Beyond Innocence and Redemption: Confronting the Holocaust and Israeli Power

By Marc H. Ellis. Harper & Row, 1990. 214 pp. List: $13; AET: $9 for one, $13 for two.

Reviewed by John Dirlik

A daring Israeli commentator once suggested that the Jewish people have suffered two great tragedies in the last half century: the Holocaust, and the lesson they learned from it. Although American Jewish scholar Marc Ellis is not as cynical, his analysis of the impact that the Nazi catastrophe had on the collective psyche of his people is just as provocative.

Ellis provides an illuminating overview of what has been described as "Holocaust theology," that worldview which places Jewish destiny within the parameters of the Holocaust and the state of Israel. He argues that in their attempt to understand how a God of history could have permitted the murder of 6 million Jews, Holocaust theologians have essentially concluded there are no satisfactory answers. Thus, the rabbinic world of synagogue and prayer is no longer sufficient for them, and the religious duty of the community of faith must now include ensuring the survival of the Jewish people. Since only sovereign and powerful states can guarantee such survival, "achieving power in Israel reaches the level of sacred principle." Hence the centrality of Israel not only as the spiritual engine of Jewish life but also as the only reliable vehicle for self-preservation.

The conviction that empowerment as embodied in the state of Israel is necessary to prevent a second Holocaust helps explain the near-hysterical reaction of many in the Jewish community to criticism of Israel. If the state is regarded as indispensable to Jewish survival, then it is hardly surprising that any challenge to its legitimacy takes on the menacing proportion of an existential threat.

This also helps explain how anti-Zionism can be viewed as anti-Semitism dressed in different clothes, and how brilliant moral philosophers like Elie Wiesel can refuse to condemn oppressive acts when committed by Israel that they would never hesitate to denounce in other nations. The dilemma for these Jews, according to Ellis, is that they are "torn between the remembrance of their suffering, and the reality of an independent and powerful state that they do not control but must always legitimate—thus the strained arguments, the twisted logic, the shrill voices."

To explain is not to justify. Ellis scrutinizes the premises of Holocaust theology—the innocence of the Jewish people and the redemptive quality of Israel—and suggests that neither is Israel in itself redemptive nor are the Jews any longer innocent. In what can only cause shudders among conservative Holocaust theologians and their supporters, Ellis calls for "deabsolutizing" both the state of Israel and the Holocaust. State-worship, he argues, is no less idolatrous than worshipping a Golden Calf. Israel should be seen as a country "like any other, capable of good and bad but unworthy of ultimate loyalty." The lesson of the Holocaust should be "to end the suffering of the Jewish people and all peoples, including and especially the Palestinian people."

Ellis is obviously aware that shaking the foundations of Holocaust theology will not win him accolades from the Jewish establishment. But he draws encouragement from the noble tradition of dissent that existed in the early days of political Zionism, personified by the likes of Reform Rabbi Judah Magnes and the philosopher Hannah Arendt. These not only correctly predicted that the forceful implantation of a Jewish colony on Arab land would lead to endless conflict and bloodshed, but posed fundamental questions on the nature of the Zionist enterprise that are as relevant today as they were then. According to Ellis, this tradition of dissent—kept alive by contemporary critics like Rabbi Elmer Berger, Professor Noam Chomsky and others—needs to be nurtured and revitalized for the sake of both Israel and its Arab neighbors.

Any discussion of Israel would be incomplete without a look at the unique relationship that country enjoys with the West.

Like other writers, Ellis attributes the restraint that generally characterizes Western criticism of Israel partly to Christian guilt over not having done enough to prevent the Holocaust. But in a biting critique of the interfaith dialogue that emerged between progressive Christians and Jews following the Second Vatican Council in the mid-'60s, Ellis denounces the Christian participants who welcomed "almost as a new gospel" the premises of Holocaust theology. For the unfortunate result has been an unspoken "ecumenical deal," whereby Christians avoid pressing the issue of Palestinian suffering under Israeli rule, in return for a Jewish acceptance of the sincerity of Christian repentance for its past anti-Semitism.

Solidarity With Former Victims

Far from dismissing the need for the Church's recognition of its complicity in the persecution of Jews, Ellis suggests that such repentance is in fact essential for a renewal of Christianity. As accepted by numerous post-Vatican II theologians, genuine healing for Christians must inevitably include solidarity with their former victims. Ellis takes this one step further. Just as the evolution of Christian theology necessitates the inclusion of yesterday's victims, the Jews, so must an honest Jewish theology include Israel's present victims, the Palestinians. "If Jews represent the road back to the values of the Western Christian tradition," writes Ellis, "Palestinians represent a similar road back to the values of the Jewish tradition."

Essentially, Ellis' moral challenge to the Jewish community is that it include within its vision of the future something it has consistently avoided: a genuine partnership with the indigenous population of the Holy Land. His challenge to the Christian community is that it adopt a "double solidarity" by supporting the existence of an Israel within secure and recognized borders, without neglecting the Palestinians' right to self-determination.

Beyond Innocence and Redemption is a valuable contribution to the literature of dissent whose origins are as old as the Bible. It is also an immensely inspiring book. The author's sensitivity and ethical caliber shine through, testifying to that spirit of justice found in the universalist principles of the Judaic tradition. The question now is whether such a prophetic voice will be heeded, or whether its impact should more aptly be compared to the flame of a flickering candle than that of a burning torch.

John Dirlik, a free-lance writer from Montreal, writes on Canadian and Middle East affairs.