{"title":"Leadership Talk by the Rector of the Seminario Rabínico Latinoamericano Buenos Aires","authors":"A. Skorka","doi":"10.1515/9783110618594-017","DOIUrl":null,"url":null,"abstract":"The first thoughts and sentiments that came into my mind and heart when I had received the proposed theme of this panel was about the terrible silence which accompanies us Jews throughout the greater part of our history—both heavenly silence and human silence. Jews have had many opportunities to understand, since the very beginning of their existence, the meaning of suffering, such as they experienced during the slavery in Egypt. They questioned God about the suffering of the people and especially about the unjust suffering of the righteous. Jeremiah (Jer 12:1–5)1 posed the question and received an answer similar to the one God gave to Job: “Who are you, O mortal, that I should reveal my secrets to you?” When the Talmudic sages asked desperately why their colleagues were being tortured to death by Hadrian’s legionaries, the answer they received from God, from Heaven was: “Keep silent!”2 These were my initial reflections about the theme of this panel. In 1944, when the dimensions of the Shoah began to be known among Jews living outside of Europe, Yehudah Leib Magnes, then president of the Hebrew University of Jerusalem, in the opening address for its twentieth academic year, quoted Rabbi Levi Yitzhak of Berdichev’s dramatic question: “I do not ask, Lord of the World [...] to know why I suffer, but only this: Do I suffer for Thy sake?”3 André Neher investigated this issue for years and wrote a masterpiece: The Exile of the Word: From the Silence of the Bible to the Silence of Auschwitz.4 However, it is not the silence of God toward Jewish suffering that we come to analyze today but the human silence and indifference towards the plight of their Jewish brothers and sisters. My father used to be a great reader of Yiddish liter-","PeriodicalId":418945,"journal":{"name":"Comprehending and Confronting Antisemitism","volume":"245 1","pages":"0"},"PeriodicalIF":0.0000,"publicationDate":"2019-11-05","publicationTypes":"Journal Article","fieldsOfStudy":null,"isOpenAccess":false,"openAccessPdf":"","citationCount":"0","resultStr":null,"platform":"Semanticscholar","paperid":null,"PeriodicalName":"Comprehending and Confronting Antisemitism","FirstCategoryId":"1085","ListUrlMain":"https://doi.org/10.1515/9783110618594-017","RegionNum":0,"RegionCategory":null,"ArticlePicture":[],"TitleCN":null,"AbstractTextCN":null,"PMCID":null,"EPubDate":"","PubModel":"","JCR":"","JCRName":"","Score":null,"Total":0}
引用次数: 0
Abstract
The first thoughts and sentiments that came into my mind and heart when I had received the proposed theme of this panel was about the terrible silence which accompanies us Jews throughout the greater part of our history—both heavenly silence and human silence. Jews have had many opportunities to understand, since the very beginning of their existence, the meaning of suffering, such as they experienced during the slavery in Egypt. They questioned God about the suffering of the people and especially about the unjust suffering of the righteous. Jeremiah (Jer 12:1–5)1 posed the question and received an answer similar to the one God gave to Job: “Who are you, O mortal, that I should reveal my secrets to you?” When the Talmudic sages asked desperately why their colleagues were being tortured to death by Hadrian’s legionaries, the answer they received from God, from Heaven was: “Keep silent!”2 These were my initial reflections about the theme of this panel. In 1944, when the dimensions of the Shoah began to be known among Jews living outside of Europe, Yehudah Leib Magnes, then president of the Hebrew University of Jerusalem, in the opening address for its twentieth academic year, quoted Rabbi Levi Yitzhak of Berdichev’s dramatic question: “I do not ask, Lord of the World [...] to know why I suffer, but only this: Do I suffer for Thy sake?”3 André Neher investigated this issue for years and wrote a masterpiece: The Exile of the Word: From the Silence of the Bible to the Silence of Auschwitz.4 However, it is not the silence of God toward Jewish suffering that we come to analyze today but the human silence and indifference towards the plight of their Jewish brothers and sisters. My father used to be a great reader of Yiddish liter-
当我收到这个小组讨论的提议主题时,我的第一个想法和情绪是关于伴随我们犹太人在我们历史的大部分时间里的可怕的沉默——无论是天堂的沉默还是人类的沉默。犹太人从一开始就有很多机会去理解苦难的意义,比如他们在埃及的奴隶制时期所经历的苦难。他们向上帝询问人们所遭受的苦难,尤其是义人所遭受的不公正的苦难。耶利米(耶12:1-5)我提出了这个问题,并得到了一个类似于上帝给约伯的回答:“你是谁,你这凡人,竟使我把我的秘密告诉你?”当塔木德的圣贤们绝望地问为什么他们的同事被哈德良的军团折磨致死时,他们从上帝那里得到的回答是:“保持沉默!这是我对这次专题讨论会主题的初步思考。1944年,当生活在欧洲以外的犹太人开始了解大屠杀的规模时,当时的耶路撒冷希伯来大学校长耶胡达·莱布·马格内斯(Yehudah Leib Magnes)在第二十学年的开幕致辞中引用了拉比利瓦伊·伊扎克(Rabbi Levi Yitzhak)的别尔季切夫(Berdichev)的戏剧性问题:“我不要求,世界之主……知道我为什么受苦,但只知道:我为你受苦吗?安德列·内赫对这个问题进行了多年的研究,并撰写了一部杰作:《话语的流亡:从圣经的沉默到奥斯维辛的沉默》。然而,我们今天要分析的不是上帝对犹太人苦难的沉默,而是人类对犹太兄弟姐妹困境的沉默和冷漠。我父亲过去很喜欢读意第绪语