I believe that it was Rabbi Irving Greenberg who
once remarked that he did not care what religion or denomination you belonged to, as long as you were embarrassed about it. When it comes to pondering the legacy of Nostra Aetate, we Protestants have plenty to be embarrassed about. However incomplete and fragile the achievements of Nostra Aetate, the Roman Catholic Church has begun to reckon with what is arguably the most serious moral and spiritual failure within the Christian tradition -- the insidious habit of building the church's affirmations on the negation of Judaism and
the Jewish people. The seventeen-sentence document whose fortieth anniversary we are acknowledging here set in motion a daring reformation; and the ongoing commitment of the Roman Catholic Church, embodied
in our panelists John Pawlikowski and Eva Fleschner, provides eloquent testimony to a remarkable trans-formation of mind and heart.
Lamentably, the revolution within the Roman Catholic Church has not brought about a parallel transformation among Protestants, despite the issuance of some im-portant statements that condemn antisemitism and bemoan the complicity of Christians for their long-standing dereliction of moral duty. I am keenly aware that any generalization about a tradition as confused and confusing, as varied and inconsistent, as eclectic and contradictory as the world of Protestantism is
bound to be suspect. But on the question of mainline Protestants' relations with the Jewish people, I am saddened to say that there is a disturbing uniformity
in our theological failings. With the exception of some exceptional scholars and some exceptional clergy and some exceptional congregations, Protestants have all too often been missing in action. We have more often than not been spectators rather than participants in
the revolution. And we have a long way to go if we are going to learn from the example of our Roman Catholic brethren.
In the few moments allotted to me, I want to reflect on why Protestants have in large measure remained on the sidelines and then conclude with some comments about some shifts in our theological imagination that are needed to counter my tradition's growing malaise. My comments will use my own Presbyterian tradition as a touchstone since that tradition in large measure mirrors many of the sensibilities of other mainline Protestant denominations. This means that I will sidestep a sig-nificant phenomenon, namely the conservative evangelical Christians who have proven themselves stalwart supporters of the State of Israel, but who still operate with a theology animated by the hope that the Jews will relinquish their atavistic attachments to their tradition, will convert and find themselves digested into the mystical Body of Christ. In other words, this wing of Protestantism still holds fast to an apocalyptic dream that envisions Israel as the launching pad for the Second Coming and that relishes the prospect of a cosmic battle between the forces of good and evil. This holy war will presumably establish a new world order in which true Christians vanquish their enemies. At the end of days there will be no observant or faithful Jews (or for that matter, Muslims, Hindus, Buddhists, or even, ac-cording to some, Roman Catholics). Then, at long last, my evangelical colleagues will enter a kingdom without these deviant theologies to gum up the works, and they, the victors, will finally be able to sit down and feast on the spoils of war. I think that it is fair to conclude that the spirit of Nostra Aetate is not guiding the light behind this evangelical fantasy.
So leaving aside this dispensationalist form of Protes-tantism, which of course finds popular expression in the best-selling "Left Behind" series, I want to turn to an examination of the attitudes of the mainline Protestant Churches and reflect on those factors that have bogged down the Jewish-Christian encounter.
We Presbyterians are certainly not unique among Protestants for attempting to ground our theological positions first and foremost in the Bible. Nor are we alone in our recognition of the binding character of
a tradition that is anchored in creedal documents
(known as the Confessions) that have accumulated
over the centuries. Some of these confessions, such
as the Apostles' Creed and the Nicene Creed we share with other Protestants and Roman Catholics; but our denominational identity is also shaped through particular confessional statements that folks in the Reformed tradition regard as authoritative. Here we start to rub against some very serious problems. I want to share a few statements to frame the challenge that we Presby-terians face.
The Scots Confession, written in 1560 by John Knox
and five of his colleagues, declares in 3.16: "We utterly abhor the blasphemy of those who hold that men who live according to equity and justice shall be saved, no matter what religion they profess. For since there is neither life nor salvation without Jesus Christ; so shall none have part therein but those whom the Father has given unto his Son Christ Jesus, and those who in time come to him, avow his doctrine, and believe in him."
This position is woven into the texture of my tradition and the motif still echoes down the corridors of our churches. Just listen to some of the words in the statement entitled "Hope in the Lord Jesus Christ," which was approved at the 214th meeting of the Presbyterian General Assembly in 2002. It declares, "Jesus Christ is the only Savior and Lord, and all people everywhere are called to place their faith, hope and love in him ... No one is saved apart from God's gracious redemption in Jesus Christ."
Carved into our tradition is a supersessionist ideology. We make exclusive claims that, were we to follow their dictates, would lead us to regard Jews as worthy con-versation partners only insofar as we can convert them. This confessional tradition suggests that there is nothing of theological significance that Christians can gain from Jews because there is no saving truth outside of the Gospel. Now, to add salt to the wound, there are many within my denomination who insist that these exclusivist claims are non-negotiable "affirmations" because they faithfully recapitulate the teachings of the New Testament.
I need not repeat all the chapters and verses that are trotted out over and over again. Two examples will suffice. In John 14:6, the following words are ascribed to Jesus: "I am the way, and the truth, and the life. No one comes to the Father except through me." In Acts 4:12, Peter is said to proclaim these words about Jesus: "There is salvation in no one else, for there is no other name under heaven given among mortals by which we must be saved."
