt a terrible blindness that people did not realise, that this development involved the persecution of people. It involved those with other political points of view, but especially with people who were of a different “race”—in particular Jews, and Roma and Sinthi. Cruelty was an elementary part of this regime. During the Crystal Night in 1938 everywhere in Germany synagogues were destroyed, graveyards were vandalized, Jewish shops were ruined, and about 30 000 Jews were immediately imprisoned. The Crystal Night was the first climax of the persecution of the Jews and the Shoa.15 Certainly everybody knew about the Crystal Night, it was broadcasted on the radio and shown in cinemas. But obviously the Germans did not realise the intrinsic injustice of these acts—that a terrible injustice was being committed.16 It is too easy to declare all Germans as violent criminals or—at least— immoral people. They had no perception of the real character and aims of their political leaders. And so the Third Reich was mainly responsible for the catastrophe that affected the whole of Europe, perhaps the whole world, in the XXth century. Nearly all the states of the world were dragged into the disaster called World War II. The extermination of millions of people because of their “race” is an unimaginable crime against humankind. (The term race is written here with quotation marks because it is, from the biological point of view, not the correct use of the term; but it was used in the National Socialist propaganda-language in that way.) It is also a perversion of the idea of humanity: about five and a half million Jews were killed in the different concentration camps 15 Frank Anne, Het Achterhuis. Amsterdam, 2003. 16 Majer Diemut, Grundlagen des nationalsozialistischen Rechtssystems. Führerprinzip, �� Sonderrecht, Einheitspartei. Stuttgart, 1987.

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(KZ-lagers).17 Thus, Hitler-Germany was a totalitarian regime. That means that all areas of life in Germany were controlled by the only party. Only to think for oneself, independently from the National Socialist propaganda, was considered resistance. National Socialism had many religious characteristics. The Third Reich thought in a totalitarian way. The “SS” was like a religious order, Adolf Hitler was not only the political leader, but he was regarded as having been brought by providence—of which he often spoke in public.18

The Third Reich as a Myth of the XXth Century? The ideas of Alfred Rosenberg (1893–1946) have been considered even by sympathisers of the German Christians as a basic attack on Christianity.19 The political idea of being independent and building up a state with people only of one “race” was turned into a pseudoreligious idea against the idea of humanity and independence. Only a very few people pointed out the real character of the National Socialist policies. One of the first was General Ludwig Beck (1880–1944), the chief of the general staff, who tried to put Adolf Hitler off his plans to conquer the Sudeten Lands. When he realised that he was not successful, he immediately resigned. After 20 July 1944 he was killed. There was also the resistance of clergy—the names of Dietrich Bonhoeffer and the Roman Catholic bishop of Münster (Westphalia), Clemens August Galen (1878–1946), may be mentioned pars pro toto. There were others, too: religious groups like the White Rose or the Kreisau Circle; and also Socialist or Communist groups, like the Red Chapel.20 One group has not been mentioned yet, even though recently there were great commemorations. It is the group of Colonel Claus Schenk Stauffenberg (1907–1944), who made 17 Ploetz, Deutsche Geschichte: Epochen und Daten. �� Darmstadt, 1998. 18 Boelcke Willi A. (ed.), Wollt Ihr den totalen Krieg? Die geheimen Goebbels-Konferenzen 1939– 1943. Herrsching, 1989.; Höhne Heinz, Der Orden unter dem Totenkopf. Die Geschichte der SS. Augsburg, 2000. 19 Rosenberg Alfred, Der Mythus des 20. �� Jahrhunderts. München, �� 1930.; Hitler Adolf, Mein Kampf. Berlin, 1933.; Heydt Fritz, Die Kirche Luthers zwischen Rom und Mythus. Berlin, 1935.; Burkard Dominik, Häresie und Mythus des 20. Jahrhunderts. Rosenbergs nationalsozialistische Weltanschauung vor dem Tribunal der Römischen Inquisition. Paderborn, 2005. 39 Moltke Freya, Erinnerungen an Kreisau 1930–1945. München, 1997.; Flicke Wilhelm F., Rote Kapelle: Spionage und Widerstand. Die Geschichte der größten Spionage- und Sabotageorganisation im II. Weltkrieg. Augsburg, 1990.

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the unsuccessful attempt on Adolf Hitler’s life on 20 July 1944. Perhaps that was the last serious possibility to change the political situation in Germany and in Europe at large.21 For many years Great Britain had been unwilling to accept that there was a resistance in Germany, as Dietrich Bonhoeffer had tried to convince British politicians.22 The resistance of Dietrich Bonhoeffer, of the White Rose or the Red Chapel, tried to influence the population and motivate it to further civilian resistance. On the other hand, the military resistance of the group of Stauffenberg tried to solve the problem at the top with the murder of Adolf Hitler. After such an attempt, a new German chancellor should have taken over political power and made peace. It is very interesting how an officer of the German Wehrmacht came to the decision to work for the murder of his highest commander. There were two Austrian officers who participated on the 20 July assassination attempt. One was Captain Carl Szokoll (1915–2004), who had to make the implementation of Stauffenberg’s operational planning in Wien; the other was Lieutenant-Colonel Robert Bernardis (1908–1944), who was a staff-member of Stauffenberg in Berlin. Robert Bernardis was condemned to death and killed in 1944.23 At the beginning of the war he was employed as a staff officer in the East, and saw how civilians were killed there in a systematic way. He was soon convinced that this had nothing to do with warfare, but with a misanthropical policy. But he did not see any way to do anything against that, even when he got seriously ill at this time. After convalescing, he joined Stauffenberg’s office, where he got in contact with the military resistance. It has not been mentioned yet that he was a Protestant, so that the only Austrian, who was killed after 20 July was not only a highly ranking officer of the German Wehrmacht, but also a Protestant. That is important, because—as it has been said—the majority of Austrian Protestants sympathised with the National Socialists. So did Robert Bernardis at the beginning, but he changed his mind after personal experiences. Perhaps it was part of the Protestant 21 Scholl Inge, Die weiße Rose. Frankfurt am Main–Hamburg, 1953.; Dönhoff Marion, »Um der Ehre willen«. Erinnerungen an die Freunde vom 20. Juli. Berlin, 1996. 22 Bethge Eberhard, Dietrich Bonhoeffer: A Biography. Minneapolis, 1999. 23 Jedlicka Ludwig, Der 20. Juli in Österreich. Wien–München, 1965.; Glaubauf Karl, Robert Bernardis: Österreichs Stauffenberg. Wien, 1994.; Szokoll Karl, Die Rettung Wiens: Mein Leben, mein Anteil an der Verschwörung gegen Hitler und an der Befreiung Österreichs. Wien–München, �� 2001.

Karl-Reinhart Trauner: The Third Reich as the Myth of the XX. Century

heritage in Robert Bernardis’ life that his conscience led to the decision to join the resistance. The word of conscience was brought to political discussion in a powerful manner for the first time at the second Reichstag of Speyer in 1529, when the German sovereigns fought for religious freedom. The term conscience comes from the Latin word conscire, which literally means “to be aware of something”; “scire” means “to know,” and “con-scire” means, that I “also know” something. My conscience makes me a participant of what is happening, and I have to accept it—or to do something about it. To find one’s own position beyond an all-or-nothing attitude is only possible on the basis of a firm conscience, which avoids any extremist approaches. As theologians, we connect this with a verse of the New Testament: “Stand fast in the liberty wherewith Christ hath made us free, and be not entangled again with the yoke of bondage” (Gal 5,1). This means that we have to recognize that the alternatives of this world are not absolute, and there is more than we can see. And that is the reason why Christians can feel freer here in this world. There is at least one more way, the way in God, which Jesus Christ “has made us free” to choose. This gives us freedom and independence from the worldly possibilities—at least from a part of them. But this also gives us freedom and independence for the ardent search of alternative possibilities in this world. The way of living must be characterized by this freedom and independence. But our everyday way of living also must depend on our conscience; because our conscience is the medium which brings the principles of God’s Reign—the evangelism or gospel—into our world. It seems that the world has not yet learned everything from World War II. Hate is still answered by hate. One thinks of the concentration camp of Buchenwald in Thuringia, which was still used by the Soviets as the so-called Special Camp 2 for a few years even after 194524—a chilling reminder that the Third Reich did not have a monopoly on evil, and that we still have a long way to go to ensure that the human rights of all people in all places are held inviolate.

24 Ritscher Bodo (ed.), Das sowjetische Speziallager Nr. 2 1945–1950. Katalog zur ständigen historischen Ausstellung (in Buchenwald). Göttingen, 1999.

Suggested Reading Huntington Samuel P., The Clash of Civilizations and the Remaking of World Order. New York, 1996. Huntington Samuel P. – Harrison Lawrence E. (eds.), Culture Matters: How Values Shape Human Progress. �� New York, 2000. Kant Immanuel, Was ist Aufklärung? Berlinische Monatsschrift 1784/12. 481–494. Leonhard Wolfgang, Die Revolution entläßt ihre Kinder. Frankfurt am Main–Berlin, 1961. Popper Karl R., Alles Leben ist Problemlösen. Über Erkenntnis, Geschichte und Politik. Darmstadt, 1999. Spengler Oswald, Der Untergang des Abendlandes. München, 1988. Toynbee Arnold J., Kultur am Scheideweg. Wien–Zürich, 1949. Trauner Karl-Reinhart, Heeresstruktur und Identität in der Epoche der Freiheitskriege. Österreichische Militärische Zeitschrift 1999/4. 451–462. Trauner Karl-Reinhart, Grundlagen und Struktur der (christlichen) Militärethik im aktuellen Spektrum des österreichischen Bundesheeres. In Schober W. (ed.), Vielfalt in Uniform. Wien, 2005. 219–301. Watzlawick Paul, Anleitung zum Unglücklichsein. Vom Unsinn des Sinns oder vom Sinn des Unsinns. Wien, 1983. Wiesenthal Simon, Recht, nicht Rache. Erinnerungen. Berlin, 1988. Karl-Reinhart Trauner holds doctorates in theology and history; he �� is the senior chaplain of the Protestant military chaplaincy of the Austri

Eva Taxacher »»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»

Austria: Dealing with the Holocaust Exemplified by the Lacking Remigration of Scientists

The development and institutionalization of social sciences in Austria was strongly influenced by two emigration movements around 1934 and 1938, which were caused by Nazi regimes. Even though sources in the Austrian government indicated a strong desire for the emigrated scientists to return, there were no concrete arrangements to facilitate the return for those who were interested. Neither was the atmosphere in post-war Austria especially friendly towards those who emigrated, and there is evidence that anti-Semitic sentiments in politics, academic institutions and society in general still existed. As it is a matter of fact that very few of the emigrated scientists returned to Austria after the end of World War II, we can consider this fact as a phenomenon and a result of the lacking debate on the Holocaust in Austria. In the beginning of this article we describe briefly the emigration movements. Then we review the situation in post-war Austria and offer some examples from the Austrian government, as well as from the academic field, to approach the question of why so few of the emigrants desired or were able to return.

Two Periods of Migration In the beginning of the XXth century there was a strong scientific community for social sciences in Vienna. It was placed outside of the academic institutions in different private circles (e.g. the private seminar of the economist Ludwig von Mises and the circles around Stadler, 208.

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Sigmund Freud and Alfred Adler) as well as in discussion groups of social democratic intellectuals (such as Helene Bauer, Max Adler, and the social democrat youth organisation). There was a wide range of perspectives and a plurality of opinions which characterized this period, even though at that time many groups already faced structural discrimination in the academic system—above all women, Jews and Marxists. In 1934 the “Christian corporative state” (Christlicher Ständestaat) was proclaimed. Being especially hostile towards left-wingers and social democrats, but also towards the illegal national socialists, it put an end to intellectual freedom and many scientists, intellectuals and artists were forced to emigrate. With the annexation of Austria to the German Reich in April 1938 and the beginning of the official regime of National Socialists the second strong migration movement started. It was much bigger and its group more heterogeneous. The majority of scientists who emigrated, around two thirds, were Jewish; the rest were left-wingers plus a small number of adherents to the corporative state. Most of the latter group, however, was able to come to terms with the new regime and a migration was not necessary.

The Lacking Remigration It is striking that after the end of World War II, in comparison to Germany, only a small number of scientists returned to Austria. The total number of emigrants from 1938 is estimated between 130.000 and 150.000; among those 126.000 to 128.000 were Jewish, and of those only 4514 (3,6 percent) returned to Austria after the end of the war. While calculations for Germany estimate that around a third of scientists who were physically capable returned after the war, the percentage for Austria is probably much lower. A random sample from a research project from 1986 indicated a return migration rate of 19,4 percent. In contrast to Germany, where scientists who gained recognition abroad, such as Helmut Plessner, René König, Max Horkheimer and Theodor W. Adorno, returned to their home country, there are no such examples for Austria. Stadler, 208. Stadler, 17. Möller, 133. Stadler, 18. Langer, 270.

Eva Taxacher: Austria: Dealing with the Holocaust

The group of Austrian remigrants is relatively homogeneous and is restricted to former university professors who were employed before 1938. They were mostly Roman Catholics and adherents of the corporative state or monarchists, but at the very least politically rightwing and certainly not Jewish. “Practically,” said Christian Fleck, “only former exponents of the Roman Catholicism of the corporative state returned to Austria. (…) Leftists and Jews at Austria’s universities after 1945 were as unwanted as in the decades before.”

The Situation in Post-war Austria The common historical view on National Socialism and on World War II is characterized by many contradictions. On the one hand, the complicity of the people could not be denied. An adequate awareness was also aimed at during the denazification process and legal proceedings by the allied forces between 1945 and 1955. On the other hand, the sense of responsibility was already limited by the decision of the Moscow conference in October 1943, which legitimized the self-image of being Adolf Hitler’s victims, and not offenders in the long term. The political situation in post-war Austria was unstable. The signing of the state treaty to regain autonomy was only possible through the declaration of neutrality, the “Anschlussverbot” to Germany and a ten-year occupation period by the allies, including the obligation to a thorough denazification. The efforts of this thorough denazification, however, diverged between the different occupation zones starting with the implementation of the law in April 1945. Already in 1946 the responsibility of the denazification was transferred to Austrian authorities, so there was little serious attempt at an ideological denazification after the first series of arrests. On the contrary, many war crime trials in the subsequent decades resulted in verdicts of not guilty. The first series of arrests after the end of the war served, above all, the military security; the measures taken by the administrative level should assure a long-lasting cleansing from the National Socialist ideology. Langer, 270. Stiefel, 17, 24.

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Denazification The denazification tried to reverse the preceding process of nazification in the beginning of the Third Reich, which also varied in intensity in different sectors. The public sector was strongly affected by both. The universities suffered very much between 1934 and 1938 through the political changes; dismissals concerned many senior employees and those high in status, while comparatively few assistant lecturers were affected. The beneficiaries of the Nazi regime at universities were in middle age; it is up to speculation whether they were regime-friendly because of considerations of their careers or because they really were convinced followers of National Socialism. Additionally, due to the anti-Semitic practices which lasted for several decades, there were hardly any Jews employed at universities.10 A thorough cleansing during the process of denazification would have led to a standstill, not just at the universities, since nearly two thirds of university professors at the time of the end of the war were National Socialists.11 If the measures of denazification would have been taken seriously, 47 percent of university employees would have been dismissed in February 1946.12 In this case the operation of the university would have been interrupted for a longer period than it was in the winter of 1946 due to a shortage of power and heating. Since competent successors for the positions were not available (because they vanished as dissidents in concentration camps or were forced to emigrate), the responsible Austrian and allied authorities agreed upon so-called “Einzelfallprüfungen” (a case-by-case approach), where the moderately incriminated (“Minderbelastete”) were allowed to take up their employment again.13 Soon the different authorities wound up in conflicts over responsibilities and the execution of denazification was fragmentary and insufficient. While citizens of the German Reich were automatically dismissed, most of the Austrian career climbers remained unaffected. Stiefel, 125. 10 Fleck, 71. 11 Stiefel, 170. 12 Stadler, 206. 13 Fleck, 130.

Eva Taxacher: Austria: Dealing with the Holocaust

The higher they climbed in the university hierarchy during the time of National Socialism, the less likely was their dismissal.14 The denazification at the universities was as good as finished and the refusal of responsibility of the special commission resulted in the “depoliticisation of science.”15 Paradoxically, the strictest prohibition laws were the ones for students. The political parties of the post-war period distrusted the young people who grew up under Nazi regimes and were taught to march hard, not to be critical.16 The allied forces’ interest in a successful denazification has to be seen in terms of the political situation of the time. Especially the American allied power was very keen on a successful process. When it turned out that the denazification was hard to execute and that people and the government felt anger instead of relief, they diverted their course because they feared sympathy from the Austrian population towards the USSR.17 Europe was tragically dividing into two halves, and Austria had an important role as bulwark against the Communist regimes in the center and in the east; therefore the Western forces had to warrant their support. By 1948 amnesty for moderately incriminated, a further compromise in the process of denazification, was implemented; this affected about 90 percent of the registered National Socialists. At the general election in 1949, 500.000 former National Socialists were allowed to vote and the political parties made an effort to appear conciliatory to catch their votes.18 The Austrian Peoples’ Party (ÖVP) displayed the strongest tendency to “forgive and forget,” because it was mostly their voters who were connected with National Socialism.19 But all political parties agreed that being an Austrian was in itself an antithesis to National Socialism.20 The ideology of National Socialism was seen as the common fate and a matter to be closed.21 14 Fleck, 73. 15 Stiefel, 172. 16 Stiefel, 173. 17 Ziegler − Kannonier-Finster, 54. 18 Stiefel, 19. 19 Stiefel, 66. 20 Stiefel, 66. 21 Stiefel, 62.

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At that time denazification was already felt as punishment to “decent and most decent people, who never did harm to anybody.”22 When the general amnesty was decided in 1957, two years after the dissolution of the people’s courts (“Volksgerichte”: war crime trials), the Nazi problem was regarded as solved and the denazification was finished.

At the Universities As it has already been mentioned, the universities were only able to operate because of the “Einzelfallprüfungen” (the case-by-case approach). Still, some dismissals were necessary and until 1948 numerous positions at the universities were to be filled. As the following examples demonstrate, there could have been alternatives to leaving the (sometimes not only) moderately incriminated in office. Already in the fall of 1945 the “Austrian University League of America,” a group consisting of Roman Catholic conservative former university professors or extramural scientists from Austria, sent suggestions for a reoccupation of the vacancies connected with a list of conditions (among others: thorough denazification) to the Austrian ministry of education. These important suggestions, as well as a list of potential returnees which contained more than four hundred names only in the sector of the faculties of humanities and medicine, remained largely unused.23 The case of Karl Bühler, who held a chair of psychology from 1922 until his arrest by the Nazis in 1938, exemplifies how inadequate the efforts of the Austrian government and the universities for a return of the emigrants were. In April 1946 Karl Bühler indicated his interest to continue his teaching at the University of Wien and asked for information about the arrangements of wages and pension, a supplementary payment after his removal in 1938, the reimbursement of travel costs and a one-semester contract so that he could get an idea of the situation in Austria. The head of departments in the ministry of education replied in a gentle tone and welcomed his return, but passed on (willingly or 22 Stiefel, 323. 23 Stiefel, 205.

Eva Taxacher: Austria: Dealing with the Holocaust

not) wrong and/or insufficient information, saying that a re-entry into his position was only possible if it were still vacant, a visiting professorship would not be accredited in his pension fund, and neither was a reimbursement of travel costs possible.24 He was well aware of the consequences; he himself had written to the ministry of finance some time before that it would mean “an irreparable disadvantage for our country, if those well deserved scientists who were dispelled from their place of activity by National Socialism could not be won to return to their home country and would be irretrievably lost to Austrian science.”25 Still nothing happened and he prevented, through his position, the return of at least one scientist. This contradictory behaviour of the head of departments of the ministry of education can be regarded as representative for the attitude of the Austrian government in the post-war period. The possible consequences, namely the “loss” and disadvantage of the non-return of the emigrated scientists, were perceived, but no measures were taken to facilitate or promote the step for returnees.

Social Sciences The dealing with National Socialism in social sciences is also representative of the attitude of the Austrian society in general. It was necessary to rebuild the country, not to work off the common past. This conception distinguishes the social sciences of the post-war period in the entire German-speaking world. Helmut Schelsky saw the rise of empirical sociology in West Germany founded in an “anti-ideological need of reality and orientation.”26 Further, he claimed that a deep social disorientation characterized the self-conception of the Germans in the time after World War II, resulting in scepticism towards all universalistic ideas and theories.27 From this disorientation emerged also the aspiration for an examination of reality, which in their forms and methods is as close as possible to personal experience.28 Leopold Rosenmayr, a famous Austrian sociologist of the post-war 24 Stadler, 208. 25 Stadler, 208. 26 Schelsky, 55. 27 Schelsky, 55. 28 Schelsky, 56.

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period, also favoured the decision towards an empirical-friendly and anti-ideological science. In his opinion, many people had “not the power ‘to engage in serious soul-searching’ (…) given the urgent tasks of reconstruction and facing the personal desire of ensuring or constituting their own material well-being.”29 Likewise it was more important for sociology as a new discipline to assert her position than to threaten the labile balance of the society by critically analyzing it and its people. Guilt was covered by rebuilding and reconstruction. Dealing with National Socialism was so hard and the survival of its ideology so long lasting because the “nation state and the new political system after 1945 regarded itself as connecting to a vague ‘better past,’ which is charged itself (the First Republic and the period between 1934 and 1938) and less than convincing, and not as a radical restart.”30 Walpurga Gáspár-Ruppert, who studied in Wien in the 1960s, describes how students experienced the atmosphere at the university. Since she grew up in West Germany, she was shocked by the conservative and even neo-Nazi attitudes at the University of Wien. Within the Austrian Student Union (ÖH), the party close to the Cartellverband and the Ring Freiheitlicher Studenten (Circle of Liberal Students) dominated. The Cartellverband was (and still is) a German and Austrian organization of Roman Catholic male student fraternities, while the Ring Freiheitlicher Studenten is connected to the Austrian Freedom Party (FPÖ). The chairperson of ÖH acted openly German-nationalist and anti-communist. Walpurga Gáspár-Ruppert’s impression was that “communism meant everything which was located to the left of the right wing of the ÖVP.”31 Leopold Rosenmayr also cites a leading politician of the 1950s, who asked him at an event: “Do you really want all these leftist Jews to return to Austria?”32 These descriptions demonstrate that neither the government nor the universities really endeavoured for emigrated scientists to return to Austria.

29 Langer, 295. 30 Langer, 296. 31 Langer, 322. / 31 Langer, 290. 32 Ziegler − Kannonier-Finster, 32. / 32 Ziegler − Kannonier-Finster, 38.

Eva Taxacher: Austria: Dealing with the Holocaust

The Austrian View on History In the described spirit of reconstruction in post-war Austria, the whole country and especially politics was characterized by a striving after unity and after a homogenous view on Austria. National Socialism was delineated as something external to the actual Austrian development, as an evil that befell the country and its inhabitants.33 A consequence of this conception was the “institutionalisation of non-responsibility”34 for the Nazi period. It occurred to the disadvantage of the victims, the Jewish population, who where excluded from this view on history.35 Waltraud Kannonier-Finster and Meinrad Ziegler regard this as “the basis for a wide and long lasting fascist attitude in Austria.”36 In this atmosphere, the claims for provisions for the victims were of course hard to push through. The general sentiment was that country and people had already suffered more than enough.37 The signing of the state treaty further strengthened the externalisation of National Socialism. The more Austrians perceived themselves as their own nation and tried to present a homogenous and forgiving image, the more the guilt had to be someone else’s.38 The ambivalence of the Austrian public towards the past was also displayed in the new political system; the aim was not in the first place to dissociate from National Socialism, but rather to assure the Austrian identity by ignoring historical facts. “Who forgoes thinking, saves forgetting as well,” one can say.39 Famous examples of politicians who in spite of their doubtful past continued their careers can easily be found: Karl Renner, the first chancellor of the Second Republic, had welcomed the Anschluss in 1938. Furthermore, Kurt Waldheim had to justify his role during the National Socialist time in the presidential elections in 1986 after almost a decade of being the general secretary of the United Nations (UN). Both persons arouse above all feelings of sympathy in the Austrian public, because they could easily identify with their ambivalent past, while there was little sympathy for ambivalent pasts from abroad.40 33 Ziegler − Kannonier-Finster, 38. 34 Ziegler − Kannonier-Finster, 38. 35 Ziegler − Kannonier-Finster, 56. 35 Ziegler − Kannonier-Finster, 68. 36 Leimgruber, 114.

37 Ziegler − Kannonier-Finster, 35. / 38-40 Ziegler − Kannonier-Finster

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“In defence against feelings of shame and guilt, mourning was avoided. Mechanisms like counter-identification and denial (…) superseded. The cultural environment is involved in different forms of repression insofar as it creates certain frames where remembrance can take place.”41

Situation in Germany Waltraud Kannonier-Finster and Meinrad Ziegler claim that “this kind of patriotic complacency, which has to do with excluding and including”42 was basically impossible for Germans. In contrast to Austria, an active confrontation and debate about the Shoa (Holocaust) and National Socialism as a phenomenon and ideology which derived from its midst, was inevitable in Germany.43 On the scientific level, the works of Theodor W. Adorno and Max Horkheimer contributed to the internalisation of the National Socialism into the German view on history, not least because they returned to Germany and continued their careers there. Theodor W. Adorno and Max Horkheimer were members of the Institute for Social Research in Frankfurt, and worked on their influential work on the authoritarian character in the United States during the time of the National Socialist regime. In contrast to other surveys, the focus was not the techniques and effects of the propaganda, but on the psychological aspect of National Socialism, and the tendency of individuals to Nazi thinking.

Critical Reflection When trying to explain the small number of returned emigrants to Austria, we proceed on the assumption that through the attribution of victimhood, the popularity and support of the Austrian public towards the Anschluss to the German Reich in 1938 was no longer in need of explanation and justification.44 In Austria every form of dealing with and working off the past was made impossible through the attitude in society (consciously or unconsciously by the single individual) to externalise responsibility. The endeavour to create a preferably homogenous and unified image of Austria led to the exclusion of many groups, above all the group of real victims, the Jewish population, and also the emigrants. 41 Ziegler − Kannonier-Finster, 77. 42 Ziegler − Kannonier-Finster, 33. 43 Ziegler − Kannonier-Finster, 39. 44 Ziegler − Kannonier-Finster, 32.

Eva Taxacher: Austria: Dealing with the Holocaust

Since Austria avoided dealing actively with its dubious past, the “other side,” the objective proof of the insufficiency and inadequacy of the view of history was also largely ignored and forgotten. Under these circumstances, the demand of compensating the many victims of the Nazi regime, as well as dealing with the Nazi past (the Christian corporative state could not be externalized, but was belittled), and the question of the emigrated became very unpopular and rather uncomfortable. The low remigration rate can therefore be explained from two angles. On the one hand, neither the Austrian post-war government nor the universities were especially interested in the return of the emigrants and did not encourage them to do so. The rebuilding of the nation, which was busy demonstrating its new identity, did not permit bewilderment by references to old mistakes, which a return of emigrants would necessarily have caused.45 On the other hand, neither were the Austrian emigrants living in exile very interested in returning to a country which was not willing to recognize its guilt and complicity in the Shoa and the reasons for their migration. The return of Theodor W. Adorno and Max Horkheimer to Germany and their work on the tendencies of Nazi thinking accelerated and deepened the process of dealing with their history publicly and scientifically. A comparable scientific debate was delayed in Austria until the 1980s, when the number of studies and surveys increased. The anniversary and remembrance year of 2005 (fifty years of the Austrian state treaty, sixty years of the Second Republic) has just passed, which missed its aim (the critical discussion of its own history), but ended in self-marketing and reassurance of the national identity. The Austrian politicians acted according to the demands of a homogenous view on history and lapsed into self-adulation to have come through the post-war period “so extremely well” and to have achieved “great successes” though being such a small country. The series Twenty-Five Peaces, which consisted of interventions in the public space, among other things with a “reconstruction menu,” a vegetable garden and cows in front of the Belvedere Palace, was sponsored by the government and emphasized the bad economic situation in the post-war time. 45 Langer, 290.

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A critical debate about the entirety of Austrian history (not only the post-war time) was rare but seen in some projects and museums, whereby the spirit and eagerness was strongly noticeable in some alternative forums on the internet.46 On the part of the Austrian government, however, there are some efforts to take responsibility for the Shoa (Holocaust) and recognize complicity. It was President Kurt Waldheim who expressed the first public apology of the Austrian Republic on the occasion of the Anschluss Remembrance Day in March 1988 for “the crimes of the National Socialism committed by Austrians.”47 At the commemoration of the fiftieth anniversary of the end of the war in 1995, a “National Fund of the Austrian Republic for Victims of National Socialism” was established and offered measures of financial reparation. In 1998, also a commission was appointed to investigate the loss of assets in Austria during the National Socialist times, as well as to consider provisions and reparations since the year of 1945.48 Dealing with one’s history is to be seen as a process which is never finished; therefore dealing with the emigration of scientists from Austria and the consequences of the return migration which did not take place is still very worth consideration. Suggested Reading Adorno Theodor W., Studien zum autoritären Charakter. Frankfurt am Main, 1973. Cobet Christoph (ed.), Einführung in Fragen an die Soziologie in Deutschland nach Hitler 1945–1950. Frankfurt am Main, 1988. Fleck Christian, Autochthone Provinzialisierung. Universität und Wissenschaftspolitik nach dem Ende der nationalsozialistischen Herrschaft in Österreich. Österreichische Zeitschrift für Geschichtswissenschaften 1996/1. Langer Josef (ed.), Geschichte der Österreichischen Soziologie: Konstituierung, Entwicklung und europäische Bezüge. Wien, 1988. Leimgruber Walter (ed.), 1.9.39 Europäer erinnern sich an den Zweiten Weltkrieg. Zürich, 1990. Möller Horst, Exodus der Kultur. Schriftsteller, Wissenschaftler und Künstler in der Emigration nach 1933. München, 1984. Schelsky Helmut, Ortsbestimmung der deutschen Soziologie. Düsseldorf–Köln, 1959. Stadler Friedrich (ed.), Vertriebene Vernunft I. Emigration und Exil österreichischer Wissenschaft (1930–1940). Wien–München, 1987. Stiefel Dieter, Die Entnazifizierung in Österreich. Wien, 1981. Uhl Heidemarie, Das ‚erste Opfer’. Der österreichische Opfermythos und seine Transformationen in der Zweiten Republik. Österreichische Zeitschrift für Politikwissenschaft 2001/1. Ziegler Meinrad − Kannonier-Finster Waltraud, Österreichisches Gedächtnis. �� Über Erinnern und Vergessen der NS-Vergangenheit. Wien, 1997. �� Eva Taxacher (1983) studied Sociology at the Karl-Franzens University in Graz, and Örebro University in Sweden, and is currently finishing her master studies, her main interest being gender and feminist studies. She is a member of the Protestant church in Austria, and active in the feminist and gay and lesbian movement. Her email address is eva_taxacher@hotmail.com.

