Grenzjuden

In his essay Nietzsche and the Marginal Jews, Jacob Golomb provides a term for the modern Jew in exile: Grenzjuden. Golomb refers to a cultural and intellectual trend among early-twentieth century German Jews:

These individuals tragically lacked an identity: they rejected any affinity with the Jewish community but were nonetheless unwelcome among their non-Jewish contemporaries. Jakob Wassermann describes them from within as: "religiously and socially speaking floating in the air. They no longer had the old faith; they refused to accept the new one, that is to say, Christianity . . . the physical ghetto has become a mental and moral one."

There is an incipient identity in the "tragic lack" of identity. Through disillusionment with the "community of truth" there can come a greater affinity for that truth: the truth of exile. I don't reject any affinity with the Jewish community, nor am I unwelcome among my non-Jewish contemporaries. The situation has changed since the time of the original Grenzjuden. However, there is the spark of a "third way" in their spiritual position: between orthodoxy and atheism, agnosticism; between parochialism and universalism, an outward-looking inwardness. Perhaps we can make this "mental and moral" ghetto into a home.

These marginal Jews preferred to forego an identity rather than adopt a ready-made one. Nietzsche taught them that given the death of God all the ideological and political "isms" that had emerged in the nineteenth century were but residual shadows. [Franz] Werfel poignantly expressed this sentiment: "socialism and nationalism are political ersatz religions."

Amen. Every "ism" is an idol: a graven image of the sacred. If I cannot accept the law I will not dance around the golden calf. Socialism is secular Christianity and nationalism is secular paganism. There are positive elements to both; but when they are carved into "isms," they become idolatries. And when they are combined, they become demonic.

Golomb quotes another poignant passage from Franz Werfel:

"What way of escape do they have? The way of liberalism? Who would not be ashamed of its superficial and false cheapness? The way of nationalism? Self-deceit and self-destruction! One becomes a Hebrew nationalist in order not to have to be a Jew any longer! The way of orthodoxy? There is no retreat from life into fossilization, even if it be the holiest fossilization. The way to Christ? . . . There is no way out!"

There may be no way out. But what if we build upon our exile in spite of it? Our alienation from heritage can be true to our heritage. Perhaps the way out is through: through the perils of exile, never settling for false Zions along the way. We want the spirit, not the idol; the depth, not the surface. Our doubt about redemption causes us to suffer, but our suffering may lead to redemption.

Martin Buber tells the following story in Tales of the Hasidim:

A man who was afflicted with a terrible disease complained to Rabbi Israel that his suffering interfered with his learning and praying. The rabbi put his hand on his shoulder and said "How do you know, friend, what is more pleasing to God, your studying or your suffering?"

He was the first Grenzjuden.