PURIFICATION STARTS WITH THE TRUTH
James Reston Jr.
USA Today
Posted at 12:16 AM/ET, July 06, 2009
Catholics. Lutherans. Muslims. Americans. We all need a moment of
self-reflection to process our transgressions and move forward toward
a better self. And this doesn't mean dilution.
This is the season for historical purification. All over the world,
religions and nations seem ready to peek into the dark places of
their histories, to learn from the atrocities of the past and thus
to experience a kind of collective catharsis. It is an imperfect
process, but the press for it is undeniable. In Australia the prime
minister formally apologized for the past treatment of the aboriginal
population. In America there is similar talk about slavery and
torture. Turkey struggles with the stain of Armenian genocide a century
ago. Islam battles with the association of jihad with mass murder. But
the nexus between purification and apology makes the process delicate.
(Illustration by Keith Simmons, USA TODAY)
Historical purification as a concept began, in recent history,
with the Roman Catholic Church during the 1990s. In the church's
run-up to the millennial year of 2000, Pope John Paul II coined
the phrase when he announced that the church would reconsider the
Galileo case. Would the church admit that a fundamental error had
taken place in 1632? Would a pope, Urban VIII, or his inquisitor,
Roberto Bellarmino, be charged with direct responsibility? Would the
church apologize for forcing Galileo, under the threat of torture,
to recant his view that the Earth revolved around the sun?
It took the Roman Church 13 years to reach a final conclusion. In the
end, it did not apologize. It delivered a classic Washington-type
expression of regret. Yes, mistakes were made, but no historical
figure was identified as having made them. The movement for historical
purification ended there.
One can only wonder what might have happened if the ultimate dark
chapter of Catholic history, the Spanish Inquisition, had been
opened up.
What if the Roman Church had publically, honestly, and definitively
condemned its own widespread system of torture, including
waterboarding? Would it have been so easy for an American system of
torture to develop after 9/11?
Now the Lutheran Church is preparing to celebrate its own Jubilee. A
"decade of Martin Luther" has been proclaimed in the run-up to the
year 2017, the 500th anniversary of Luther's brazen act of nailing
his 95 theses to the castle church door of Wittenberg, Germany, the
act that sparked the Reformation. Each year of this Luther decade
will be devoted to a single theme.
The ugly history The organizers worry especially about the year
2013 when the theme is "the Reformation and Tolerance." How will
the Lutheran Church deal with Luther's rampant anti-Semitism,
his vicious attacks on Mennonites and Anabaptists, or his attitude
toward the Turks, Mohammed and Islam? How will the church grapple
with the use the Nazis made of Luther's anti-Semitism? In 1933,
Luther's very own church at Wittenberg was draped with Nazi flags,
and the first archbishop of a Nazi religion was consecrated there. A
few weeks ago when I was in Worms, Germany, a Lutheran minister told
me that it would be "sheer idolatry" if the Luther Jubilee did not
address these difficult and awkward episodes.
Against Luther's revolution the Holy Roman Emperor of the time,
Charles V, waged a 24-year war against Protestantism in an effort
to expunge the heresy and impose a single Christian dogma on the
Christian world. Luther was excommunicated and declared an "outlaw"
by the Edict of Worms. The ancient ban against him "and all his
followers" was proclaimed. That ban is still in effect.
Across the street from the Evangelical Church in Worms, I asked the
provost of the imposing Romanesque Catholic cathedral about this. In
the spirit of ecumenicalism, wouldn't it be a good idea to lift
that ban on Luther's followers after nearly 500 years? The question,
he replied, was "too emotional."
"The time has not yet arrived to lift the ban," said Monsignor
Engelbert Preiss.
And so in the history of Christianity there is ample evidence of
violence and torture being visited upon those who stray from the
"true faith." Witness the crusades. A frank acknowledgement of these
transgressions is only now beginning, largely because of the debate
that has followed the 9/11 attacks.
President Obama faced this delicate balancing act when he visited the
Middle East several weeks ago. In his effort to change the American
relationship with the Muslim world, would he expressly apologize for
the transgressions of Iraq, Guantanamo Bay, Abu Ghraib, torture,
wide-scale civilian casualties and rendition? "We must say openly
the things we hold in our hearts," he told the Cairo audience,
"and that are said only behind closed doors."
