More than a year ago, President Trump made some controversial remarks about the protests and counter-protests in Charlottesville, VA. (I’m not using the comments to bash the President, but as a jumping off point for the sake of this reflection.) The comments have come back into my consciousness lately with the Tree of Life Synagogue shooting and as we prepare to commemorate the 80thanniversary of Kristallnacht. Many of us remember the torch-wielding white supremacists that marched through the community shouting anti-Semitic slogans, and later congregated with weapons, shields, and helmets for a daytime march. There were also scores of counter-protestors. Amongst those counter-protestors were members of a group known as Antifa, the first time many of us were introduced to the far-left. Although there is still debate about who is to blame and for what in some circles, I have relied on two friends and colleagues who are serving parishes in Charlottesville. My college chaplain is now serving a UCC parish in that city, and a priest raised up from my home congregation serves an Episcopal parish there. I know from their first-hand accounts that most of the counter protesters were non-violent, many motivated by their Christian beliefs.
The President’s remark that has stuck with many, including me, since those days, came when he tried to assign parity and moral equivalency to the protestors and counter-protestors. He suggested that among the far-right, torch-wielding racist protestors were some, “very fine people.” While President Trump never apologized for these remarks, he did eventually give in to the robust bi-partisan criticism over those initial Charlottesville remarks, and denounced racism, white supremacy, neo-Nazis, and other hate groups. Nonetheless, the comment has remained troubling. Many wonder why would a person ever feel the need to equivocate about racists and anti-Semites? Faced with such a spectacle, what would lead a person to suggest that behind the hatred on display were “very fine people”?
The truth of the matter is that I totally understand the President’s comment about very fine people. To a point, at least. I have long wondered what leads people to a place of overt racism, anti-Semitism. I have long wondered, for example, how did an entire nation fall into the evil perpetrated by Hitler’s Nazis in World War II? By all accounts, early 20thCentury Europe was full of very fine people - at the pinnacle of human history, some would say - before devolving into a several decades long hellish nightmare of war and atrocity. Over a year ago, I was led to historian Ian Kershaw’s book, To Hell and Back, in my search for answers. The book asks how it could happen that people could both allow and be drawn to what happened in those years. In short, the answers are very complex. What the book highlights, despite the complexity of the history, however, is that it was easier than it would have seemed before or since. It shows that yes, very fine people, can be led astray quite easily.
In our world, especially in this day and time, where so many want to see things in stark black and white terms, we want to be able to label people as being good or evil. It’s easier to make sense of things that way. But the truth of the matter, which is, frankly, much more disconcerting, is that we’re all a mix of good and evil, righteous and sinner, though we don’t like to admit it. Even people who do evil things are not generally 100% evil. There is some good in them somewhere, and in some cases, it is the good that leads the way most of the time. This does not excuse the evil behavior one may engage in, but it does highlight the complexity of the human condition.
This week I came across a disturbing set of photos that have been labeled, “Laughing at Auschwitz.” The photos, made public by the National Holocaust Museum more than ten years ago, highlight life among the SS leaders of Auschwitz at the private retreat built for them not far from the interment death camp. The photos came from the personal album of the adjutant to the camp’s final commandant. In the photos, SS leaders are shown relaxing, laughing, singing, and enjoying themselves with young, bright women known as Helferinnen, or SS auxiliaries. It is shocking to consider how disparate the life in the camps and the life at the retreat were. To see such joy in the faces of people who committed such atrocities is disturbing, to say the least. If we only had the photos, without knowledge of the meaning behind the uniforms of the soldiers or the location of the photos we might be tempted to say, “My, look at those very fine people.” Most of us can’t bring ourselves to refer to Nazis, especially death camp Nazis that way.
While evil acts do not erase a person’s complex humanity, which still includes some capacity for things like love and joy, friendship and happiness, there are points at which the actions, or lack thereof, cannot be overcome by the ambiguity of psychological makeup, compartmentalization, or following orders. When the photos in question were taken, it was 1944 and the Nazi murder machine at Auschwitz was in full swing. The actions there had devolved to their basest and most evil levels. Perhaps there were some in Germany who truly didn’t understand the depth of the evil perpetrated by the Nazis, but all were aware of enough to have spoken out about it and addressed it in some arresting way. Some did of course, speaking out early on or secretly helping Jews and others throughout the war. Many of those persons payed the ultimate price for their stance. As we look back now, we can admit that far too few made those choices. Unfortunately, a choice to perpetuate evil becomes a defining descriptor for some, including the Nazis.
