by Prof. Henri Joyeux

From ‘The Universality of the Human Person’, notes taken from a talk given by Professor Henri Joyeux on the theme of hospitality. Prof. Joyeux sees the case of Israel Zoller as an illustration of the way in which ‘foundational memories’ may have a decisive impact on our lives.

Take the example of Israel Zoller. Born in 1881 to a rich Jewish family in Galicia, Spain, at the time of the Austrian-Hungarian Empire, Israel was an outstanding, intelligent child who did well at school. His mother had a very faithful servant who was Catholic. When he was seven years old, Israel became friends with the son of the servant and would go to their house to play. The first time that he went into his playmate's bedroom and saw hanging above the door a man on a cross, he said: 'He must have done some very wrong things for them to put nails into his hands and feet.'

Israel spent his entire life seeking to understand why the man was there. He did advanced studies in Vienna and then in Florence, where he attended classes at the University as well as those in the rabbinical college in the city. Named Chief Rabbi of Trieste in 1918, he chose to become an Italian citizen at the start of World War I. He lived in Trieste for 20 years, compiling Biblical texts.

While studying the Torah, Israel also began to read the New Testament. He remembered the time in his childhood when he saw a cross in the home of his young Christian friend. The image of the cross was fixed in his mind and he decided he would try to better understand this crucified man.

In 1939, he was named Chief Rabbi of Rome. The anti-Semitic laws under Mussolini obliged him to change his name to a more Italian sounding one: Zolli. From the time he arrived in Rome, Zolli alerted the Jewish authorities to the intentions of the Nazis who were streaming on to the Italian peninsula, but got little response. He was treated as a foreigner, as he was born in Eastern Europe and was not familiar with Roman Judaism.

In 1943, Commandant Herbert Kappler immediately imposed certain conditions on the Jewish community: they were to hand over 50 kg of gold or 300 hostages in 48 hours. The Jewish people in the Ghetto managed to collect 35 kg. Zolli, who had a price on his head by the Gestapo, asked the members of the community to put his name first on the list of hostages.

The community managed to collect the gold from the Catholic parishes in the city. In the months that followed, the Chief Rabbi lived in hiding in order to continue to help his flock to escape. He survived, thanks to Roman families who hid him at the risk of their own lives. He told how Pope Pius XII opened the cloisters of the monasteries and the convents in the city and surrounding areas to provide shelter for entire families of Jewish people. The rabbi's daily life was marked by suffering, cold, hunger and anxiety. When the Americans arrived in 1944, his role as Chief Rabbi was restored to him.

That same year, on the day of Yom Kippur, Zolli had a crucial experience: he saw the face of Christ. After resigning from his role as Chief Rabbi, he sought instruction from a Catholic priest with a view to being baptised. He was much maligned for this by the Jewish community. He soon found himself completely destitute.

At that point. Pope Pius XII offered him a teaching post at the Gregorian University which would provide him with a livelihood and make it possible for him to continue his exegesis work at the Biblical Institute. After meeting the Holy Father on several occasions, Zolli spoke to his daughter about the current hostility in prophetic terms: 'You’ll see; they’ll make Pius XII the scapegoat for the entire world's silence in the face of the Nazi crimes'.

When he became a Catholic, Zolli chose Eugenio as his baptismal name in honour of the Pope. In the final years of his life, Zolli worked to improve relationships between the Catholic Church and the Synagogue. The last part of his life was spent in Rome, where his days were divided between his duties as professor and his work as a writer.

With great respect for the Talmud and the Jewish faith, Zolli made a comparison between the Old and New Testaments, explaining that the Old Testament is the love of the law and the New Testament is the law of love. He must have reflected deeply and worked hard to come to such a conclusion. He died in 1956. His life is truly fascinating, and it is easy for us to see how his foundational memory would direct his entire life.