But he did not do that in his speech. Instead he tiptoed along a thin
line by recognizing past transgressions without expressly apologizing
for them and without naming the perpetrators. He did not utter the
most inflammatory name of all, George W. Bush.
'Historical dilution' I would call this historical dilution rather
than historical purification. Commentators on the American right
seemed relieved that he did not expressly apologize. The reaction
in the Middle East was tepid. His Muslim audience seemed to find
our president a nice person with a good heart, certainly much nicer
than his predecessor, and seemed satisfied with the notion of a new
beginning. The speech, however, was not transformative or cathartic
or, ultimately, purifying.
Of course, the Islamic world is in need of some purification of
its own. Violence in the name of jihad is a defining theme of the
past decade. With Sunni Islam, representing some 80% of the world's
Muslims, no earthly authority such as the pope exists between the
believer and his God. The relationship is direct and personal.
And so even the scholars at the Al-Azhar mosque in Cairo who sponsored
Obama's speech are loath to define a moral code for the individual
believer. This gives wide latitude for grotesque perversions such
as Osama bin Laden's bizarre fatwa calling on every Muslim "who
believes in God and wishes to be rewarded to comply with God's order"
to kill Americans.
Several years ago I was able to coax out of Mohammed Sayed Tantawi,
the grand imam of the Al-Azhar mosque, a strong denunciation of bin
Laden and his followers. "They are not martyrs but aggressors," he
said. "They will not achieve paradise, but receive severe punishment
for their aggressions. Whoever shall kill a man or a believer without
right, the punishment is hell forever." But then a short time later,
the grand imam refused to deliver a similar denunciation of suicide
bombers.
As with the Roman Catholic and Lutheran churches, as with Obama's
America, Islam's responsibility to purify its own history will lie with
Islam itself. Perhaps all the world's great religions and countries
need to take up the mantra of the Reformation: Reformata et Semper
Reformanda (reformed and always reforming).
From: Emil Lazarian | Ararat NewsPress
James Reston Jr.
USA Today
Posted at 12:16 AM/ET, July 06, 2009
Catholics. Lutherans. Muslims. Americans. We all need a moment of
self-reflection to process our transgressions and move forward toward
a better self. And this doesn't mean dilution.
This is the season for historical purification. All over the world,
religions and nations seem ready to peek into the dark places of
their histories, to learn from the atrocities of the past and thus
to experience a kind of collective catharsis. It is an imperfect
process, but the press for it is undeniable. In Australia the prime
minister formally apologized for the past treatment of the aboriginal
population. In America there is similar talk about slavery and
torture. Turkey struggles with the stain of Armenian genocide a century
ago. Islam battles with the association of jihad with mass murder. But
the nexus between purification and apology makes the process delicate.
(Illustration by Keith Simmons, USA TODAY)
Historical purification as a concept began, in recent history,
with the Roman Catholic Church during the 1990s. In the church's
run-up to the millennial year of 2000, Pope John Paul II coined
the phrase when he announced that the church would reconsider the
Galileo case. Would the church admit that a fundamental error had
taken place in 1632? Would a pope, Urban VIII, or his inquisitor,
Roberto Bellarmino, be charged with direct responsibility? Would the
church apologize for forcing Galileo, under the threat of torture,
to recant his view that the Earth revolved around the sun?
It took the Roman Church 13 years to reach a final conclusion. In the
end, it did not apologize. It delivered a classic Washington-type
expression of regret. Yes, mistakes were made, but no historical
figure was identified as having made them. The movement for historical
purification ended there.
One can only wonder what might have happened if the ultimate dark
chapter of Catholic history, the Spanish Inquisition, had been
opened up.
What if the Roman Church had publically, honestly, and definitively
condemned its own widespread system of torture, including
waterboarding? Would it have been so easy for an American system of
torture to develop after 9/11?
Now the Lutheran Church is preparing to celebrate its own Jubilee. A
"decade of Martin Luther" has been proclaimed in the run-up to the
year 2017, the 500th anniversary of Luther's brazen act of nailing
his 95 theses to the castle church door of Wittenberg, Germany, the
act that sparked the Reformation. Each year of this Luther decade
will be devoted to a single theme.