46 Österreich 2005: Das Vorsorge Paket gegen ein Jahr Heimat-Feiern! http://oesterreich-2005.at 47 Uhl, 13. 48 Uhl, 13.

Orova Csaba »»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»

Emptied Squares in the City of God: A Space for Catharsis

Since Jesus was a Jew, Christianity is a religion written into Judaism. Since the Shoa was anticipated by the anti-Judaism practiced by Christians, Judaism is a religion written into Christianity. Thus, their relationship and dialogue are uniquely and simultaneously both tragic and promising. The promising character of the relationship between Judaism and Christianity is not self-evident in the discourse after the Shoa. This discourse began with a shocked silence, later followed by a painful statement: our culture and civilisation are questioned. The next stage was that of attempts at reconstruction of the (hi)story and the healing of memories by repentance and apology. While all these are valid for our times as well, new voices are arising. These voices are silent answers for the Question raised by the Shoa. As a memory from Lublin, this essay is an attempt to make some of these voices speak.

Emptied Squares in Lublin Arriving in Lublin, hoping to see the memories of the Polish culture and experience the Central European atmosphere, one observes huge empty squares at the outskirts of the inner city, which is marvellous today as then. Next, one observes characteristically rigid buildings produced during the era of the Cold War. Then the foreigner is informed by the guide about vivid streets and motley squares once inhabited by Jewish people. The Jewish quarter once gave birth to a many-coloured culture.

Shoa and Catharsis

Lublin, with its Jewish community of forty thousand, was once called the “Jewish Oxford” owing to its world-renowned university. In this Jewish spiritual centre of Central Europe, the Rabbis were educated by Zaddiks, righteous persons in the sight of God. Nowadays, local Jews are unable to practice the Saturday worship, because it requires ten persons. Those once resident did not move too far. We can find their living memories within some kilometres at Majdanek, a demonic city founded by our European fellows. The foreigner, becoming aware of those emptied squares in Lublin and this cold garden of death, after shame and fury, now understands that she or he is not a foreigner any more in these two but symbolically one City. Arriving as a new inhabitant of the Central European history in this concentration camp and seeing the living memories, one observes silence and tries to find reasons; but since the reasons prove to be incomprehensible, one is forced to observe this silence. Then one slowly raises the silent question: to what culture can this City give birth? And what kind of spirituality can fill this now emptied place of universal humanity? Though the voices of the Magyar intellectuals listed below (all experienced personally both the Nazi and the communist regimes) stem from the 1970s, their reception starts in the 1980s and 1990s, since they all were personæ non gratæ according to the official Magyar “cultural politics.” Thus, they should be listened to as new voices answering the questions raised. Nowadays, there are attempts to appropriate their allegedly conservative, liberal or left-wing attitudes by certain political forces, but their deep commitment to democracy, human rights and values are a common witness independent of any political standpoint.

The Culture of Civil Attitude “I am not a talented person, so I need Nazism,” said someone in the memoirs of Márai Sándor, one of the most excellent Magyar writers, in his book titled Earth, Earth. This book, and his diaries as well, are a vivid testimony for a talent of civil attitude. He is a symbolic figure of the unity of personal and civil attitude and literary work. Márai Sándor (1900−1989) was a Magyar writer and journalist. His works are translated into Bulgarian, Czech, Dutch, English, Estonian, German, Italian, Polish, Slovak and Spanish.

Orova Csaba: Emptied Squares in the City of God

As a protest against Soviet colonization, this celebrated writer went into voluntary exile in 1949. Till his death in the United States, he lived in close connection with Magyar and European literature, but was totally renounced by the communist government of Hungary. In a destructive era when Empires decompose cultures, down to their humanistic foundations, that talent of civil attitude resists any irrational and totalitarian tendency coming either from East or West. On the other hand, this talent of brave civil attitude creates a culture of responsible liberty. Principally, this civil attitude means a recognition of the main questions raised by the given time. In a world of Empires, the main challenge is to remain outside of the crowd and to be an individual with the ability of making responsible personal decisions. Recognizing the questions sincerely means firstly a confession of being a caricature of the truth. As a caricature of the truth, though one knows all the humanistic and Christian values and virtues, one does not concede their radical and practical consequences, but instead lives compromised by rotten scenery of history and inhuman social networks. Recognizing the questions sincerely means an effort of defeating and disowning all caricatures of the truth. Uncovering that rotten scenery requires the talent of courageous civil attitude. This talent is always threatened by the crowd attitude of the Empires and, on the other hand, endangered by forgetting the I that has the spiritual force to protest against all anti-humanistic and inhuman forces. Liberty is a permanent intention to be free from any despotism and to persist in creative ways of human life. Where is the will of such a liberty with all its consequences in European culture nowadays? That was the question of Márai Sándor to his readers with a personal stress in 1972, but today as well. The place for inner liberty should not be emptied.

The Culture of Solidarity “In this time [of anti-Jewish laws], instead of work and enterprise, wide circles of the society became accustomed to building their living on looking out for someone else’s existence, reporting on them, spying out their origins, getting them thrown out of their job, interning them and taking possession of their existence.”

Shoa and Catharsis

These lines were written by one of the greatest Magyar social scientists, Bibó István, in his study titled The Question of Jews in Hungary after 1944. Bibó István in his personal life embodied that talent of civil attitude described above: as a state minister of the revolutionary government in October 1956, he remained in his office when the Soviet Army occupied the Parliament in Budapest. To the inquisitive question of a Soviet officer why he was still there, he replied: ‘I am working.’ Though silenced by the regime, he persisted in his hard work in the field of social science, which later became the foundation for all the democratic movements in Hungary. Though he was dead by that time, Bibó István became a symbolic figure of the democratic transformation in Hungary (1989−1990). For Bibó István, the fundamental lack of a basic trust among the players of the society, i.e. the mutual non-recognition of partners, is a principal destructive force, resulting in murderous contradictions between classes and political elites; it emerges even as the root of the “misery of Eastern and Central European countries.” Moreover, this lack of social trust manifests itself already at the level of perception of each other when one (an individual, a class or a nation) forgets about the basic psychological insight: despite any similar notions, the self-image of an identity is not equal with the image made by another, from outside. Thus, instead of sermonizing to each other or setting a pact to restore trust among social groups and integrate the interests among nations, the first main task is to make it mutually clear that we are caricatures for each other, by simply putting those images into words. It is a mutual task of clearing our notions, resulting in new stances regarding our language, attitude and ethical norms—that is, a humanization of inhuman relations. The second task is a cultural fight against prejudices and superstitions rooted in our cultural patterns. The third task is a socio-political activity in a sense of being responsible for these patterns on the level of public decisions, leadership and even government. In these processes of exchanging social experiences with each other, all the possible partners should communicate to each other: individuals (or groups) in the same party and individuals (or groups) across the borders of parties. Bibó István (1911−1979) was a Magyar social scientist. His works are translated into English, French, German, Italian, Polish and Slovak.

Orova Csaba: Emptied Squares in the City of God

All social bonds, such as tradition, law, legal coercion, international interests and even democracy itself, get their meaning from these trust-building processes, resulting in solidarity “federations” of individuals, groups or nations. Instead of the isolation of concerns, this solidarity is already based on identifying our suffering with all others’ suffering, our humiliation with all others’ humiliation, our seeking for truth with all other human beings’ search. The place for solidarity should not be emptied.

Holocaust as Culture The Holocaust has its saints, just as all subcultures have, and if the living memory of what happened survives, it will be thanks to the martyred lives, writes the Nobel prize-winning Magyar writer Kertész Imre in his essay with the same title, Holocaust as Culture. He was still a secondary school pupil when in 1944 he was deported to Auschwitz because of his Jewish origins. He was released from Buchenwald in 1945. He finished his secondary school studies in 1948. Between 1949 and 1951 he was a journalist. He was fired in early 1951, and then lived as a labourer. From 1963 he has been a free-lance writer and translator. One of his most important works, Fatelessness, was written between 1960 and 1973. What are the elements of that subculture? In the beginnings, silence and suppression; then the decades-long rational struggle for historical, sociological and psychological documentation and explanation of negative experiences. The negativity of the Holocaust is not just a private affair of the Jews; it is rather a traumatic event for Western civilisation as a whole. Its negativity goes beyond historical events in a twofold manner. First, the witnesses hand over their negative experiences in such a way that the recipient herself or himself, who in fact did not live at the time of the Story, becomes a survivor and a resistant. In another respect, the negativity of the Holocaust can be experienced under other totalitarian regimes as well, including the sickleand-hammer type of totalitarianism, which identified itself with the swastika type in many respects. Kertész Imre (1929−) is a Magyar writer. His literary work was honoured by a Nobel Prize in 2002. His works are translated into Bulgarian, Czech, Dutch, English, Estonian, Finnish, French, German, Hebrew, Italian, Japanese, Polish, Romanian, Russian, Slovak, Slovenian, Spanish and Swedish. Kertész Imre often refers to Márai Sándor, explaining this experience, for example in his essay titled Motherland, Home, Country.

Shoa and Catharsis

The name of this negativity, and its spiritual and emotional community united by a passion that resists forgetting, is Holocaust. This twofold going-beyond leads us to our crucial question: beyond any documentation and explanation, can this negativity create values? Yes, Kertész Imre says, because its “spirit and catharsis,” beyond any compassion, oblige us to decide on its recognition and on the receiving of that passion. The Holocaust can indeed create a culture, because it obliges us to make an individual decision, penetrating into our private life’s depth. Based on this decision, solidarity can be organized and sustained, independently from any domination or power. Though values are in relation to rational arguments and explanations, first of all they are choices and decisions about the conditions of our self-knowledge. “A viable society must keep alive and renew constantly the knowledge and consciousness of itself and of its own criteria.” (Says Kertész Imre, in his essay above.) That negative knowledge of immeasurable suffering and this decision as an ethical value may fertilize Europe, giving birth to a culture. The Holocaust has, as all times have, its cathartic experience from which a culture is rising. “Just as the Greek genius confronting barbarism and fighting the Persian war created the drama of the Antiquity, an eternal model [came out now as well].” Fatelessness, this metaphorical expression of negativity experienced by one deprived from her or his personal life, even death, by an impersonal power, is that cathartic experience. Together with the other sources of the European culture, the Greek and Biblical tragedy of the human, this new culture is inspired by an “irredeemable reality that gave birth to atonement: spirit and catharsis.”

In the City of God “Magnificent and strong, once were these walls, fresh and free life flooded on their streets, power swelled, pomp flourished, there were beauty and gloom, plenty of love and hate,” writes Heinrich Heine in The Rabbi of Bacherach. What culture and spirituality can this now emptied City give birth to? That is the question that we asked at the beginning of this essay. That emptied City opens places for our exploration in two directions.

Orova Csaba: Emptied Squares in the City of God

In a horizontal direction, there are places to fill with a culture of civil attitude and solidarity. In a short synopsis above, we tried to make some voices speak on this culture. Those life-works of Márai Sándor and Bibó István spring from personally experienced historical catharses. The figure of the fateless and the Holocaust as culture, described by Kertész Imre, open the vertical direction. It might be the prayer of his metaphorical survival, the fateless, which was written by the Austrian poet Rainer Maria Rilke at the beginning of the XXth century: “God, give us each our own death, The dying that proceeds From each of our lives: The way we loved, The meanings we made, Our need.” The negativity, i.e. the history of destruction and inhuman networks, which keep us in prison like Franz Kafka’s Castle does, is incomprehensible for us. The meaning of this Civitas Diaboli where the human rejects God becomes obvious far later. Those emptied squares, however, are places for catharsis. Those chosen will live in the City of God. There will be no place for a ghetto in this City of God, and it cannot be identified with any given, historical institutions. Here is the revelationary meeting place for God and human. As preconditions of this meeting place, Israel and the Church had been living in a close, but tense relationship for centuries. Then this community was broken or forgotten, and their relationship diverged. In our times, however, they should look together at those emptied squares made by the Shoa. And catharsis has the power to converge. The fundamental experience of Christianity is the death of an innocent in order to enact the good. This Christian catharsis and that of the Shoa both should awaken responsibility in all of us. We are sure that a responsible decision inspired by catharsis may fill the place of those symbolic emptied squares in Lublin. Suggested Reading Bibó István, Válogatott tanulmányok (Selected Papers) I-IV. Budapest, 1986–90. http://www.law.klte.hu/Bibo-Muhely Kertész Imre, A számûzött nyelv (The Language in Exile). Budapest, 2001. http://nobelprize.org/nobel_prizes/literature/laureates/2002/index.html Márai Sándor, Föld, föld! (Earth, Earth!). Budapest, 2006. http://hu.wikipedia.org/wiki/M%C3%A1rai_S%C3%A1ndor Szabó András, Auschwitz: Katarzis a teológiában? (Auschwitz: Catharsis in Theology?). Budapest, 2005. Orova Csaba (1976) is a graduate in Roman Catholic theology. Currently he is writing his dissertation on ecumenical ecclesiology. He is a researcher at the Benedictine Békés Gellért Ecumenical Institute (BGÖI) in Pannonhalma and Budapest, Hungary. He is the chairperson of KÖD (Magyar SCM) and a member of the Theology Interest Group (ThIG) of WSCF Europe. He is engaged in the work of the Kontaktstelle für Weltreligionen (Wien) and in the Theology Committee of the International Ecumenical Fellowship (IEF) as well. His email address is csaba.orova@t-online. humailto:ocsfree@freemail.hu.

Peter Tavel »»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»

Hatred and the Human Mind: Psychological Implications of the Holocaust

Based on the Work of Viktor E. Frankl One of the most important notions in the thinking of Viktor E. Frankl is that in life it is not so important what you expect from life, but rather what life expects from you. It is not the human who is asking about the meaning of life, but rather she or he is the one who receives this question from life and who has to answer it honestly with her or his life.�

Search for Meaning Viktor E. Frankl was born in 1905 in Wien. He had two siblings, a sister named Stella and a brother called Walter. His father Gabriel was from the southern Moravian town of Pohorˇelice, a man known for his loyalty to his principles, a perfectionist focused on duties. He also raised his son Viktor to be a perfectionist in accordance with his convictions. Viktor Frankl himself says in several instances that he is like his father, who died before the war. Viktor Frankl’s mother Elsa came from Praha, and was in many ways the opposite of her husband: she was a benign and devotedly religious person. The whole family apart from Viktor Frankl died in a concentration camp. The parents raised their children strictly but, as Frankl says, the atmosphere at home was that of security and safety. About Frankl’s personality we can say in short that he was extremely rational (like his father) and deeply emotional (like his mother). Further, it should be mentioned that he was indeed a perfectionist, and he was very strict with himself, which was manifested also in the fact that he consciously chose to be a mountaineer. He had a strong compassion and empathy for others, especially for those who were suffering. Frankl. 1982. 124−125. Frankl. 2002. 1−13. Frankl. 2002. 13−17.

Peter Tavel: Hatred and the Human Mind

Frankl’s works can be commonly characterized as the Will to Meaning (Der Wille zum Sinn), which is a short summation of Frankl’s search for the answer to the point and meaning of human life. This issue is crucial to Frankl and can be encountered in his whole life from his childhood onwards. He describes it this way: “One evening before going to bed, I was about four years old, I got scared, I got scared at the thought that one day even I have to die.” Already at the age of fifteen, Frankl presented a lecture at a philosophical seminar about the meaning of life. As he further added, he never experienced the fear of dying as an unbearable burden; what troubled his mind was the question of “whether the transitory nature of life does not destroy its meaning.” At such moments it is fascinating to attempt to grasp what kind of school of life Frankl had to undergo; or, to say it in a religious way: what kind of things God let him experience, what God let him go through in order to enable him to find the answer to this question.

The Devaluation of One’s Self An indisputable turning point in Frankl’s life and work is the rise of Nazism in Europe, World War II, and the three years he spent in four different concentration camps: Terezín (Theresienstadt), Oswieçim (Auschwitz), Kaufering III and Türkheim. The young successful doctor became Number 119.104. Thus it is already as a doctor that Frankl went through these traumatic life experiences and discoveries which would later mark his whole work. One of the fundamental things that Frankl experienced under the strong influence of the world that surrounded him in the camps was the “devaluation of one’s own self.” He experienced situations where almost the whole of the human being was devaluated. This devaluation was at times not immediately connected with the Frankl. 1979. 101. �„Mit vier Jahren muß es auch gewesen sein, daß ich eines Abends kurz vor dem Einschlafen aufschreckte, und zwar von der Einsicht aufgerüttelt, eines Tages auch ich sterben müssen.“ Frankl. 2002. 9. �„Ob nicht die Vergänglichkeit des Lebens dessen Sinn zunichte mache.“ Frankl. 2002. 9. Frankl. 2002. 77. Frankl. 1982. 19. �„unter dieser allgemeinen Suggestion muß schließlich auch das eigene Ich eine Entwertung erfahren“. Frankl. 1982. 83.

direct will to take away one’s life and the lives of the others. The self of the human being was devaluated under the strong influence of the surrounding camp-world from which the value of human life and the dignity of the individual had disappeared. The individual became almost exclusively an object of the will of the others, who wanted to use for their purposes even the last bit of her or his physical strength.10 If a person does not oppose this pressure of the circumstances, she or he loses the sense of being a subject, a spiritual being with an inner freedom and a personal value. She or he even loses independent thinking and will; and she or he finally becomes part of the crowd. And this act of protest can at times be done only through an ultimate resort to one’s own human dignity.11At this point Frankl poses the question of whether there is anything like human freedom. He is hinting at spiritual freedom, freedom to behave independently, the way of approaching the given conditions of her or his surroundings. He asks whether the individual is not only a product of her or his surroundings, of biological, psychological and sociological givens. 10 Frankl. 1982. 83. 11 Frankl. 1982. 83.

Peter Tavel: Hatred and the Human Mind

In this context Frankl emphasises that in the determinative conditions of the camp, it was very difficult to stay immune towards the strong influences of the surroundings.12 After all his considerations on the issue of freedom, Frankl’s answer is that freedom does exist. He claims that “the decisive factor is always the human.”13 In the concentration camp he saw people who gave evidence for inner freedom, who showed that suffering is an inner action with dignity. And finally exactly this “spiritual freedom (which cannot be taken away until the very last moment of one’s life) gives the person the opportunity to order her or his life in a meaningful way.”14

The Role of Hope Frankl tried to help the prisoners in the camp to find their life aim. He claims that it was sheer misery when a prisoner saw no more aim in her or his life. A typical answer was: “What more can I expect from life?” Frankl underlines the fact that each prisoner’s attempt at inner recovery presupposed that she or he would focus on a future goal, on a fixed point. This aim, this fixed point, was connected both with time and with the object. As for time, he says: “Without a fixed point in the future, a human being cannot exist at all.”15 Before the Christmas of 1944 a naïve hope spread among the prisoners that they were going to celebrate it in their homes. As this hope did not materialise between Christmas and the New Year, there was a wave of massive dying, even though the working conditions, supply situation and the weather did not get any worse, and there was no epidemic at that time. The news about the potential end of the war did not bring anything encouraging; instead the prisoners lost their point in the future. They experienced a fatal disappointment which led to the wave of dying.16 12 Frankl. 1982. 107. 13 �„Das Entscheidende ist immer der Mensch.“ Frankl. 1985. 247. 14 �„Die geistige Freiheit des Menschen, die man ihm bis zum letzten Atemzug nicht nehmen kann, läßt ihn auch noch bis zum letzten Atemzug Gelegenheit finden, sein Leben sinnvoll zu gestalten.“ Frankl. 1982. 109. 15 „�Ohne fixen Punkt in der Zukunft vermag der Mensch nicht eigentlich zu existieren.“ Frankl. 1985. 110. 16 Frankl. 1982. 123.

Shoa and Catharsis

Frankl found his aim, the firm point of an object, of his personal autotherapy during the typhus infection, while writing his book Ärtzliche Seelsorge. He knew that if he had an aim, it would certainly help him to survive.17 When mentioning this situation, he always likes to quote Friedrich Nietzsche: “Everyone who has a why in her or his life can bear any kind of how.”18 He invoked this principle, as an experience from the concentration camp, in his theory of existential analysis in connection with neuroses.19

The Power of Love In the concentration camp Frankl also reflected on his relationship to his wife Tilly. For the first time in his life he realized the truth that had been formulated by so many thinkers before: “Love is the ultimate and the highest, which the human can herself or himself reach.”20 He grasped the meaning of the most extreme that the human mind, poetry and faith could offer: “Salvation by love in love.”21 It was in the camp that he for the first time in his life understood that there was nothing left to hold on to. And still that he could be blessed, if he was in his deepest inner ground devoted to his beloved one, he could be able to fill his inside with the loving glance, the contemplation of the spiritual image of the beloved, which carries in itself the meaning of what makes it possible to the angels to share in the blessed vision of the infinite glorious Beauty.22 Through his concentration camp experiences Frankl found out “that love is by far not connected only to the physical existence of the human. In the greatest depth love concerns the spiritual being of the beloved one.”23 One does not need to know at this very moment whether the beloved person is around, if she or he physically exists or if she or 17 Frankl. 2002.�� 75−77. 18 �„Nur wer ein Warum zu leben hat, erträgt fast jedes Wie.“ Frankl. 1982. 124. 19 Frankl. 1983. 192. 20 „Daß Liebe irgendwie das Letzte und das Höchste ist, zu dem sich menschlichen Dasein aufzuschwingen vermag.“ Frankl. 1982. 65. 21 �„Die Erlösung durch die Liebe und in der Liebe.“ Frankl. 1982. 65. 22 Frankl. 1982. 66. �� „So � wenig meint Liebe die körperliche Existenz eines Menschen, so sehr meint sie zutiest das geistege Wesen des geliebten Menschen.“ Frankl. 1982. 67.

Peter Tavel: Hatred and the Human Mind

he is still alive. Love, affectionate recollection, the loving glance of the spiritual image of the beloved, cannot be harmed in this way. Viktor Frankl says that if he had found out in the camp that his wife was dead, this knowledge would not have affected him; he would have contemplated his beloved wife with the same devotion. Even the spiritual talks with her would have been equally intense and fulfilling. Frankl admits that it was thanks to love that he survived the concentration camp, and the greatest credit lies with his love for his wife.24

Confronting Suffering and Death: The Copernican Turn In the concentration camp Viktor Frankl ascertained that in the thinking of the human person an important and decisive turn (conversion or metanoia) is possible. It is the so-called Copernican turn. Elisabeth Lukas25 explains this by saying that Frankl warns the human not to ask life the why-questions. Thus in fact we should not ask: “Why is my daughter disabled? Why is my husband a drunkard? Why has my wife cheated on me? Why did I get ill?” When we ask why, we examine the causes. The space for action of the human, however, is not the questions but the answers. This is the Copernican turn from the question why to the answer therefore. Life is asking the questions: “Your daughter is disabled. What are you going to do now? Your husband is a drunkard. What are you going to do about it? Your wife has cheated on you. How are you going to solve it? You got ill. How are you going to face it?” To find a clear-cut why is sometimes not possible for the human. The answer, however, is hers or his for a hundred percent. A unique and unrepeatable individual is facing a unique and unrepeatable situation and her or his answer to the given situation is always something concrete that this unique and unrepeatable situation brings with itself. So if the human has to suffer, she or he should perceive it as a task, as her or his specific task. Frankl says: “If a human is facing some kind of suffering, she or he is the only one in the whole space who stands here and no one else can suffer through it instead of her or him. It is about the uniqueness of her or his performance.” 24 Frankl. 1982. 67. 25 Lukas. 1999. 13−15.

Shoa and Catharsis

Further he adds: “For us in the concentration camps this was the only way of thinking that could help us, because it did not let us despair; even though we did not see any chance to survive, it was the only one that could help us! “Because it was not anymore a question about the meaning of life, which was very often posed and which means only the fulfilment of some given aim. We meant the meaning of life as a totality which comprises also death, and so it does not offer only the meaning of life, but also the meaning of suffering and death. We fought for this kind of meaning.”26 As Viktor Frankl detailed, in the camp he learned in concrete life how to cope with suffering. He said: “If something bad happens to me, spiritually I fall on my knees and wish that nothing worse happens to me in the future. “There is not only a hierarchy of values, but also a hierarchy of worthlessness. In a toilet in Theresienstadt an inscription caught my attention: Detach yourself from everything, and enjoy every single piece of shit.”27

The “Fruit” of the Holocaust and Collective Guilt The experience from the concentration camp was for Frankl’s work a constitutive life experience, or as he puts it himself, experimentum cruces.28 He says about himself that after the validation of his own self-transcendence and self-distance, he gains even more certainty concerning his theory of the will to meaning. He claims that a basic border situation (in the sense of Karl Jaspers) was actualised in his life,29 a moment of self-revelatory truth, a moment in which human existence touches the borders of being.30 26 �„Für uns im Konzentrationslager waren solche Gedanken das einzige, was uns noch helfen konnte! Denn diese Gedanken waren es, die uns auch dann nicht verzweifeln ließen, wenn wir keine Chance mehr sahen, mit dem Leben davonzukommen. Denn uns ging es längst nicht mehr um die Frage nach dem Sinn des Lebens, wie sie oft in Naivität gestellt wird und nichts weiter meint als die Verwirklichung irgendeines Zieles dadurch, daß wir schaffend etwas hervorbringen. Uns ging es um den Sinn des Lebens als jener Totalität, die auch noch den Tod mit einbegreift und so nicht nur den Sinn von Leben gewährleistet, sondern auch den Sinn von Leiden und Sterben: um diesen Sinn haben wir gerungen!“� Frankl. 1982. 126−127. 27 �„Wenn mir etwas zustößt, sinke ich in die Knie – natürlich in der Phantasie – und wünsche mir, daß mir in der Zukunft nichts Ärgeres passieren soll. Es gibt ja ein Hierarchie nicht nur der Werte, sondern auch der Unwerte, die sich in solchen Fällen in Erinnerung rufen sollte. In einem WC im Lager Theresienstadt habe ich einmal einen Wandspruch gelesen, der lauterte: Setz’ dich über alles hinweg freu’ dich über jeden Dreck.“ Frankl. 2002. 15. 28 Frankl. 2002. 75. 29 Jaspers. 1950. 30 Frankl. 2002. 75.

Peter Tavel: Hatred and the Human Mind

Frankl maintains that no generation got to know what is inside the human in the same way as the one that experienced the Holocaust. They found out the human person is a blend of good and evil. The human person is the one who builds incinerators in concentration camps, and the human walks into them with a raised head and a prayer on his lips. In this connection Frankl deliberates on whether or not there is such a thing as collective guilt. He remembered a situation, when after being released from the camp on the way home, he went with a friend through a field of early oats. Frankl stopped with the feeling that they should not be walking on the crops. His friend encouraged him with the words that those are German fields and oats and that the Germans caused great harm to them so they actually well deserve to have their crops trampled upon. Frankl reflects on this kind of thinking and arrives at the opinion that there can be no collective guilt which the German nation as a whole should bear, but rather that guilt is to be attributed to individuals. He even pointed out that the one talking about collective guilt does injustice to herself or himself. Wherever it was possible, Frankl stood up against the concept of collective guilt, even though his attitude was rather unpopular after 1946. For the illustration of his stance, Frankl often used an example of one of the camp leaders who was an SS officer. After the liberation it became known that from his own money he had been buying medicine for prisoners in a nearby pharmacy. After the liberation of the concentration camp, the prisoners themselves hid this SS-man and finally surrendered him to the American commander on the condition that nothing would happen to him. The American commander kept his promise and appointed him to be the commander of the liberated camp and he organized food and clothes collections among the inhabitants of the surrounding villages.31

31 �

Frankl. 2002. 80−81.

Shoa and Catharsis

Frankl’s Work after the War After the war Viktor Frankl started publishing and lecturing all around the world. He admits, however, that his life experiences could be a burden, that he suffered some kind of deformation, which makes his objectivity doubtful. In other words, his ability to judge others and himself might have been weakened by the trauma. He said: “The one who was in the middle has too little distance. On the other hand, the one who was on the outside has too much distance and can hardly put herself or himself into the position of the one on the inside.”32 In spite of this doubt, Frankl started a publishing series of his works after the war. He became the founder of logotherapy, which is based on his experience from the concentration camp and has its cornerstone in the theory of the will to meaning. After the war logotherapy became widely discussed, for example, in the United States.33 He is the author of thirty-one works translated into twenty-four languages.34 His concentration camp experience is described in detail in his book …trotzdem Ja zum Leben sagen. Ein Psycholog erlebt das KZ (… Still Say Yes to Life. A �� Psychologist Experiences the Concentration Camp).35 Frankl was active until the very end of his life. He was awarded 29 honorary doctorates around the world. Even at the age of seventy he was still an active mountaineer. In spite of his growing popularity and recognition he remained a modest person. At an audience with the Pope Paul VI, he maintained that the success of logotherapy is not something that he should be congratulated upon. Viktor Frankl had his last lecture at the University of Wien in the year 1995.36 In the United States alone, more than nine million copies of his books have been sold, and according to the Library of Congress in Washington, D.C., his book Man’s Search for Meaning37 is among the ten most influential books in the United States. 32 „�Derjenige, der ‚mitten drin’ stand und sich schon eingelebt hatte, schon längst viel zuwenig Distanz.“ Frankl. 1985. 105. 33 �

Frankl. 2002. 75.

34 Frankl. 2002. 100. 35 �

Frankl. 2002.�� 85.

36 �

Frankl. 1982.�� 110.

