Explaining why Maimonides’s view of the Menorah is incorrect . . .

Arch_of_titus
Arch of Titus, Rome

At our Talmud class on Hanukkah, we discussed the debate regarding the actual shape of the menorah.

The menorah’s physical dimensions have puzzled many scholars for centuries. This famous image of the menorah raises several problems and much has been written on it.  The authenticity of the depicted menorah’s base is sometimes called in question since it consists of two hexagons, the one superimposed on the other, on whose sides dragons are depicted–images that one would hardly expect to see on a sacred Jewish artifact! Perhaps Roman artists added these embellishments for the public procession of Israel’s captured treasures.

Those scholars who regard it as genuine article insist that the Roman triumphal arches were designed as historical documents and toward that end; in general, they strove to be as accurate as possible. Most of the details demonstrate to the sculptors’ intimate knowledge of the Temple’s vessels as described in the Bible and other Jewish sources. Moreover, the proportions of the menorah, with its over-sized base, are in such blatant conflict with the classical notions of aesthetic form that it is inconceivable that a Roman craftsman would have invented them.

Conversely, those who argue against its authenticity are quick to point out that certain elements of the menorah are omitted in this depiction. For example, the menorah had feet extending from its base [1] whereas the menorah on the Arch of Titus has no feet. The base of the menorah certain fits the Hellenistic and Herodian style which was current at that time and there is ample reason to suggest Herod redesigned the menorah to make it more atheistically appealing. Perhaps Herod followed Solomon’s example who constructed ten single lampstands (1 Kings. 7:49). Solomon built ten menorot of gold, five along the northern and five along the southern wall of the Heikhal (1 Kings. 7:49; 2 Chron. 4:7). These were ornamented with carvings of flowers and furnished with appliances of gold for tending the lamps (1 Kings 7:49-50), the number of which on each menorah is not stated. This being the case, the Arch of Titus merely shows just one menorah which was taken by the Romans, to whom in all likelihood did not care what kind of  menorah they were carrying. One menorah was probably just as good as another.[2]

Over the last couple of years or so,  the feet of the menorah unearthed from a newly-discovered synagogue not far from the Migdal Beech in Jerusalem, strongly resembles the feet of the menorah depicted on the famous Hasmonean coin. But the synagogue menorah is resting on a square base, whereas the coin’s menorah is not. Perhaps the base of the menorah was placed on top of a square base in the days of the Temple, under Herod’s watchful engineering eye. Simply put, Herod added style and flare, and his aesthetic judgments were quite exceptional indeed.

It is also possible that when the menorah was taken to Rome, Roman artisans fused the base of the menorah with the menorah itself for practical and aesthetic purposes.

So much for history …

Maimonides’ personal view of the menorah has long puzzled many rabbinic scholars. Some have argued Maimonides concurs with the opinion that the menorah’s branches were semi-circular shaped. Strangely enough, the late Lubavitcher Rebbe preferred to accept Maimonides’ peculiar conception that the menorah consisted of long extending diagonally shaped branches. Maimonides’ own son, Abraham ibn Maimon, makes this point quite clearly in his Torah commentary.[3] An identical view was also argued by Rashi in his Torah commentary. It never occurs to the old Rebbe that Maimonides and Rashi are wrong! One of the reasons for this is because there is a tendency to believe in what the Israeli journalist David Landau refers to as, “the doctrine of implied infallibility,” which comes eerily close to the Catholic doctrine of papal infallibility.

Even if Maimonides personally subscribed to such a peculiar view of the menorah, there is no support from the last 2300 years that would even indicate that the Temple menorah had a geometrical design. All the numerous artifacts unearthed from the time of the Maccabees (e.g., gravestones, coins, amulets etc.,) suggests that the branches were U-shaped rather than V-shaped. In one recent archaeological discovery an ancient synagogue dating  back from the Second Temple (50-100 B.C.E.) from the early Roman period; it shows a seven-branched menorah (candelabrum), The excavations were directed by archaeologists Dina Avshalom-Gorni and Arfan Najar of the Israel Antiquities Authority.

The main hall of synagogue is c. 120 square meters in area and its stone benches, which served as seats for the worshipers, were built up against the walls of the hall. Its floor consisted of mosaic and its walls were treated with colored plaster (frescos). A square stone, the top and four sides of which are adorned with reliefs, was discovered in the hall. The stone is engraved with a seven-branched menorah set atop a pedestal with a triangular base, which is flanked on either side by an amphora (jars). Remarkably, the menorah looks a lot like the menorah minted on the Hasmonean coin.

