|
Blessed were the Jewish children
By MICHAEL VALPY
Saturday, October 29, 2005
From Saturday's Globe and
Mail
A renowned Canadian scholar of
the Holocaust has pulled back the veils on one of the
Second World War's most painful and inflamed controversies
- the role Pope Pius XII played as Jewish leaders struggled
to reclaim Jewish children from Roman Catholics to whom
they had been entrusted for safekeeping from the Nazi
death camps.
Historian Michael Marrus's research
casts startlingly fresh light on a debate that has locked
academics, the Vatican and Catholic and Jewish organizations
in venomous combat since the publication last year of
a document purportedly containing the wartime Pope's
orders that Catholic custody of the children should
be retained.
How the church dealt with Europe's
surviving Jewish children has been an unlanced boil
on the larger polemic enveloping Pius XII, now on the
road to sainthood in the church. His critics brand him
an anti-Semite who stayed mute while the Nazis murdered
six million Jews; his defenders laud him as a Pope who
worked quietly throughout the war to save Jews from
extermination: "The longest running historical controversy
ever," says Prof. Marrus. "It just won't go away."
The document - apparently intended
as instructions to France's Catholic bishops, but nobody
knows if they ever saw it - variously has been labelled
an anti-papal hoax and irrefutable evidence that Pius
was, in the words of one Harvard historian, a criminal
kidnapper.
Using a wealth of previously
unexamined Jewish documents, Prof. Marrus reveals not
an adversarial conflict between Pope and Jews, but a
fascinating and deeply human story of Catholic and Jewish
leaders struggling in the chaotic horror of Europe 60
years ago to reach across a chasm of mutual suspicion
and alien cultures and act, haltingly but with substantial
measures of goodwill, to resolve a complex and difficult
issue.
The postwar importance of children
to the Jewish community cannot be over-emphasized. As
a 1945 World Jewish Congress position paper declared:
"We have become very poor in Jewish children, and therefore
the value of every Jewish child has grown manifold for
us."
Of the six million European Jews
killed, more than one million were children. The WJC
estimated at the time that between 200,000 and 300,000
children had survived, of whom 75,000 were orphans.
The number sheltered by non-Jewish institutions and
families will never be known with precision.
Much of the immediate postwar
focus was on France, which had the greatest number of
child survivors - approximately 30,000 - because of
significant wartime child-rescue efforts and because
it was liberated almost a year before other Nazi-occupied
countries. There probably were more secret baptisms
in France than elsewhere. Yet of the estimated 1,200
children in non-Jewish care at war's end, Prof. Marrus
presents evidence that only 50 might have been converted,
out of the thousands saved from death.
His research brings to life the
meetings about the children held by Pius XII and other
top churchmen with leaders of the Jewish community:
Leon Kubowitzki, secretary-general of the WJC; Gerhart
Riegner, director of the WJC's Geneva office, and Isaac
Herzog, the legendary chief rabbi of Palestine.
Prof. Marrus presents a portrait
of Pius XII - the Italian aristocrat, Eugenio Pacelli
- sitting down with the Jewish leaders and asking for
detailed reports on Jewish children still in Catholic
custody, reports that the leaders promise to give him
but never do, because they have no idea how many children
there are or where they are.
Prof. Marrus describes Rabbi Herzog
being introduced to Pius XII and immediately offering
a biblical analysis of a public address the Pope had
given a few days before. "It was the way two rabbis
would talk to each other," Prof. Marrus said.
He tells of Pius giving Rabbi
Herzog permission to declare he has the Vatican's support
if he runs into Catholic resistance on his child-retrieval
mission.
He tells of Mr. Kubowitzki meeting
Pius and being immediately struck by the Pope's resemblance
to his Uncle Morris.
He presents a surprising account,
viewed through the prism of today, of these wartime
Jewish leaders tempering their unquestioned commitment
to rescuing Jewish children with the realization that
if they were to get the Vatican's help they had to acknowledge
the Vatican's concerns.
Thus, knowing the significance
to the church of baptism (the Catholic sacrament membership
in the Christian community), they don't ask for the
return of Jewish children whose parents, to save their
lives, voluntarily allowed them to be baptized. They
don't press Pius to issue a papal communication to the
entire church - although they're disappointed that he
doesn't - ordering Catholic convents and families to
give up the Jewish children they sheltered.