37 Frankl. 1982.

Peter Tavel: Hatred and the Human Mind Suggested Readings Frankl Viktor E., Der Wille zum Sinn: Ausgewählte Vorträge über Logotherapie. Bern − Stuttgart − Wien, 1972. Frankl Viktor E., Der Mensch vor der Frage nach dem Sinn: Eine Auswahl aus dem Gesamtwerk. München − Zürich, 1979. Frankl Viktor E., ... trotzdem Ja zum Leben sagen: Ein Psychologe erlebt das Konzentrationslager. München, 1982. Frankl Viktor E., Theorie und Therapie der Neurosen. München − Basel, 1983. Frankl Viktor E., Ärztliche Seelsorge: Grundlagen der Logotherapie und Existenzanalyse. Wien, 1985. Frankl Viktor E., Der unbewußte Gott: Psychotherapie und Religion. München, 1988. Frankl Viktor E., Was nicht in meinen Büchern steht: Lebenserinnerungen. Weinheim − Basel, 2002. Jaspers Karl, Einführung in die Philosophie. München, 1950. Lukas Elisabeth, Sehnsucht nach Sinn. Logotherapeutische Antworten auf existentielle Fragen. München − Wien, 1999. www.viktorfrankl.org Peter Tavel was born in 1966 in Trebišov, Slovakia. He is a graduate of the Construction Faculty of the Technical University in Košice, Slovakia; of the Philosophical Faculty of the Palackého University in Olomouc, Czech Republic; and of the Theological Faculty of the same university. From this university he also obtained his doctorate, which focused on The Concept of the Will to Meaning in Viktor E. Frankl. He teaches psychology at the Faculty of Humanities of the Trnava University, Slovakia, as well as at the Theological Faculty of the Palackého University in Olomouc, Czech Republic. He is a member of the Order of Preachers and the head of the Dominican monastery in Retz, Austria. His email address is petertavel@seznam.cz.

Nagypál Szabolcs »»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»

Prayer is Our Identity: Spiritual Values in Hasidic Wisdom Hasidic wisdom is the attitude of piety transformed into a style of life through genuine and profound spiritual experiences. Hasidism is a spiritual movement within Judaism, founded by Baal Shem Tov (1700−1760). Its wisdom stories were collected by Martin Buber just before the near-total elimination of this culture in the Shoa. The Hasidim has been convinced that the spiritual power the righteous obtain is such that all peoples and nations thriving for redemption can profit from it, not only their own nation, religion and spiritual movement. Indeed, the spiritual significance of Hasidism goes far beyond the borders of Judaism: it is now part of the global wisdom of humanity, to be humbly approached by all searching for the closeness and blessing of God.

Life-Giving Stories In Hasidic magical realism, we are immersed in the world of aphorisms, metaphors, analogies, symbolic tales, miracles,�� secrets, paradoxes and contradictions; bitter and bitter-sweet humour, an unrestricted and rampant mystical life, reaching many times even delirium and ecstasy. The sharing of a Hasidic story with others is in itself an event, which indeed has the dignity of a holy act. One might hope that a text dealing with Hasidic stories has also the same kind of dignity. These Hasidic stories have a holy essence, a sparkle of wisdom in them, which continues its being through the retelling of these stories, jokes, anecdotes and spiritual riddles, again and again. The way a story is told is such that it may help and assist people in their everyday spiritual lives, making moral and ethical decisions, and opting for a general betterment in holiness and wholeness.

NagypĂĄl Szabolcs: Spiritual Values in Hasidic Wisdom

There can be different subgenres discerned within this mythology. A short story depicts a destiny; an anecdote fills with light a whole life; while a legendary anecdote sheds light onto the point and meaning of human life in a highly condensed form. One of the subgenres of these sagas is the dialogical parable: in these the master, when asked, provides a much broader answer than was expected from her or him by the inquiring disciple. Or in yet another subgenre, the yarnerâ€™s aim is to scandalize her or his listeners by the primitivism or profanity of the stories, in order to stir up their shortcomings and to call forth their reflection or surrender. Both the participants of these events, and the people who make them present by sharing them with others, are filled with the Spirit: their whole being in the world is spiritual and pneumatic. The righteous live in a spontaneous and genial improvisation, appropriation, application, concretisation and explication of the Holy Scriptures. The stories of their deeds and thoughts ignite the Divine spark in the souls of all who ever happen to make contact with them. The Hasidic legendary circle is a mythology of wisdom impetuses, a history of spiritual effects, which have ever made an impact on one of their participants. It is expected from the listener, reader and receiver to open herself or himself up for a similar cathartic experience as those who are depicted in the story.

Tradition and Community The righteous, when encountering ideas similar, adaptable and compatible with those of their own, manage to fill them with their own vitality and to ensure their rootedness in the Tradition. The faithful are seeking the meaning of the phenomena. Their firm endeavour is aimed at tracing back the teachings and insights to their cores and origins. At the same time, the righteous attempt to strike root in their final destination, as well. Divine revelation tends to institutionalise and turn into a mere habit, so the role of the faithful in this respect is to revitalise it from time to time, from generation to generation, by their charisma. Even the most respected divine commandments can by some people be turned into an idol or superstition. Therefore, God is to be approached as God, in Godâ€™s own way, not in our own ways.

Those who are touched by this spirituality and decide to join the community are appealed to die to their old life and to resurge to new life. These people are not afraid to appear either pathetic, or lunatic, or even ridiculous to the outside world. Interestingly, a master from time to time can pretend to lift the authority and validity of the Tradition from above the community, in order to create occasionally a new and open possibility for their choice and decision. This procedure refines the sense of responsibility and confirms the commitment and engagement of the community. In overemphasized individualism, even though wisdom still can be cherished in a way, holiness is unable to ripen and to be held fast. So we build the temple (church) of love with each other as living stones. Therefore, the logic of unity in the community is the following: one must wash away everything from oneself which can divide or separate one from the others; then one must be united with the community; and finally, all these open the way towards unity with God. As a unique relationship within the community, a marriage lived in

Nagypál Szabolcs: Spiritual Values in Hasidic Wisdom

a holy way embodies, embeds, entails and configures the relationship of Eve and Adam in the Paradise before the tragedy of the fall.

Kenotic Dialogue Another significant element in these enlightening texts is that they are born out of an encounter, and in that way also Martin Buber could see in them the fulfilment of his own philosophical thinking on the realisation of the Self through I and Thou, encounters and dialogue. An enormous emphasis is laid on the insight that the relationship between God and the human must be mutual and reciprocal: dialogue must take place among I and Thou; and Thou and I; and furthermore from both sides again. One cannot say “I” about oneself in a proper sense, since “I” can only refer to the one God. So, when preparing for the vocation, first one has to hide, and only afterwards, when one is ready to go out to teach, should one reveal oneself and the message entrusted to her or him. Human relationships are based on mutual giving and receiving, in mutual interconnectedness, on the psychosomatic as well as on the spiritual (pneumatic) level. The role of the master is to ignite the spark of the disciple’s heart and soul, which is already there before their encounter and dialogue. Silence and solitude are vessels filled with an invisible essence: whoever approaches them with openness can have a sip of them. One’s silence and solitude can be as much a means of reconciliation as a mute scream from somewhere deep down. The master offers herself or himself fully as a pot and an earthen vessel to God, detaching and emptying out herself or himself in a kenotic way, and in this way re-transforming Something back into Nothing, in order to be fully at the disposal of God.

Praying in the Sight of God God, the Great Pedagogue, not only limited Godself in the process of creation, but also continues to limit Godself, in order to be useful for God’s beloved children, humankind, who are always to be raised and educated. Prayer can be a visionary exaltation, a meditation, contemplation

Who is My Neighbour?

or concentration, but faith is generally purer than vision. In prayer, externals and formalities are avoided: our dialogue with God is like an insightful conversation with a friend. The emotions towards God and the style of our relationship can be so intimate that the praying person uses even tender and affectionate confessions of love, or the invocation: Daddy (Abba). Notwithstanding, before prayer, one has to prepare oneself for death, since in prayer one offers oneself fully as a sacrifice. The noble and sublime soul lifts up the ordinary souls and sanctifies the objects around her or him. When once a master was hit and killed by a bullet while praying, it was considered a most beautiful way of dying, since the person can continue her or his prayer in the other world as well, bridging the gap between the two worlds. The other great master prayed with such fervency and strength that despite his scraggly figure, he was considered a great military leader, even a spiritual warlord by the others. Our prayer is to be cleansed from our desires, and we are to concentrate all the forces of our personality upon the only desire to be one with God in Godâ€™s presence, the Shekina, here and now. When the community prays together, the frailer prayers are lifted up by the honesty and brightness of the others. Some even deemed it their special duty to resuscite, resuscitate and elevate the agonizing prayers in the community and in the wider world. In our assiduous study and contemplation nothing else exists but the wisdom and knowledge we are approaching; and in our prayer nothing else exists than our self-giving service of God for others. One is to fully devote oneself to prayer, by identifying oneself with the words, meanings and intentions of the prayer. Thus we are transfigured to an altar coram Deo, in the sight of God.

Masters and Disciples The good pedagogue illuminates trust from within, and its light brings into being the hidden treasures of her or his disciples. The master shakes the soul of her or his disciples, and keeps them in boiling and ebullience. Godâ€™s will is revealed by the prophets, among others, living even today among us. Their vaticinal abilities make it possible for them

NagypĂĄl Szabolcs: Spiritual Values in Hasidic Wisdom

to see through and within oneâ€™s soul. While their visitors dwell in their aura, they feel at home in the very presence of God. If someone really speaks, and another one really absorbs the spoken words, then only one single word is enough; the world can be uplifted by one single word; and one single word is enough to cleanse the world from its sins. A possessor of the proper name (for example, the founder of the school) enjoys the trust of her or his people. This person is particularly entrusted to live fully in her or his God-relation, also on behalf of the others. The questions of disciples are essential for the response of the master to be born. In that happening, the master serves as the epicentre of a wisdom event, where the Spirit emanates in vibrating waves. Some emphasize that the teacher must carry the bookshelves on behalf of the whole righteous community, meaning that it is not enough to hold the Bible in one hand and the newspaper (or anything else) in the other, but we should also carry a rucksack full of books on our back. The teacher cannot and therefore should not explain the nexus and coherence of the elements of a situation, but she or he leaves it to the disciples or the community to hermeneutise, understand and interpret the totality from the fragments. On the other hand, as in a mirror, the duty and responsibility of the disciples and the students is to find their proper and apt master: the one and probably only one who can help and assist them uniquely. First, before accepting anyone, as in a kind of private and intimate confession, the master inquires and listens to the future discipleâ€™s repentance, spiritual struggles, temptations and challenges. Then, the disciple turns towards her or his master with a lifelong commitment. To bring about the message to all in their service and apostolate, as an effective sign and symbol, the disciples are given a belt and a stick. Some of the disciples can be regarded as bright commentaries to the master. Ironically, some of the masters would really need good commentaries, but unfortunately none ever gets written. The teaching is only for those who have ears to listen. The clever can gain a lot from the teaching, almost everything they need, but the fool can end up even more foolish than before listening to it.

Who is My Neighbour?

As the soul is for the body, so are the righteous for the world. The vocation of the righteous is to receive the fire (but not to interpret it), and to transfigure it into light (but not to traject or project it).

Joy Makes Peace, Love Reconciles The life the Hasidic worldview recommends to the righteous is one of spirited joy, sunniness and serenity, dynamism and motivation, and a soul constantly lifted up to the Divine, also by songs, cheerful dances and even childlike playfulness. There are no valid circumstances, where this joy and happiness of the God-friendship cannot be experienced, if in deep humility, purity and cleanness, one fully gives oneself to its quest. This kind of blessed naïveté challenges all forms of earthly vulpinism and fraudulency. Also, in this way, the devout persons bring joy to God and try to make God “happy.” When people love one another, the presence of God, the Shekina, dwells among them. And it would be totally unworthy to one’s love, if it depended on the relations of others towards us. In general, the duty of a righteous person is to be open and to love each living being in the world, in God’s creation. Animals are also to be loved, since their anima also originates from the Spirit of God. Furthermore, one must love even more the hateful and evil persons, in order to complement the hiatus (vacancy) caused by them, the unstitching of love in that place of the world. Some saints went so far as to be reluctant to regard Evil as anything other than good. Therefore, prayer for our enemies is a spiritual must: the opposite ruins the appearing buds of our rose-souls. Certainly in Hasidism one can feel the Reign of God in action, a glimpse of that Heavenly dwelling, which is destined to be so different from how it is commonly imagined and described. Peacemaking, healing and reconciliation are special charismas from God, received by many masters and righteous. Some even have the blessing to resolve conflicts by “just” saying a prayer in the place of the quarrel. One school emphasizes the giving up of one’s will for the sake of the divine will. On the other hand, another school stresses the adherence to one’s own will, inasmuch it is the emanation of the divine will.

Nagypál Szabolcs: Spiritual Values in Hasidic Wisdom

One should not reach anything without God, and also without one’s own efforts and cooperation. In any way, the righteous serve as a bridge: they introduce God to the world, and they acquaint God with the world. In an active and contemplative spiritual life, one can reach even such a coherence of one’s strength and forces that each of one’s senses can proxy for the functions of the other senses. Even if our heart is broken, it is not denied by God; but at the same time the heart should be one full entity, too. The storm of the heart is to be calmed down, so that the pugnacious feelings and emotions would recognize God and God’s ever-presence.

Serving Justice in Compassion One’s life conduct is to be centred on the Absolute as its permanent source and engine. One’s whole life, even one’s drinking of a glass of water, is a holy act, a liturgy at its best, calling forth the presence of God on Earth. In this sense, one gets acquainted with the value of the hic et nunc, the here and now: we are to be authentically and profoundly present in the given moment and in the act we are currently performing. Our existence should be undivided (atomic) and spontaneous: it is the whole personality of the master which makes a lasting impression on all the righteous around her or him. Though asceticism has been always present in Hasidism, its main thrust is much more the day-by-day help and dealing with people in need. The helper is to intensively identify herself or himself with the helped one, their stature and destiny. A righteous one can serve humanity in any position. For example, one teacher worked in a little shop for decades, from where he sent many times customers to other, even smaller shops, to support the poorer storekeepers. Even Heaven and Hell take place in the sanctuary and in the abyss of the human soul. Heaven and Earth got divided because of our failure and sin. They will reunite when people will make the world, which is entrusted to them, similar to Heaven again. As God is infinite, so is God’s service. One has to aim at order and impartial justice in human community and society; but when one reaches during this endeavour the dimension of human relationships, one immediately must escape

Who is My Neighbour?

forward into love and dialogue, because divine justice is beyond human imagination and discernment. In Hasidism, the faithful can perceive the interconnections of things beyond time and space; therefore their compassion is not limited to their context only. Through intuition and empathy, they engage in healing wounds and whole existences. God stands beside all those who visit God in justice: but God is most of all there in the value of justice itself, not primarily in any other ways. The search for justice can only happen through justice, and never through deceit. Judgement and pity forms one unit in Godâ€™s infinite compassion. But compassion also includes suffering: if during our travelling and pilgrimage we find our neighbour in a swamp, we have to get dirty in order to help her or him out.

Suffering and Sacrifice As a general rule, what arrives from the right side is destined to have an opposition. To confront this opposition, a certain master in a lifelong martyrdom took upon himself the appearance of sin, in order to build trust in Satan, cheat her/him, and gain from her/him the secret of sin. Among the grand Hasidic spiritual values we indeed notice the assumption of human suffering, reaching even as far as sacrificial death for others, including and involving their failures and sins. Notions very close to sacrificial death are those of conversion, repentance, and the metanoia of the righteous, which are even possible for the sake of and on behalf of all oneâ€™s neighbours. In this case, the sanctity of the believer sheds light on all people around her or him, making the Shekina, the concrete presence of God dwelling in the world, plausible, possible and believable in their being, too. Obviously, in this spiritual milieu the whole of existence is holy, from the molecules to the galaxies. God can use even the death of the just for attaining enlightenment for all those standing around her or his deathbed. The teaching of God makes its presence in all the parts and parcels of a righteous personâ€™s spiritual and psychosomatic being. The divine spark enables us to turn every little inch inside us again in the direction of God.

Nagypál Szabolcs: Spiritual Values in Hasidic Wisdom

Sublimation means making our intentions noble. In line with this idea, the pious are not asked or recommended to destroy their desires and passions, but to reconnect them to God and the Divine. In this way, there is wisdom, teaching, knowledge and behest revealed in each phenomenon of life, but only for those who have eyes to see, and for those who have ears to listen. Suggested Reading Ben-Amos Dan − Mintz Jerome R. (eds.), In Praise of the Baal Shem Tov. Bloomington, �� 1970. Berdyaev Nikolai A., Martin Buber: Die Chassidischen Bücher; Ich und Du; Zwiesprache; Königtum Gottes. Journal Put’ 1933/38. 87−91. http://www.berdyaev.com/berdiaev/berd_lib/1933_385.html Buber Martin, Ich und Du. Berlin, 1923. Buber Martin, Erzählungen von Engeln, Geistern und Dämonen. Gerlingen, 1934. Buber Martin, Der Glaube der Propheten. Heidelberg, 1941. Buber Martin, Die Erzählungen der Chassidim. Zürich, 1946. Gellman Jerome I., Martin Buber’s Blunder: Martin Buber’s Replies to Gershom Scholem and Rivka Schatz Uffenheimer. Modern Judaism 2000/1. 20−40. Scholem Gershom, Major Trends in Jewish Mysticism. Jerusalem, �� 1941. �� Wiesel Elie, Souls on Fire: Portraits and Legends of Hasidic Masters. New York, 1972. Schatz Uffenheimer Rivka, Hasidism As Mysticism: Quietistic Elements in Eighteenth Century Hasidic Thought. New Jersey, 1993. Nagypál Szabolcs (1974) is a graduate in ecumenical theology, law and literature. He works in the Benedictine Békés Gellért Ecumenical Institute (BGÖI) in Pannonhalma, and teaches philosophy in ELTE in Budapest. He was chairperson of KÖD (Magyar SCM) and CESR; and a member of ERC and ExCo. He is the moderator of the Theology Commission of the International Ecumenical Fellowship (IEF). He is the editor-in-chief of Student World, the Central European Ecumenical Anthologies, and was that of Mozaik. His email address is nagypalszabi@yahoo. com.

Novotny Dániel »»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»

‘Ghost in the Shell’: Solitude in the Technical Environment (Introductory Thoughts to Cybertheology) The cyber-theological concern about the future is how human beings can stay human beings in our new technological environment. This problem touches upon the fields of creation as an act, the relationship between Creator and creation, and the question of Imago Dei, the image of God in the human. Cyber theology is a solid branch of postmodern theological thinking. The problem of solitude is one of the main questions of postmodern philosophy, for example in the thinking of the French philosopher Jacques Derrida. Concepts of alienation and separation are basic terms in philosophical deconstruction. Let us recall Heimholz’ poem in Aldous Huxley’s famous negative utopia, the Brave New World (1932). Postmodernity surpasses loneliness as solely pain and suffering, and instead finds value and power in solitude, isolation and alienation. Loneliness is suffering and freedom at the same time. Aldous Huxley is very strong and modern in these ideas when he finds the essence of human being in solitude, isolation and alienation. This essay tries to show the negative and positive aspects of solitude, in a creative tension with the idea of security. We must distinguish between these two dimensions of human life, as one concerns community relations and the other personal relations.

Novotny Dániel: “Ghost in the Shell”

Solitude in Religious Community After Aldous Huxley moved to Hollywood, he gradually became interested in Buddhism and other Asian religions. As far as we can see, two of these religions appear very strongly in Brave New World. After all, the story of religions in India is very exciting in itself, as it faces the same conflict which appears in Aldous Huxley’s first utopia. Prince Gautama lived in a sealed-off virtual reality of perfection in his father’s court, who happened to be a king. All the people around Prince Gautama were young and healthy; there was only peace, joy and happiness. According to the tales depicting Prince Gautama’s Great Leaving, the break in the life of the Prince happened through some accidental events, when he suddenly encountered the three main forms of suffering—aging, sickness and death. The story of Prince Gautama (later commonly referred to as Buddha) directly appears when, in Brave New World, Bernard and Lenina arrive at the tribal village on top of the mesa, among the savages. They face the shocking experience of aged people, the dirt which covers everything, the dirt which is infection incarnated as the opposite of the hygienic cleanness they are used to, the dirt which is the sign of passing and mortality. And the reality of dirt and suffering is dramatically embodied in a weird couple, Linda and John. It is important to note here that Buddha is probably the only one among the founders of any religion who does not claim any divine origin for herself or himself. He claims that he is one in a million, as human as anyone else. His speciality is enlightenment, which is a condition, not the essence of the chosen ones. This kind of personal dimension of Buddhism gave a special meaning to human solitude, teaching that all people can have their own individual way to reach peace and fulfilment. The brave new world, the World State itself, is a reconstruction of Hinduism. The caste system as the basic organizing structure of a society is an important point in Hinduism. Alphas, betas, gammas and deltas are the vague parallels of brahmins, kshatriyas, vaishyas and shudras, and the epsilons are a kind of social outcasts, so to say dalits. Hinduism is a late reconstruction of the classical feudalist society,

which was supported by Brahmanism. Around 800 Abbot Sankara “initiated” Hinduism, whose spread had one main aim: to gather all who lived in the territory of India under the banner of one religious system. Buddhism was a drastic revolution against the oppressive caste system, which was heavily supported by Brahmanism. According to the then-status quo, all forms of organisation, punishment and retaliation were administered by religion. Contrary to this, Buddhism was built up on the decision, capacities and efforts of the individual human being. As a religion, Buddhism is open to all and accepts different and individual ways and roads. After the revolution comes the restoration of the caste system. The effort of Hinduism is to conserve oppressive feudalism, where religion comforts the members, saying: ‘Fulfil your job at your own place, and that will bring your reward and clean your karma.’ And the success of this brave new world has really been amazing. Today we can say that Buddhism has been almost fully eliminated from the Indian subcontinent, which is quite an astonishing phenomenon.

Novotny Dániel: “Ghost in the Shell”

Both of the religious movements, the despotic caste system of Hinduism and the individualist Buddhism, offer their solutions to the issue of solitude, providing security in their own distinct way. But we have to face one crucial question in this context: Who has real security? Freedom and the burden of personal responsibility or fitting into a well designed and oppressive system? These ways are also very contemporary to us, and we must have our own Christian understanding of the chances and defects of any given brave new world. Aldous Huxley’s Brave New World is also interesting in its conception of a highly technological society, which at the same time has a high proportion of active population, composed of workers and consumers. Today’s conception of technological progress tends more towards the idea that as technology progresses, machines replace people and there is less and less need for active persons. We can still see an important parallel in Aldous Huxley’s utopia and our world. As the human can become a well-programmed machine operating perfectly for the sake of the World State, likewise the machines can acquire some kind of spirit or soul from us, as we love and hate, praise and blame them, of course heavily impersonating them all the while. When we begin to treat machines as persons, real human beings and individuals step by step become unnecessary.

Solitude in Personal Religiousness Through technological advancement and the creation of machines, humanity builds up an artificial environment. Cyber theology deals with the fate of the humankind in this technical environment. And this is the framework in which we must orient ourselves to avoid dystopias. The artificial environment appears as a twofold reality, the environment of machines and the environment of the cyberspace. Now let us turn our attention to the relation between human being and machine. Ideally, the aim of tools, and also of the complicated tools called machines, is to ease the life of humanity, to help in our work and to reach goals which could not be attained without these tools and machines. As far as we can see, tools have had some kind of mystical relationship to their makers or users from the very beginning of human

Who is My Neighbour?

history. Even in ancient times, weapons, musical instruments and other items were ascribed supernatural or even religious qualities. They were helpers sent from above. Through technological advancement, as tools became more and more complicated and sophisticated, as common people understood less and less how they operated, machines were personified more and more naturally. Today common people are largely unable to understand the operation of complex machines, but we do not have to understand, because they are there at our service, so we just use them as we can. Using also means some kind of taking care of them, cleaning, protecting and feeding them with the needed resources. This situation leads us to a rather complicated relationship with machines. Cyber theology seriously deals with the idea of the robot, which is taken from science fiction literature. The idea of the robot is much more ancient and much more serious than we think at first. As a definition, we can say that a robot is an artificial creation which is the perfect and flawless tool for humankindâ€”the perfect machine. And of course it is the perfect human at the same time. The robot is the ultimate creation, where the terms operation and life blend together. Let us recall two films which can not be ignored in the framework of cyber theology. The first is the black and white Metropolis (1927) by Fritz Lang, based on the novel by Thea von Harbou. The second important movie concerning our topic is the anime Metropolis (2001) by RintarĂ´, the adaptation of the comics of Osamu Tezuka, which touches even more, very serious theological questions. Let us have a look at the diagram above, which we can sum up with the help of personalist philosophy, namely the concepts used by Martin Buber in I and Thou. The personal human being is named as I, and the machine is named as It.

Novotny Dániel: “Ghost in the Shell”

The I is the human, the subject. The It is the object, the artificial, the machine, the robot. There is no I three times, the relation is between one I and one It. The multiplication of the Is is just to show the subordinated relationality between the participants. This diagram is more like three cases in one picture. If we think about the anime Metropolis, all the relations are gathered around Tima, and this diagram can map all those connections. On the top of the figure there is the subordinated relation of maker and creation. The situation is simply degrading for the creation. We human beings possess the power of production; actually we are the power of production. Our products are there only in order to serve us and to satisfy our well-based needs and desires. They are items for personal use, which can be disposable and which become obsolete as time goes by. On the bottom of the diagram there is the opposite of the drastically subordinated relation. The human being, who realizes that she or he is defective, imperfect, insignificant and vulnerable, wishes to create the flawless and the perfect outside of herself or himself. This is how Tima is produced—or rather, created—a machineentity but also a perfect human. The I adores, admires and worships her or his own creation and raises it above everything else. In the middle of the diagram there is a strange relationship, which we can understand as a coordinated and mutual connection, mainly because there is something in it which can rightly be called love. There, an equal level of mutual relation was formed with the artificial object: I needs It, but It needs I as well. It helps me, but I support It with energy and resources. The relationship is formed on the same level. The machine becomes our partner and our companion. Involuntarily emotions are forming, ties and affections or even hate and anger are rising. Formidably, the It can become You in this very case. This development can be very complicated, but we can be certain about one thing: the emotions towards the partner-machine work actually towards ourselves. The partner feeling in itself is a projection of ourselves into an inanimate object, a kind of self-reflection. We can interpret all these three levels as escapes from solitude, based on a desire and a specific solution for security. These relationships are more like symptoms, and we are called to find their causes.

Who is My Neighbour?

Hopefully we were able to emphasize the depths of the cyber theological question: How can a human being stay a human being—human in the sense of the creature and image of God—in this technological environment?

How to Stay Human The theological conclusion is the following: the fulfilment of the human role is hidden in the sinfulness of the human being. This is our real heritage. Sin is the one thing we have to hold on to and stick to. Clinging to our sinfulness is the way to understand ourselves as God’s children, and to avoid a Brave New World or any other dystopia. In a way, it could be more gentle to say free will instead of sin. Free will sounds more like a gift, but if you think it through, you will see that finally they mean the same thing. Sin is the curse and also the blessing of human life. Following the Irenean logic, we can experience and value the good only if we have any idea and experience of the wrong. If we have never bitten into a rotten apple, we cannot enjoy one with a perfectly sweet taste. Good things get their value in the mirror of bad things. Sin gives meaning to goodness, care, meekness and love. Also, in a perfect world without sin, pain and suffering, there is no art, no poetry and no fine arts. In short, without our weaknesses, longings and desires, there are no dreams or fantasies. In this framework, being good and pure cannot be a social aim, but an act of redemption. Goodness is not something we do, but it is something that is done to us. It is the act of God, Who redeems us. The great chance of a religious human is that she or he can be free from automatic bindings, the shackles of sinfulness. This is what Martin Luther refers to in the Large Catechism in connection with the theme of baptism, when he is speaking of each-day-baptism or each-day-conversion. We do not have to be bound by our sins and wickedness of yesterday and the distant past; we do not have to say that we are on the path of sinfulness and in no way can we ultimately leave it for good. There is this renewing chance to say no to our behaviour of yesterday, and to get a new day, even a new life in terms of baptism,

Novotny Dániel: “Ghost in the Shell”

with a new start as a tabula rasa. There is power in our free will to willingly decide for good and love. So, let us go back to the Brave New World and other dystopias, and back to solitude either in wider society or in personal depths. We could say that the idea of absolute goodness and purity realized in a strict social structured utopia is a wilful perversion of human life. This perversion is a real trap of perfection. If we want to stay real and full human beings, not only robots and automated machines, the “gospel” of flawlessness brings a living hell into human society. It is mentioned in Aldous Huxley’s Brave New World that the Tsign of Ford comes from the cross of the Christians. Only the top line got severed. So let us just stop for a moment and think: What happens when we remove the upward direction from human life? Is the answer is a Brave New World? Suggested Reading and Watching Buber Martin, Ich und Du. Berlin, 1923. Derrida Jacques – Dufourmantelle Anne, De l’Hospitalité. Paris, 1997. Harbou Thea von, Metropolis. Berlin, 1926. Huxley Aldous, Brave New World. London, 1932. Lang Fritz, Metropolis. 1927. Orwell George, Nineteen-Eighty-Four. London, 1948. Rintarô, Metoroporisu (Metropolis: Robotic Angel). 2001. Tezuka Osamu, Metoroporisu (Metropolis: Robotic Angel). Osaka, 1949. Novotny Dániel is an Evangelical-Lutheran pastor in Hungary. Currently he is also a Ph.D student of theology at the Evangelical-Lutheran Theological University in Budapest, dealing with the philosophy of religion, describing the human effort towards God in a labyrinth model with the help of game theory. His email address is n.daaniel@ gmail.com.

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The Love of the OneEyed for the Fresco:

Some Thoughts on Love-as-One and Love-as-Many in Meister Eckhart Dedicated to Dorothy B. Every name and generally everything that introduces numericity or makes it enter (our) concepts or ideas is far from God, as according to Boethius God is “the truly one, in whom there is no number,” not even a thought one.

Deus Unus Est – God Is Loved, Because God Is One “The one who loves for real can only love one thing,” says Meister Eckhart in his Latin sermon Deus unus est. In the same sermon he states, “Every creature loves in God the One (unum) and loves him because of it, and loves him because God is One (unus).” In his German sermon got ist mynne, Eckhart reiterates the connection between the One and love: “When I say: ‘God is love’ (got ist mynne), then I say it in order that the Only-One would When referring to the critical Kohlhammer edition of Eckhart’s works Die deutschen und lateinischen Werke. (Herausgegeben �� im Auftrag �� der Deutschen �� Forschungsgesellschaft). �� Stuttgart, 1936ff., the German works are abbreviated as DW and the Latin works as LW, followed by a reference to the volume number and further specifications. In the case of Eckhart’s sermons that appear in the commented edition of Steer Georg − Sturlese Loris (eds.), Lectura Eckhardi (I−II.). Predigten Meister Eckharts von Fachgelehrten gelesen und gedeutet. Stuttgart, 1998., 2003., these are abbreviated as LE I and LE II. The initial quote is taken from Meister Eckhart, LW IV, Sermo IV. 31. Eckhart Meister, LW IV, Sermo XXIX. 264. “Vere amans non potest amare nisi unum.” Ibid.

