4.1 Alarcon. To Err is Human, to Forgive Divine

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4.1 To Err is Human, to Forgive Divine

By Alexis Alarcon ’23

The limits of forgiveness must be observed and revered as much as the action itself. In the cases where total absolution is not achievable or permissible, the situation commands the attention of any passerby. The notion of condoning the Nazis has been, and likely always will be, a highly contested issue worldwide. By questioning the restrictions of remission in any instance it begs the question if pardoning is possible. While forgiveness and repentance are essential to life for practical purposes, on behalf of a race or community it is unacceptable and impossible.

Forgiveness is defined as “the action or process of forgiving or being forgiven” by the Oxford Dictionary. This definition leaves out a crucial part of the process: repentance. What good is leniency if the offending party is not remorseful and therefore not deserving of being pardoned? In everyday life, seeking and granting mercy can be therapeutic for both parties; salvaging a relationship is likely worth more than the crime. It is generally viewed as the morally correct thing to do, for interpersonal interactions. A challenge arises in determining if the offending party does wish to come to terms with their wrongdoing, urging the question of when is it acceptable to not pardon the offender? Who gets to determine how many or what type of wrong is too hurtful? Revenge is generally frowned upon by polite society, however, in a case as massive and disturbing as the genocide of the European Jews, an issue so traumatizing to millions of people, the overwhelmingly emotional response is legally supported by the nation of Israel. It is arduous, borderline disrespectful, to suggest bringing civility and logic into the reactions of survivors and their families when the foundations of the world order were shaken. Kenneth Feinberg, a Washington D. C. attorney was tasked with assigning a dollar amount of reparations the federal government had to pay to the families of the three thousand people who lost their lives during the September 11 attacks on the United States. The families and much of the public nearly revolted over this callous proposal. Yet the immense torment perpetrated by the Nazis demands a price, some way to attempt to repair the lasting damage felt throughout the world today. To begin to consider the possibility of reconciliation, the perpetrator must show signs of and be readily willing to wholeheartedly commit contrition for their sins. Simon Wiesenthal proposes the impossible question of the possibility of forgiveness in his book, The Sunflower, having been challenged to do the same by a dying Nazi. The scale of evildoing during the Holocaust is hard to fathom, and to suggest the notion of empathy is abhorrent to some survivors, understandably Chapter 4. Social Science

so.

Taking a look at the unique story illustrated in The Sunflower [1], it is easier to consider the consequences of purging the Nazis of sin, and how one interaction can demonstrate the large difference of opinions on the topic. In this story specifically, Wiesenthal and hundreds of other prisoners from their labor camp are brought to work at a military hospital for the day. A nurse comes to greet the prisoners, tasked with selecting a Jew to hear the confession of an SS soldier on his deathbed. Wiesenthal is chosen out of the group and is led inside, where he listens for the rest of this day and the next to hear more of the story. Once the dying man finishes, Wiesenthal walks out of the room without a word, and returns to his fellow prisoners. The prisoners return yet again, but the nurse informs Wiesenthal that the man passed away that night. The book summarizes the rest of the war and Wiesenthal’s movements between camps until he is eventually liberated. He goes to visit the Nazi’s mother, and spares her the graphic details of her son’s life and crimes. The story ends, and we are implored to consider how we would react in the same circumstance, and influential people from around the globe were asked to write responses. Two of those responses were Edward H. Flannery, a Catholic priest on the executive committee of the National Christain Leadership Conference for Israel, and Primo Levi, an Italian writer and antifascist held at Auschwitz. Flannery, from the Catholic perspective, provides two possible approaches to this dilemma: psychological or emotive, and ethical or religious. He writes, “The psychological or emotive factors are of importance and should have an influence on the decision to be made, but when they are in serious conflict with ethical or religious principles they must give way. . . ” (page 136). He continues, “The dying SS man did not ask him to speak on behalf of all Jews or, for that matter, for the harm done to all Jews but only for what he had done” (pg 137). Flannery maintains if he were in Wiesenthal’s position he would have pardoned the dying Nazi. While his stance is understandable, and supported with scripture on forgiveness from the Bible, his argument for why the SS man should have been absolved is not entirely how it was told in the story. The SS soldier tells Wiesenthal, “‘Yes, it is a year,’ he continued, ‘a year since the crime I committed. I have to talk to someone about it, perhaps that will help’” (pgs 29 - 30). It is evident here that the Nazi is confessing his sins as a Catholic, whose confession is required to go to Heaven, not as a human desiring to correct a past misdeed. Illustrated above, the Nazi is not concerned with Wiesenthal’s reaction, he simply needs someone to listen and absolve him of his