The Art of Holocaust Theology Reflection
Our Questions
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We all have the same sort of questions about our existence. What is the meaning of life? Why is there suffering? Is there a God or not? If so, what difference does that make? We have the same sort of whys, whats and wheres, which we may never be able to answer in a way that suits us all. But sometimes the search, a real search, gives us some real rewards.
The Holocaust seems to cast these questions into the strongest relief possible. Even its title, Holocaust, illustrates an attitude towards suffering. Holocaust means burnt offering which suggests a gift made to the gods to appease their anger or buy their favour. Whereas, its other title, Shoah simply means catastrophe.
Some opinions are problematic. They take the burnt offering route and redraw the Biblical image of a loving, ethical, faithful God and portray him as an ogre seeking revenge on an unsuspecting humanity. But religious answers are important. As Rabbi Jonathan Sacks said, ‘Science takes things apart to see how they work. Religion puts things together to see what they mean.’
Within the Judeo-Christian framework, humanity has responsibility as co-creators with God in the on-going history of the earth. We are not helpless in the face of His omnipotence, rather He makes room for our freewill, our choices. And because we have responsibility with this freedom, we might prefer to call the Holocaust, the Shoah.
A classic question might help: If God can do everything, can He square a triangle or pull the earth through a signet ring?
The following images frame these questions and present a series of reflections which map a route through initial silence to the protest of renewal.
Our Silence
Jewish families have extraordinary stories to tell us about surviving the Shoah but the conversation about its impact on faith is often private, muted. Its horrifying, industrial nature makes discussion difficult for us all. It is easier for us to retreat into our traditions and hide behind them. We may find comfort in belonging to a community joined by shared activities, or beliefs, shared histories, or ancestry but our faith is more than that and should never be diminished to just that.
59cm x 42cm • Charcoal on Paper
Good Night, Sleep Tight
If you know anyone whose family has lived through the Shoah then you may understand this picture straight away. Research reveals how acute Post Traumatic Stress Disorder is passed on and the types of enmeshed connections there are between the generations. PTSD expresses itself in many ways, without words. So, in spite of the survivor’s best efforts, their children and children’s children suffer Secondary Traumatic Stress Disorder. They may have their parent’s nightmares, inherit their anxieties and somehow share their parent’s memories.
So, this image represents a Shoah survivor, kissing their child goodnight. It is a warm, normal, intimate action of affection. The parent wants to protect their child from harm, love their child, watch over their child. However, in the little boy’s dream world, he experiences his parent’s horror. They are bound together by her suffering.
Future generations inherit our silences with our stories but understanding cannot grow if we are muzzled. We need open conversations about the impact of the Shoah on us today. This is not just because it is affecting the second and third generation of survivors but because it influences us all in some way.
Whitewash
This picture is about Kristallnacht. The orchestrated events of the Night of the Broken Glass, 9th – 10th November 1938, had been recorded around the world and had ignited international condemnation in the strongest terms. The world was horrified by the sight of crazed citizens indulging in an unrestrained orgy of anti-Semitic violence against defenceless Jewish people, their properties and books.
In the drawing, buildings are shattered like glass. A friend’s family had escaped over the Viennese rooftops during that night, so their story is included in the image. Part of the drawing is painted out, with some energy. Emulsion paint is splashed over it. I had planned to draw a new and hopeful future over this area. I assumed that when I visited one of the cities involved, I would find a suitable public response. I expected some monument of historical value, a record or warning. I found none.
That nation’s younger generation are taught to appreciate the horror of this event in their schools, away from the public gaze. There are even some very hopeful signs of change, but there is nothing to expand the visitors’ understanding yet. The tiny remnants of the Jewish museums in that city are silent too. Instead, the Jewish community do not want to rock the boat, after all, they, the Jewish people, ‘had never been invited back. Instead, we want to concentrate on the past glory of Jewish history.’ The once vibrant community is still shattered by the memories that it seems best to repress. If they must talk, then speak with a hushed voice.
80cm x 60cm • Charcoal and Paint on Paper
So, the original image has been partially redrawn over the splashed emulsion paint which still obliterates some of the story. Hebrew text from Genesis has been added to the diagonals, ‘When God began to create the heaven and the earth – the earth being unformed and void, with darkness over the surface of the deep…’ God creates order out of chaos, but on that night, man created chaos out of order. Kristallnacht must not be deleted from the public arena. Humanity needs us to remember. The drawing is called ‘Whitewash’.
Silence as repression or suppression is never a healthy option. We cannot whitewash over our facts. No matter what we say, we actually act upon what we really believe. So, although it is hard, it is better for us to face our truths, acknowledge our problems, take our responsibilities, be courageous and build a better future.
As we do, we create our own identity.
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