Peter Šajda: The Love of the One-Eyed for the Fresco

remain in sight. Imagine: If one said that God is the love (got ist die mynne), then one could ask which love God is and think that there is more than just one love and would thus turn away from the Only-One.” The numeric aspect of love appears also in Eckhart’s Book of Divine Consolation, in which he claims that “One as one produces no love. Similarly two as two produce no love; two as one, this is the source of natural and fiery love full of desire.” Some of Eckhart’s statements on the connection between love and the One seem more common sense, some less. When the Thuringian Dominican provocatively claims love’s craving for the One is even the basis for homicide, the question arises whether the coupling of love and the One in Eckhart’s literary legacy is anything more than just a rhetorical or homiletic figure.

A Small Digression: Eckhart as a Mystic of Love Burkhard Hasebrink maintains that due to his usage of the erotic metaphorics of the Song of Songs, Eckhart can be seen as part of the tradition of love mysticism. The mystical metaphorics of divine−human interaction through kiss, embrace, etc. inherited from Origen’s Commentary on Canticle, Saint Bernard’s Sermones in Cantica, or the works of William of St. Thierry are, however, transcended in Eckhart’s reflections on love in the direction of the immediate union of God and human. Bernard McGinn explains the background of this controversial historical development by the fact that in the XIIIth century a new view of union–with an emphasis on substantial union–gained ground through such mystics as Hadewijch of Brabant, and was further elaborated by Meister Eckhart. McGinn admits, however, that as regards the temporal location of the advent of this phenomenon “it is difficult to tell exactly when or for what reasons.” Although Eckhart’s theology is often contrasted to the “classical” Eckhart Meister, LE I, Sermon 63. 202. See also the commentary on the sermon in Enders Markus, Das göttliche Wesen der Liebe im Verständnis Meister Eckharts. In Erbe und Auftrag (Benediktinische Monatsschrift). Beuron, 2003. 39–44. Eckhart Meister, DW V, Daz buoch der götlîchen troestunge. 30. Eckhart Meister, LE I, Sermon 63. 202. Hasebrink Burkhard, Commentary on Sermon 71. In LE I 241. McGinn Bernard, Love, Knowledge, and Mystical Union in Western Christianity: Twelfth to Sixteenth Centuries. In Church History (vol. 56.). The American Society of Church History, Chicago, 1987. 14ff. Ibid.

love mysticism (eg. Bernard of Clairvaux) and is considered to be more “speculative,” this article will try to provide some evidence for the colourfulness and originality of Eckhart’s reflections on love.

Back to the One: How to Love the Fresco on the Wall? In his sermon got ist mynne, Eckhart analyses in what way the one love of God is diffused in the multiplicity of the created world–in other words, how God has “scattered his love in all the creatures and still it remains as the Only-One in him”.10 The paradox of love as simultaneously undivided and distributed is illustrated in the sermon by means of two metaphors taken from medieval daily life. They direct the reader’s attention primarily to the dilemma which this paradox creates for the human. The first of the metaphors depicts the fact that a woman, when she finds pleasure in a certain colour, cannot get hold of it in its “undivided” form. She has to buy it together with the cloth to which it is applied. She cannot simply wear the red, she has to wear a red skirt. 10 Eckhart Meister, LE I, Sermon 63. 204.

Peter Šajda: The Love of the One-Eyed for the Fresco

The other metaphor points in a similar direction: “When a fresco is painted on the wall, the wall becomes its bearer. Now, who loves the fresco, loves the wall together with it. If one took away the wall, he would take away the fresco too. But take away the wall in such a way that the fresco remains: then the fresco becomes its own bearer.”11 Both of the metaphors illustrate the problem that the human, incapable of living with a paradox, ends up relating to love-as-distributed as if it were distinct from love-as-one. The human relates to her or his concrete condition, to this and that (hoc et hoc) without consciously relating to the One. In her or his mind the red skirt and the fresco become disconnected from their ultimate source. In this sense the human acts as a determined, finite and individual being in contrast to God, who in God’s one-ness and undividedness is capable of remaining indistinct and non-opposed to the multiplicity of created things.12 In God the red of the skirt and the red are not two: in God there is no number. Eckhart maintains, however, that in the human there is also something that enables her or him to transcend the position of a lover of fragmented and preference-based multiplicity, as God desires the divinisation (deiformitas) of the human leading to equality, as “love transforms the loving one into the loved one.”13

God as a One-Eyed Lover … The fact that God really wants equality with the human is illustrated in Eckhart’s works through a great variety of images. In his sermon Qui audit me, Meister Eckhart likens the joy of God when God finds God’s equal inside the human to the joy of a horse that has been set free on a grassland.14 In yet another instance Eckhart introduces a story about a woman who has lost an eye. When her husband comforts her in her distress, she replies to him: “Sir, I am not distressing myself about the fact that I have lost my eye; what distresses me is that it seems to me that you will love me less because of it.”15 Eckhart continues the story by recounting, “Not long after that 11 Ibid. 12 Beierwaltes Werner, Identität und Differenz. Frankfurt am Main, 1980. 102–103. 13 Eckhart Meister, LW II, 354. “Amor enim amantem transformat in amatum.” 14 Eckhart Meister, LE I, Sermon 12. 31. 15 Eckhart Meister, Sermon 53. In Colledge Edmund − McGinn Bernard (eds.), Meister Eckhart. The Essential Sermons, Commentaries, Treatises, and Defense. New York, 1981. 193.

Who is My Neighbour?

he gouged out one of his own eyes and came to his wife and said: Madam, to make you believe that I love you, I have made myself like you; now I too have only one eye.”16 This story, which the Meister makes use of also in his Commentary on John,17 is a paraphrase of an old narrative that appears already in Herrand of Wildonie18 and is a symbolic representation of what Eckhart sums up in his sermon In diebus suis placuit deo in the maxim, “Between a servant and a master there can never be equal love.”19 In Eckhart’s sermon the husband’s gouging out of his eye–the incarnation of God on behalf of the human that has sinned–is not so much about the repayment of the debt created by sin; rather it is a symbol that sin is ultimately incapable of blocking the equality of God and humankind and creating a master−servant kind of relationship between them. The evidence of the fact that Eckhart considered the doctrine of God’s desire for equality with the human obvious and fundamental can be found also in the Cologne Trial documentation, in which the theologian at the end of his life defended the very basis of his teachings. There he formulates this doctrine from the perspective of love with a reference to the authority of Aristotle and Saint Bernard: “Love knows no precedence, as Bernard says, either it finds equals or it creates equals. And according to the Philosopher there is no love between a servant and a master.”20 The invocation of the authority of the acknowledged teachers of the past shows that Eckhart was decidedly firm on the maxim that a blend of superiority and inferiority does by no means lead to anything related to equality.

… and not a Cow In a number of passages Eckhart ironises a particular stance of “the believers,” which by its very nature precludes equality between God and human: the instrumentalisation of God. In such a setting 16 Ibid. 17 Eckhart Meister, LW III. Expositio sancti Evangelii secundum Iohannem (No. 683.). 598. 18 Eckhart Meister, DW I. 378. (A footnote by Quint Joseph.) 19 Eckhart Meister, LE II, Sermon 10. 60. 20 Théry Gabriel, Édition critique des pièces relatives au procès d’Eckhart continues dans le manuscrit 33b de la Bibliothèque de Soest. In Archives d’histoire littéraire et doctrinal du moyen âge. 1926−1927. 244ff. The first reference is to the Pseudo-Bernardian Tractatus de charitate and the second to Aristotle’s Nicomachean Ethics. Book IV, Chapter 13.

Peter Šajda: The Love of the One-Eyed for the Fresco

God is perceived as a giver of this and that, an instrument with superior powers. In his sermon Omne datum optimum, the preacher depicts a situation in which God has been reduced to a tool through the following parable: “You are looking with God for something (concrete) and you behave as if you have turned God into a candle that you can use for your search; when one has found the things one has been looking for, however, he throws the candle away.”21 In yet another instance Eckhart avails himself of a similar image: “Many people want to look to God in the same way they look to a cow and want to love God as they love a cow. You love a cow because of its milk and the cheese and because of your own benefit. It is exactly in this way that those who love God for outer riches or inner consolation behave. … What they love is their own benefit.”22 Eckhart may seem strict here, but according to his statement in Sermo XXIX quoted in the opening lines of this article, the primus motor of the love of God is God’s One-ness, not God’s many gifts. Love for this and that, separated in our consciousness from Love-asOne, violates the principle stated in the introductory quote, which Eckhart borrowed from Boethius: introducing numericity (eg. multiplicity of gifts) into our concept of love implies fragmentation and thus directs the sight of the human away from the Only-One.

Dying to the Non-One: Eckhart’s Concept of Detachment It has been mentioned in the preceding paragraphs that Eckhart introduces a double emphasis: God is One and present in all things. It is precisely this double indistinctness that distinguishes God from creation. It has also been suggested that the human–the image of God–cannot be understood as mere multiplicity. The uncovering of the image of the One in the human requires embarking on the negative way (via negativa), enabling a vision of the Many through the prism of non-numericity. By implication, the via negativa is aimed also at the reconciliation of Love-as-One and Love-as-Many. Terminologically Eckhart refers to this process of learning to view multiplicity through its source (ie. the One) as detachment. 21 Eckhart Meister, LE I, Sermon 4. 6. 22 Eckhart Meister, LE I, Sermon 16b. 48. Otto Langer speaks in this context of “a depotentised God”. Langer Otto: Sich lâzen, sîn selbes vernihten. Negation und ‘Ich-Theorie’ bei Meister Eckhart. In Deutsche Mystik im abendländischen Zusammenhang. Tübingen, 2000. 326.

Who is My Neighbour?

Detachment as religiously motivated negation is a multi-layered concept aimed at creating free space inside the human for the action of the one God (vacare Deo). In the given context we look at it primarily from the perspective of “keeping the Only-One in sight”.23 Before discussing detachment any further, it may be helpful to introduce it with two short but elucidating references. The first one concerns Max Weber’s exposition that acts of negation have a fundamental significance for soteriological religions.24 The other stems from Meister Eckhart’s Book of Divine Consolation and sums up the ultimate meaning of religious negation: “God takes away only to give something greater.”25 Detachment (abnegatio, gelâzenheit, etc.)26 is, �� according to Eckhart’s sermon Qui audit me, a necessary condition for being able to hear the one God speak in the midst of the multiplicity of the world.27 It is aimed at enabling the human to approach and deal with the created reality characterised by corporality, multiplicity and temporality28 in such a way that her or his love for it does not lose the sight of the basal trajectory of Love-as-One. In his sermon Videns Iesus turbas, Eckhart depicts the multiplicity of created reality in the metaphor of the crowds (turbas). The gospel narrative of Jesus seeing a large group of people in front of him is read by Eckhart as a juxtaposition of the one (Jesus Christ) and the many (the crowd).29 Naturally, detachment concerns both the outside and the inside reality of the human–the self and the world. Thus it can be understood as “a practice of breaking-through into things and finding

23 Eckhart Meister, LE I, Sermon 63. 202. 24 For more detail see Langer Otto. 318. 25 Eckhart Meister, DW V, Daz buoch der götlîchen troestunge. 20f. See also Kampmann Irmgard, Ihr sollt der Sohn selber sein (Europäische Hochschulschiften, series 23, vol. 579.), Frankfurt am Main, 1996. 134. 26 For more detail on the etymology of the term detachment see Panzig Erik A., gelâzenheit und abegescheidenheit. Eine Einfürung in das theologische Denken des Meister Eckhart. Leipzig, 2005. 53–65., 101–113. 27 Eckhart Meister, LE I, Sermon 12. 26: ��“Wan der gotes wort hoeren sol, der muoz gar gelâzen sîn.” 28 Panzig Erik A., gelâzenheit und abegescheidenheit—zur Verwurzelung beider Theoreme im theologischen Denken Meister Eckharts. In Meister Eckhart in Erfurt (Miscellanea Mediaevalia). Berlin, 2005. 343. �� 29 Eckhart Meister, LE II, Sermon 72. 125.

Peter Šajda: The Love of the One-Eyed for the Fresco

God in all things,”30 as “a turning-away from being-this-and-that”31 or simply as “a detaching of the (human) spirit from all the created, the non-one and the non-divine.”32 When Eckhart expounds upon the gospel passage in which Peter draws Jesus’ attention to those who have left everything in order to follow him, the Meister interprets the word everything (omnia) as non-equality and explains: “Let us leave everything, ie. that through which all things are divided.”33 In her dissertation Claudia Altmeyer points out that the human is called to die to “the non-One … which is encoded in the human in the form of knowing, wanting and having.”34 This is an allusion to Eckhart’s famous sermon Beati pauperes spiritu, in which he presents the detached human as the one who knows nothing, wants nothing and has nothing, naming the three most basic “activities” of the self. As detachment concerns the deepest inner processes of the human, it calls for “the transcending of the natural and the discursive”35 and for “a purification of (our) cognizance of all the created and accidental reality fallen into multiplicity.”36 Or as Otto Langer puts it: “The presupposition of knowing God is the negation of particularity (abnegatio proprii) … Only when the creature transcends itself in the negation of itself (abnegatio sui), it recognizes itself as it really is: in God.”37 The fact that one should encounter the One inside oneself is expressed by Eckhart also through his repeated statements that one should be detached from his “Heinrich” or “Konrad,”38 whereby one’s own name is the symbol of one’s particularity rooted in multi30 Langer Otto, Zum Begriff der Innerlichkeit bei Meister Eckhart. In Abendländische Mystik im Mittelalter. Stuttgart, 1986. 21. 31 Albert Karl, Meister Eckharts Mystik der Seinserkenntnis. In Abendländische Mystik im Mittelalter. �� Stuttgart, 1986. 13. 32 Völker Ludwig, “Gelassenheit.” Zur Entstehung des Wortes in der Sprache Meister Eckharts und seiner Überlieferung in der nacheckhartschen Mystik bis Jacob Böhme. In �� Getempert und gemischet (Göppinger Arbeiten zur Germanistik 65.). Göppingen, 1972. 284. �� 33 Eckhart Meister, LW IV, Sermo LIII. 441.: “Relinquamus omnia, id est id, per quod sunt omnia divisa.” 34 Altmeyer Claudia, Grund und Erkennen in deutschen Predigten von Meister Eckhart. �� Würzburg, 2005. 114. 35 Largier Niklaus, Repräsentation und Negativität. Meister �� Eckharts Kritik als Dekonstruktion. In Lang Peter, Contemplata aliis tradere. Frankfurt am Main, 1995. 380. 36 Völker. 283. 37 Langer Otto, Zum Begriff der Innerlichkeit bei Meister Eckhart. 19–20. �� 38 Eckhart Meister, DW III, Sermon 77. 568.; �� DW �� III, Sermon �� 67. 529.

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plicity. To this Eckhart adds: “Pay good attention to your self. And wherever you find it, detach yourself from it.”39

Meister Eckhart: I Often Get Scared … In his sermon Misit dominus manum suam, Meister Eckhart declares explicitly that detachment is an integral part of his preaching agenda: “When I preach, I am accustomed to speak about detachment, and that one should be free of oneself and of all things.”40 On the other hand Eckhart also says that “I often get scared, when I should speak about God, how detached the soul must be if she wants to attain union.”41 As Bernard McGinn remarks: “At first glance, no concept in his thought seems more simple, though on closer inspection, the richness and subtlety of his understanding of detachment become gradually evident.”42 Aside from directing human existence towards the Only-One and encountering it in all things, detachment also leads the human towards a more general identity than what her or his particularity offers. It broadens the individual identity of a human (mensche) to encompass what lies beyond the particular and what the negated self opens up for: the dimension of humanity (menscheit). Transcending particularity by means of detachment does not lead the individual into a vacuum, but towards genuine fullness. The move from human to humanity; from persona to natura,43 is not a step towards acosmism, but towards integration. This step, prompted by detachment, is of vital importance for the loving capacity of the human too: “In the selfless love of the neighbour the human opens up for the social dimension and finds oneself, one’s ‘humanity’, in one’s fellow human.”44 Thus through detachment preferential love ceases to be the ultimate goal; “The 39 Eckhart Meister, DW V, Counsels on Discernment. 196. 40 Eckhart Meister, Sermon 53. In Meister Eckhart. The Essential Sermons, Commentaries, Treatises, and Defense. 203. 41 Eckhart Meister, DW III, Sermon 73. 266. �� 42 McGinn Bernard, Theological Summary. In Meister Eckhart. The Essential Sermons, Commentaries, Treatises, and Defense. 47. 43 Langer Otto, Zum Begriff der Innerlichkeit bei Meister Eckhart. �� 22. 44 Langer Otto, Meister Eckharts Lehre vom Seelengrund. In Grundfragen christlicher Mystik. Stuttgart – Bad Canstatt, 1987. 191.

Peter Šajda: The Love of the One-Eyed for the Fresco

totality of unity makes it reality that the detached human loves God in all things.”45 Eckhart’s insistence on God as One and on keeping the OnlyOne always in sight is an essential part of his doctrine of love. Disconnecting multiplicity from God in our consciousness disconnects also our perception of Love-as-Many from Love-as-One. But as the Meister attempted to explain to his mediaeal listeners and readers, creation needs to be loved in God, who is its origin. This can be done when the created reality is viewed and loved in its basal unity–“In the source, in the first outflux of all created things into time … when they still carry eternity in them, as they are just about to flow out.”46

Suggested Reading Enders Markus, Das göttliche Wesen der Liebe im Verständnis Meister Eckharts. In �� Erbe und Auftrag (Benediktinische Monatsschrift). Beuron, 2003. Steer Georg − Sturlese Loris (eds.), Lectura Eckhardi (I−II.). Predigten Meister Eckharts von Fachgelehrten gelesen und gedeutet. Stuttgart, 1998., 2003. McGinn Bernard, Love, Knowledge, and Mystical Union in Western Christianity: Twelfth to Sixteenth Centuries. In Church History (vol. 56). Chicago, 1987. Eckhart Meister, Die deutschen und lateinischen Werke. �� (Herausgegeben im �� Auftrag der �� Deutschen Forschungsgesellschaft). Stuttgart, �� 1936ff. Panzig Erik A., gelâzenheit und abegescheidenheit–zur Verwurzelung beider Theoreme im theologischen Denken Meister Eckharts. In Meister Eckhart in Erfurt (Miscellanea Mediaevalia). Berlin, 2005. Völker Ludwig, “Gelassenheit.” Zur Entstehung des Wortes in der Sprache Meister Eckharts und seiner Überlieferung in der nacheckhartschen Mystik bis Jacob Böhme. �� In Getempert und gemischet (Göppinger Arbeiten zur Germanistik 65.). Göppingen, 1972. Peter Šajda was born in 1977 in Bratislava, Slovakia. He completed his studies in modern philology in 2001 at the Philosophical Faculty of the Comenius University in Bratislava. He participated in study programmes in Denmark (Aalborg, Copenhagen) and Switzerland (Geneva). He is Roman Catholic and a member of the Order of Preachers. He was a member of the European Regional Committee (ERC) of WSCF Europe, an editor of Student World, and the chairperson of WSCF CESR. He is the editor-in-chief of Mozaik. His email address is sajdus@ yahoo.com.

45 Hasebrink Burkhard, Formen inzitativer Rede bei Meister Eckhart. Tübingen, 1992. 73. 46 Haas Alois M., Commentary Sermon 12: Qui audit me. In LE I 39.

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The Love of the OneEyed for the Fresco:

Peter Šajda: The Love of the One-Eyed for the Fresco

Who is My Neighbour?

Peter Šajda: The Love of the One-Eyed for the Fresco

Who is My Neighbour?

Peter Šajda: The Love of the One-Eyed for the Fresco

Who is My Neighbour?

plicity. To this Eckhart adds: “Pay good attention to your self. And wherever you find it, detach yourself from it.”39

Peter Šajda: The Love of the One-Eyed for the Fresco

45 Hasebrink Burkhard, Formen inzitativer Rede bei Meister Eckhart. Tübingen, 1992. 73. 46 Haas Alois M., Commentary Sermon 12: Qui audit me. In LE I 39.

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Søren Kierkegaard and His Prayers Sometimes it is said that small countries, unlike large ones, cannot influence history in any major way. In a way this is true, but if we take as an example the kingdom of Denmark, we can see that its role in shaping the world’s cultural and spiritual heritage is certainly not insignificant. Recently there were several anniversaries that remind us of this fact; let us mention some—the bicentennial anniversary of Hans Christian Andersen’s birth, and the 120th anniversary of the birth of Karen Blixen (1885−1962), who wrote under the name of Isak Dinesen. The literary talent of the Danes has garnered international recognition; they have been awarded three Nobel prizes, those of Karl Adolph Gjellerup and Henrik Pontoppidam (in 1917) and Johannes Jensen (in 1944). Last year was also the 150th anniversary of Søren Aabye Kierkegaard’s death (1813−1855). He spent most of his life in Denmark, the only exception being his three visits to Germany. Who was Søren Aabye Kierkegaard? Was he a philosopher, a religious thinker, a theologian, a prophet or a reformer? There are many answers to this question, but the main truth is that Kierkegaard studied protestant theology (1830−1840) in Copenhagen and all of his work and thinking was on the borderline between theology and philosophy. Hermann Deuser, a professor of theology, offered this insightful notion on the nature of Kierkegaard’s work: “Kierkegaard did not develop his conception of religiousness with a historical, theological, or dogmatic intention.”

Deuser Hermann, Religious Dialectics and Christology. In Hannay Alastair − Marino Gordon D. (eds.), The Cambridge Companion to Kierkegaard. Cambridge, 1998. 377.

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Fundamental Prayer Our study portrays Kierkegaard as a Christian who was in a theological battle and never ceased proclaiming aspiration to the Christian ideals. We can see his attitudes both in his published works and his journals and papers, which he often starts with a prayer that reflects the union of his life and his way of thinking. Kierkegaard’s prayers and his thoughts about prayer helped him to fulfil his main role: clarifying and fulfilling the idea of what it means to be a Christian. As we look at his prayers, we will understand more about how Kierkegaard prayed and how important and significant prayer was for him. The following thoughts on the topic are characteristic of Kierkegaard’s understanding of prayer: “Father in Heaven! You hold all the good gifts in Your gentle hands. Your abundance is richer than can be grasped by human understanding. You are very willing to give, and Your goodness is beyond the understanding of a human heart, because you fulfil every prayer and give, what we pray for or what is far better than what we pray for. “Give everyone her or his allotted share as it is well pleasing to You, but also give everyone the assurance that everything comes from You, so that joy will not tear us away from You in the forgetfulness of pleasure, so that sorrow will not separate You from us.” Prayer is a manifestation of the human spirit in its relation to God and “cannot exist without God being active.” Similarly, he considered prayer to be “a good and perfect gift from the Father of lights” and “the greatest joy on Earth.” Prayer is “God’s order,” a God whose “eye surveys humankind with anxious care.”

Kierkegaard Søren Aabye, Eighteen Upbuilding Discourses. Princeton, 1990. 79. Ligus Jan, Medziludska komunikacia (Interpersonal Communication). Banska Bystrica, 2002. 110. Kierkegaard Søren Aabye, Eighteen Upbuilding Discourses. Princeton, 1990. 139. Kierkegaard Søren Aabye, Papers. VIII 1, A 532. Kierkegaard Søren Aabye, Papers. IX, A 316. Kierkegaard Søren Aabye, Philosophical Fragments or a Fragment of Philosophy. Princeton, 1946. 25.

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Prayer and Suffering Kierkegaard’s personal prayers found in the Papers are from the years 1834−1842 and tell us much about the hardships he had to overcome in his life, as well as about how he handled his health problems: “Give a person such a productive talent, and along with that such feeble health, and verily he will learn to pray.” On his relationship with his father: “How I thank you, Father in Heaven, for having kept an earthly father present for a time here on Earth, where I so greatly need him with your help.” His father, Michael Pedersen Kierkegaard, was a very religious and pious man, strongly influenced by pietism and the devout nature of Moravian (Czech) Brethren. He was very strict with his son. Skjoldager Emanuel. His Personal Prayers. In Thulstrup Niels − Thulstrup Marie Mikulová (eds.), Kierkegaard as a Person. Copenhagen, 1983. 156. Kierkegaard Søren Aabye, The Point of View. London, 1939. 68.

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In the Corsair Affair,10 which was called the most renowned controversy in Danish literary history, the weekly magazine Corsair publicly mocked Kierkegaard. In response, he expressed his thankfulness to God: “God be praised that all the assaults of rabble barbarism have come upon me.”11 Søren Aabye Kierkegaard prayed also when he was deciding about his future work as a pastor: “For several months I have been praying to God to keep on helping me, for it has been clear to me.”12 He also prayed about his relationship to Regina Olsen, his fiancée: “Think of her in prayer.”13 There is an interesting journal entry for August 1848: “I quit praying for Rasmus Nielsen, for I was not patient with him, but as soon as I felt I was sinning against him, I talked it out in my relationship with God.”14 Søren Aabye Kierkegaard was very firm in one peculiar aspect: “If God does not know me, all is lost.”15 He also sought help from God to renew his mind: “O Lord, my God, give me again the courage to hope. Merciful God, let hope once again make fertile my sterile and barren mind.”16 In one of his crucial journal entries, he neatly sums up the line of his prayer life. There he admits that at first he was praying for gifts, happiness and prosperity; then, however, an important change occurred: “This has now changed. How did it happen? Very simply, but gradually. Little by little I became more and more aware that all those whom God actually has loved, the prototypes and others, have all had to suffer in this world.”17

10 Rubow Paul, Goldschmidt og Nemesis. �� Copenhagen, 1968. In Kierkegaard Søren Aabye, The Corsair Affair. Princeton, 1982. VII. 11 Kierkegaard Søren Aabye, Papers. VII 1 A 229. 12 Kierkegaard Søren Aabye, Papers. VII 1, A 4. 13 Kierkegaard Søren Aabye, Either/Or. �� Princeton, 1971. II/319. 14 Kierkegaard Søren Aabye, Journals. �� 815. 15 Kierkegaard Søren Aabye, Papers. VI B 161. 16 Kierkegaard Søren Aabye, Papers. III A 91. 17 Kierkegaard Søren Aabye, Papers. �� X, 5 A 72. Søren Kierkegaard was the youngest of the seven children of his parents. Five of his siblings died before they were 33. Kierkegaard had to live with this knowledge that he will not live up to his 33rd birthday. The magazine “Corsair” kept picking on him in its volumes, published caricatures. Kierkegaard put his love for God on the first place and for this reason he broke up his engagement with Regina Olson. Despite this he loved her till the end of his life. His name is in the literature always connected with her name.

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Prayer as a Revelation of God Kierkegaard’s prayers give us a unique insight on his personal problems and difficulties. His spiritual experience, with the help of which he was able to overcome his problems, strengthened and encouraged him in his faith. Faith was his goal and prayer was its means. He was sure that “avoiding the personal approach” to God is a good way to “open doors for all kinds of problems.”18 That is why he appeals to the reader: “Close your door and pray to God and you have the highest a person can have; love your Saviour and you have everything in life and death.”19 Prayers expressed Kierkegaard’s relationship, hope and love for God. Kierkegaard asked in his prayer: “Whither should we turn, if not to Thee, Lord Jesus Christ?”20 To him, Jesus Christ was the only possible way of salvation. He did not forget to mention, in his allusions to bishops Martensen and Mynster and the theologians of the XIXth century, the difference between wisdom and academic knowledge: “The purity of heart is precisely the wisdom that is gained by praying; a person of prayer does not pore over scholarly books but is the wise person ‘whose eyes are opened, when she or he kneels down’ (Numbers 24,16).”21 In his writings Kierkegaard made an attempt to describe God’s qualities, for example God’s omnipotence, which “are still the same mighty God”22; or God’s constant nature expressed in love: “O Thou, Who art unchangeable, Whom nothing changes! Thou, Who art unchangeable in love.”23 He stressed the loving relationship between God and humans: “You loved us first. Help us never to forget that You are love.”24 Marilyn Gaye Piety maintains that “Kierkegaard is fascinated by the claim in 1Peter 4,8 that “love hides a multitude of sins.”25 18 Kierkegaard Søren Aabye, Papers. XI 2 A 134. 19 Kierkegaard Søren Aabye, Works of Love. Princeton, 1995. 69. 20 Kierkegaard Søren Aabye, Christian Discourses: Three Discourses at the Communion on Fridays. Princeton, 1971. 361. 21 Kierkegaard Søren Aabye, Upbuilding Discourses in Various Spirits. Princeton, 1993. 26. 22 Kierkegaard Søren Aabye, Eighteen Upbuilding Discourses. Princeton, 1990. 7. 23 Kierkegaard Søren Aabye, The Unchangeableness of God. In Bretall Robert (ed.), A Kierkegaard Anthology. Princeton, 1972. 470. 24 Kierkegaard Søren Aabye, Papers. IV B 171. 25 Piety Marilyn Gaye, Good Faith. In Perkins, Robert, Eighteen Upbuilding Discourses. International Kierkegaard Commentary. Macon, 2003. 157.

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Kierkegaard called God the God of Love, because “You, Who spared nothing, but in love gave everything”26 and confesses to his Father in Heaven: “Your abundance is richer than can be grasped by human understanding.”27 Through his prayers, Søren Aabye Kierkegaard wanted to point to God’s love, through which God is willing to listen to sincere prayers: “God to Whom one prays is human, has the heart to feel humanly, the ear to hear a human being’s complaints; and even though God does not fulfil every wish, God still lives close to us and is moved by the struggler’s cry, by his humble request.”28 Kierkegaard also stressed the fact that Jesus Christ “prayed for His enemies.”29 It is through prayers that Kierkegaard came to better terms with his critics in the Danish society, who wanted to ban further publishing of his works. Søren Aabye Kierkegaard also pointed out the differences between God and humans and the need of the human for a relationship with God: “Father in Heaven! What is a human being without You!”30 In another of his prayers, he asked God to make one weak; for the weaker we are, the stronger God becomes in us.31 So, another aspect of prayer was the realization of one’s own guilt before God. A person has a “chance to learn something new about oneself” and find out something new when she or he admits to her or his faults and she or he adds: “Prayer does not change God, but it does change the one who prays.”32 In another prayer he begs: “Lord Jesus Christ, let Thy Holy Spirit enlighten our minds and convince us thoroughly of our sin, so that, humbled and with downcast eyes, we may recognize that we stand far, far off.”33

26 Kierkegaard Søren Aabye, Works of Love. Princeton, 1995. 5. 27

Kierkegaard Søren Aabye, Eighteen Upbuilding Discourses. Princeton, 1990. 79.