All the archaeological evidence proves beyond doubt that Maimonides erred, as did Rabbi M.S. Schnersohn after him. It’s a pity Hassidic Jews would rather cling on to a medieval model of what they believed the menorah to be, rather than examine the hard facts of archaeology and history. This would explain why Haredi and Chabad views of history can best be described as, “ahistorical,” and not “historical.”

One cannot blame the great minds of the past like Maimonides or Rashi; had they possessed the knowledge of archaeology we now possess, they would certainly have used it in their expositions. In Maimonides’  introduction to his Guide of the Perplexed, he argues that any authentic interpretation of Torah must be grounded in reason; metaphysical interpretations ought to be introduced only after one masters the natural sciences.

Ditto.

Abraham Maimonides, in his treatise on the aggadot [rabbinic teachings on biblical narrative], appears to go one step beyond his father: “We are not obligated… to uphold all the sundry medical, scientific, and astronomical statements made by the rabbis as being inerrant, like the way we believe them with respect to their interpretations of Torah, whose expert wisdom was in their hands.” [4]

In other words, scientific interpretations will always remain supreme so long as these principles do not violate the fundamental principles of our faith. This writer would argue that even rabbinical interpretations are not beyond criticism as well. A commitment to truth must always take precedent to a commitment to religious dogma, which historically has never ever been completely uniform in Jewish exegetical history.

Hassidic and Haredi Rabbis–like the Rebbe of Lubavitch–generally fear any kind of knowledge that threatens to undermine the wisdom of the past. What a pity they cannot re-vision their way of interpreting the world . . .

Continue Reading

The Dreidel as a Spiritual Metaphor for Today’s Unpredictable Times

I often get asked the questions, “What is the symbolism of the dreidel? What exactly is its origin?” The dreidel is a four cornered top that was popular in the medieval era and originally used for gambling. Jewish folklore purports that when the Syrians prohibited the study of Torah, the Jews insurrectionists would take a top to gamble with, so that the soldiers would let them play their game in peace. The name, “dreidel,” is a Yiddish word that derives from the German verb, “drehen,” (“to turn”).

Historically, the origin of the dreidel is not quite so apocryphal. During the medieval era, gambling dice often had four letters inscribed, N,G, H, and S, representing “nichts,” (nothing), “ganz” (i.e., winner takes “all”), and “shtell arein” (“put in”).  Jews subsequently transformed the dice into a top and added four Hebrew letters, נ (N), ג (G), ה (H), and שׁ (S)—signifying, נֵס גָדוֹל הָיָה ֹשָם  “nes gadol hayah sham” (“A great miracle happened there”).

The symbolism gets more interesting when we take into consideration the numerological patterns the Kabbalists cleverly add when redesigning the dreidel during the medieval era.  The value of the four letters equals 358, the same numerology (gematria) as Moshiach (Messiah)! This could suggest several things:

(1)   The wandering of the Jews (drehen) is not purposeless, though it may seem that way at times. Israel’s wandering serves to bring the world that much closer to its final redemptive stage of human history—the Messianic era.

(2)  As the dreidel spins, it represents the pulsating movement of the Divine; we who observe it, cannot see how its final stage will unfold until it actually occurs. Such a concept has its antecedents in the Talmud’s famous statement, “Three come unawares: Messiah, a found article and a scorpion” (T.B. Sanhedrin 97a). I have always liked this passage, for in its simplicity, the Sages teach us that it is not for mortal men–or women–regardless how pious or learned they happen to be, to engage in the mindless pursuit of messianic prognostications. The Messiah will appear when we least expect him to arrive.

(3)  Our fortunes in life are much like the chaotic turnings of the dreidel; those of us, who lost our fortunes with the Stock Market, know this all too well. Political surprises like the recent death of North Korean dictator, Kim Jong-il, the cyber-hijacking of an American stealth drone,  know the wisdom of this teaching only all too well … the world—even on its quantum level is full of paradox and unpredictability.

In short, although our existence is unpredictable, faith is the compass that provides us with the wisdom and radar to navigate through even the most difficult of times, like today.

Not by Might, but by Light – A Modern Chanukah Message

Historically, the holiday of Hanukkah is a relatively minor holiday when compared to holidays like Passover or Yom Kippur, or the Sabbath.

Nevertheless, its significance should not be under-appreciated. Hanukkah celebrates the first triumph for religious freedom in the ancient history of late antiquity. Although the holiday celebrates the military victory of the Maccabees back in the latter half of the second century B.C.E., rabbinic tradition redefined its significance by stressing the spiritual dimension of the revolt.