Mr. Kubowitzki, in his diary,
even says he told the Pope that the Jews were not asking
for the baptized children back, a passage curiously
excised when the diary was published several years later.
"They seemed to realize Pacelli
came from a different world and they realized that if
they're to make any headway they had to meet the Vatican
on its own wavelength," Prof. Marrus said in an interview
this week in his office at University of Toronto's Massey
College where he is a senior fellow.
"We knew they didn't emerge from
the meetings [with the Pope] saying that son-of-a-bitch
Pacelli. They didn't have a sense that Pacelli was trying
to subvert their cause. Now I know a little more why."
What may well set off the biggest shock waves in the
dispute over Pius and the children are Prof. Marrus's
revelations that the Jewish leaders most intimately
engaged with retrieving children labelled their efforts
largely a success and acknowledged the Vatican's considerable
help.
"None of these discoveries turn
our views 180 degrees," Prof. Marrus said. "They just
deepen our knowledge."
His discoveries - he is to make
them public in a lecture in Edmonton tonight, the day
after the 40th anniversary of Nostra Aetate, the statement
produced by the Second Vatican Council that initiated
the rapprochement between the Catholic Church and Jews
- will hardly go unnoticed.
Prof. Marrus was a member of the
international commission of Catholic and Jewish scholars
appointed by the Vatican to examine the church's wartime
record. (The commission voluntarily disbanded in 2001,
claiming it could go no further until the Vatican fully
opened its archives.) He holds the chair in Holocaust
studies at the University of Toronto.
How he uncovered what he did
is in several respects as interesting as what he found.
He was at his cottage on Lake
Simcoe, north of Toronto, in December when he got a
call from an Associated Press reporter in Rome, asking
for his comments on the just-published document dealing
with Catholic custody of Jewish children.
To expert scholars of the wartime
and immediate postwar church, said Prof. Marrus, nothing
in the document was particularly new or surprising,
especially on the highly sensitive subject of baptism.
"Children who have been baptized," said the document,
dated Oct. 23, 1946, "must not be entrusted to institutions
that would not be in a position to guarantee their Christian
upbringing."
It also said that children who no longer have their
parents and are in the church's care cannot be "entrusted
to any persons who have no rights to them, at least
until they are in a position to choose themselves."
It concluded by saying that children who have not been
baptized can be given back to their parents.
Shortly thereafter, a second
document mysteriously popped up, this one in Italian,
signed by Domenico Tardini, a top papal aide.
The story pieced together by
historical researchers is that the papal nuncio (ambassador)
in France asked the Vatican what instructions he should
give French bishops on restitution of Jewish children
and the Tardini memo was the response, from which the
nuncio then presumably drafted a summary - the French
document that surfaced first.
The identity of the nuncio, says
Prof. Marrus, is "one of the least explained pieces
in the puzzle of this entire issue." He is Angelo Roncalli,
the future Pope John XXIII, who during the war when
he was papal nuncio in Greece and Turkey had shown great
sympathy for Jews and had actively assisted Jewish refugees
across Europe.
The Tardini document - in most
respects the same as the French summary - makes clear
that what was at issue were requests from Jewish institutions
for the return of children, not from Jewish parents.
It contained the statement that "there should be no
response to the Grand Rabbi of Palestine" about reclaiming
Jewish children.
It was the reference to Rabbi
Herzog that intrigued Michael Marrus.
He knew Rabbi Herzog met with
Pius XII on March 10, 1946. "It [the Tardini memo] prompted
me to ask what remained of that encounter. You don't
see the Pope and leave with nothing. We've all been
obsessed with the Vatican archives. No one is asking
about the Jewish side of the story. It was so obvious
- why didn't I think about this before?"
Assisted by a researcher, Prof.
Marrus painstakingly retrieved records from Israel's
Central Zionist Archives until he had a satisfactory
narrative of what Catholic and Jewish authorities were
thinking and doing about the children.
"I always felt it a mistake to
see these issues in black and white," he said. "It's
not that I see Pacelli as exemplary. He's just not that
interested in Jews. His interest is in bringing the
church through the war intact."
|