28 Kierkegaard Søren Aabye, Eighteen Upbuilding Discourses. Princeton, 1990. 387. 29 Kierkegaard Søren Aabye, The Present Age. Two Minor Ethico-Religious Treatises. London, 1940. 134. 30 Kierkegaard Søren Aabye, Upbuilding Discourses in Various Spirits. Princeton, 1993. 7. 31 Kierkegaard Søren Aabye, Christian Discourses: The Crisis and a Crisis in the Life of an Actress. Princeton, 1997. 133. 32 Kierkegaard Søren Aabye, Upbuilding Discourses in Various Spirits. Princeton, 1993. 22. 33 Kierkegaard Søren Aabye, Christian Discourses: Three Discourses at the Communion on Fridays. Princeton, 1971. 371.

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Unity of Prayer and Life Kierkegaard wrote that “prayer expresses the greatest pathos of infinity, which is comical, for it is practically incomparable to anything we may be able to express externally.”34 He compared prayer to breathing, so if a person does not pray, she or he will die spiritually.35 Truly inspiring is Søren Kierkegaard’s attitude to pleas in his own prayers: “Lord, my God, I really have nothing at all for which to pray to You; even if You promised to grant my every wish, I really cannot think of anything, except that I may remain with You, as near as possible in this time of separation in which You and I are living.”36 In another prayer he says that a Christian “does not demand help, but prays for God’s grace.”37 “Kierkegaard fought passionately against the cheap grace of the contemporary Danish Lutheranism.”38 It is the term “cheap grace” (billige Gnade) of the German theologian Dietrich Bonhöffer that is most often joined together with Kierkegaard’s attack on the Church of Denmark.39 Furthermore, Kierkegaard expresses a wish that we would never forget what it really means to be a human being, and that we would learn from the lilies and birds, learn silence, obedience and joy.40 Søren Aabye Kierkegaard was very sure that living as a true Christian is not at all easy or of a second nature, but rather that God demands a person’s whole effort and expects everybody to follow God. We may rightly use Peter Gazik’s beautiful words about Justin the Martyr, applying them to Søren Kierkegaard himself: “Being a philosopher meant to him having a mission and fulfilling it.” 41 As he prayed in his life, he asked God to show him how to imitate 34 Kierkegaard Søren Aabye, Concluding Unscientific Postscript. Princeton, 1971. 83. 35 Kierkegaard Søren Aabye, Papers. IX A 462. 36 Kierkegaard Søren Aabye, Eighteen Upbuilding Discourses. Princeton, 1990. 392. 37 Kierkegaard Søren Aabye, Christian Discourses: The Crisis and a Crisis in the Life of an Actress. Princeton, 1997. 64. 38 „�Kierkegaard hat aber leidenschaftlich gegen die billige Gnade des damaligen dänischen Luthertums gekämpft.“ (Schmidt Johann Hermann) In Evangelisches Lexikon für Theologie und Gemeinde (Evangelical-Lutheran Lexicon for Theology and Community). �� Wuppertal − Zürich, 1998. �� II/1071. 39 There is an essay published dealing with Dietrich Bonhoeffer in Slovakia too, by one of the prominent scholars studying the works of Bonhoeffer: Ligus Jan, Víra a teologie Dietricha Bonhoeffera (The Faith and Theology of Dietrich Bonhoeffer). Bratislava, 1996, 112. 40 Kierkegaard Søren Aabye, The Lilies of the Field and the Birds of the Air. Princeton, 1971. 311−356. 41 Gažík Peter, Justín Martýr a jeho doba (Justin Martyr and his Age). Martin, 2003. 58.

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his Saviour and to live according to the principle of “no one can serve two masters” (Matthew 6:24). That prompted the following prayer in him: “Would that we might be willing to comply with them by doing accordingly, that is, by following You!”42 Following with all the consequences meant to Kierkegaard having to martyr the body and soul, and that is why he asks Jesus Christ for courage to follow. A great example of this kind of following was Dietrich Bonhoeffer, whose tragic death in a concentration camp “marked his theology with reality when he did not give up his faith in Christ as the one and only Lord, when the Nazis wanted to replace Him with the cult of a God-equal human.”43 “Certainly Bonhoeffer himself provided a living illustration of what it can mean to take the gospel seriously in Kierkegaardian terms.”44

Prayer for the Dying Kierkegaard did not forget the importance of prayer for the last days of a human life: “When our days are numbered and the outer being is wasting away, death may not come in its own name, cold and terrible, but gentle and friendly, with greetings and news, with witness from You, our Father in Heaven!”45 Søren Aabye Kierkegaard’s friend, the pastor Emil Boesen, who visited Kierkegaard in the hospital shortly before his death, described their discussion from 18 October 1855, when Kierkegaard told him the following: “So I pray first for the forgiveness of sins, that everything might be forgiven; then I pray that I might be free of despair at the time of my death, and I am often struck by the saying that death must be pleasing to God.”46 “Kierkegaard’s arch-enemy was Christendom, the comfortable cultural synthesis of official piety and socio-political convenience.”47 42 Kierkegaard Søren Aabye, For Self-Examination. Judge For Yourself! Princeton, 1990. 148. 43 Gazik Peter, Ohlas niektorých európskych filozofických a teologických prúdov medzivojnového obdobia v myslení Samuela Štefana Osuského. In Ondrejovicˇ Dušan. (ed.), Evanjelická teológia na prahu nového tisícrocˇia. Zilina, 2001. 173. 44 Watkin Julia, Kierkegaard. London − New York, 1997. 103. 45 Kierkegaard Søren Aabye, Eighteen Upbuilding Discourses. Princeton, 1990. 79. 46 Kirmmse Bruce , Encounters with Kierkegaard. Princeton, 1996. 124. 47 Kirmmse Bruce, Kierkegaard and 1848. In History of European Ideas. 1995. XX/167.

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Kierkegaard died on 11 November 1855, unreconciled with the Church but reconciled with God. Kierkegaard’s critical view of the Christian Church is possibly one of the main reasons why his religious influence was relatively small, not only in Denmark, but in the religious world as a whole. Very famous scholar Walter Lowrie wrote “At all events, Søren Aabye Kierkegaard’s impact upon the Church in Denmark is nil.”48 What we note from this overview of Søren Aabye Kierkegaard’s prayers and reflections on prayer is his spiritual (prayer) development, and we can see how important and vital prayer was in his life. To him, prayer was his way to God and was of an immense importance. This statement is confirmed by Perry LeFevre, who wrote: “From the beginning of his return to Christianity until death, Søren Kierkegaard was a person of prayer.”49 Suggested Reading Bretall Robert (ed.), A Kierkegaard Anthology. Princeton, 1972. Hannay Alastair − Marino Gordon D. (eds.), The Cambridge Companion to Kierkegaard. Cambridge, 1998. Kirmmse Bruce. Encounters with Kierkegaard. Princeton, 1996. LeFevre Perry, The Prayers of Kierkegaard. Chicago, 1956. Lowrie Walter, Translators and Interpreters of S. K. Theology Today, 1955/3. Thulstrup Niels − Thulstrup Marie Mikulová (eds.), Kierkegaard as a Person. Copenhagen, 1983. Watkin Julia, Kierkegaard. London − New York. Outstanding Christian thinkers. Geoffrey Chapman 1997. Works of Søren Kierkegaard in English The Point of View. London, 1939. The Present Age. Two Minor Ethico-Religious Treatises. London, 1940. Philosophical Fragments or a Fragment of Philosophy. Princeton, 1946. Either/Or. Princeton, 1971. Christian Discourses: Three Discourses at the Communion on Fridays. Princeton, 1971. Concluding Unscientific Postscript. Princeton, 1971. The Lilies of the Field and the Birds of the Air. Princeton, 1971. The Corsair Affair. Princeton, 1982. Eighteen Upbuilding Discourses. Princeton, 1990. For Self-Examination. Judge For Yourself! Princeton, 1990. Upbuilding Discourses in Various Spirits. Princeton, 1993. Works of Love. Princeton, 1995. Christian Discourses: The Crisis and a Crisis in the Life of an Actress. Princeton, 1997. Journals. Papers.

Roman Králik (1973) studied pedagogy, philosophy and theology in Banská Bystrica and Nitra, Slovakia, and in Praha, Czech Republic. He took part in a research programme at St. Olaf College – Hong Kierkegaard Library and published a number of articles dealing with the thinking of the Danish philosopher Søren Kierkegaard. In 2005 he established the Kierkegaard Collection in Slovakia, which is the only specialised library of this kind in Slovakia. He has a doctorate in theology from HTF UK in Praha. He is the author of the recently published monograph Problém Zvaný Kierkegaard (The Problem Called Kierkegaard). His email adress is kierkegaard@centrum.sk.

48 Lowrie Walter, Translators and Interpreters of S. K. Theology Today, 1955/3. 312. 49 LeFevre Perry, The Prayers of Kierkegaard. Chicago, 1956. 196.

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Faith as the ‘Leap of Passion’ I have been reading Søren Kierkegaard’s book Fear and Trembling (1843—not my favourite of his works, but marvellous in patches). The book addresses the question, ‘What is faith?’ It takes Abraham’s willingness to kill his much-loved son Isaac, at God’s request, as the example—virtually the paradigm—through which to understand the real meaning and dynamic of faith. In fact, the Old Testament provides many examples of faith in action, of faith being lived. But Abraham is called the ‘Father of Faith.’ His example somehow is the root of all the other portraits of faith through out the Old Testament.

I. Faith is the Leap of Passion Kierkegaard’s first concern is to show that the notion of faith widespread in the religion of his day—and it would still apply to our day—has cheapened it to such an extent that “what is talked about [should] ... not properly [be] called faith at all.” Kierkegaard makes many distinctions in order to discern the difference between real faith and various alternatives. Like all existentialists, he says the distinctions that matter in life are not hard to make so much as hard to face. Facing up to faith is extremely difficult: most human beings, especially the religious, falsify faith because they want to avoid what faith asks of them in their action, what it asks them to give in their living. Faith is a step too far, a leap too deep. Thus in trying to clarify the Old Testament story of Abraham being asked to sacrifice his son Isaac, Kierkegaard stresses we should be made to appreciate what it was like to be Abraham undergoing the trial of faith. Abraham underwent something inexplicable and painful, and achieved something great. Kierkegaard Søren Aabye, Fear and Trembling (tr. Hannay Alistair). London, 1985. 13.

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But what did he undergo, and what did he achieve? Until we can answer—or if not answer then at least delve and explore—these questions, we will never understand faith. Faith is not a matter of reflection or thinking. Faith starts where thinking ends. You cannot think yourself into faith, because faith is an action—Kierkegaard will call this action the leap of passion— and no thinking can bring about this action required by faith. Kierkegaard refers to passion as a movement we make. In my writings, this is described as a movement of the heart; only passion can move the heart: only passion is the heart making its move, going into action, laying itself open, putting itself forth, giving its sweat, tears, and blood, to existence. This is a leap because it is a step out of the safe and known and a step into the dangerous and the unknown. Passion leaps into an abyss. Kierkegaard says that the movement involved in faith “requires passion. Every movement of infinity occurs with passion, and no reflection can bring about a movement. That is the ... leap in life which [accounts for] the movement. ... What we lack today is not reflection but passion. For that reason our age is really ... too tenacious of life to die, for dying is one of the most remarkable leaps.” In effect, giving the heart to existence, on the basis of faith, is accepting death. It is a sacrifice. And sacrifice is at the heart of Abraham’s struggle and suffering of the passionate leap required by God if he is to follow faith. His son is not only personally loved by him, the son’s very appearance so late in Abraham and Sarah’s life is a miracle. God’s promise to Abraham that he will be the father of generations to come will be lost if Isaac is killed. Faith demands of Abraham the sacrifice of precisely what he most wants from life, what he most values and is most precious to him. The willingness of Abraham to make this sacrifice is extraordinarily costly; moreover, no human morality can justify it, for a father killing a son cannot be squared on any ethical grounds possible to imagine. Abraham’s action cannot be rationalised, moralised, or made any sense of whatever; it is a leap into the deep and dark abyss, and as such, is radically irrational. Passion is irrational: it exceeds, and defies, the sensible limits within which most people elect to live. Faith is not that credulity, or naive innocence, of the child which must be outgrown and replaced by a more sober experience. For Kierkegaard Søren Aabye, Frygt og Bæven (Fear and Trembling). København, 1843. 71.

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Kierkegaard, faith sets us the profoundest task, and challenge, of our human existence. What is tested in faith is not whether God exists, but God’s love and our love in relation to God’s. To attain faith, a struggle and a suffering must be embraced; this is the “genuinely human factor.” Kierkegaard says that increasingly in his day—and it is only worse now—people believe the problems of life can be solved by the mind, but the mind’s ‘solutions’ merely make the task, and problems, of existence seem to disappear. Worse, we believe former generations have resolved these problems, entailing that “succeeding generations inherit the solutions without having to face the problems.” To counter this pervasive evasion created by the mind, Kierkegaard argues we need “an honest seriousness which fearlessly and incorruptibly calls attention” to the task set by faith, and embraces its challenge with the leap of passion. “However much one generation learns from another, it can never learn from its predecessor the genuinely human factor. In this respect every generation begins afresh, has no task other than that of any other previous generation, and comes no farther. But the highest passion in a human being is faith, and here no generation begins other than where its predecessor did.” “Faith is the highest passion in a human being. Many in every generation may not come that far, but none comes further.” Kierkegaard admires Abraham as a person of faith for —what he loved: God —what he trusted: the impossible, the absurd, the irrational—what he strove with: God.

II. Alternatives to Faith As well as rejecting the widespread secular belief that faith is a type of regressive childishness to be outgrown as we enter a more adult consciousness of existence, Kierkegaard also distinguishes faith from two other stances: 1. the æsthetic stance, which is, if anything, even more pervasive in our day than Kierkegaard’s; and 2. the ethical stance. Kierkegaard Søren Aabye, Frygt og Bæven (Fear and Trembling). København, 1843. 145. Kierkegaard Søren Aabye, Fear and Trembling (tr. Hannay Alistair). London, 1985. 12. Kierkegaard Søren Aabye, Frygt og Bæven (Fear and Trembling). København, 1843. 145. Kierkegaard Søren Aabye, Frygt og Bæven (Fear and Trembling). København, 1843. 145. Kierkegaard Søren Aabye, Frygt og Bæven (Fear and Trembling). København, 1843. 146.

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1. The Æsthetic Stance The æsthetic stance—this is a stance very widespread, and neatly fitting in with capitalism. Kierkegaard describes it as a way of life in which everything is treated æsthetically. By this he means not reacting to things for their beauty, or artistic merit; rather, “treating something æsthetically is to grasp it in terms of the immediate impact it makes, of how it strikes you in the here and now, of its tendency to attract or repel you. It is to treat life itself as a repository of objects of longing and loathing ... in short as a pool of goods [of whatever kind] to be secured and the lack of them avoided. The æsthetic life is a life dedicated to ‘immediacy.’ This is a life ‘absolutely committed to relative ends.’” “‘Absolute commitment’ to something relative is intended to smack of contradiction.” In this stance, people seek sensations, experiences, and wondrous events. But because they are dedicated to relativism, their seeking does not lead anywhere and it produces no learning of life lessons. In the æsthetic life there is no passion, only a bee hopping from flower to flower: living for the moment, and living for what you can get.

2. The Ethical Stance The ethical stance—though Kierkegaard would admit there are very many different types of moral codes, his aim is to show that morality of any kind is not to be regarded as an end in itself, but rather, as serving something bigger and more mysterious than morality as such. He is particularly at pains to show that each and every one of us has a relationship to God, and a duty to God, that can clash with any socially based morality, where we are told that we must serve what people consider their best collective interest. Bob Dylan drew close to this in his lyric when he sang, “To live outside the law, you must remain honest.” Abraham’s willingness to kill Isaac cannot be reconciled to any system of rationality, or of morality, which humans can invent. It makes no rational or moral sense. Rationally, it is insane; morally, it is a crime. Kierkegaard Søren Aabye, Concluding Unscientific Postscript (tr. Hong Howard V. − Hong Edna H.). Princeton, 1992. 42. Kierkegaard Søren Aabye, Fear and Trembling (tr. Hannay Alistair). London, 1985. 9.

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God may have commandments, but what God is doing with the world, and asks us to join in with when we become persons of faith, is deeper and greater, but more perplexing and more sorrowing, than any sticking to the rules of an ethical code can encompass. This is why faith cannot be explained, or even put into words. It can only be invoked by the story of what faith ‘undergoes,’ ‘does,’ and ‘achieves.’ A story tells faith’s deed, its living. Indeed, the Old Testament has little theology, if any at all; it has little in the way of creeds or doctrines; it has a moral yoke, and a burning love for righteousness and social justice in regard to the whole communal setup, not just the individual. Yet, the Old Testament is not at all a compendium of moral exhortations; it is a strange and beautiful series of stories, in which persons of faith, who are seeking righteousness and justice, not only betray it, but are placed in testing situations that reverse and render paradoxical what it means to love righteousness and justice. All Jewish moral concerns are put in a bigger and deeper context of faith throughout the Old Testament stories. The hero or heroine of faith often has to transgress morality to find what morality serves, not as an end in itself, but pointing to something profounder. Faith requires what God calls “truth in the inward parts,” and a change of heart motivation, a change of basic heart stand. The Old Testament is sacred because it tells the story, and stories, of faith.

3. Passionate Faith Faith is passionate, not æsthetic, not ethical—thus Kierkegaard puts faith way beyond the relativising (liberal) æsthetic life, a kind of superficial and desperate eros, and way beyond the universalising (conservative) ethical life, a kind of superficial and rigid thymos. And faith is not what we start with, as children, but is, rather, what we should aim to end with as adults. “No one goes further.” Out of faith comes the holy passion of love’s sacrifice.

III. Faith vs. Resignation Kierkegaard has a section where he distinguishes the ‘knight of resignation’ from the ‘knight of faith.’ He paradoxically claims that resignation is necessary to faith, but faith is a movement, a step, beyond resignation.

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What he means by resignation seems close to what in my writings I have called the wound of existence, the inescapable tragedy and suffering of existence that affects every person ‘thrown’ into this world, though the æsthetic and ethical stances are ways of trying to avoid recognising this. Resignation implies, then, realising that what we most want from the world cannot be realised; Kierkegaard is not speaking here of wanting bad things, but wanting good. The possibility we see in the finite is denied us, by the world’s very nature, and through resignation we embrace this sorrowful condition of things. Faith must ‘accept’ the woundingness of existence, yet it finds in this loss something that resignation, by itself, cannot find. It finds grounds for hope and meaning in the very loss of hope and meaning. Viktor Frankl, who came through the concentration camp, is a supreme illustration of a person of faith having to be resigned, but yet taking some further step in faith not possible to those who are merely resigned. I think this distinction vital, though I do not think Kierkegaard’s wrestling with it is his best work. His account does not quite penetrate its inner paradox, though he notes the distinction, and notes it is indeed a paradox to say faith arises just where all hope, all meaning, is lost. We can put this distinction between resignation alone, and resignation that leads to and includes faith, in another way: is not this the distinction between the so-called religious existentialists, who find in darkness the only real light and fire, who find in suffering the only basis for hope and joy, as opposed to the anti-religious existentialists? In the former camp I put Kierkegaard, Marcel, Jaspers, Berdyaev, Tillich, the later Camus, and supremely Martin Buber. In the latter camp I put Nietzsche, Heidegger, the early Camus, and supremely Jean Paul Sartre. Both camps embrace the inescapable danger, cost, uncertainty and angst of existing; all pitch their tent on the Edge, in the Gap, on the Cross, of existence’s wound. Yet for some, this only produces resignation: a strengthening of a sort of existential heroism, an existential ‘tough guy’ stand; while for others this is the very trial that both destroys pseudo- yet remakes genuine faith. Both go through the long dark tunnel, the lonesome valley, but in

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one stance, this produces resigned acceptance, with its toughening; while in the other stance, this produces the most terrible despair and most grounded faith. The person of faith ‘accepts’ in a different way, and somehow emerges from the tunnel changed in a different way, and somehow emerges from the valley to a different place, a new mystical land of the heart. The resigned are loners, but the resigned-with-faith never stand alone, but give themselves away, embracing sacrifice, for their sisters and brothers. Faith is never just faith in God; faith is always also faith in humanity. In writing an earlier paper on passion, I tried to distinguish these two types of existential struggle and suffering through contrasting Buber and Heidegger, the person of faith vs. the philosopher of the ontological. I did not resolve it. I do not aim to resolve it here. I want to leave it as a question. What is the acceptance of existence’s wound that makes us stronger and tougher in our isolate stand, and what is the different acceptance of existence’s blow and dæmonic fate that reduces us to rubble, or burns us to ashes, yet restores us to a different heroism, a heroism of passion’s love—for God, for humanity? The latter acceptance is just as resigned as the former acceptance; both embrace a savage loss, and say yes to it. Neither believes in religious fairy tales. Both are resigned in the sense Kierkegaard defines it, as “renunciation of the human possibility of possessing the whole world.” Yet for one, it is the gate to the proof that the infinite has abandoned the finite, and we are each of us here alone; while for the other, it is the gate to the faith that the infinite must wound the finite to restore it to our care in a new way. We did not care for the wrong things, but we cared in the wrong way; these things will be returned to our care, but we will care in a new way. This new care will be dead to the old way of caring, and thus it can be called dispassionate; yet, in caring in a new way, without limit or impediment, it can be called the ultimate passionateness. What is the final demonstration of the foolishness of faith to the one is to the other the profundity that upholds faith. For faith leaps into the abyss not to commit suicide, nor to throw itself away, but to answer a call, and in the trust that it will be upheld.

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Resignation renounces the naive hope in the world: that it will deliver to the heart what it wants. Faith loses the world in the same way, but paradoxically restores the heart to love of the world, but in a new way, on a whole new basis. This new way Kierkegaard calls the absurd, and I call it the irrational. Lost to us as human possibility, the world is ‘given back’ to us as a divine possibility: the world is regained in faith. Abraham is not murdering Isaac, nor throwing him away in resigned sadness; Abraham is giving Isaac back to God, so as to receive his son again on a new basis.

IV. Good and Evil Passion Kierkegaard conveys a sense of what Eastern Orthodox Christianity calls the fallen passions, and what Buddhism calls delusive cravings, in this passage. “If at the bottom of everything there were only a wild ferment, a power that twisting in dark passions produced everything grand or inconsequential: if an unfathomable, insatiable emptiness lay hid beneath everything, what would life be but despair?”10 ‘A wild ferment, a power that twisting in dark passions’ produces all the nightmares of history, all the big and small soap operas, full of Macbeth’s ‘sound and fury, signifying nothing’—could a better description of the evil passions as described by the desert tradition of Egypt be found? These passions, despite their noise and tumult, their seeming movement and bogus action, end in despair. They do not amount to a hill of beans. They lead nowhere and accomplish nothing. They fill our empty lives, but leave that emptiness worse when their caravan has passed by. Through the delusive cravings and evil passions, we traverse and end up falling into an abyss that is empty, an abyss that is void and vacuous. It sucks our life and our passion down. But this does not entail, as both Eastern Orthodox and Buddhist monasticism too often suggest, that passion per se is delusive, or passion per se is evil. As the term fallen really implies, something true has lost its way and become false; but it can recover, stand up again, and return to honest seriousness and courage towards its task and challenge, by making its sacrificial action. The heart can 10 Kierkegaard Søren Aabye, Fear and Trembling (tr. Hannay Alistair). London, 1985. 49.

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change; the heart that moves in falsity can change direction and move in truth. God will never give up on the human heart. Thus, there must be no transcending of delusive craving, or evil passion, by ascending into some passionless spiritual state. To aim at this is the huge error in virtually all monasticism, with some important exceptions. Rather, the delusive craving or evil passion is to be healed and changed—even though this needs a dying—to the true passion of the deep heart that can leap. This is the passion of love’s fire, this is the ‘burning’ in us of faith; such faith heals and restores passion to its true calling, which is to test and prove God’s love for the world in our love for the world. Faith tests the nature and dynamic of the only real love we can rely on in this world. Passion: the finite opening to the infinite, through a wound; passion: the infinite opening to the finite, through a wound. Kierkegaard speaks of faith as the highest passion; I prefer to speak of passion as deep. And what Kierkegaard does not note, oddly, is the parallel between Abraham and Isaac and God and Jesus Christ. Abraham’s agony is a human reflection of something divine. A father called to sacrifice his son: this is the deed that grounds faith, giving to it the vow and promise that upholds it in the abyss where it must leap and where it must struggle and suffer. But at the last minute this sacrifice is not required of the human— because God is telling the human it is God’s sacrifice. Abraham does not have to sacrifice Isaac because God the Father will sacrifice God’s only begotten Son, the Logos become divine-human as the Christ. It is God’s faith that is deep, and our faith, leaning on his, becomes deepened. For the sacrifice we make, of the human, out of faith in God, is bound to and leans on the sacrifice God makes, of the divine, out of faith in us. Praise be to the faith of God in humanity and the faith of humanity in God. The sacrifice that secures love for the world is irrational, because in it a father sacrifices his child—that another child will not be lost. Thanks be to the passionate heart of God. Thanks be to the passionate heart of humanity which carries, as a wound and a burden, the passionate heart of God.

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Jamie Moran: Faith as the ‘Leap of Passion’ Suggested Reading Hannay Alistair, Søren Aabye Kierkegaard. London, 1982. Kierkegaard Søren Aabye, Frygt og Bæven (Fear and Trembling). �� København, 1843. Kierkegaard Søren Aabye, Fear and Trembling (tr. Hannay Alistair). London, 1985. Kierkegaard Søren Aabye, Concluding Unscientific Postscript (tr. Hong Howard V. − Hong Edna H.). Princeton, 1992. Lowrie Walter, Short Life of Søren Aabye Kierkegaard. Princeton, 1965. Jamie Moran was born in the United States of America, of Red Indian and Celtic descent, but he married and now works in England. At 22, he converted from Tibetan Buddhism to Russian Orthodox Christianity; he works as a therapist and senior lecturer on counselling and psychology at a university in London. He is writing a novel on the conflict between settlers and indigenous peoples in the American West of the XIXth century, and he is a sub-chief in the Cante Tinze (Brave Hearts) Warrior Society of the Oglala Lakota (Sioux) at Pine Ridge, South Dakota. His email address is J.Moran@roehampton.ac.uk.

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Adrián Slavkovský »»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»

Credit Cards of the Holy and Dirty Money of Faith: Shapes of Religion in Contemporary Society A phenomenon which is generally referred to as religion has been present in various shapes throughout the whole history of humankind. Only the last centuries have brought a mass expansion of atheism. When many assumed that religion would successively expire, something else happened. At the end of the second millennium a new bloom of religion happened in many forms. But this is not a simple comeback of the good old times of religion, especially not of traditional religious communities and institutions.

Globalization and Secularization Politics, economics, science and entertainment have been shaping the life of society much more than religion, which remains on the margin of society. This process of the loss of impact of religion on development is described as secularization. Further, another process—globalization—is connected with secular elements of the culture—mainly with the development of science and technology, with the improvement of mass media and means of transport, and with the increasing influence of the world market. As a result of this process, various religions meet and influence each other, mix together and there emerge new forms of religion. Especially people of the Western civilization live in a multireligious environment.

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Many thinkers agree with facts related to the concepts of secularization and globalization. But the question is how to explain these facts and the processes that led to them. Which are the motive forces of secularization? Does religiousness in a society weaken or strengthen? Does religion have an impact on the political life of a given society or not? How should we Christians respond to these developments? Such questions represent a challenge for us. We constantly have to seek answers, to discuss, to engage in dialogue, even if our opinions may differ. While contemplating the changes and ambiguities of contemporary religion, a comparison with money can come to our mind. As money has changed its form from coins to the “invisible” money behind credit cards, likewise religion changes to the more “invisible” form of private religion, as described by sociologists. And just like the value of money continuously provokes abuse (counterfeit banknotes, false cheques, laundering of dirty money), the value of religion also tends to be abused (indignity and instigation to hatred in the name of religion, religious wars). Money and religion endure, although they undergo transformations. What is behind all these changes?

Institutionalization of Faith Religion has a social dimension as well. It is not only the private affair of an individual. Religious people have always formed communities, worshipped together, established various social structures with different roles within them. In religious communions similar sociological regularities recur as in other human groupings. One of them is the process of institutionalization. Ideas, works or movements which are not institutionalized fade away and vanish with their bearers. But when they survive, they give rise to institutions; and the field of religion is not an exception to the rule. An interesting interpretation of institutionalization is described by Peter Berger and Thomas Luckmann, in their book Social Construction of Reality: “Social order is not part of the ‘nature of things,’ and it cannot be derived from the ‘laws of nature.’ Social order exists only as a product of human activity. All human activity is subject to habitualization. Institutionalization occurs whenever there

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is a reciprocal typification of habitualized actions by types of actors. Put differently, any such typification is an institution. Institutions always have a history, of which they are the products.” Religions have their roots in the deep experiences of the Holy—mysterium tremendum et fascinans —which have visited some individuals: experiences of something noble which transcended them. After they had shared this experience with others and had created some patterns of symbolic perceptible expressions of their experience, new religious groups could rise and spread. This is possible because experience of the Holy to a certain extent is owned or experienceable to all. With the growth of the group, the process of institutionalization begins.

Consequences of Social Control “Institutions, by the very fact of their existence, control human conduct by setting up patterns of conduct, which channel it in one direction as against the many other directions that would theoretically be possible.” Institutions also produce mechanisms of sanctions, but they are of a secondary or supplementary kind. The primary social control is given in the existence of an institution as such. Social control leads to some limitations, which always evoke tensions between individual and group interests. An institutional world is experienced as an objective persistent reality, external to the individual. However massive the objectivity of the institutional world may appear to the individual, yet it is a humanly produced, constructed objectivity. As Berger and Luckmann note, “Reification is the apprehension of human phenomena as if they were things, that is, in non-human or possibly suprahuman terms. The reified world is, by definition, a dehumanized world. It is experienced by one as a strange facticity, an opus alienum over which one has no control.” The possibility of reification is never far away and also threatens religious communions. Words, gestures, art, feasts, customs, all of which used to refer to noble transcendence, beauty and truth, can Berger Peter − Luckmann Thomas, The Social Construction of Reality. A Treatise in the Sociology of Knowledge. New York, 1966. 52−54. Otto Rudolf, The Idea of the Holy. New York, 1950. Berger − Luckmann. 55. Berger − Luckmann. 89.

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become empty and misunderstood and can return to a set of rules restricting the people. Another important subprocess of the social construction of reality is legitimation. “It is a second-order objectivation of meaning.” It has some interesting implications—for example, every society produces a symbolic universe. Legitimation leads to the division between official and heretical symbolic universes, which are joined with repressive procedures. On the occasion of confrontation between two societies with conflicting universes, the result will depend more on the power than on the theoretical ingenuity of the respective legitimators. Inquisition and religious wars confirm these theses.