Military battles may come and go, but it is the triumph of the human spirit that matters most when it comes to the spiritual evolution of humankind. The rabbis, by and large, viewed the militaristic tendencies of the State with grave suspicion. Hence, Hanukkah had to signify something other than just military prowess.

The prophetic verse from the Bible underscores this thought — “Not by might, nor by power, but by my spirit, says the Lord of hosts” (Zechariah 4:6). When the forces of war and impatience demand a punishing response, it is all the more important that sober minds demand a calmer and more thoughtful approach.  The Chinese military general and philosopher Sun Tzu (544-496 B.C.E.) in his famous book, “The Art of War,” writes that “The supreme art of war is to subdue the enemy without fighting.”

The metaphor of light captures the essence of Zechariah’s and Sun Tzu’s related thoughts. Since ancient times, light has long been the symbol of life, happiness, prosperity, a realm of perfect being. Light’s appearance toward the end of the night is breathtaking; we never cease to be in awe of light’s gradual ascendance, peacefully dispelling darkness with its illuminating power.

One little candle can create much light. The candle’s light reminds us that our mission in life is not to shake up the world but to fasten its pegs; not to ascend to the heavens with an attitude of self-righteous arrogance, but to walk with a peacefulness of spirit upon the ground; not to create a storm—but to create a peaceful dwelling, an earthly home for God’s reality to become the center of our reality.

The relevance of Hanukkah is especially relevant for today’s challenges we all face. Hanukkah reminds us that the real battlefields are the hearts and souls of people. No military force—regardless of its size or strength can conquer the spirit. This thought offers a practical prescription for our leaders to consider before sending our young people to fight in yet another unpredictable war.

In our battle against religious terrorism, it is important to remember that wars must be fought not only with weapons, but with ideas. Physically destroying an enemy may have negligible value, but fighting backward ideas with progressive ideas that champion the dignity of all people—will ultimately yield a victory everyone can savor—and with much less bloodshed.

Lastly, the routine use of religious coercion by the religious parties in Israel continues to exacerbate the tensions between the Haredi and non-Haredi denominations of Israel. This past year, not even a Modern Orthodox rabbi could perform a marriage for a couple without Haredi rabbinical approval. The fight for gender rights, equal rights for Modern Orthodox, Conservative, Reform, and Reconstructionist Jews is a continuous clash of worldviews.  Yet, the olive never yields its oil without a struggle, and by the same token all of us who wish to preserve the democratic makeup of Israel must do everything to prevent it from becoming a theocracy. Democratic and pluralistic values are not antithetical to Judaism. This is a battle we have yet to win . . .

The holiday of Hanukkah offers a simple reminder that the forces of light and enlightenment can eventually triumph provided we start fighting on a more conceptual and spiritual plane. Continue Reading

Christmas and Hanukkah: The Modern Conflations of Gift-Giving Traditions

Recently, I have joined a new website (for me anyway!) Jewish Values Online. Here is a question somebody asked me earlier today: God warns us explicitly not to follow in the ways of the other nations. How does this apply to our custom to give gifts on Hanukkah which seems to have been taken from the very not Jewish tradition of giving gifts on Christmas?

Answer:

The verse, “Do not conform, therefore, to the customs of the nations whom I am driving out of your way, because all these things that they have done have filled me with disgust for them” (Lev 20:23) specifically pertains to not emulating pagan religious traditions. Most Halachic authorities do not consider Christianity as a “pagan religion.” At worse, Christianity is an amalgamation of Judaic and pagan elements; Jews should not regard Christianity as “idolatry.”

Still and all, the original question is valid for other reasons: Is it appropriate for Judaism to integrate practices that derive from non-Judaic sources? Historians believe the custom of gift-giving in early Christianity originated with the Roman celebration of Saturnalia, which also occurs late December.

Many traditional rabbis would certainly concur with the view that sees gift-giving on Hanukkah as a concession to popular Christian culture—plain and simple. To some degree, these rabbis make a valid point. In Southern California, there was a well-known rabbi of a prominent Reform synagogue who used dress up as “Chanu Claus” every year in a blue and white outfit, while wearing a prosthetic white beard. This type of religious capitulation to Christmas is painfully obvious—Oy, oy, oy! This is obviously the wrong message we wish to instill this time of the year about Hanukkah.

