Fredrich Karl Berger was described in a New York Times article as a “friendly old man — a thoughtful father and husband who had raised his children in that house and had cared for his ailing wife until her death.”
The article refers to “that house” — a ranch house in Tennessee — because Berger was forced to leave it. Last month Berger, at the age of 95, was deported. He had been living in the United States since 1959.
But in 1943, as a teenager, he had enlisted in the German military and had been assigned to serve as a camp guard near Meppen, Germany. The U.S. legal system deemed him a collaborator in Nazi war crimes, so he was sent back to Germany where he now lives in an assisted living center.
Effraim Zuroff, a Holocaust historian, is among those who believe the deportation was just. “There is no expiration date on justice,” he said.
Zuroff is associated with the Simon Wiesenthal Center, named for a Holocaust survivor who dedicated his life to bringing Nazi fugitives to justice. One of Wiesenthal’s books, “The Sunflower,” deals directly with the issues of guilt and justice concerning the Holocaust.
But the book also raises general questions. Who has the authority to forgive? Can some crimes can ever be forgiven?
The first part of the book tells the story of a young Jewish concentration camp prisoner who is taken to see a mortally wounded Nazi soldier. The soldier, knowing he is going to die and overcome with guilt, tells his life story to the prisoner. He begs the young man, as a Jew, to forgive him for the heinous crimes he has committed.
The prisoner’s response is to leave in silence.
The second half of the book consists of responses from intellectuals, each saying whether the young man should have, or could have, offered forgiveness to the repentant killer.
Many respondents argued that the prisoner had no authority to forgive someone for crimes committed against other people. The philosopher Abraham Joshua Heschel made the point with a story about an undistinguished-looking man who was traveling on a train. In the course of the trip, the quiet and unassuming man was insulted and treated badly by a fellow passenger, a salesman.
When they arrived at their destination, the salesman learned the man he had mistreated was an esteemed rabbi. He quickly apologized, but the rabbi refused to forgive him. The next day the salesman went to the rabbi’s house, again asking forgiveness and again being denied.
Finally, in desperation, the salesman sought out the rabbi’s son and asked him to intercede. The son, knowing his father to be a compassionate man, brought the issue to him.
“I cannot forgive him,” the rabbi replied. “He did not know who I was. He offended a common man. Let the salesman go to him and ask for forgiveness.”
The stories — of heinous crimes and less serious offenses committed against others — argue persuasively for limits to forgiveness. But such limits do not exist in the Catholic confessional.
The church teaches that forgiveness — the most important forgiveness, from God — is always possible, no matter how grave the sin, no matter how long ago it was committed and no matter who was wronged. Anyone who is truly remorseful is assured of forgiveness in the sacrament of reconciliation. “The confessor is not the master of God’s forgiveness,” the catechism states, “but its servant.”
Critics sometimes accuse the church of being “oppressive” and guilt-inducing, but what other institution puts such an emphasis on the possibility of being freed from guilt and one’s own past? God never tires of forgiving, Pope Francis says.
Americans have grown accustomed to politicians forced to acknowledge their indiscretions and dishonesty, and to athletics and entertainers who apologize to their followers for offensive tweets and other transgressions. Americans have also become accustomed to the current language of regret: “If I have caused any hurt …” “It was never my intention to …” “I realize now and truly regret. …”
But the sacrament demands no public shaming.
Under a society’s laws and customs, many people, often justly, pay a high price for their transgressions, while others do not. Some public officials have even prospered by refusing to acknowledge ever making a mistake, or apologizing for inexcusable behavior or comments.
But everyone is in need of forgiveness. The church teaches that God’s mercy has no expiration date, and no limit.
Carl Peters is the managing editor of the Catholic Star Herald.
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