Reasons and Consequences of Secularization The complexification of society is joined with specialization. In early modern Western societies, religion had noticeably separated from other social institutions. Development in such a society has a paradoxical character. On the one hand, there is a tendency to extend individual freedom more and more, but on the other hand members of the contemporary society are more dependent in a new and sophisticated way. In many spheres of life they have options to choose between rival institutions, services and products: in politics, economics, education, and also in the religious area. It seems that the pressure of such a lifestyle on an individual is finally greater than in less technically advanced societies, as the increased measure of stress on people shows. This tension between freedom and dependency is visible also in the religious life of people as a tension between individual religiousness and official religion. This is described as a privatization of religion. There emerge new religious groups and movements and together with globalization, spreading and mixing of older religious traditions, this establishes the situation of the “demonopolization of the religious market.” With the increasing number of religious entities, the credibility and self-evidence of all of them sharply decrease. Individual identity, including its religious dimension, is under Berger − Luckmann. 92. Lužný Dušan, Náboženství a moderní spolecˇnost. Sociologické teorie modernizace a sekularizace (Religion and Modern Society. Sociological Theories of Modernization and Secularization). Brno, 1999. 79.

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stood as a private affair. This demand for autonomy is connected with consumer orientation. Religions have also turned into goods on a great market of ideas, worldviews, reference systems of transcendence and rituals. Thomas Luckmann in his book The Invisible Religion says that the dimension of the Holy is mostly constituted in the “invisible” sphere of privacy, where the deepest and most moving discussions about that sphere occur.

Freedom and Responsibility It is not easy to react to all these developments. There are two simplified, but—in my opinion—incorrect answers. One of them is the boundless relativization and the other is fundamentalism. Both of these are an expression of fear: one represents the fear of responsibility, the other the fear of freedom. They comprise an escape from reality and an unwillingness to accept facts as they are. Bryan Wilson describes secularization as a transition from a smaller community (Gemeinschaft) lifestyle to a big society (Gesellschaft) lifestyle. The first is characterized by face to face relations, an emphasis on emotionality and a symbolic universe which refers to transcendence. The second represents a vast rationally coordinated group of people with complicated structures, impersonal relationships and an emphasis on rationality. Secularized society does not need references to transcendence, because there a strong belief dominates that it is fully and coherently explained only by means of rationality. The Christian Church should take such analyses seriously. Christianity is also threatened by too much rationality and cold institutional relations. This can lead to dissatisfied people leaving the Church and converting to a competitor in the religious market. The personal approach is very important also in the case that the other is neither a present nor a prospective member of the Church.

Luckmann Thomas, The Invisible Religion: The Problem of Religion in Modern Society. New York, 1967. 106. Wilson Bryan, Religion in Sociological Perspective. Oxford – New York, 1992. 149−160.

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Contrasting Expressions of Faith In archaic societies an individual was too much bound to her or his community and depended on it, so she or he had to accept all aspects of the community life willy-nilly. Only later, when individual freedom became greater, was it possible to realize that religion can have its dark side just as all other human activities. The meme theory says that every valuable and successful cultural meme provokes the emergence of many false imitations of this meme: they are similar to the good meme, but they are harmful. False banknotes are good example of this phenomenon. If we look at history, since the axial age every period and every place somehow confirm the ambiguity of religion. Significant personalities, in various cultures, have evaluated religion with contradicting judgments. Some linked it to the best within human beings, saying that it is precisely religion which helps to complete the development of an individual as well as the development of humankind by discovering the spiritual dimensions of life. Thus, religion should be the treasure of human culture, the best within it. Others, on the other hand, asserted that religion led people to infatuation, dependence and in the end to violence and murder in religious conflicts and wars. Thus, religion was a sign of immaturity, the worst and therefore most useless element of a culture. Probably no other sphere of life, perhaps with the exception of politics, is perceived in such a radically contradicting way as religion. Why is this so? Does religion contribute to peace or to violence? Does it help to build bridges between cultures and hostile groups and thus contribute to the extension of a dialogical approach to otherness? Or does it support exclusivist language and thought, prejudices and barriers, and so exacerbate existing tensions? People need a spiritual dimension in life. The spiritual development of individuals and of humankind, however, is a very fragile process as well. Mistakes in it have taken a heavy toll. Persecuting “bad religious teachings” or “heresies” in the name of the right one does not seem to be a good solution. I suggest a careful analysis of the problem, learning from our mistakes, and education for dialogical thinking. I hope that it will contribute to peace, reconciliation and the harmonious development of humankind. Blackmore Susan, The Meme Machine. Oxford, 1999.

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Problems with sects, esoteric and new religious movements represent one example connected with the ambiguity of religion. Some expressive events like the collective suicide of members of a California group, the drama of the Order of the Solar Temple, and the carnage caused by the Aoum Sect in Japan gave rise to great anxiety or intolerance as reactions to the world of sects. How can we protect society from such groups, but at the same time not restrict religious freedom? This question is so important that the Council of Europe dealt with it twice and issued some recommendations.10 The freedom of conscience and religion is guaranteed by Article 9 of the European Convention on Human Rights, but there is no accepted legal definition of religion.

The Ambiguity of Own and Alien Religion is a multidimensional phenomenon, a complex reality; and therefore it is not possible to find precise borders between the religious aspect and other aspects of the life of an individual or of a society. They influence each other and so it is difficult to come to genuine reasons for some observable facts. The psychic structure of people influences their religious behaviour. There are many aspects which can be analyzed: the difference between witnessing and manipulation; the role of the subconscious in religious experience; religious behaviour as a defensive mechanism on occasions of unmanaged troubles. Let us focus now on the problem of how religious people reconcile themselves to the experience of the alien or the strange. The phenomenon of own or proper on one hand and of alien or strange on the other hand is familiar to all people. If something is radically alien, it appears to us mostly as threatening and dangerous, because it threatens our certainty, although sometimes we meet it as an attraction and a challenge. Nevertheless, the radically alien often causes disquiet. Therefore, people want to release themselves from a storm of the alien so that they try to get it under control. And they often succeed in this; unfortunately, sometimes at the price of a violent subjugation of the alien. This kind of conduct can have various forms, from pressing oneâ€™s own opinions on others in the family to the colonial ruling of other cultures. 10â€ƒ Council of Europe, On Sects and New Religious Movements (1992). http://assembly.coe.int/main.asp?Link=/documents/adoptedtext/ta92/erec1178.htm

Council of Europe, Illegal Activities of Sects (1999).

http://assembly.coe.int/main.asp?Link=/documents/adoptedtext/ta99/erec1412.htm

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Sensitivity Towards the Strangeness of Strange In spite of the fact that horror alieni is deeply rooted in us, it is possible not to surrender to it and take alien as alien. In Buddhism this is taught by means of koansâ€”short puzzle-stories which contain contradictions. They have no logical solution, but teach the necessity of bearing the tension of mystery in pursuit of enlightenment. From this point of view enlightenment can be characterized as sensitivity for the strangeness of the strange. The strange or alien points to the fact that my world is not complete, and that there is something which transcends me and my perception of the order of universe. Those who bear up the strangeness of the strange can experience a peculiar paradox that that which was alien after some time will emit the warmth of home. Such an experience of alien as the Holy can deeply touch an individual. Probably religions are sediments of various ways to understand, express, and hand over these experiences. This is done in their sacred texts, rituals, and social structures. But it again creates a new paradox. Tradition offers the warmth of home and so within it all references to transcendence are something familiar, proper and possessed. Then also the absolute, if it is God, gods, Tao, Brahma or Nirvana, is only some pattern in good accustomed Logos. Yet religions are the best soil in which first of all seeds of sensitivity for the strangeness of the strange, seeds of genuine transcendence bud.

Experience of the Holy Remaining alien as alien is the essence of religious experience. Radically expressed, it means the wishing of otherness. Yet as historical phenomena religions brought only sediments of such experiences. They could not directly hand over these experiences, although they incited them repeatedly. Therefore religions did not avoid mutual struggles for power and influence, even bloodshed. They forgot transcendence as openness for radical strangeness. The importance of religious experience shows that membership in a religious community, the use of religious language and symbols, and participation in worship are only external expressions of some-

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thing more essential which is, however, inner. These expressions do not form the essence of religion. They rather build conditions in which the process of spiritual maturing can beâ€”but not necessarily isâ€”successful. History shows people as seekers of God, absolute, and transcendence, but much more as a people who long for home, for certainty; people who fear the alien and want to dispose of it, even at the price of violence. But the more one tries to escape that which is alien, the more radically the alien manifests itself. In this time of globalization, religions suddenly stand face to face with each other, without the possibility of escaping the challenge of the alien, as it used to be in the past. Interreligious dialogue is a difficult test for us. If we stand the proof, surely a new spiritual culture, a culture of the wishing of otherness, a culture of love will arise.

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Distinguishing Positive and Negative Aspects of Religion Is ambiguity intrinsic to the nature of religion? Or in other words: Do the religions in which many people find supreme spiritual truth at the same time necessarily encourage violence? Is there no way to avoid this fate? In order to try to solve this question, we must distinguish a twofold understanding of religion: as a real phenomenon, a set of cultural facts; and as an ideal reality which is expressed by facts only insufficiently. In the first understanding, facts confirm the ambiguity. But in the second understanding religion is not necessarily connected to violence. Edward Schillebeeckx explains it on the basis of the mediational character of a religious relationship. “The difficulty is that this relationship to the Absolute is never given in a ‘detached’ way,” it is always ‘wordly’ intermediated. And these intermediaries can be elevated above their own status and promoted to the status of the will of God. “In that case false alliances can spur on religious people to religious violence in the name of their relationship to the Absolute.”11 There are also other spheres of life in which we have some ideal notions, yet it is very difficult to draw the bounds between the ideal reality and its false imitations. This is true, for example, for art. Another example is Plato’s dialogue, the Sophist, which deals with the problem of how to distinguish between a wise philosopher and a selfish sophist who only appears to be wise. This dialogue is considered as one of Plato’s deepest.

New Way of Life Is it possible to avoid these dangers? An already increasing awareness of them can help. We can confine the social control in religions to the lowest, most necessary measure. Religious people should try to revive religious experiences and to bring spirit into religious institutions. Also a balance between keeping tradition and facing new challenges is needed. In relationships to others we should avoid generalization. Large communities often have a complicated inner structure. Official atti11 Schillebeeckx Edward, Documentation: Religion and Violence. Concilium 1997/4. 132.

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tudes or the attitudes of majorities do not represent automatically the attitudes of all individuals or groups. We can perceive the whole range of relationships to others: indifference, mutual misunderstanding, rivalry, attempts to command or control others, hatred, taking others as a necessary evil, tolerance, dialogue, cooperation, respect, love. A bad experience with people of another faith does not warrant us to judge all who belong to the same tradition. The decline of the Church in Western societies in the last centuries used to be interpreted also as a decrease of spirituality. But the need for a spiritual dimension somehow belongs to human life; it is only the ways of satisfying this need which has changed. There some questions arise for the Church. Which is more important: the salvation of all traditional institutional aspects of the Church, or the salvation of concrete contemporary people as they are? But on the other hand there is another dilemma. Is it good for the Church to conform too easily to the new sociological situation and give up the treasures of its tradition, or is it better to struggle very sensitively for new ways of handing down the Christian tradition to new generations? Such questions are primarily practical, and therefore, only a certain way of life can be a proper answer to them. But, first, they need a theoretical analysis and understanding. This paper with some considerations and proposals is one among the efforts aimed at this goal.

Suggested Reading Berger Peter − Luckmann Thomas, The Social Construction of Reality. A Treatise in the Sociology of Knowledge. New York, 1966. Blackmore Susan, The Meme Machine. Oxford, 1999. Council of Europe, On Sects and New Religious Movements (1992). http://assembly.coe.int/main.asp?Link=/documents/adoptedtext/ta92/erec1178.htm Council of Europe, Illegal Activities of Sects (1999). http://assembly.coe.int/main.asp?Link=/documents/adoptedtext/ta99/erec1412.htm Luckmann Thomas, The Invisible Religion: The Problem of Religion in Modern Society. New York, 1967. Lužný Dušan, Náboženství a Moderní Spolecˇnost. Sociologické Teorie Modernizace a Sekularizace (Religion and Modern Society. Sociological Theories of Modernization and Secularization). Brno, 1999. Otto Rudolf, The Idea of the Holy. New York, 1950. Schillebeeckx Edward, Documentation: Religion and Violence. Concilium 1997/4. 129−142. Wilson Bryan, Religion in Sociological Perspective. Oxford – New York, 1992. Adrián Slavkovský (1963) is a philosopher from Slovakia. He completed mathematical studies at the Faculty of Mathematics and Physics of the Comenius University in Bratislava, and he also graduated at the Theological Faculty of the Palacký University in Olomouc. He is a graduate of Ecumenical Studies at the WCC Bossey Ecumenical Institute. He received his PhD degree in the University of Trnava, where he teaches Philosophy and Religious Studies. He is a member of the Order of Preachers, a Roman Catholic priest, and engaged in interreligious dialogue. His email address is adikregi@gmail.com.

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Milenko Obradovic´ »»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»

Human Rights in the Next Sixty Years: Have We Made any Progress? Writing on human rights is always difficult because there is such a huge discrepancy between theory and real life, between proclaimed principles and everyday practice, that it makes one feel sad and hopeless. But we have to admit that discussing human rights issue is not a futile endeavour; on the contrary, it is necessary and important to write and talk about this issue, because it could help to lessen this mentioned disparity between theory and practice regarding human rights. It is particularly difficult to discuss human rights in the light of the ethnic conflict in the former Yugoslavia in the last decade of the XXth century. As it is commonly known, the former Yugoslavia fell apart ten years after the death of Josip Broz Tito, who kept the lid on the ethnic tensions for nearly four decades using political and military power.

Roots of the Conflict The former Socialist Federal Republic of Yugoslavia (SFRJ) was composed of six republics: Serbia, Croatia, Bosnia-Herzegovina (BiH), Macedonia, Montenegro (Crna Gora) and Slovenia; as well as two autonomous provinces within Serbia: Kosovo-Metohija and Vojvodina. Its extremely complex ethnic composition was the legacy of its history: the Kingdom of Serbs, Croats and Slovenes was formed in 1918 by the Treaty of Versailles, which redrew the map of Central and Southeast Europe. Yugoslavia, envisioned as a union of all the south Slavs, was cobbled together from the debris of historic

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empires: Ottoman, Habsburg, the Kingdom of Hungary and the Republic of Venice. Although technically the south Slavs were one ethnic group, during thousand years of settlement on the Balkan peninsula they had formed different national identities based on history and religion. The two biggest nationalities were Serbs, following the Orthodox tradition, in areas historically part of Byzantine Empire and Croats, who were following Roman Catholic tradition. To make things even more complicated, during the 500 years that the Ottomans ruled Serbia and Bosnia-Herzegovina, a large percentage of the population, especially in Bosnia-Herzegovina, converted to Islam. Both Serbs and Croats were part of this mass conversion, but they gradually built up their own national identity as Muslims and became known as Bosniaks. It was the Serbs who fought hardest for the formation of the Kingdom of the Serbs, Croats and Slovenes, and after it was formed it was the Serbian royalty who sat on the throne. Other national groups, notably the Croats and Bosniaks, felt the Serbs unfairly dominated political power in the country; and eventually, during the chaos of World War II, the Yugoslav Kingdom descended into civil war. Every bit as bloody as the war that was raging on the rest of the continent, the Yugoslav civil war exposed ethnic tensions in all their horror. Supported by Nazi Germany and Fascist Italy, Croatian fascists known as Ustaše tried to purge the country of Serbs, Jews and Roma, even setting up their own concentration camps for the purpose. In opposition to the Ustaše, Serb royalists known as Chetniks fought for the continuation of the monarchy. Other Serbs, rejecting the royalist view, formed a significant part of the communist Partisans. Some Bosniaks were active in the partisan movement, while others sympathised with the Ustaše. In the end the Partisans emerged victorious, and after the war Yugoslavia was reconstituted as a communist country under the “benevolent dictatorship” of Josip Broz Tito. Although the exact number of Ustaše victims is unknown, it is estimated that 32 000 Jews and 40 000 Roma were killed; Serbian casualties have been put at between 300 000 and 700 000. No

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accurate count exists of the victims of Partisan and Chetnik crimes during the war, but it is generally acknowledged that, while their crimes did not match the extent of the Ustaše’s, atrocities were committed on all sides.

Reappearance of Latent Ethnic Tensions Before Slovenia and Croatia declared independence in 1991, the Yugoslav Federation was in the grip of a severe economic and political crisis, with which the Communist Party found itself unable to cope after having lost its charismatic leader, Josip Broz Tito. The old ethnic tensions from World War II started to grow even amongst the Communist Party members, which eventually led to the disintegration of this leading political structure and the breakup of the country as whole. After the breaking away of Slovenia and Croatia, Macedonia and Bosnia-Herzegovina also decided to declare their independence in 1992. While the SFRJ collapsed and disappeared from the political scene, its old problems remained and soon led to terrible ethnic wars throughout the 1990s in the various independent republics. The SFRJ was led by the Communist Party, which seized power after World War II and promptly banned any discussion on ethnic strife in Yugoslavia which took place under the occupation by Nazi Germany and Fascist Italy (1941–1945). In the name of a proclaimed sisterhood and brotherhood among the Yugoslav ethnic groups and so-called higher goals, it was strictly forbidden to speak or write on the crimes which were committed by paramilitary groups in the ethnic conflict that occurred during World War II and substantially worsened the relations between the nations of Yugoslavia. It is now more than obvious that this was not the best way to handle a highly sensitive issue such as war crimes that were committed during the ethnic conflicts in the then-occupied territory of the Kingdom of Yugoslavia. The lack of proper and thorough investigation of these crimes, as well as the lack of an open discussion, were among the reasons for such a swift demise of the SFRJ. But of course, this was not the only reason. The failure of the economy and the expensive as well as inefficient administration, both based on communist ideology, greatly contributed to the break-up of Yugoslavia as a political entity.

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We have to emphasize, however, that the almost fifty years of Yugoslavia’s existence are seen by many as a “golden age” for all ethnic groups in this country, because it secured peace for half a century and helped the economic recovery after the war. It is true that the communist authorities in the SFRJ did not have an outstanding human rights record, especially in the first several years following World War II, but even in this field the situation was slowly improving during the 1970s and the 1980s. For instance, one could have practised religion and stayed out of the Communist Party without having any fear or need to hide. Of course, it did mean that such a person could not be openly engaged in politics, since all political power was in the hands of the Communist Party.

People Without a Home The crisis which gripped the SFRJ in the late 1980s was unexpected for the majority of its population. Nobody had believed that, after almost fifty years of life under one roof, the people of Yugoslavia could take up weapons and start to fight against one another. Serbs, Croats and Muslims had not just lived in the same country, but they had lived together, which meant in practice that there were so many mixed marriages and so many family ties between them that it was almost impossible to predict such a bloody and barbaric civil war. The main responsibility for the war lies upon the shoulders of the former communist leaders in the Yugoslav republics, who turned into nationalists overnight in order to maintain their power, while blaming the other ethnic groups for the bad economy. They did not want democratic transformation and economic reforms in the country, because they knew that their privileged position in society would be undermined if these processes took place. Due to these developments, the former communist leaders started to use nationalistic rhetoric, trying to present themselves as defenders of their ethnic groups, at the same time blaming other ethnic groups for all the problems in the country. The fact is, the first paramilitary units, which ignited the war consisted of criminals who were ordered to execute their actions. The long-suppressed national sentiments were emerging in a very dangerous manner, and the persons who were responsible for this

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stayed at the head of the now-independent, former Yugoslav republics: Serbia, Croatia and Bosnia-Herzegovina. They abused the power for their own interest and the interest of a very small group of people around them. It was a strange symbiosis of the former communist elite, criminal elements of the society and extreme nationalistic groups. Hundreds of thousands died and more than two million were displaced during the fighting in Croatia and Bosnia-Herzegovina. During the course of the war, Bosnia-Herzegovina was partitioned into three areas, with each region governed by one of the ethnic groups: Muslims, Serbs and Croats. Due to international pressure, the Muslims and Croats within Bosnia-Herzegovina joined forces; the country now consists of two “entities,” the Muslim–Croat Federation and the Republika Srpska (Republic of Serbs), which were constituted under the Dayton Peace Accord in November 1995. The Dayton Peace Accord, brokered by the United States and the European Union (EU), was signed by the then-president of Serbia, Slobodan Miloševic´, the president of Croatia, Franjo Tuđman, and the wartime Muslim leader, Alija Izetbegovic´. Ethnic and religious divisions remain strong in Bosnia-Herzegovina despite the fact that the war ended more than ten years ago. Most of the Muslims, Serbs and Croats live in the parts of BosniaHerzegovina in which their ethnic (or religious) group constitutes a majority. As for the process of returning refugees to their homes in the cities, towns and villages where they are minority, it goes very slowly despite the efforts of the international community and of humanitarian organizations. One of the reasons for this is the lack of confidence after everything that has happened, but there are other reasons too: the difficult economic situation, lack of perspectives, difficulties in finding a job, and so on. There is a similar situation regarding the return of refugees in the parts of Croatia where the fighting took place between the local Serb population (supported by the primarily-Serb Yugoslav National Army) on one side and the Croatian army on the other. According to the National Strategy of the Serbian Government for the Return of Refugees from April 2002, nearly 700 000 refugees live in Serbia. According to the last census in Serbia in 2001, some

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227 500 refugees decided to stay in Serbia, while others chose to go back to their homes in Croatia, BiH and the southern Serbian province of Kosovo and Metohija. Their return is, even five years after this census, not completed yet due to different reasons related to economic and security situations. According to International Commission for Missing Persons (ICMP), between 20 000 and 40 000 people, mostly civilians, were reported missing during the civil war in former Yugoslavia. The United Nations High Commission on Refugees (UNHCR) said that about two million people were forcibly displaced during the war in BiH; the majority of them were Muslims, but there were also significant numbers of Serbs and Croats. According to the Ministry of Human Rights and Refugees in BiH, 1.3 million people left their homes during the war in this former Yugoslav republic.

The Kosovo Dilemma After Croatia and Bosnia-Herzegovina, the next area to erupt in the former Yugoslavia was within Serbia itself, in the province of Kosovo and Metohija. Although traditionally Serbian territory, large numbers of ethnic Albanians settled in the area during the Ottoman period. In 1990 the population of Kosovo-Metohija was around 10 percent Serb and 90 percent ethnic Albanian. It should be stressed that Albanian extremists attacked Serbian civilians in Kosovo and Metohija long before Slobodan Miloševic´ came to power. Their primary goal was to separate this southern Serbian province from the rest of the country and to create an ethnically pure Albanian state on this territory. For instance, despite the fact that by the Constitution of SFRJ from 1974, Kosovo and Metohija had been given wide autonomy within Serbia, Albanian extremists rioted in 1980 demanding the status of republic and separation from Serbia. In 1990, Serbian nationalist leader Slobodan Miloševic´ took advantage of the insecurity Serbs felt at being so drastically outnumbered to seize central power in Beograd by declaring himself defender of Serbs in Kosovo and Metohija. He then used this power to reduce the autonomy of the province, meaning that more power would be exerted by central government in Beograd. Albanian extremist forces then formed the so-called Kosovo

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Liberation Army (KLA) and began even stronger a campaign against the Serbs throughout Kosovo and Metohija. Numerous murders, abductions and property destruction happened in this period. The major fighting between Serbian police and Yugoslav army against Albanian extremists erupted in 1998; at that time NATO gave an ultimatum to Beograd to withdraw its troops and let NATO forces come into province. Since Beograd refused to obey this demand, NATO on 24 March 1999 attacked the then- Federal Republic of Yugoslavia. The bombardment lasted eleven weeks and eventually led to the withdrawal of Serbian police and the Yugoslav army from Kosovo and Metohija. Following June 1999, the Serbs and other non-Albanians in Kosovo and Metohija live in terrible conditions without freedom of movement and under constant threat of attacks by Albanian extremists. On 17 March 2004 a massive violence against Serbs in Kosovo and Metohija broke out. Albanian extremists forced the United Nations (UN) police and military forces to flee for shelter in their bases. They attacked Serbian villages and towns as well as the churches and monasteries of the Serbian Orthodox church. It took United Nations (UN) forces several days to take control over the province, but the situation still remains an extremely fragile one. According to the official figures from the National Strategy for the Return of Refugees, 230 000 Serbs and other non-Albanians left their homes under the pressure of the Albanian extremists. The UNHCR estimates that 300 000 Albanians fled their homes during the conflict. More than 90 percent of Albanian refugees came back home after June 1999, but Serbian refugees seven years after the war are not allowed to return to their homes.

The Solution to ‘No Agreement’ In his report on the situation in Kosovo and Metohija, Kai Eide, the then-special envoy of the United Nations (UN) Secretary General Kofi Annan, recommended the start of talks on the future status of Kosovo and Metohija. Kai Eide also emphasized that today’s Kosovo is characterized by a growing dissatisfaction and frustration. In different forms it affects all parts of the society: Kosovo Albanians, Serbs and other minorities.

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The current policies of the United Nations (UN) are seen as static and unable to respond to the real problems facing Kosovo. Marginal adjustments will only add to the frustration, increase the danger of more violence, damage the reputation of Kosovo further and weaken the international community. He also warned about the catastrophic economic situation in Kosovo and Metohija, characterized by a high unemployment rate between sixty and seventy percent, as well as the reduction of subsidies by international donors. Referring to the March 2004 violence, Kai Eide also said that the international community was caught by surprise by the March 2004 violence. The response was slow and confused both on the military and on the civilian side. Some characterized the surprise and hesitation of the international community during the March 2004 violence as a result of an â€œintelligence failure.â€? Lack of intelligence may well have prevented all of us from detecting and reacting to the activities of extremists. The real and profound problem, however, goes much further and beyond: the international community failed to read the mood of the majority of the population, all of its frustrations and its impatience. The international community also failed to understand the potential for extremists to mobilize support for ethnic violence and the vulnerability of minorities: and in particular the Serb population. Kai Eide stressed the importance of the fulfilment of standards demanded by the United Nations (UN), which should provide safety and security for Serbs and other non-Albanians in Kosovo and Metohija as well as freedom of movement and the creation of better living conditions for minorities. The talks on the future status of Kosovo are currently being held in Wien under the United Nations (UN) auspices. So far, there is no agreement between the Serbian and Albanian delegations on any of the issues which have been discussed. Serbian and Albanian representatives are not able to reach any solution not only on the status of Kosovo and Metohija, but neither on other issues such as the organization of local authorities and the rights of minorities. The United Nations (UN) Security Council will have to decide on the future status of Kosovo, but it has to be aware of the impact which its decision will have on the stability of the region as whole,

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keeping in mind all the terrible injustices that happened in the past. We can just hope that the solutions found by the United Nations (UN) agencies will not deepen the rifts between the Serbs and the Albanians and thus lay foundations for yet another war in the Balkans. Unfortunately, we can be sure that whatever the solutions will be, it seems that one side or both will not be satisfied, since Serbs and Albanians have completely different positions regarding this and other issues. All that ordinary persons living either in Serbia or in Kosovo and Metohija can do in this difficult situation is to pray that evils and terrors of the fighting and the war will be avoided and consciously work for peace among the nations of the region. Milenko ObradovicÂ´ graduated with a degree in history from the Philosophical Faculty of Beograd University in 2002. After teaching history he became a journalist at the Serbian National News Agency in 2004. His main foci are political issues pertaining to the modern history of Serbia and the surrounding region. He lives and works in Beograd. His email address is mobrad77@yahoo.com.

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An Ecumenical Journey in

Romania:

Orthodox–Protestant Relationships since 1989 In the years before 1989 there existed a flowering ecumenical movement in Eastern Europe. As this movement, however, mostly was initiated and later on was supported by the communist governments of the time, ecumenism became mistrusted and lost its good reputation. In the last fifteen years the churches have gone their own ways, often independent from the others. But now there is change. This article relates how the relationship between the Orthodox and Protestants has developed during the last fifteen years, and how in recent times a new movement towards greater ecumenism has emerged in Romania.

I. Ecumenical History in Romania 1. The Ecumenical Movement before 1989 A research project on ecumenical relationships in Romania over the past fifteen years often evokes scepticism. One has the impression that ecumenism in the Balkans does not work. Under the title Ecumenical Hostility, Alexander Belopopsky writes that in the new context (after the fall of communism) Orthodox−Protestant tensions became apparent in Romania, where the Protestant minority is very closely linked to the Magyar minority.12 12 Belopopsky Alexander, Between Chaos and Kairos: Churches, Ecumenism and the WCC in Central and Eastern Europe 1989−2003. �� The �� Ecumenical Review 2004/1. �� 79.

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Under the Communist administration (1948−1989) theological encounters were organized between the Orthodox and Protestant traditions for twenty-five years, where t�� he Roman Catholic church was represented by observers. In the context of the former Eastern Bloc these Romanian conferences were unique events. They were initiated, sponsored and controlled by the government, and therefore were not free from political connotations and implications, but still these meetings should not be disparaged. The interconfessional dialogues started in 1964, included fifty meetings, tackled one hundred and fifty items and showed high theological standards.13 There was a true theological ecumenical dialogue between the Romanian Orthodox church (ROC) and the Protestant churches in Romania. There have been interchurch and intercultural relations even since the time of the Reformation. The primary aim of the conferences was getting acquainted with one another and growing together on the way to a visible Christian unity. Secondary goals included preparing the themes of the coming meetings of CEC and WCC; and proclaiming peace by creating good relations among people and nations, which meant that matters of human rights, freedom and justice were tackled. Visitors from abroad like Willem Visser’t Hooft, secretary general of WCC, Lukas Vischer, director of Faith and Order, and the ecumenical Patriarch Athenagoras confirmed this positive ecumenical spirit of the 1960s in Romania.14 These meetings can be characterized as sincere, outspoken, organised, mature and of practical importance; in Romania even a “new ecumenical theology’ and a ‘new common language’ were created.15 An additional outcome was that the national contacts with the Protestants also prepared the ROC for dialogue with the Protestant churches abroad.

13 Patuleanu Constantin, Die Begegnung der rumänischen Orthodoxie mit dem Protestantismus (16. bis 20. Jahrhundert), unter besonderer Berücksichtigung des bilateralen theologischen Dialogs zwischen der Evangelischer Kirche in Deutschland und der Rumänischen Orthodoxen Kirche (1979−1998). Hamburg, 2000. 180−276. 14 Patuleanu. 275. 15 Patuleanu. 271.

