Gabriele Nissim with Moshe Bejski (photocredit: Gariwo)
Our country, even with all the contradictions it lives with
in this difficult moment, has managed to obtain from the European Parliament a
recurrence of extraordinary moral value: the European Day of the Righteous. For
the first time the concept of Good, understood as a secular value, has entered
into the public discourse. A few hours ago in Rome, in the Parliament, and in
many cities of Italy, and of Europe, and of the rest of the world, like Warsaw,
Prague, Sarajevo, Kigali in Rwanda, the sixth of March will be celebrated, the
second European Day of the Righteous, on the date that remembers the
disappearance of Moshe Bejski, the architect of the avenue of the Righteous of
Jerusalem.
It is an important occasion because it
not only increases the prestige of our country in Europe, but also because
Italy can infect its neighbors with this valorization of remembrance of the
Good, fundamental in the relationship between humans, in a critical moment in
which many dream of a return to the selfishness of nations.
First of all, it is a day of thanks that is in some way reminiscent of the
American Thanksgiving. In the United States, they remember the gifts of nature,
in Europe we remember the good received from humanity: if today we lived in a
community free of fascism and totalitarianism we owe it to the personal
sacrifice of so many Righteous people, many who often remain anonymous, who
have saved the Jews and other human life during persecution and during
totalitarianism, they defended the values of human dignity with their
conscience.
To remember these people means to in some ways to overturn the criteria of so
many days of memory. Instead of putting all the emphasis on the Bad, it is
instead to valorize the positive examples that can pass to new generations to
look forward with hope and faith in the future. If there were states yesterday,
during the darkest moments of their history, some people heard the call of
their conscience and did not approve, this means that part of humanity is a
mysterious compass that can push you to discern between the good and the bad,
to hear the cries of another human, to assume responsibility.
To tell the exemplary stories is to assume a commitment for the prevention of
genocide today and to listen together with those, between thousands of
difficulties, try to defend human dignity in places like Syria, or in Ukraine.
We think for example of the personal sacrifice of Ghiatah Matar, the young
Syrian pacifist that distributed water to the soldiers faithful to the regime
during the protests. He was convinced that through this gesture, something
close to the non violent philosophy of Gandhi, the soldiers sent to kill the
protestors could feel the weight of their consciences. His example was
replicated by many Syrian youth in many cities, until he was arrested and his
lifeless corpse was left like a warning in front of the house of his
parents. His message of peace and
reconciliation was not passed.
The concept of the Righteous person that we take from Judaism, like classic
philosophy, Christianity and the beliefs of oriental regions, has a great value
not only in emergency situations, but in our daily lives. In fact, today in
front of a crisis of sense for many people deluded by politics and afraid of
our economic future, the call of the Good can give a grand charge for our
future. To do Good and act with
responsibility means to not trust in an abstract justice or delegate to others
their own destinies, helping who is closest to you, rescuing who is suffering,
lending a hand to those who have fallen in the street, showing our availability
to the lost. Being just is truly when you’re ready to save another person, and
not when you try to find a showdown, like many love doing in our country.
There is often the idea in our society that our actions should look successful,
about fame, about glory, about the search for recognition or recompense;
something quite different from what the just do that behave in a certain way
because they feel satisfied with themselves, when they sow the seeds of Good in
their work and in their relationships with others. Those who opposed Nazism did
this before and, like Hannah Arendt once wrote, were the lone forces in
thinking against anti-Semitism, and those today that don’t pay the blackmail of
the Mafia do it with the same spirit. In fact they have something in common:
they are at peace with themselves when they act for the Good.
The philosopher Salvatore Natoli, that read religious texts in a secular way,
reminds us of the great moral revolution of the Gospel of Matthew. In all
classic cultures they refer to the Golden Rule, “Don’t treat others in a way
you don’t want to be treated.” This was an invitation to abstain from committing
wrongdoing on others. Matthew went another way, when he reminds us that Jesus
taught this principle: “Do to others what you want them to do to you. This is
the meaning of the law and the teaching of the prophets.”
Matthew shed light on the fact that to eliminate Evil, it’s not enough to
abstain from it; instead it is more important to operate for the Good and to
assume a responsibility. The Good, in
short, needs to be built, day after day, with everyone putting forth their best
effort.
From this type of behavior, one doesn’t only derive a sense of personal joy, but
they enjoy something more powerful deriving from the betterment of their
surrounding world. When you help another person in trouble, one can enrich
society entirely and one is much better off thinking of that that they have given
to live in a better world. It feels truly satisfactory imagining the power to
live in a world where everyone is available for one another, without asking for
counterparts. There is no symmetry with the Good, a quid pro quo, but only the zest
of doing it for a moral enrichment and the whole of society.
This is the great moral inheritance that the Righteous that have lifted the
world in difficult times leave us; they represent for us the possible hope of a
new beginning.