"Where were we when men learned to hate in the days of starvation?
"When raving madmen were sowing wrath in the hearts of the unemployed?"
The yohrzeit (death-anniversary) of Rabbi Abraham Joshua Heschel is the 18th day of the Jewish midwinter lunar “moonth” of Tevet. In the Western calendar, this year it falls on Sunday evening and Monday, January 15-16 -- the real and the officially observed birthdays of Dr. Martin Luther King.
In this way, the different memorial practics of Christians, who observe birthdays, and of Jews, who observe yohrzeits, actually bring together these two spiritual/ political giants of almost 50 years ago. Together in death as they were in life.
Heschel was -- is -- one of the most fruitful Jewish thinkers of the 20th century. He became also one of its greatest teachers of the unity of thought and action, of "spiritualty" and "politics," of prayer and activism.
He not only marched for voting rights with Dr. King in Selma,
but stood firmly with King against the Vietnam War, when many urged them to be quiet.He sat beside King on April 4, 1967, at Riverside Church when King gave his most profound, prophetc, and provocative speech: "Beyond Vietnam -- A Time to Break the Silence,"
and he prayed alongsde King among the war dead in Arlington National Cemetery, cryng out against an immoral war.
This week of yohrzeit is an excellent moment to learn from him and with him, and each other. This year, for this yohrzeit, as we live through (and some of us die from) disgusting terrorist attacks, I have been remembering an extraordinary teaching of Heschel’s about responsibility for the rise of fascism and Nazism in Europe in the 1930s.
By 1944, Heschel knew his family in Eastern Europe had been murdered by the Nazis. He himself had escaped to America only by the skin of his teeth. It would have been easy, sensible, for him to have thought about Nazism as itself solely responsible for millions of deaths and years of cruelty.
Yet amazingly, without in the slightest degree absolving Nazism of its evil, he went further. He examined what responsibiility others had -- a "we" that he did not quite define -- for the success of Nazism. He reflected more deeply on World War II and the Holocaust even while they were happening. In February 1944, he published a talk on "The Meaning of this War":
"We have failed to offer sacrifices on the altar of peace; now we must offer sacrifices on the altar of war.... Let Fascism not serve as an alibi for our conscience.... Where were we when men learned to hate in the days of starvation? When raving madmen were sowing wrath in the hearts of the unemployed? ...
"Good and evil, which were once as real as day and night, have become a blurred mist. In our everyday life we worshipped force, despised compassion, and obeyed no law but our unappeasable appetite. The vision of the sacred has all but died in the soul of man." ("The Meaning of This War [World War II]," pp. 210-212, in Moral Grandeur and Spiritual Audacity, Susannah Heschel, ed. [Farrar Straus Giroux, 1996]).
One of these paragraphs may seem to speak in the language of politics and econoomics, the other in the language of religion. To Heschel they were the same tongue. Early in the essay, he asks the question: "Who is responsible [that the war has soaked the earth in blood]?" And he answers as a Hassid would,