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The Protestant and Orthodox partners begun to understand one another’s theological thinking during these conferences, although it would be wrong to idealize this—there were negative effects as well—yet the positive function must be admitted.16

2. A Changing Ecumenical Climate Before the political changes of December 1989, the bilateral theological interactions in the country were rather well developed. Focusing more closely shows to a certain extent good relations among the two branches of Christianity in some areas, in particular at the local level.17 Ion Bria states that researchers often get lost in the contradictory fabric of the Romanian context.18 Hence are the relationships good or bad, or ˛both? What actually happened to the Orthodox−Protestant contacts after 1989? December 1989 was marked by fundamental political changes in the country. The regime of Nicolae Ceaus˛es˛cu collapsed and an era of freedom finally could begin. But after December 1989 the national bilateral theological conferences were suspended. This is not only due to lack of resources, but also to changes in the ecumenical atmosphere and the social constellation. The new times of freedom in this case do not match with better ecumenical relationships; on the contrary, the denominations were faced with hardships of many kinds and ecumenism got a very low priority. This also happened in the other countries behind the former Iron Curtain. All the Romanian denominations have to deal with the hardships of confessional fundamentalism, secularism, nationalism, proselytism, Church−state relations, education, church properties, ethnicity, poverty, collapsing social welfare system, changing values, and so on. It has long been time for a revival of the theological dialogue. During his visit to Germany in May 2003, Patriarch Teoctist of the ROC characterized the period under communist rule as an ‘ecumenism under the cross,’ as it was the Nicolae Ceaus˛es˛cu administra16 Oancea Dorin, Zur heutigen ökumenischen Situation in Rumänien. In Klein Hans − Köber Berthold − Schlarb Egbert, Kirche, Geschichte und Glaube, Freudesgabe für Hermann Pitters zum 65. Geburtstag. Erlangen, 1998. 326. 17 Vogelaar Huub, Œcumene in het land van Dracula, Samen op weg in Roemenië. Wereld en Zending 2004/2. 47�� −�� 54. 18 Bria Ion, Evangelism, Proselytism, and Religious Freedom in Romania: An Orthodox Point of View. Journal �� of Ecumenical �� Studies 1999/1−2. 163.

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tion that organised the meetings of religious leaders and directed the aforementioned interconfessional theological conferences. Patriarch Teoctist affirmed that the reinstatement of these conferences is a major goal in order to promote ecumenism in Romania. Apart from a few exceptions, there have been, up to today, no theological bilateral dialogues.

II. Hidden Ecumenical Powers: ‘Her-Stories’ This article on ecumenical relationships cannot be written without highlighting the current activities of women. The interchurch conferences astonishingly do not refer to the relationships of women throughout the country, nor to their being very important for mutual ecumenical life and understanding. This is probably due to the predominant male presence of these consultations, and also to the male character of the leadership in the institutions. But at least two structured initiatives by women must be pointed out.

1. Ecumenical Forum of Christian Women The Ecumenical Forum of Christian Women, which offers space to women of different denominations in Romania, has two branches (National and South), and develops training courses for women as well as all kinds of meetings throughout the country. The goals are to deepen the Christian understanding, to work together for the visible unity of the Church and for the benefit of humanity, and to support justice, peace and the integrity of creation (JPIC). The main projects in 2002 and 2003 were the development of a Centre for Information and Documentation; the establishment of seminars on trafficking in women, women against violence, and ecumenical prayer; and the publishing of two newsletters a year. The Forum was organized in 2003 in cooperation with AIDRom, an international workshop in Bucures˛ti on trafficking in women to and from Central and Eastern Europe, followed by a seminar in Oradea in 2003 on the same issue. Through education and action, ecumenism is regenerated at the grassroots levels.

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2. Women’s World Day of Prayer Celebrated each year, the Women’s World Day of Prayer is one of the largest worldwide ecumenical lay movements. In Romania, especially the Evangelical-Lutheran women have supported the Day of Prayer since the 1970s, and it has become an important sign of ecumenism in the country. This activity takes place in more than two hundred places in Romania, and the number is increasing every year. The international Day of Prayer in 2002 was prepared by a group in Romania, a countrywide ecumenical committee with women from seven churches, including the Orthodox and the Roman Catholic church. Positive experiences of Orthodox women in the United States convinced the Orthodox women in Romania to participate. The preparation committee began to work in the 1990s. The subject of the World Day of Prayer in 2002 was Reconciliation, a Challenge. It is a demanding issue in a multiethnic country with many minorities, a political heritage weighing heavily on the Romanians with enormous economic problems, growing poverty and recent wars in the Balkans. Gerhild Cosoroaba, coordinator of the Day of Prayer, said that the women’s committee succeeded in writing a common brief history of Romania shared by all the seven denominations, which is not easy in a country with a history full of tensions. Elfriede Dörr of Sibiu stated that the greatest challenge was the writing of a sketch of the history together.19 It was an exercise in reconciliation and an example of a Healing Memories project. Compared to the issues dealt with by the ecumenical church commission for comparative history, the encounter of the ecumenical women’s committee is an outstanding event. A member of the commission for comparative history said that even today it still would cause much trouble if, for instance, the more recent history of Transylvania would be put on the agenda.

III. Reflections and Hopeful Perspectives 1. Mixed Feelings The ecumenical meetings of the 1990s show a mixture of positive and negative characteristics. On the one hand, the meetings were less frequent, less enthusiastic and less controversial than in the period under communism. 19 www.wfn.org

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Very soon they reflected the deteriorating ecumenical climate with its mutual allegations, hardships of interethnic nature (hurt feelings in particular among the Reformed Magyars), and fading mutual solidarity. There were even hostile atmospheres at certain moments. In particular circles, ecumenism became a term of abuse. But one has to take into account that the denominations were faced with the enormous task of re-establishing their relations with the secular domain, a task they were not prepared for. Their limited space under communism was the restricted area of liturgy. The public realm belonged to the atheist administration. On the other hand, it led to the foundation of several associations with an ecumenical character, as well as to hopeful local initiatives in several regions of the country. These local contacts are characterized as very good. So the picture shows the qualities of good, bad and better. Some initiatives still seem to be weak, but at the same time they exhibit a new challenging ecumenical spirit.

2. National Council of Churches? The establishment of a National Council of Churches seems to be in the process of implementation. The process towards its formation is slow but constant. One could wonder how a NCC will develop, taking into account that one of the partners dwarfs the others. At least, however, there will be an authorized platform of the different denominations to meet and discuss. The idea to establish an additional Council of Churches in Transylvania was dropped recently.

3. Interconfessional Bible Society (IBS) Already in 1992 the Interconfessional Bible Society (IBS) was set up, in which twelve denominations were participating. A very important project of the IBS was the bilingual Bible edition published in Magyar and Romanian in 1998. Also, they issued an illustrated edition of the Bible. This first Romanian Bible with images of three hundred icons was presented in 2002. The Bible Society defines itself as interconfessional instead of ecumenical. According to the Free churches participating in the IBS, the word “ecumenical” involves the loss of Christian identity. The Roman Catholic church is not a member of the IBS, but Roman Catholics do participate in the translation team.

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4. Negative Heritage A first encounter confirmed the appreciation of the interconfessional dialogue under communism, but soon the opinions changed completely. A meeting in Ias˛i in 1998, however, affirmed a more positive understanding again. According to Dorin Oancea, the interchurch conferences under communism brought some negative consequences for the future as well. First, the pushing aside of the national and religious tensions—it was impossible to mention these tensions in those days, but they showed up even more powerfully after 1989. The Nicolae Ceaus˛es˛cu regime posed a continuous threat to the very existence of the Magyar minority. These feelings among the Magyars have to be understood. Second, there is a certain rejection of ecumenical thinking, because the developed ecumenism was initiated by the state and not by the interest of the denominations. As a result, ecumenism had a bad reputation. And the third negative consequence is that there was the incapacity to design a coherent ecumenical model, which would not be based on mere coincidences, but rather on the existence of basic Christian dynamics.20 An additional, fourth negative aspect was that many pro-ecumenism church leaders kept their positions after the changes, but in fact were contaminated by their earlier positions. All these aspects explain to a certain degree that ecumenical cooperation got a low priority, and was no longer a major concern in the first years after 1989.

5. Joint List of Martyrs At the meeting in Ias˛i in 1998, the idea came up to issue an ecumenical memorial for martyrs of faith under Communism. In 2003 the Romanian denominations presented a joint list of martyrs who died for the Christian faith under Communist rule. Costel Stoica, spokesperson for the Orthodox Patriarchate, called this a significant ecumenical development. The Roman Catholic Archbishop Ioan Robu said he believed such a list of martyrs was an important area for interchurch cooperation. 20 Oancea. 326−330.

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6. Theological Faculties To promote a better ecumenism, the role of the theological faculties is vital. In Ias˛i in 1998, the churches intended to introduce a chair for ecumenism and to teach all theological disciplines in an ecumenical spirit. In 2001 the Romanian Orthodox theologian Viorel Ionita, study secretary of CEC, presented an article entitled Churches and Ecumenism in the Present Romania.21 He stated the following: “We cannot evaluate how ecumenism is taught in these theological academies, and even less we are able to determine what is said about the image of the others. But we do know that the subject of ecumenism has a low priority. If lectured, it is done from an apologetic perspective. The intention is mainly not to learn from the others, but to affirm one’s own identity.”22 A hopeful sign is that some years ago an Institute for Biblical Research was set up in Cluj, in which scholars of the Orthodox, Calvinist-Reformed, Roman Catholic and Greek Catholic Theological Faculties participate.

7. Ethnic Tensions Remarkably enough, a meeting in Novi Sad in 1990 was the only one putting clearly the ethnic tensions to the forefront. It intended to cope with this hot item peacefully. This topic also played a role at other consultations, although it was always relegated to the background. Almost thirteen years later, during his visit to Germany in 2003, Patriarch Teoctist presented the point of view of the ROC regarding The Exigencies of the Present Ecumenism. His speech offers a consistent opinion on ecumenism by an Orthodox Church. Michael Brinzea from AIDRom translated the speech into English for the Newsletter of his association.23 Among other things the Patriarch expressed his hope that the ecumenical Commission of Church Comparative History, established in 1980, one day would produce a common Church History Book of the Romanian Churches. 21 Ionita Viorel, Kirchen und Ökumene im heutigen Rumänien. Glaube in der 2. Welt 2001/7−8. 12−17. �� Ionita. �� 12−17. 23 Newsletter of AIDRom 2002/1−3. www.aidrom.ro

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This book could in particular be helpful in the region of Transylvania in order to create social reconciliation among the ethnic Magyars, the ethnic Romanians and other ethnicities. This includes also the intraethnic Romanian conflict between the Greek Catholic church and the ROC, at the moment the toughest interchurch disparity of the country, particularly in Transylvania. The history of this region is well known for its two contradictory histories, the Romanian vs. the Magyar perspective. It is clear that the boundaries between academic and ethnic historiography cannot easily be drawn. It might be helpful if the riches and positive aspects of the multi-ethnic Romanian history and society could be more emphasized.24 The region is also known for a tradition of tolerance and pluralism. In Romania the lines between the Christian confessions in general are interwoven with the contours of ethnicity. Regarding ethnicity and faith, blood is thicker than water. But the connection between ethnicity and religion also must not be exaggerated. When Romanians and Magyars are asked to mention criteria of their nationality, they both primarily refer to factors as feeling a Romanian or a Magyar and sharing a common culture and language. References to a Romanian or Magyar church have respectively the eighth and sixth position.25 Therefore, it seems, the ecumenical hardships are more related to ethnicity than to confession. But at the same time the confessions are earnestly challenged to reconsider their closeness to ethnicity (respecting Galatians 3,28), in particular regarding the actuality of reconciliation.

8. Theological Dialogue The desire to restart the interconfessional theological dialogue is often mentioned. No one doubts the importance of good relationships, but what might be the goals? Is it an attempt to catch the positive spirit prior to the changes? What space will be given to the initiatives developed by the ecumenical women’s movement, in particular their experiences with healing and reconciliation of memories? 24 Romocea Christian, A Strategy for Social Reconciliation in the Ethnic Conflict in Transylvania. Religion in Eastern Europe 2003/5. 19. �� Van de Vyver Greet, Samen in het land van Dracula, socio-culturele praxis en interetnisch samenleven in Transylvanië. Leuven, 2002. 244−245.

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Furthermore, the Romanian society is constantly in transition, wrestling with several hard topics; and on the other hand the Orthodox and Protestant churches have achieved a lot of ecumenical experiences through meetings abroad over the last fifteen years. Their theologians are or could be aware of one another’s theological thinking, and it is clear that the positions still differ to a great extent. For the time being, deeper unity among the denominations is not possible. The future certainly involves cooperation among churches. According to Viorel Ionita, “The first steps in mutual ecumenical encounter have been taken. Now we must make further steps, but we do not dare.”26 Metropolitan Daniel of Ias˛i expressed already in the 1990s that the alternative for the present ecumenism is not anti-ecumenism, but a better ecumenism. In Romania one can sense more openness towards a practical ecumenical assistance, instead of a closer interconfessional relationship. Paul Botica, a Romanian Baptist minister, refers to common enterprises, like working together in prisons, hospitals, orphanages, helping the poor, homeless and street children, as proper opportunities to know one another better and initiate a relevant dialogue.27 Regarding the proposals of Ias˛i in 1998, these plans risk being undermined if they are not soon implemented.

IV. Evaluating Voices 1. Not Bad or Very Good? All the leaders of the denominations involved in the Protestant−Orthodox contacts recently stated that the interchurch relations are good. Patriarch Teoctist expressed on the exigencies of the present ecumenism that the relations of the ROC with other denominations in Romania are generally good. Bishop Christoph Klein, head of the (German) EvangelicalLutheran church in Sibiu, expressed the same opinion. On a meeting in Oradea of the World Alliance of Reformed Churches (WARC) in 2002, bishop Pap Géza of the (Magyar) Calvinist-Reformed church pointed out that the relationships with the other denominations in his country are good. 26 Ionita. 3. 27 Botica Paul, Kissing the Crucifix, Practical Steps toward Effective Ecumenical Dialogue and Cooperation in Romania. Religion in Eastern Europe 1999/2. 40.

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His complaints concerned the Romanian authorities, who have not returned the church properties confiscated under communism, and the European representatives of WARC, who in his eyes are not open towards the struggles of his Reformed church.28 In Trondheim in 2003, Michael Tita of the ROC even used the qualification very good. But the positive statements of church leaders do not, of course, reflect the whole spectrum. Dorin Oancea regarded the relations as not bad, but being better with the churches of Evangelical-Lutheran backdrop than with those of the CalvinistReformed Tradition. He stated also that ecumenism at the local level often is very good. But this is, for instance, not the case in Cluj in Transylvania where ecumenical relationships between Orthodox and Protestants are not well developed.

2. Scepticism and Inclusivity In particular the Protestant voices showed scepticism in this respect. During the World Day of Prayer (WDP) services, the Romanian women could use their own language in the Calvinist-Reformed church, but the Magyar women were not allowed to speak Magyar in the Orthodox Church. In an ecumenical radio station in Cluj the programs could only be broadcast in Romanian and not in Magyar. Ethnic Magyars derive their identity primarily from their language, with which they have an emotionally intense relation.29 Religiously the Magyars are divided into Roman Catholics, Calvinist-Reformed, Evangelical-Lutheran, Neo-Protestants, and Unitarian, but their being religiously different from the Orthodox majority creates certain homogeneity among them. A few years ago a Calvinist-Reformed Church in Cluj, a young congregation, took a new step. The church offers a simultaneous translation system to make it possible for Romanian members to come to the Calvinist-Reformed services. The translation system also allows the church to host interethnic events. The official approach of the Magyar Calvinist-Reformed church leadership is to give no instruction for services in Romanian, due to political and historical reasons: a fear of assimilation and of being dominated by the Romanian majority.30 28 Pap Géza. Letter. In Landelijke Werkgroep Gemeentecontacten, Karpatenbekken. 29 Van de Vijver. 37. 30 Ethnic Reconciliation in Romania. www.crwrc.org/programs/justice/stories

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3. Papal Visit Undoubtedly things could be done much better, but some fifteen years after the political changes, the current interconfessional climate in general is running better. The visit of Pope John Paul II to Romania in 1999 was an important step ahead along this ecumenical road. The ecumenical involvement of the Roman Catholic church in Romania became more and more apparent in recent years. About 5.6 percent of the population (Greek Catholics included) follows the Roman Catholic creed, the majority of which belongs to the ethnic Magyars in Transylvania. The international theological dialogue between the Orthodox and Roman Catholic church was inaugurated at the beginning of the 1980s. According to the Balamand Document of 1993, the Roman Catholic church and the Orthodox church recognize each other as sister churches. This basis made it possible for the ROC to strengthen the relations with the Roman Catholic church, which culminated in the visit of the Pope to Romania, the first visit (and historical event) of a Pope to a predominantly Orthodox country. Meanwhile it was obvious that Patriarch Teoctist of the ROC and Pope John Paul II became good friends, sharing common ethical principles. Radio Vatican called “Romania, ecumenically speaking, the most open country.”31 In turn, the ROC tries to unlock the hampered international theological dialogue between the Orthodox and the Roman Catholic church. The good contacts between the two church leaders brought the Roman Catholic church in Romania more to the forefront. This church will become a member of the future National Council of Churches. In 2004, exactly five years after the visit of the Pope, Cardinal Walter Kasper, president of the Pontifical Council for Promoting Christian Unity (PCPCU), paid a visit to Romania. He was awarded by the Greek Catholic Theological Faculty of Cluj in Transylvania, an area the Pope did not visit during his stay in Romania. In Cluj he also met representatives of the Protestant and Jewish communities. But before he went to Cluj, the church leaders of the ROC received 31 Religious Life 2003/522.

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him in Bucharest.32 The contacts between the ROC and the Vatican clearly have their impact on the Romanian ecumenical dialogue, and put pressure as well on the toilsome intraethnic dialogue between the ROC and the Greek Catholic church.

4. Small Beginnings and Sincere Motivations In summary, the picture of the confessional interactions in Romania over the course of fifteen years shows drifting images: good and bad are competing with each other. The sceptical observer regards the recent positive statements of the church leaders on ecumenism as overblown or diplomatic window dressing for abroad. Anti-ecumenical circles and attitudes as well as stagnation exist. But focusing more closely shows good relations among Christians of different traditions, and also encouraging initiatives going far beyond the phase of living apart together. One can observe small beginnings, sincere motivations, and wellintended actions coming from all the denominations, which point to the fact that ecumenical dialogue is growing and becoming a visible characteristic of an increasing number of denominations.

Suggested Reading Belopopsky Alexander, Between Chaos and Kairos: Churches, Ecumenism and the WCC in Central and Eastern Europe 1989−2003. The �� Ecumenical �� Review 2004/1. Botica Paul, Kissing the Crucifix, Practical Steps toward Effective Ecumenical Dialogue and Cooperation in Romania. Religion in Eastern Europe 1999/2. Bria Ion, Evangelism, Proselytism, and Religious Freedom in Romania: An Orthodox Point of View. Journal �� of Ecumenical Studies 1999/1−2. Ionita Viorel, Kirchen und Ökumene im heutigen Rumänien. Glaube in der 2. Welt 2001/7−8. Oancea Dorin, Zur heutigen ökumenischen Situation in Rumänien. In Klein Hans − Köber Berthold − Schlarb Egbert, Kirche, Geschichte und Glaube, Freudesgabe für Hermann Pitters zum 65. Geburtstag. Erlangen, 1998. Pap Géza. Letter. In Landelijke Werkgroep Gemeentecontacten, Karpatenbekken. Patuleanu Constantin, Die Begegnung der rumänischen Orthodoxie mit dem Protestantismus (16. bis 20. Jahrhundert), unter besonderer Berücksichtigung des bilateralen theologischen Dialogs zwischen der Evangelischer Kirche in Deutschland und der Rumänischen Orthodoxen Kirche (1979−1998). �� Hamburg, 2000. Romocea Christian, A Strategy for Social Reconciliation in the Ethnic Conflict in Transylvania. Religion �� in Eastern �� Europe 2003/5. Van de Vyver Greet, Samen in het land van Dracula, socio-culturele praxis en interetnisch samenleven in Transylvanië. Leuven, 2002. Vogelaar Huub, Œcumene in het land van Dracula, Samen op weg in Roemenië. Wereld en Zending 2004/2. Huub Vogelaar is involved in a research project for Centrum IIMO in Utrecht, the Netherlands, on Orthodox−Protestant relationships in Eastern Europe. He teaches ecumenism and missiology at the Protestant Theological Faculty as well at the Protestant Training Centre for teachers of religion, both located in Bruxelles, Belgium. His email address is huub.vogelaar@planet.nl.

32 Religious Life 2004/554.

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Map of Religious Communities of Novi Sad: A Case Study

Historically speaking the region of Vojvodina, the northern province of Serbia, has always been a crossroad of various cultures and religions—a fact not unknown to the elderly members of the domicile population. The last census indicates that there are about twenty-seven religious communities and thirty-six nationalities living in Vojvodina, whereas its inhabitants, besides five languages in official use (Serbian in Cyrillic and Latin script, Hungarian, Slovak, Romanian and Ruthenian) speak also Croatian, Romani, Albanian and Macedonian on a regular basis.

Historical Background The newly arrived people and the young of the domicile population are not fully aware of the fact that the roots of this situation reach as far back as the 18th and 19th century. For instance, right after World War II the Germans who came into the region from 1940-1945 were considered oppressors, as in most of parts of Europe, and upon the end of the war even the domicile German population, that had been in this region for centuries, was forced into exile in fear of retaliation. Furthermore, the newly established communist authorities at that time advocated against and almost completely prohibited all church-related activities under the flag of equality and uniformity of all people at all levels. Churches, being the pillars of the religious, national and cultural identity of the people, were claimed to be a kind of a disintegrating element within this social context, and this policy was being put

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forward over almost fifty years, simultaneously violating some of the basic human rights very blatantly. These human rights are, for instance, those granted by the UN International Pact on Civil and Political Rights, especially Article 18 (freedom of religious expression) and Article 26 (protection from discrimination, amongst others on religious grounds), and the European Convention on Human Rights by the Council of Europe, Article 9 (freedom of religious expression) and Article 14 (protection from discrimination, amongst others on religious grounds). A rebound to all this came at the beginning of the 1990’s, with the fall of the communist regimes all over Central, Eastern and South Eastern Europe, and outbursts of nationalism and separatism that, eventually, led to wars in the neighbouring regions. Most of the population of Serbia comes from the Orthodox background, and the second biggest religious community is the Islamic one. The territory to which these data refer includes the regions of Sandžak (on the border with Bosnia and Herzegovina, Montenegro and Kosovo) and Kosovo. In this context it is also important to know that the second biggest Christian denomination in Serbia is the Roman Catholic Church, with most of its members living in the Vojvodina region. The most striking fact in this context is that most of the members of minority Christian denominations (i.e. Protestants) live almost exclusively in Vojvodina and they make up less than one percent of the total population of Serbia—around sixty thousand. In this setting, the Orthodox would mostly be Serbs, the Reformed would be Hungarians, the Evangelical-Lutherans and Methodists would be mostly Slovaks, the Greek Catholics would be Ruthenians and Ukrainians, the Roman Catholics would be Croats and Hungarians, and so on. The fact that in Serbia one’s ethnicity nearly always implies one’s denomination makes it even more obvious why there was a need to offer people data and first-hand information on the diversity of the religious life as one of the spheres of human existence in general. During the last fifteen years the ethnic composition of Vojvodina changed drastically because of the arrival of around 400,000 refugees and emigration of many people from various local minorities. This caused a certain withdrawal within the frames of one’s own nation and confession, resulting in mistrust, alienation and intoler-

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ance towards differences and disintegration of the basic socio-cultural values of the region of Vojvodina. At the time of creation and implementation of the Pillars of Ecumenism: Map of Religious Communities of Novi Sad project in 2002-2003, there was an urgent need for an easily accessible piece of information (in this case a map) as a suitable means for presentation of the religious situation in Novi Sad, as the capital of Vojvodina and the second largest city in Serbia. Visitors to the town, its inhabitants and the general public are still very often unaware of the actual existence and scope and range of the activities of churches in this beautiful and important region. The then-Federal Republic of Yugoslavia, then-Serbia and Montenegro, and, finally, Serbia struggled to become more open towards the rest of the world and more oriented towards civil society building. In this situation, this project was supposed to make a significant contribution within the scope of all other ecumenical, diaconal, humanitarian and social initiatives in the region. The realisation of this project was also perceived as a way of contributing to the visibility of the Ecumenical Humanitarian Organization (EHO), the implementing church-related organisation in the local community, as well as of the World Council of Churches (WCC) SEEEP Fund (i.e. the South East Europe Ecumenical Partnership Fund, the provider of project funding).

Objectives and Targets The project included preparation, printing and distribution of a map of Novi Sad that would present its ecumenical and multiconfessional character with the overall aim of promoting ecumenical cooperation and advocating peace, reconciliation and dialogue both among the local churches, their members and the public in general in the area of Vojvodina. The main objectives of the project were to increase the level of awareness of the local community of the need for ecumenical cooperation between the local churches in the region. Furthermore, the aim was the provision of better information and education of the local community and its visitors of the religious and multiconfessional character of Novi Sad as the regional capital. Also, our goal was to increase the visibility of minority churches

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within the local community, and at the same time to reduce the level of prejudices towards the minority churches in the region. Similarly, our task was the reaffirmation of the traditional values of Vojvodina: its multiculturality and multiconfessionality, its religious and ethnic tolerance, facilitating cooperation among the local churches and their members and among the church- and nonchurch-related organizations from all the three sectors (governmental, non-governmental and private) in the area of Novi Sad. On the front of the map all churches, edifices and buildings have been clearly marked and coded, and on the back there is a legend along with a short background and possibly a photo of the building, and the times and languages of worships have been given. The project activities included the following: making a list of all religious communities, their churches, edifices and buildings, the times and languages of worships, and collecting data on their background in this region. Furthermore, it involved collecting data about the culturally and historically most significant churches, buildings and edifices, photographing them, writing a short background text, and translating the texts into English. After that came the map design arrangements, collecting offers from printerâ€™s businesses and choosing the most convenient, preparation for printing, the printing of the map, a promotional press conference and the distribution of the map. The three most eminent regional experts in culture, history and religious life in Vojvodina were engaged as consultants to this project, and the data were collected with the aid of a questionnaire asking leaders of all Novi Sad religious communities the same kind of information. The project target area was the metropolitan area of Novi Sad, encompassing the city proper and its outskirts. The potential project impact area was the Southern BacË‡ka District in the short term, and the whole Autonomous Province of Vojvodina in the long run. The project target groups were primarily all visitors to the city interested in its ecumenical, multiconfessional and multireligious character, as well as the citizens of Novi Sad and its surroundings.

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Results, Outcome and Impact More than ten thousand copies of the map were printed by the end of June 2003: five thousand in Serbian and five thousand in English. Along with the religious communities presented in the map, copies of the map were offered to all hotels, museums, galleries, bookshops and tourist information centres in town. A promo press conference was organised in the premises of the city assembly in September 2003, and by that time more than three thousand copies of the map had been distributed mostly through the EHO founder churches and the volunteer network, as well as the Novi Sad Tourist Information Centre. The local and regional media have reported about it duly as the first publication of its kind not only in the city, but in the country and certainly in the whole South East Europe region. Copies of the map have reached most European countries, the Middle East, Africa, Australia, Canada and the United States. The project evaluation showed that most people who got a copy of it approved of its publication and considered this initiative as a very special and useful one, especially in the way it sets an example of bearing witness to diversity without any hints of evaluation, proselytism or doctrinal discussion of the religious communities presented in it. From July 2003 Dnevnik, the most widely read official daily newspaper of the regional government of Vojvodina, started publishing the times of services of most of Novi Sad churches on Sundays and the section ‘Religion’ or ‘Churches’ was later added to the official websites of the city of Novi Sad and the Novi Sad Tourist Information Centre. In 2004 the team of the EXIT music festival, the biggest music festival in South East Europe, asked EHO for an official permission to use information from the map on their website and the information on the religious life of Novi Sad has been on this site for three years now. In 2004 and in 2005 the author of the map was invited to deliver two lectures on church-related charity and local religious diversity and ecumenical cooperation to graduate students in the sociology of religion course of the Sociology Department at the Faculty of Humanities of Novi Sad University.

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Approval and Publication Each EHO project within had to be approved by the management board at the time - even more essential if the project involved ecumenical activities and publicity. The board, seating four Protestant bishops at the time, approved the project. They were informed of its progress in each of its stages and were given all the texts in Serbian for proofreading and approving them before their publication and translation, and were invited to correct any material, stylistic or other mistakes, as well as to offer suggestions regarding its contents, translation and publication. Some of the members of the board even gave the data about their religious communities personally. They also chose which religious communities were to be included into the map, while some less established and statistically insignificant communities were omitted, whereas others could not be reached in any way. Upon its publication, however, it turned out that some religious communities, some of the board members included, were quite displeased with the visual and factual presentation of their communities, though they themselves had provided the data for the map and had approved the form in which it was to be published. For example, some of them were discontent that there was no photograph of their church in it, in spite of the fact that their church either looked like a secular building with no formal markings of a church or was located in a narrow street with tall thick trees blocking the view of the building completely, making it thus impossible to photograph even from a distance. On one occasion, expressing his own displeasure as well as that of one of the foreign institutions of greatest international authority as far as his religion was concerned, the local leader of this community even said that the whole batch of maps (60 pieces) sent to this community had been burnt (!) because the data were incorrect and they depicted this community as inferior to others. After the author of the map had reminded him of their conversation and his insistence that he was too busy to spare time for any further work on the issue, he hesitated a bit, and then said that there is no deadline so tight that it could not wait for â€˜proper authorisationâ€™ (i.e. a personal endorsement) of each individual text. The bottom line is that up to seventy percent of the church leaders interviewed and asked for proper data were actually stalling and

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buying time, probably hoping that the map would not be published after all. Furthermore, they were also asked to provide an exact English translation of the name of their own religious community; most of them failed to do so, but still protested about some names not being translated accurately once the map had been published.