So this brings to light one of the most extraordinary achievements of Nostra Aetate. In studying this his-
toric text, I am struck by the fact that there is really
no precedent that was invoked to justify the break
with its anti-Judaic legacy. There are no allusions to
the teachings of the Church Fathers. There are no references to earlier ecumenical councils or canonical legislation. The revolution hangs precariously on an argument etched into the writings of Paul, which, as
you know, were crafted before Jews and Christians
had gone their separate ways. This citation is grounded in an affirmation that resides at the very heart of the scriptures: God is faithful even when we are not and so will never abandon His covenantal promises. The corol-lary (which became inescapably clear in the encounter between the Jewish historian Jules Isaac and Pope John XXIII) is this: The Gospel is betrayed whenever it is turned into an instrument of hate or indifference. These foundational principles enabled the Roman Church to insist that its new teachings were an expression of what "the church has always held and continues to hold."
So this big, lumbering ecclesiastical giant that Protes-tants tend to dismiss as encumbered by antiquarian traditions and straitjacketed by unyielding dogma turned out to be far more agile and far more discerning than our own Protestant mindset would permit. When it came time to confront the legacy of Christian contempt for Judaism and the Jewish people, it was the Roman Catholic Church that had the courage to do some-
thing radically innovative, not my Protestant heritage.
I think that Protestants will need to confront the chal-lenge in our own terms. We Protestants do not have an ecclesiastical structure or a theological tradition that will permit us to overturn our anti-Jewish dispositions so dramatically. We Protestants will not embrace the spirit of Nostra Aetate until and unless we develop new ways of reading and interpreting our sacred texts and tradi-tions. As long as we Protestants reduce Gospel to a set of doctrinal propositions that demand uncritical consent, as long as we Protestants think that a flattened and literal rendering of the Bible yields a Gospel that we can possess, Protestants will sit in the bleachers and ignore the challenge of Nostra Aetate. We will read the Jewish-Christian encounter as an exercise in political correct-ness that compromises the hard-edged imperatives of the Gospel.
To be sure there are growing numbers of disaffected Protestants who realize that the theological and ethical integrity of our faith is at stake. They know full well that this reformation is not a fad that is seducing us to sell out our traditions because we need to be "nicer" to Jews. What is at issue is nothing less than the spiritual viability of our community and the character of the faith that binds it together. The failure to disarm religious hate will render our church morally bankrupt.
So some of us excavate the Bible and mine our traditions to find countervailing voices that will contest the arro-gance and complacency of our churches. We recognize that the Bible does not speak with a single voice, but tosses us into the thick of an ongoing debate and prompts us to discern what the Gospels means for us
in our time, here and now.
What then does it mean to develop new ways of reading our own scriptures and traditions? The enormity of this challenge demands more time and energy than I can muster on this occasion, but let me offer by way of conclusion a few suggestive fragments. Douglas John Hall noted in an essay entitled What is Theology? (Crosscurrents, Summer 2003; pp.171-184) that "the good news (gospel) is good because it challenges and displaces bad news. Gospel addresses us at the place where we are overwhelmed by an awareness of what is wrong with the world and ourselves in it. It is good news because it engages, takes on and does battle with the bad news, offering another alternative, another vision of what could be, another way into the future."
Hall goes on to tell the following story. In the thirties and forties, Hitler's henchmen were rounding up Jews and sending them to hard labor and extermination camps. In despair over what was happening in and to
his society, the then Dean of the Protestant Cathedral
in Berlin, Heinrich Grueber, asked himself: "How can I proclaim the Gospel in this situation? What would Gospel mean under these circumstances?" And he found himself answering, "Gospel today is this: Jesus Christ was a Jew."
The Christian message had to overturn the pseudo-scientific theories of Nazi racism by affirming uncondi-tionally the full and equal humanity of all people. The Gospel emerged in the thick of soul-rattling struggle.
The litmus test of any reading of the Gospel became unequivocally clear: Does our engagement with our scriptures enable us to recognize, affirm, and act on behalf of the vulnerable other?
I would press Grueber's statement another step. Rather than define the Gospel proclamation in the past tense, perhaps we need to remember not only that Jesus Christ was a Jew, but to speak in the present tense and insist that Jesus Christ is a Jew and will remain so. This view goes against the grain of a tradition that adapts its Christology to fit the indigenous culture -- as is evident by surveying the remarkable range of portrayals of Jesus. In Africa, Jesus is black. In Asia, he is yellow.
In Europe he is white. I think that this tendency to represent Jesus in different ethnic idioms runs the risk of misrepresenting and concealing the one thing that we know about Jesus, namely his Jewishness. As Paul Van Buren (the Episcopalian theologian of blessed memory) commented some years ago, we do not know the color of his complexion, his height or weight. All we know about his physicality is that he was circumcised, and this signifies an indissoluble covenantal solidarity with the Jewish people. This aspect of his identity is rarely factored into Christian theology, but his Jewishness seems to me to be built into our doctrine of the Incar-nation. If we took this fact to heart, then we would need to contend with the fact that Jesus comes to us Christians from outside our fold -- that he comes to us as a stranger -- and that our doctrines and creeds can never fully domesticate this outsider.
This insistence on Jesus' Jewishness would also require us to do more than indulge in talk about our Jewish roots. We would need to recognize that there are fundamental insights into the nature of God and God's covenant that do not belong to us, and the only way that we can learn about the multiple ways in which God engages the world is to pay close attention to the on-going bond with the Jewish people. If the gifts of God are irrevocable, as the Apostle Paul insisted, then we can discover wisdom and beauty and truth that are not confined to an ancient Jewish past but are embodied in a living legacy that is only available to us second-hand, through the teachings and practice and fidelity of the Jewish people. Our encounter with the Jewish people is crucial because it helps us break the grip of our narcis-sism. Were Protestants to recognize the imperative of this Gospel proclamation, perhaps we could embrace the spirit of Nostra Aetate and carry forward the unfinished work of our own Reformation.