On 27th January, we commemorated International Holocaust Remembrance Day. I ask myself: what have we learned from the horrors of such a destructive and dehumanising human terror? I ask myself: what is killing this most important attribute we so badly need today: solidarity? Solidarity has added value, it is a conscious and voluntary approach towards others. However, something more fundamental is noticing and accepting the other – the human being. There can be no solidarity whatsoever if we dehumanise our neighbours through our way of thinking, speaking and judging.
Humanity and Solidarity
Herein lies the tragedy of our society in the context of treating everyone as being “different”. This is where one of the deep crises of Christianity lies, in which the Gospel is lived – let’s call it this – in an asymptomatic way. Why is it that in our society that draws on the Christian tradition and the Gospel, there is widespread coldness or even hostility towards LGBT+ people, as well as suspicion of or even discrediting people wronged in the Church? I have heard and read about groups of religious brothers who maintain contact with people harmed by their own order say sadly, “we are still on the other side of the barricade.” Such thinking is terrifying, deprived not only of the logic of the Gospel, but also of human compassion.
And what to say about our attitude towards refugees and migrants entering the country either legally or illegally. It is increasingly difficult to have a constructive and calm conversation about how we can help people who find themselves trapped in the cynical and Machiavellian game of international politics, conflict and economic protectionism. The politicians are talking about the problem, not the people. How is it that within a few years, as a result of a consciously built negative narrative in the political discussion, a contemptuous language towards refugees has become part of the mainstream of discourse about them?
It is not only the fault of politicians that the plight of refugees and migrants has been radically dehumanised in our society. This is primarily a failure of the Church’s catechesis and of many clergy who themselves neutralised Jesus’ words about Him being a stranger (wanderer) in order to lull first of all their own consciences, and then the conscience of the faithful, and effectively justify cutting themselves off from Christian responsibility.
A far from cynical game
As disciples of the Kingdom, we should be afraid, above all, of setting limits to our humanity. Surrounded by a wall of indifference or even reluctance and contempt lead to the betrayal of Christianity. After all, humanity itself has become the instrument of our redemption in Christ. Philanthropos – as Christ is called in the East, is the only foundation of a solidarity-built Christianitas, i.e., the Kingdom of God based on the message of the Sermon on the Mount. However, it cannot be an ideological construct that exclusivism, nativist nationalism or xenophobia dreams of. If we lock humanity in a fortress of fear for our rights and set limits to our mercy, it will not be the barbarians (Latin: barbarus – foreigner) from the outskirts of Europe or society, but we ourselves who will contribute to the end of the hope of a Europe, built as a community of compassion and solidarity with others. “The stronghold of Europe is our humanity,” said Mateo Zuppi, Archbishop of Bologna, involved in helping refugees and migrants. Christian Europe belongs to those who “were born not of blood, nor of the will of the flesh. . . but of God” (John 1:13) and who “love the little ones, the sick, the needy, the humiliated, they love those who have been violated, they love those who suffer from injustice, they love the outcasts and all who are afflicted and distressed.” And also, to those – as Bonhoeffer continues in The Cost of Discipleship – who “will be persecuted for righteousness’ sake. Not recognition, but rejection, is the reward they get from the world for their message and works. It is important that Jesus gives his blessing not merely to suffering incurred directly for the confession of his name, but to suffering in any just cause. They receive the same promise as the poor, for in persecution they are their equals in poverty.” (pp. 69–71). These words were written by a man who stood on the side of justice, defending persecuted Jews, even to the point of martyrdom.
Dehumanising others or excluding people from human compassion and even mercy is often justified by arguing that they don’t belong, they don’t have certain human qualities (see article Law above love – eugenics) or those born here should “go home”. Although the individual person is not totally innocent, I have the impression that this has much more to do with a cynical and calculated political game clothed in words of genuine care and compassion, a game also embellished with a pseudo-religious narrative about the supposed defence of Christian Europe. Bonhoeffer wrote about such an attitude in Nazi Germany, where believers were frightened with godless Bolshevism: “ This beatitude is poles removed from the caricatures of it which appear in political and social manifestos. The Antichrist also calls the poor blessed, but not for the sake of the cross, which embraces all poverty and transforms it into a source of blessing. He fights the cross with political and sociological ideology. He may call it Christian, but that only makes him a still more dangerous enemy.” (ibid p.66).
24/02/2024