Data Collection Venture Besides the latter efforts at slowing down the whole process (the project eventually indeed missed the deadline by two months), some religious communities were just impossible to contact. Some of those are clearly indicated on the map, but it does not imply that the others were eager to collaborate. All religious communities were first addressed officially by a letter introducing the project and with a questionnaire enclosed, asking for their kind contribution to the future publication. None of them replied to this, except the EHO founder churches at the next board meeting. The next step was calling them by phone and explaining the matter personally, but only three ministers (out of more than twenty leaders of religious communities) agreed to a face-to-face interview, with two of them even agreeing to be audio recorded. The rest who had been reached over the phone gave the information asked by the questionnaire right there and then, mostly claiming that they were too busy to deal with the matter any further. The next step was approaching those who were not to be located even by phone. The author of the map rode from one address to another, knocking on doors and ringing bells, leaving messages pasted on gates and with the neighbours, but only information about two more communities were obtained on these occasions. Eventually, the data processing and formulation of the texts turned out to be quite challenging since there were sometimes great discrepancies between official records of the regional statistics institute, listing mostly official state and census data, and the data the religious leaders had given, especially in numbers of members of their communities. Vojvodina has a bit more than 2 million inhabitants according to the last census. At one point, after the project team had added up the numbers of estimated members of the religious communities as

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their leaders had shared them, it turned out that the population of Vojvodina, otherwise being the oldest region in Europe with a negative birth rate for decades back, must have increased by at least 30 percent since the last census in 2001. Eventually, it was decided to list numbers the expert consultants were offering as estimates, whereas the years of historical events like migrations were taken from the relevant generally acknowledged literature.

Distribution of the Map Most religious communities were delivered thirty to sixty copies of the map in Serbian and English with an accompanying letter of thanks and an offer to have more copies delivered to them on request. The map was printed from a donation and was thus free of charge for the churches, as well as other potential distributors and beneficiaries. Only four of the communities did actually respond to the letter, but only by phone, whereas one of them sent a brief thankyou e-mail. The most enthusiastic about the distribution of map, except for EHO staff and volunteers, were the people from the Novi Sad Tourist Information Centre since their funds for promo activities have always been rather limited and they have used every chance to get and distribute more maps in both languages. There was just one bookshop in the city that did its best to distribute the maps, whereas others, including museums, hotels and galleries showed no interest whatsoever. Upon being asked why, the staff answered they were just acting as instructed, while the managers could not be contacted for various reasons. The experience from the Tourist Information Centre proved that the foreign tourists were most appreciative about the map, but the local ones were a bit hesitant, especially upon seeing that its title had â€˜religiousâ€™ in it. The bookshop had a similar experience. After they noticed that people would reach for the map and then withdraw after seeing its title, at one point they even started offering the map to everyone who had bought a book, but the reaction was mostly of the nothanks kind.

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Most of the local people interested in translation and English, however, asked for an English copy instead, explaining that they were interested in translation of the Orthodox notions and terminology into English.

Promotion of the Map In September 2003, nearly three months after its publication, the promotion room seating around seventy people was pretty crowded for the press conference introducing the map to the public for the first time, which looked great on the photos and in the reports. The people in the crowd were mostly attendees of an international ecumenical conference of the six twin cities of Novi Sad, accompanied by EHO staff and volunteers. As far as the media were concerned, there were only three newspaper journalists at the conference and three newspapers had published the map publication press release on that day. Prior to that, the author of the map was a guest on a talk show of a local television station in July 2003. All expert consultants announced as speakers came and addressed the public, whereas there were only three leaders representing their religious communities on this occasion. The next day the media quoted some of the statements from the presentation and did not miss out on the chance to point out that, according to the newly published map, there were at least nineteen other religious communities in Novi Sad besides the three whose representatives came to its promotion. By the end of September 2003 more than three thousand copies of the map in both languages had been distributed and by June 2004 there were only some two hundred copies left with EHO. Today, the last two copies in Serbian and another ten in English are with the author, whereas EHO and some other local NGOs are interested in the publication of its second edition.

Instead of an Epilogue At the time of the project report writing there was a major and tragic religious incident in Novi Sad. Early in autumn 2003 there was a raid at the Roman Catholic and Protestant graveyard in Novi Sad.

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More than eighty-five graves were desecrated and tombstones demolished on this occasion. Some of the graves had been dug up with bones visible on the surface, while some massive tombstones were overturned and broken into pieces. In spite of the general public resignation and public condemnation of this hideous incident by some national, regional and local public figures, the official police investigation blamed the incident on two drunken underage teenagers, one of whom was a girl. Later on there were similar incidents in some smaller settlements in Vojvodina, but none of them was as massive as the one in Novi Sad. Today ethnic, racial and religious hate speech graffiti are more common than ever all over Vojvodina, but the general public seems to have grown indifferent towards them. There is, of course, no indication that the publication of the map had anything to do with the Novi Sad or any other of the other subsequent incidents. On the contrary, these incidents are actually a proof that such publications, along with larger-scale educational and advocacy activities concerning human rights, reconciliation and forgiveness are now needed perhaps more than ever. Ankica Dragin (1974) was born in Senta, Vojvodina, Serbia, and she comes from a mixed background. Her fields of expertise are teaching English, education and professional training, reconciliation and conflict resolution, and church- and human rights-related public relations. She is the only trainer in the Do-No-Harm conflict analysis and project planning method in the Balkans, and the author of several articles and research papers. She is a public relations associate with a human rights institution. In her spare time she is also an NGO volunteer, a pre-board member of the Ecumenical Womenâ€™s Solidarity Fund, and the assembly president of a local Christian youth NGO. Her email address is tonkicans@yahoo.com.

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Damian’s River I. Imagine one of the greatest cities, for instance Praha, Wien, or London. In the centre of the city imagine a square. In the square, through the six converging streets, smoke rivers flow, carrying the painted bodies of coaches on the waves of wheels. Can you see it? If you can, you have just entered the square wherein this story begins. The fact that the square is filled with noise, clamour, and commotion is not unusual. What is unusual is that there are, here, two objects absolutely still and utterly quiet. The first is a large camera obscura mounted upon a wooden tripod. A bearded photographer unfolded it on a crosswalk between two streets, buried his head under its black draping, and became motionless. The other fixed object is a statue which stood beneath old oaks on the corner between merging streets. The face of the statue, carved from white sandstone, emanates peace. Its pierced hands are outstretched in that mysterious gesture of giving. The stone at the foot of the statue shines dully from the wax of candles, which glowed and then died through countless nights. And it was to exactly this place that the photographer focused his camera. Click, click—the swinging leaves above the statue frozen in place; click—a detail of the hands; click—the mysterious peace of the face …

II. The photographer had a son. Although without a beard, the boy resembled his father in nearly every way. Damian (such was his

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name), always with an air of solemn anticipation, waited expectantly for what his father would take up from his dark closet. This time it was two pictures, but what pictures! The father hung them on a white panel and was lost behind the closet door again. Damian stepped nearer to the photographs to see them from up close. The first brought the waft of the wet fragrance of oaks below which, half hidden in the foliage, stood a mysterious statue. There must have been some peculiar power in this statue. It overwhelmed him and drew him inside towards itself. He did not know how or when he crossed the white frame of the picture. And yet, he now stood at the edge of a vast meadow. Its opposite side was filled with colourful tents. The meadow looked as if it were covered with a swarm of colourful butterflies. Next to the tents, horses were grazing on grass. Wooden carts covered with carpets woven from old rags stood next to the horses. Around the statue, standing here as mysterious and as motionless as in the photograph, a large crowd was gathered. Damian smelled the scent of incense. The breeze brought him the monotonous sound of prayers. The white smoke, ascending from the censer, made the priests’ purple robes appear silver. The last song ended, and the crowd moved towards the camp. Damian ran after them. He mingled with the crowd, carried along by it until he grasped the edge of the robe of one of the priests. The priest turned around. “What do you want?” he asked sternly. “Who does the statue in front of which you were praying represent?” asked Damian, voicing his question. “The Lord, who will hold you accountable for these kinds of jokes!” The spiritual father could not conceal his anger. Damian could not hear anything else. As he ran, the fading voice drowned in his own breath. He stopped before the statue. Gasping for breath, he looked searchingly into the stone face. In the enigmatic features, however, he could not see the slightest indication of what he had noticed in the priest’s eyes. Two lovers, almost noiselessly, approached the monument from the other side. A black-eyed boy carried a small bunch of forgetme-nots. “For you, my love, not to forget,” he said while placing the flowers at the statue’s feet. “Who is it?” Damian pointed to the statue. They looked at him absent-mindedly as if being roused from a

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deep sleep. “Maybe our love,” said the girl and kissed her boyfriend on the lips. The lovers disappeared into the forest, and Damian returned to the camp. Working his way through the canvas tents, he reached the middle where there were several fires burning. Over one of them, a pig was roasting on a copper spit. The fat sizzled in the midst of the heat, flaring up and dying out, so that the fire pulsated as if its very flames breathed. People who had been praying a moment ago were feasting now. All of them were the same: pink-cheeked fat peasants whose hands were, at least for a short while, resting on their greasy clothes. They were laughing and singing, and some danced. A man was standing in the middle of the resting people—a man with a round sweaty face, swaying to and fro on a pig-like neck. He was entertaining the whole company. Damian dared to go all the way to him. “Uncle, uncle!” he shouted. “Who does the statue before which you were praying represent?” The man grew earnest. “It is … hmmm … let me put it this way. … He gives us bread and milk. Actually, for example, even this wine, this nectar of the gods.” Bursting out in laughter while speaking the last words, he handed

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the boy a jug filled with wine. Damian grasped the clay jug, and took a sip from the cold drink. Heat flooded through his body; a bitter taste, however, remained in his mouth. He quivered and gave the jug back to the man. The girl may have been right, he thought as he slipped out of the guffawing crowd and was trying to find his way through the stretched ropes of the tents. Love … On his way he came upon an old woman, vigorously walking up a mountain. “Are you also going to him?” he asked. “Where else would I go, my boy? This is the only place for an old woman like me. My body has withered—goats go grey and sag. Loving my man has burnt me out, and my children have worn me out. Life has thrown me aside, my husband has grown indifferent, and my children have deserted me—so, where would I go? I shall light a candle and go through the rosary with neither desire nor thought.” Damian remembered the blooming passion in the lovers’ eyes— love. From the distance an owl announced the arrival of night. With the advancing evening, the hues grew dark and the shadows on the meadow stretched longer, until, eventually, everything sank into the gloom, as if the whole of the sky were covered with the wings of a black bird. In the distance the last fire, still flickering in the camp, appeared only as a small, solitary piece of coal in a stove filled with dying embers. Damian did not even notice when the old woman left. When the silver coin of the moon had floated out upon the sapphire surface of the forest, a mysterious figure emerged from the gloom of the oak grove. The boy, holding his breath, watched the emerging person, illuminated only by the light of the candle he carried in his hands. An almost out-of-this-world being: it seemed that the canvas robe covered only a fleshless skeleton; long white hair shimmered like a dark halo, and his untrimmed beard fell in snowy cascades down his slender chest. The man went all the way up to the statue and put the candle down next to the withered forget-me-nots. Damian stepped from the shadows into the moonlight. When the man cast a searching look at him, he whispered, “Sir, no one can tell me who this man is.” Damian’s eyes pointed to the statue. The man was silent and Damian, straining to see, followed the stranger’s eyes wandering around the stone face, hidden in the foliage.

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“A man is an animal, halfway to heaven,” said the stranger quietly, “an animal with a star in its heart.” Abruptly, the man looked straight into the boy’s eyes. “Anyone can make a mistake. Anyone can slip into the abyss of unconsciousness. The call of the flesh in us is much stronger than the roar of the lion. It stuns us, conquering our languid will.” The stranger’s eyes were now meandering about the meadow, as if looking for the last light lost among the tents. “It is not to be wondered at by them. Searching is tiresome—many have drowned the star of the spirit at the bottom of their animal passions.” “I know,” he added after a while. “They didn’t know because they couldn’t know. How could they know something that had already died inside them a long time ago?” “And you?” Damian whispered hesitantly. “Do you know him?” The stranger walked closer to the statue, picked up the candle, lifted it, and the quivering flame suddenly illuminated the calm features of the statue’s face. “I don’t know; I am learning to know,” said the stranger. “So I … I … how can I get to know him?” asked Damian, becoming more and more fascinated by the magical power of the man’s words. “Come,” said the man, as he set off into the gloom of the forest. Before dawn they reached a house hidden deep within the mountains. The hinges made a squeaking noise, and they entered a dim room raked by the immaterial fingers of dawn. Begrudgingly, the light was coaxing the dim contours of things from the darkness. Sketches, hung upon the walls, caught the boy’s attention. “I used to want to construct wings,” explained the old man. “I devoted many years to this nonsense.” The old man picked up an odd-looking frame, made of wood and waxed canvas covered with eagle feathers. “Who is this?” asked Damian while studying the picture of a boy’s face that hung among the projects. “My son,” taciturnly returned the old man. “You have a son?” “I don’t have … he died.” “He died?” “He could not keep himself up in the air,” the old man’s voice grew troubled. “He died when we were testing a pair of these wings,” added

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the old man after a moment in order to put an end to the intense silence. “It was a senseless utopia,” he continued in a voice more calm. “The human didn’t receive the wings of a bird; the spirit is her or his wings. The expanding spirit breaks down the prison of this animal body and pervades the earth and the sky. The human spirit has no limits. The whole universe with all its suns, planets, and stars is to the spirit of a man only a grain of dust in the more spacious universe of consciousness. This is what you are looking for,” he added while opening a door to the next room. Suddenly a pungent aroma of dust, decay, and mould wafted by Damian. The room had no windows. In a narrow beam of light, falling from behind the open door, he beheld mysterious figures. Pillars, pyramids, and shapeless mounds, resembling disintegrated tombs in an old cemetery, filled the space in the room. When Damian’s eyes adjusted to the darkness, he began to recognize piles of books in these strange-shaped figures. It seemed that everything was there: beginning with clay tablets covered by cuneiform; through old papyrus codices; fragments of papyri; old thick files of yellowed paper in metal-tipped, calfskin cases; up to the books resembling those that he had in his own bookcase. The old man, who had stepped out for a moment, brought in a burning lamp. “Stay here and read,” he said. “In the depths of wisdom collected for thousands of years you will meet the one you are looking for.” A few days or several months may have passed in the room while Damian was sitting on the wooden floor and reading. The spirit awakening inside him grew stronger and spread its wings more markedly as time passed by. Damian hovered over the sacred places in India, listening to the obscure murmuring of the Tibetan monks, to the wind in the prayer wheels and also to the magic formulas in the currents of the old Ganges while its powerless waves carried flower wreaths away into the rose-coloured dusk. He took the road of ages to the pearls of mysteries, to the wells of knowledge springing in the ancient mountains of history. He floated over the Areopagus amidst the southern sun; he immersed himself in the dimness of the sepulchre in Thebes; he flew through the cavity in the dry body of a mummy. He floated over a mulberry tree, and over a buzzing swarm of flies under which a woman was auguring from the thickening blood of

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a dead mare. He was everyone, and he was everywhere. He sensed that the borders inside him had disappeared. He felt that he had transcended his limitations. Now he was incarnated in the grass and stones; he was pulsing in the trunks of the forest trees; he was rising through the sky; he was stretching out into the vast space between the stars; he was filling the universe. The bigger his spirit became, the more the things around him disappeared, and he remained alone. He himself was the pilgrim, the road, and the goal of the road. The child’s part of his soul, which had not been touched by the dark transformation, began, from deep within him, to ask for help. A little grain of boyish purity was sufficient for him to recognize the loneliness of the hell of cosmic exaltation. “I am lonely. I’m scared,” called out his heart. “I’m scared,” whispered his eyes. “I’m scared,” he cried and ran out of the room. In the last daylight he saw the old man sitting at the table, leaning over a book coloured pink by the dusk. He was a little relieved when, after so many days of solitude, he saw another human being again. It seemed that the old man did not notice him; therefore, he approached the old man and put his hand on the man’s shoulder. The shoulder, however, fell apart as he touched it; the old man tumbled down, and what remained was a mound of dust, swirling softly in the breeze blowing through an open window. He ran through the dimness of the forest into the hands of the dark night. He tripped, stumbled, fell and got up; he did not know where to run, nor to where he was running. He ran until the dark crowns of trees above him pulled back the curtain of black foliage and a space full of stars gaped over his head. Once again, he was standing in front of the statue that had not yet revealed its mystery. As puzzled as he was at that moment, he began to recognize in the space before him one of his hometown’s squares. The streets that used to be busy all day and all night long were now unusually quiet. There were no lights in any of the windows and the square, wrapped in dark, seemed vacant. Yet, after a while, on the sidewalks between the houses, he could distinguish people in gray suits. Like ghosts, noiseless and solitary, they were walking across the square in all directions. One of these weird men bumped into him. Damian turned around, and in the faint light he saw the face. In

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the space where he expected to see eyes, only empty sockets stared back at him. All of them are blind, he thought to himself and started running across the square, dodging in and out among the wandering beings, not realizing when or how he stepped across the white frame of the photograph.

III. As if waking up from a deep sleep, Damian slowly began to recognize things in the room. The voices from the evening street entered from outside. Long shades, drawn by the beams of a dim light, danced upon the walls of the room. The shadows of lovers noiselessly danced below with those of peasants and a scrawny wise man. (Will the shadows never leave his child’s soul?) A board was hanging on the wall in front of Damian. Drawn, he stepped closer to look at the photograph. There was only a face. “Who are you?” whispered the boy and pressed his face so close that he could only see those astounding eyes. It was as if he were looking into the deep well of memory, into the serene, cold waters of the past, or into the intangible springs of his origin. Those unfathomable eyes … those eyes. Within this sudden silence he heard a rustle—first, only a distant purring, then clearer tones of quiet music. The melodic beats of a drum united in a common rhythm with the drumming of his heart, and with the whisper of his breath. It was not a harp, nor a flute, nor the strings of a violin; it was everything together—and it was even more than inside and around him—it was simply everywhere. “Who are you?” cried the boy’s whole being, and the music replied, “Come … Come …” At the bottom of a well, he found himself on the bank of an unknown river. Walking on the warm sand between fragments of pearls and empty shells, he came to a smooth, almost motionless river. “Come … Come …” The music was carried upon the river. He walked along the river’s bank, following the music’s voice. Suddenly he realized that the river, acting as a film screen, was reflecting pictures coming from an unknown height. First, he saw a picture of himself, sitting in the room across from the board with the photographs. As he was walking upstream, the scenes were moving backwards

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toward the past. He saw a garden where his father, years ago, taught him the names of the trees. He saw the funeral of his grandfather—the coffin, wreaths, candles, and places of mourning that he no longer remembered. He saw it from close up, in all their details. He saw pain as well as a grandeur that he had never inwardly embraced. He saw himself at the bosom of his mother—he sensed that he was coming upon the spring of his origin. He could not recognize the image of his birth very clearly, because the mighty river narrowed to a mere brook. “Come … Come …” The streamlet was running down the stairs of a sanctuary. He mounted the stairs and knelt down to the place whence the river sprang. He felt an enormous energy of warmth and light. It seemed to him that inside the sanctuary time and space ceased to exist. Everything—the streamlet, the brook and the mighty river, the colourful images of ancient times, the past and the future—were all united and inseparable in the eternal present. He drew water in his hand to moisten his thirsty lips. Suddenly, he was awestruck. Streams of blood, in little rivulets, were flowing down into the spring. He raised his eyes and unexpectedly met another person’s eyes—standing alive and unbelievably there. The stone statue only imperfectly expressed the captivating grandeur and the boundless power of love in his face. From the wounds in his punctured hands, ever-fresh streamlets were flowing, watering the well of life at his feet. “Lord, who are you?” Damian wasn’t sure whether his lips had spoken the question out loud, or if his mind had merely whispered it. “I am the beginning and the end. I am the spring, the bed, and the estuary of your river. I am the search by which you were looking for me, and I am the eternal present of this encounter.” Damian didn’t hear the words; it seemed that the voice sounded somewhere deep in his own soul. Was it actually a voice? “I am the one who lasts while everything else comes into existence and ceases to exist in the whirling dance of restless movement.” “Why did not anyone I met on the road know you?” “These people, Damian,” Damian trembled when he heard his name, “they were you—different forms of you in the future. From the spot where you are now standing lead thousands of roads, and

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at the end of each a different form of you is waiting. All of the people that you met were captured by the world that ceases; therefore, they didn’t know anything about me. Human love, the compass of human spirit, or the entire richness of a man’s life is only a sign, an engagement ring given for the wedding. He who has loved the shadow too much, will never be able to see the person.” “I don’t want to become any one of them!” Damian blurted it out almost against his will. “I know; otherwise you would have never gotten here. Come and drink from my spring.” Damian drew water from the spring and drank. The blood had the fragrance and the taste of wine. He felt that his old haughtiness was disintegrating. The proud spirit, inebriated by the wisdom from the old man’s books, was dying, and in the decaying consciousness the serene soul of a child was born. It seemed to him that he was carried through the gates of the cemetery. The crowd with the candles, like a hedgerow full of fireflies, followed him down the dark alley. His heart, however, was now filled with music—not distant any more, but his own, gushing from the inside of the unknown life. Then he clearly heard the peal of the bells. When he tore his eyes from the photograph, it was already late evening. The bells in the church tower were still ringing. Everything was entirely the same— as it usually was at that time of the evening. He knew, however, that everything was different. Over the flowing time, over the boundless space, over the inception and extinction, there is always the sanctuary, and always the same peaceful river stream, and the Eyes forever present. Daniel Pastircˇák (1959) is a poet, prose-writer and essayist. He graduated with a degree in Protestant theology in Bratislava, Slovakia. He works as a preacher of the Free Evangelical church (Bratská cirkev). His book Damian’s River (1993) was listed on the List of Honour of the International Board of Books for Youth. His other books are Tehilim and Cintet; Christ in Brussels. Cintet was honoured as the best Slovak book of the year for youth. He is also engaged in art and has exhibited in galleries in Slovakia and abroad. His email address is pastirco@isternet.sk.

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Their Voices Never Be Silenced’: The Spirit of Central Europe Sixty Years After Shoa (Opening Worship, Lublin, 22 March 2006)

I. Call to Worship Blessed be our God always, now and for ever, and unto ages of ages. Reader 1: It was Elie Wiesel, a survivor of a Nazi concentration camp, who said, “The SS hung two Jewish men and a boy before the assembled inhabitants of the camp. The men died quickly but the death of the boy lasted half an hour. ‘Where is God?’ a man behind me asked. And I heard a voice within me answer, ‘Here is God—God is hanging here on this gallows.’” (Light candle as the next person reads.) Reader 2: It was Anna Frank, a victim of the Nazis, who said, “It is really a wonder that I have not dropped all my ideals, because they seem so absurd and impossible to carry out. Yet I keep them, because in spite of everything, I still believe that people really are good at heart. I simply cannot build up my hopes on a foundation consisting of confusion, misery, and death.” (Light candle as the next person reads.) Reader 3: It was Corrie Ten Boom, a Christian imprisoned by the Nazis for rescuing Jews, who said, “I discovered that it is not on our forgiveness any more than our goodness that the world’s healing hinges, but on God’s. When Jesus Christ tells us to love our enemies, he gives, along with the command, the love itself.”

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(Light candle as the next person reads.) Reader 4: It was Pastor Martin Niemöller, a victim of the Nazis, who said: “First they came for the Communists. And I did not speak out because I was not a Communist. Then they came for the Socialists. And I did not speak out because I was not a Socialist. Then they came for the trade unionists. And I did not speak out because I was not a trade unionist. Then they came for the Jews. And I did not speak out because I was not a Jew. Then they came for me, and there was no one left to speak out for me.” (Light candle as the next person reads.) Reader 5: It was on the wall of a cellar in Köln where Jews were hidden that these words were written: “I believe in the sun even when it is not shining. I believe in love even when I do not feel it. I believe in God even when God is silent.” (Light candle as the next person reads.) Reader 6: As we remember and pray, hope and believe, wait, and listen, and sing, and renew, may the God of justice and peace be present with us. Come, let us worship our God!

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(Light candle in silence.)

II. Act of Praise (Psalm 46) God is our refuge and strength, an ever-present help in trouble. Therefore we will not fear, though the Earth gives way and the mountains fall into the heart of the sea, though its waters roar and foam and the mountains quake with their surging. There is a river whose streams make glad the city of God, the holy place where the Most High dwells. God is within her, she will not fall; God will help her at break of day. Nations are in uproar, kingdoms fall; God lifts God’s voice, the Earth melts. The Lord Almighty is with us; the God of Jacob is our fortress. Come and see the works of the Lord, the desolations the Lord has brought on the Earth. God makes wars cease to the ends of the Earth; God breaks the bow and shatters the spear, God burns the shields with fire. “Be still, and know that I am God; I will be exalted among the nations, I will be exalted in the Earth.” The Lord Almighty is with us; the God of Jacob is our fortress.

III. Confession What shall we say in Your presence, You who dwell on high? What shall we declare to You, who are in Heaven beyond? For You know things secret as well as revealed. You know the mysteries of the universe and the unconscious thoughts of everyone alive. You search the innermost parts, You watch our motives and our passions. Nothing is concealed from You. Nothing is hidden from Your gaze.

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‘May Their Voices Never Be Silenced’: Sixty Years After Shoah

For sins which we ourselves have committed and for sins of omission, for sins of our hands and sins of our hearts, for the hurt we have caused you and our neighbours through ignorance or indifference, O God of Abraham, Have mercy on us. For failure to see your image in someone who is different, O God of Sarah, Have mercy on us. For putting our own welfare and social comfort above the basic needs of others, O God of Jacob, Have mercy on us. For our reluctance to get involved, O God of Rachel, Have mercy on us. For being grateful that we are in some way superior to another, O God of Leah, Have mercy on us. For teaching that it is better to receive than to give, O God of Sinai, Have mercy on us. For the failure of your Church to be light in the darkness, O God of Calvary, Have mercy on us. Amen.

IV. Promise of Forgiveness (Lamentations 3,22–24 and Amos 5,23–24) Because of the Lord’s great love we are not consumed, for the Lord’s compassions never fail. They are new every morning; great is your faithfulness. I say to myself, “The Lord is my portion; therefore I will wait for the Lord.” God spoke through the prophet Amos: Take away from me the noise of your songs; to the melody of your harps I will not listen. But let justice roll down like waters, and righteousness like an ever-flowing stream.

V. Confession of Faith We believe in God the Creator, Whose goodness shows through all creation with beauty and truth, Whose patience and generosity exceed all human expectation, and Whose glory neither Earth nor the Heavens can contain. We believe in Christ Jesus, the true Child of God,

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Who came with a disruption that shook the powers of evil, though it cost Him his life; Who from beyond death comes again to gather His disciples into a community of the free; Who refused to be intimidated by threats, or waylaid by any religion. We believe in the Holy Spirit, the source and sustainer of abundant life, Who from the very beginning flows from God, enhancing the gifts of the Church in the service of humanity. We believe in the Church as the universal body of Christ, in the forgiven people as the sharers of Christ’s peace, in the timeless, mystic fellowship of all God’s people, and in the life that transcends all sorrow and death.

VI. Illumination (Micah 7,1–7) What misery is mine! I am like one who gathers summer fruit at the gleaning of the vineyard; there is no cluster of grapes to eat, none of the early figs that I crave. The godly have been swept from the land; not one upright man remains. All men lie in wait to shed blood; each hunts his brother with a net. Both hands are skilled in doing evil; the ruler demands gifts, the judge accepts bribes, the powerful dictate what they desire—they all conspire together. The best of them is like a brier, the most upright worse than a thorn hedge. The day of your watchmen has come, the day God visits you. Now is the time of their confusion. Do not trust a neighbour; put no confidence in a friend. Even with her who lies in your embrace be careful of your words. For a son dishonours his father, a daughter rises up against her mother, a daughter-in-law against her mother-in-law—a man’s enemies are the members of his own household. But as for me, I watch in hope for the Lord, I wait for God my Saviour; my God will hear me.

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VII. Accepting Suffering with Love (Buber Martin: Tales of the Hasidim) A teacher called Rabbi Shmelke and his brother went to visit a respected holy man and wise teacher and asked him, “Our sages said certain words which disturb us, because we do not understand them. They are that people should praise and thank God for suffering just as much as for well-being, and receive it with the same joy. Will you tell us how we are to understand this, teacher?” The man replied, “Go to the House of Study. There you will find Rabbi Zusya smoking his pipe. He will give you the explanation.” So they went to the House of Study and asked Rabbi Zusya their question. He laughed. “You have hardly come to the right man! Better go and ask someone else, for I have never experienced suffering.” But the two knew that from the day he had been born right up to that very day, Rabbi Zusya’s life had been a web of need and anguish. Then they knew what it was: to accept suffering with love.

VIII. Intercession Let us pray for God’s ancient people, the Jews, the first to hear God’s word—for greater understanding between Christian and Jew, for the removal of our blindness and bitterness of heart, that God will grant us grace to be faithful to God’s covenant and to grow in the love of God’s name. O Lord, Hear My Prayer! Lord, remember not only the women and men of goodwill, but also those of ill will. Do not remember all the sufferings they have inflicted upon us; remember the fruits we bear, thanks to this suffering—our comradeship, our loyalty, our humanity, courage, generosity, the greatness of heart, which has grown out of all this. And when they come to judgement, let all the fruits that we have borne be their forgiveness. O Lord, Hear My Prayer! Eternal Ruler, we thank you for those ‘righteous among the nations’ who risked their lives, and sometimes gave them up to demonstrate that your love is boundless, active, regenerative; that you care for all

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people regardless of who or what we are. We thank you for those who found your image in all humankind. O Lord, Hear My Prayer! As Christians, we say together the words of the prayer which Jesus of Nazareth taught us: Our Father …

IX. Dedication (Prayer of Saint Francis of Assisi) Lord, make us instruments of Thy peace. Where there is hatred, let us sow love; Where there is injury, pardon; Where discord, union; Where there is doubt, sow faith; Where despair and darkness, sow hope and light; Where there is sadness, sow joy! For Thy mercy and Thy truth’s sake. Amen.

X. Blessing (Kaddish) Magnified and sanctified be God’s great name in the world which is created according to God’s will. May the Reign of God be established in our life and in our days, and that of all the house of Israel, swiftly and soon. And let us say: Amen. May God’s great name be blessed for ever and ever. Blessed and praised and glorified, exalted and honoured, magnified and lauded be the name of the Holy One, Blessed be God, though high above all blessings, all hymns and psalms which we can utter. And let us say: Amen. Let there be abundant peace from Heaven for us and for all the people of Israel. And let us say: Amen. May God who creates shalom—peace and wholeness—in the universe, create peace for all humankind and for all Israel. And let us say: Amen. Sources of Prayers Guess J. Bennett, Our God on the Gallows. Cleveland, 2002. Forms of Prayer for Jewish Worship, RSGB. Creating Christian Liturgies for Holocaust Memorial Day. London, 2005. Adaptation of the Apostles’ Creed by the Living Faith Lutheran Church. Church of England: Lent, Holy Week and Easter Services and Prayers.

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