Coming back to the present day, our ability to call anti-Semites very fine people, is a huge struggle for me. That’s not to say that there isn’t some aspect of the personality of some racists and anti-Semites that we’d label as “nice”. That’s not to say that there aren’t people that hold those beliefs who are doing something to make the world a truly better place in some other way. But I cannot make room for anything other than calling out blatant racism and anti-Semitic behavior as evil and decidedly un-Christian. I’m not going to play a political game with what emboldens a person to shoot up a synagogue; none of us should. Lots of things embolden persons who commit hate crimes and it’s too easy to lay blame on one person, one comment, or one moment. Which is why consistent, clear, and unwavering condemnation is so important. The overarching conversation needs to be one that does not tolerate racism and anti-Semitism, or hate speech towards any group, be it veiled or implied. Silence when we encounter it is a way of supporting such thinking. As Christians we are called to respect the dignity of all human beings, and not stand by while that dignity and the full humanity of some groups is diminished.
Again, here’s the scary part for me; it’s not a zero-sum equation we’re talking about here. We are all flawed, the vast majority of us harbor some kind of prejudice and probably more than one “-ism”. We are not immune, as a people or as individuals, from the danger of falling from fine people into something else. While a choice to perpetuate evil in small or large ways, intentional or unintentional, can be defining for those of us who do not fight against our inner demons, it is not the end of the story. Fortunately, we are not beyond redemption. It is never too late to challenge the biases we may have been raised with, the fears that perpetuate stereotypes, and the polite resistance to speak up and call out the sinfulness of the rhetoric and behavior in our communities.
As many of you know I have become good friends with Rabbi Bregman at Temple Beth Tefilloh, in Brunswick. She has been my guest in the Christ Church pulpit, and I hers, in the synagogue. We belong to a colleague group that meets regularly, and she is one third of the planning team for next year’s trip to the Holy Lands. When she announced the open house last weekend, inviting any and all in the community to join her community for prayers following the Tree of Life shooting, I knew immediately that I would be there to support her and her community, many of whom I do not know. The vulnerability of minority groups be they religious, racial, gender, or other is a real issue that many of don’t have to think about if we live in the majority. The gathering last week was a chance for a community to stand together and quietly, but resolutely represent what the ideals of this nation are all about. We need more of that.
As a nation, a community, and even as a church, we cannot rely on our understanding that we are very fine people who can’t or won’t ever bear responsibility for hateful behavior or actions. Whether through action or inaction, history tells a different story over and over again. Nor can we assume that the very fine nature of our neighbors will always prevent terrible things from happening in the future, here or anywhere else. It takes an unshaking vigilance and consistent response to hatred to keep it at bay. When we grow tired, when we give in to the pushback and the accusations of hyperbolic rhetoric, or when some form of tribalism allows us to ignore what would normally be morally clear, we are on the road to the unthinkable. It never happens overnight – Kristallnacht was not a big bang moment in the story of the holocaust. It was the wretched manifestation of years of small failures on the part of the moral majority of the day and the failure to keep vigilant in the face of evil. Such things are more like a snowball rolling down a hill. The longer they are ignored the larger they become and the more momentum they can gain.
I don’t think another Holocaust is around the corner. There is a lot of ground to cover before that could happen again. But it could happen again. If not against Jews, it might happen against another group. As hopeful as I am about the future, I cannot ignore the past that whispers otherwise. There are whispers today. Some of them come from places of action, and some come from places of inaction and false assumptions, while ignorance whispers yet more warnings. Only love, liberally applied and consistently offered will drive out hate. Martin Luther King Jr. taught us this truth. The truth of love is the one our Lord died to instill in us. Love is the starting point and the ending point of our faith, and we apply to all our neighbors. No exceptions. We are very fine people. I pray that we will always live, act, and love like them.
Tom+
We remember a night of darkness and fear that swept the heartland of Christian Europe like a scourge. We remember those who were persecuted. Jews for being Jews. We remember those who spoke out, brave souls who tried to save a world.
And we remember the silence! How many stood aside, mute and unconcerned forgetting the divine command: "You shall not stand idle while your neighbor bleeds."
For the sin of silence,
For the sin of indifference,
For the secret complicity of the neutral,
For the closing of borders,
For the washing of hands from blame,
For the crime of forgetfulness,
For the sin of meaningless rhetoric,
Let there be no forgetfulness before the Throne of Glory, and let memory startle us at any moment, when we lie down and when we rise up. Let us remember and never forget...
~ From a memorial prayer service to commemorate a previous Kristallnacht anniversary, Council of Christians and Jews, New South Wales, Australia