The Sunflower

Abraham Joshua Heschel uses a parable to illustrate his response to Wiesenthal’s question. A rabbi is treated with disrespect by a man who doesn’t know he is the rabbi. When the man learns the rabbi’s identity, he begs for forgiveness, and the rabbi refuses. The rabbi’s reason for not giving forgiveness is that the offence was committed against a common man, albeit one who doesn’t exist, whom the offender first thought the rabbi to be. Heschel’s summation is that “no one can forgive crimes committed against other people” (171). 

Susannah Heschel begins by stating that she “would have done exactly as Simon Wiesenthal did” (172).

She explains that the sins of the Nazis fall under the two categories of sin for which, under Judaism, no forgiveness is possible: “murder and destroying one’s reputation” (172).

She goes on to draw the distinction between South Africa’s Truth and Reconciliation Commission—which exposed the crimes of the regime in a public forum in an attempt at restitution—and the German process of de-Nazification, which was in effect a process of covering up or dissociating from Nazi crimes. Rather than confessing guilt, Germany sought to cover it up. She further points out that the Nazis did not act as enemies of the common people, but rather that many citizens were “often eager participants in its crimes” (173), resulting in “murder and a kind of national suicide” (173).

Heschel concludes by stating that the legacy of murdered victims must remain with their families for generations, for this is how their humanity will be preserved. She extends this imperative of remembrance to the descendants of the Nazis as well, as a means of preserving their humanity. 

José Hobday responds from his position as a man of Native American heritage. He relates to Wiesenthal from his cultural position, as being from a race that was oppressed, murdered, and mistreated through history.

He draws on the teaching of his grandmother, who advised that he should “not be so ignorant and stupid and inhuman as they are” (174). He asserts that, in fact, forgiveness and forgetting are “of a piece” (175), that every time one remembers a misdeed, one should forgive it again, and, by this means, achieve full mastery over the offence. True healing from the injury comes through forgiveness of the one who inflicted the injury.

Christopher Hollis observes that, while Simon did not forgive Karl, all indications are that Simon feels remorse for not having done so. He states that if asked what he would have done in the same situation, he cannot say that he would have done any differently than Simon.

As to the question of what Simon should have done, Hollis says Simon should have expressed compassion. He points out that both Judaism and Christianity teach that forgiveness is correct, for it is the only way to correct the law of love when it is broken. Hollis raises the Christian notion of original sin and points out that, while Jewish teaching does not use the phrase, the concept is still present within the teachings. Based on this theology, every individual is guilty and in need of forgiveness. He goes on to point out that scripture advises people “to be reluctant to condemn others” (177), because everyone is subject to condemnation.

Then, Hollis points out that these considerations are, in light of this particular circumstance, irrelevant because in this case the crime is blatant and not merely a theoretical generic state of the soul. Yet, because the “absolute moral law was stated by Christ at the Crucifixion when he prayed for the forgiveness of His own murderers” (178), the imperative is to forgive.

In response to the argument that Simon the individual could not forgive crimes against other Jewish people, Hollis states that by this reasoning, Karl could not be held responsible for the crimes committed by the entire Nazi regime. He suggests that Karl “was as much a victim . . . of that campaign” (179) as were those people who died at his hands. As to the question of punishment, Karl was about to suffer his punishment through his death to injuries received in the line of duty, but that is something other than the question of spiritual forgiveness.

In conclusion, Hollis acknowledges the cynical belief of Jewish people during the time, that “God was on leave” (180). He suggests that faith requires that believers reject such an idea, because faith is about standing by God even when he can’t be seen. Further, he suggests that it is precisely the vilest sinner, like Judas, that God wants to forgive.