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Pope Pius XII and the Holocaust
A Dialogue Toward Consensus and Healing

Monday, May 2, 2005

Transcript of the presentation by Fr. Christopher Pollard, part of a Dialogue Toward Consensus and Healing, at St. Charles Borromeo Catholic Church

Introduction
Well, let me tell you what my day's been like. Actually, with all of my well-laid plans to write out a beautiful script, my day has basically been filled with sin, evil, suffering, and death, which is actually probably the best way to prepare to offer you five, ten, or maybe fifteen minutes of remarks. I've never thought of this topic in terms of a debate, which may be a function of my age, but that's already been well established by the academics. And it's actually quite pleasant and happy compared to what the rest of the day has been like—sitting with someone who's dying and sitting with their loved ones who can't possibly bear the thought of letting go.

1. What Jews and Catholic Have in Common
I wanted to talk this evening a little bit about what we have in common. One of the things that the organizers of this dialogue obviously had in mind, without necessarily saying it, is the desire to foster friendships. Because when we love each other it's possible to have dialogue, and it's possible to heal. The friendship can be founded on what we have in common.

And certainly we have in common that we're made by God. And especially all of us who read the book of Genesis will find something remarkable and beautiful about being made in the image and likeness of God—each of us made as an unrepeatable expression of God's love.

2. Jews and Catholics See Themselves at the Center of History
There are a few other things we have in common as well, those who consider themselves to be the chosen people of God and those who understand themselves to be members of the one holy Catholic and apostolic Church. The good side of that is that we all think that what happened to us is at the center of history. The bad side of it is that we all think that what happens to us is at the center of history. And I'd like to spell out three ramifications of that.

2.1. The Common Perception of Being Persecuted
It's all too easy to be primarily concerned with our own being persecuted. It's something that just sprang up when Rabbi Rudolph and I got together. I don't know whether it was his off-hand remark or my off-hand remark about what our congregants were bracing themselves for when they go to the office these days. And we realized, "Oh, you mean your people feel the same way?" We easily think that the other has the upper hand in matters of culture, especially in matters of American culture. And, instead, we probably find ourselves in the same situation.

2.2. Ignorance of Each Other
What also follows from having our understanding of self in the center of history is that it's easy to be ignorant of other things. And I find that, if anything else, maybe what causes hurt in both directions is being largely ignorant of each other. Because when we feel that others are ignorant of us, we're offended, but, at the same time, we're usually largely ignorant of the other. Now I would caution all of you who already by virtue of living here have, probably, a good education and the fact that you came because you recognized these two names means that you had even more of an education than the average person. Most people aren't clear thinkers. And our frustration with lack of clarity in thought won't be overcome by study or analysis. It will only be overcome by love.

2.3. Our Response to Criticism and Suffering
The third consequence of how we think of ourselves as the center of everything that's going on, at least in the scope of history, is that attacks and criticisms of one of us are always interpreted as attacks and criticisms of all of us. It may very well be that that's inevitable. You can't say anything about my mother, but I can say plenty about my mother—I wouldn't say it in front of you, however.

Now in terms of the lens that Fr. Fogarty mentioned, when we see what happens to us to be at the center of history, we add to that, as religious people, that we interpret world events in terms of God's will, which includes the divine attributes of justice and mercy. That makes everything all the more important, all the more critical, all the more terrible sometimes. And so all of these matters impact everyone's relationship with God. Our experience of suffering or our reaction to other people's suffering leaves us with questions more than answers. How is this possible? What can we do about it? I think it's safe to say that it seems that much of what we do, especially in the realm of care—whether it be care for a loved one on the most intimate level or care for others on the largest societal level—always is hitting limits in what seems to be a limitless effort to eradicate suffering. When we can't do it, we feel defeated. I spent eight hours of my day dealing with that today.

3. Growing Together by Growing Closer to God
And so, for Jews and Catholics alike, the experience of terrible suffering, whether it be our own, or actually—sometimes especially—the terrible suffering of others, leaves many of us despairing of God, despairing in faith, despairing of hope, despairing of God's love. And, as a priest, I'm only afraid when I see that what happens leads people further away from God, whether it be as an individual or as a group. And so what I'd like to do is just simply observe that dialogue and healing happen when each and every one of us strives to grow closer to God. That may be a huger task for some than for others.

What also Rabbi Rudolph and I deal with, and what all of you know is going on, is that what is happily categorized as Jews or Catholics includes such a vast array of people, some of whom don't actually believe in God, but they still maintain that title. That's their identity. It's an amazing thing to try to keep in consideration.

And, as a result of that, it seems to me, that especially Jews and Catholics, more than any two groups in the world, can very confidently turn to prayer, for the sake of healing and dialogue, not necessarily to doing anything and everything to understand the other.

I'm always warning husbands and wives: Your job isn't to perfectly understand the other person; you'll never be able to do that. The only one who completely understands you is God. And when you have a relationship with God, of real spiritual faith, of real prayer, then you're free to share yourself with your spouse, instead of demanding that your spouse understand you or insisting that you perfectly understand everything about your spouse. You'll never sleep.

And so what I find perhaps needing emphasis is that all of us reconsider our own identity and be confident that as we become better Jews and as we become better Catholics, as we grow closer to God, we'll be better friends.

I'll conclude with some words of then Cardinal Ratzinger, now Pope Benedict XVI:

. . . because what we have in common is more than just our origin but also our purpose for God having us in the world. Beyond all historical and strictly theological discussions, we find ourselves placed at the heart of the question of the present responsibility of Jews and Christians before the modern world. This responsibility consists precisely in representing the truth of the one will of God for the world, and thus placing man before his inner truth, which is at the same time his way. Jews and Christians must bear witness to the one God, creator of heaven and earth, and do this in that entirety which Psalm 19 formulates in an exemplary way. The light of the physical creation, the sun, and the spiritual light, the commandment of God, belong inextricably together. In the radiance of the Word of God, the same God speaks to the world, who attests to himself in the sun, moon, and stars, in the beauty and fullness of creation.