The ugly history The organizers worry especially about the year
2013 when the theme is "the Reformation and Tolerance." How will
the Lutheran Church deal with Luther's rampant anti-Semitism,
his vicious attacks on Mennonites and Anabaptists, or his attitude
toward the Turks, Mohammed and Islam? How will the church grapple
with the use the Nazis made of Luther's anti-Semitism? In 1933,
Luther's very own church at Wittenberg was draped with Nazi flags,
and the first archbishop of a Nazi religion was consecrated there. A
few weeks ago when I was in Worms, Germany, a Lutheran minister told
me that it would be "sheer idolatry" if the Luther Jubilee did not
address these difficult and awkward episodes.
Against Luther's revolution the Holy Roman Emperor of the time,
Charles V, waged a 24-year war against Protestantism in an effort
to expunge the heresy and impose a single Christian dogma on the
Christian world. Luther was excommunicated and declared an "outlaw"
by the Edict of Worms. The ancient ban against him "and all his
followers" was proclaimed. That ban is still in effect.
Across the street from the Evangelical Church in Worms, I asked the
provost of the imposing Romanesque Catholic cathedral about this. In
the spirit of ecumenicalism, wouldn't it be a good idea to lift
that ban on Luther's followers after nearly 500 years? The question,
he replied, was "too emotional."
"The time has not yet arrived to lift the ban," said Monsignor
Engelbert Preiss.
And so in the history of Christianity there is ample evidence of
violence and torture being visited upon those who stray from the
"true faith." Witness the crusades. A frank acknowledgement of these
transgressions is only now beginning, largely because of the debate
that has followed the 9/11 attacks.
President Obama faced this delicate balancing act when he visited the
Middle East several weeks ago. In his effort to change the American
relationship with the Muslim world, would he expressly apologize for
the transgressions of Iraq, Guantanamo Bay, Abu Ghraib, torture,
wide-scale civilian casualties and rendition? "We must say openly
the things we hold in our hearts," he told the Cairo audience,
"and that are said only behind closed doors."
But he did not do that in his speech. Instead he tiptoed along a thin
line by recognizing past transgressions without expressly apologizing
for them and without naming the perpetrators. He did not utter the
most inflammatory name of all, George W. Bush.
'Historical dilution' I would call this historical dilution rather
than historical purification. Commentators on the American right
seemed relieved that he did not expressly apologize. The reaction
in the Middle East was tepid. His Muslim audience seemed to find
our president a nice person with a good heart, certainly much nicer
than his predecessor, and seemed satisfied with the notion of a new
beginning. The speech, however, was not transformative or cathartic
or, ultimately, purifying.
Of course, the Islamic world is in need of some purification of
its own. Violence in the name of jihad is a defining theme of the
past decade. With Sunni Islam, representing some 80% of the world's
Muslims, no earthly authority such as the pope exists between the
believer and his God. The relationship is direct and personal.
And so even the scholars at the Al-Azhar mosque in Cairo who sponsored
Obama's speech are loath to define a moral code for the individual
believer. This gives wide latitude for grotesque perversions such
as Osama bin Laden's bizarre fatwa calling on every Muslim "who
believes in God and wishes to be rewarded to comply with God's order"
to kill Americans.
Several years ago I was able to coax out of Mohammed Sayed Tantawi,
the grand imam of the Al-Azhar mosque, a strong denunciation of bin
Laden and his followers. "They are not martyrs but aggressors," he
said. "They will not achieve paradise, but receive severe punishment
for their aggressions. Whoever shall kill a man or a believer without
right, the punishment is hell forever." But then a short time later,
the grand imam refused to deliver a similar denunciation of suicide
bombers.
As with the Roman Catholic and Lutheran churches, as with Obama's
America, Islam's responsibility to purify its own history will lie with
Islam itself. Perhaps all the world's great religions and countries
need to take up the mantra of the Reformation: Reformata et Semper
Reformanda (reformed and always reforming).
From: Emil Lazarian | Ararat NewsPress