The second half of The
Sunflower was very unique. Titled "The Symposium," it
consisted of fifty-five responses (from many types of people) to Wiesenthal's
question from part one: if you were a Jew during the Holocaust and a dying Nazi
soldier begged you for your forgiveness, what would you do? When Wiesenthal was
faced with this situation, he remained silent and walked away quietly.
Considering each response was its own, separate essay, there was no consistent
rhetorical device/strategy employed. However, the responses tended to have a
similar structure. First, the writer gave some context (which became incredibly
redundant as they repeated part one as well as each other) to their response,
and then their actual answer with their rationale. The whole purpose of the
second half of the book was to challenge the reader’s beliefs – to either
enforce or change their philosophy based on responses from some respected
people.
Many of the respondents made appeals to pathos and logos which made
attempts to swing the reader. For example, in Robert McAfee Brown’s answer, he
bluntly stated that “Jews of all ages are locked in a house that is then set on
fire” (122). Other people made sure to emphasize the fact that young children were
included. How can you forgive such a disgusting act? Although, naturally,
responses varied, there seemed to be a greater trend toward people not
forgiving. I personally agree – as several authors wrote, we must never forget
and more so never forgive, because forgiveness would give the oppressors the
comfortability to oppress again. An interesting point of view was the idea that
it was simply not in our right to forgive – only those who were affected
firsthand have that right. In Wiesenthal’s situation, it would not have
mattered what he did because he was never touched by that specific soldier. It
was not in his right to forgive on behalf of the other Jews.
Obviously, it is impossible for me to include the specific perspectives
of all fifty-five respondents. But those that must stuck out to me were the
ones which (1) claimed forgiveness was unacceptable and (2) discussed our pure
right to forgive under the given
circumstances. Wiesenthal’s composition was fascinating, and through the contrasting
points of view of his respondents, it was definitely one that made me think.
Wiesenthal’s question invites consideration
that could be compared to juggling fire. If you accept the man, you could
receive backlash from the Jewish, and global, communities. But if you don’t,
you could suffer from your own mental torment for the rest of your life. Is
there a way to find a balance? How
can you justify your decision?
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