The Sunflower_ On the Possibilities and - Wiesenthal, Simon copy

thrown upon the open flames. Those toward the back of the line know full well that in a
matter of moments the fate of those up front will be their fate as well. And there is nothing
they can do about it.
This strikes resonating chords with the scene Simon Wiesenthal has created for us, in
which Jews of all ages are locked in a house that is then set on fire.
Both episodes strain to the breaking point any contention that forgiveness would be
appropriate within such circumstances. If God forgives such deeds, does not that likewise
strain to the breaking point any contention that the universe of God's creation is a moral
universe? A malevolent deity might be placed in charge of such arrangements but surely not
a god of mercy and compassion.
And if God is not entitled to forgive, surely the same moral boundary is placed around
God's children. To forgive the Nazis who threw children on the fire and locked them in
houses to be incinerated is to become one with the Nazis, endorsing evil deeds rather than
combatting evil deeds, and thereby becoming complicit in their actions.
Jews and Christians usually cope with the dilemma by affirming that God, rather than
being removed from evil, is found in the midst of the evil, identifying with the victims rather
than the perpetrators. So the Jewish imagery of the “Suffering Servant” in the Book of Isaiah
avers, and so the Christian imagery of Christ suffering on the cross likewise avers. But, as
Elie Wiesel suggests in Ani Maamin, such a deliverance comes too late—six million deaths
too late—and such a God seems powerless to be more than a remorseful deity who can
endure but cannot enable.
But perhaps there are situations where sacrificial love, with forgiveness at the heart of it,
can make a difference, and can even empower. One thinks of Nelson Mandela, released