From a historical perspective, the question becomes a bit more nuanced and complex. Prof. Eliezer Segal thinks Hanukkah Gelt began at a time when Jewish teachers were an impoverished class. Hanukkah was the time when parents would give their children monies to give to their teachers. It was only natural for the children to receive a little financial incentive for carrying out the good deed. This practice eventually led to other older children asking that their parents give some money to them too.

This writer believes Segal’s explanation falls just a little bit short of the mark.

Life for the Jew in medieval and modern times was often filled with despair and uncertainty. As a persecuted minority, something had to be done to buoy the spirits of children, who frankly, felt jealous of the local Christian children celebrating Christmas with the usual pomp and festivities. This is the principle reason (in my opinion) why the giving of Hanukkah Gelt began, which later morphed into gift-giving.

While it is true, one could say this custom mimics Christian tradition, there is another way of looking at this relatively new Jewish custom. For one thing, no religion lives in a spiritual biosphere. Where different religions peacefully co-exist, a cultural commingling of values is inevitable.[1]

The commingling of Jewish and Christian values is not without complete precedent. One interesting example comes to mind:  the 16th century Halachic scholar, R. Yoel Sirkes (better known as the “Bach”) had no problem using Christian melodies in the synagogue provided these melodies had widespread and universal appeal.[2]

In all candor Judaism has since rabbinic times borrowed numerous religious beliefs and practices from its Semitic neighbors, e.g., the belief in demonology (e.g., Lilith) is clearly Babylonian in nature. Many superstitions we have regarding the Evil Eye also derive from pagan sources.[3] In addition, many of the rabbis participated in what we would now identify as occult practices.[4]

Oftentimes we reason backwards in our attempt to find an explanation for a contemporary practice. It’s a little bit like trying to hit a bull’s eye by first painting the target around the arrow after it has already hit its target. Halachic drash (interpretation) often employs this particular method in its exposition of traditions.

One explanation I remember reading in a number of Hassidic texts dealing with Hanukkah explains that there exists a linguistic connection between the words חֲנֻכָּה (ănūkkâ) dedication and  חֲנֹךְ  (ānı̂k) which means, “to train,” or “educate,” as in  חֲנֹךְ לַנַּעַר עַל־פִּי דַרְכּוֹ  “train the child according to his way” (Prov. 22:6). The nexus between these two meanings is obvious: providing a Jewish education for a child is like dedicating him/her to God.

With respect to education, it was customary in Jewish communities to give the child a gift upon entering school for the first time. Maimonides was not at all averse to “bribing a child” in order to get the child accustomed to study. [5] So, it is argued (based upon linguistic sources) that giving a child a gift during Hanukkah is not without some antecedent.

This writer would further argue that gift-giving is specifically mentioned in Numbers 7, which delineates all the sundry sacrifices and financial gifts each tribe gave in honor of the Temple’s dedication.  Incidentally, this same theme of gift-giving reappears in the First Book of Maccabees where Judas and his brothers, along with the people, rededicate the Temple by giving gifts to refurbish the Temple.[6]

So, is gift giving such a bad practice during Hanukkah? Traditionalist will definitely prefer giving Hanukkah Gelt; but personally, I see no problem with it so long as we do not include the other Christian traditions of Santa Claus with the celebration. Continue Reading

Mindfulness and the Art of Thanksgiving

Once upon a time, some American tourists went to Mexico on a vacation; they toured some hot springs, where they saw the natives washing their clothes! One tourist said to his guide, “My, isn’t it wonderful how Mother Nature provides her children with hot water to wash their clothes?” The tour-guide replied, “So you might think, Senor, but the natives complain that Mother Nature doesn’t provide the soap!”

It’s been said that the hardest arithmetic to master is that which enables us to count our blessings.  Chinese wisdom teaches, “When you drink from the stream remember the spring.”

Research has shown that people who regularly practiced grateful thinking were more than 25 percent happier, slept better, suffered lower levels of stress and even spent more time exercising. People sure like to complain. Kvetching is—for many—a national pastime, yet complaining tends to diminish the quality of our lives and relationships. According to one recent author, who wrote a book on gratefulness, Prof. Richard Emmons explains that” Preliminary findings suggest that those who regularly practice grateful thinking do reap emotional, physical, and interpersonal benefits. [...]  Grateful people experience higher levels of positive emotions such as joy, enthusiasm, love, happiness, and optimism [...] The practice of gratitude as a discipline protects a person from the destructive impulses of envy, resentment, greed, and bitterness.”

Cultivating an attitude of gratitude is a lot harder than it might seem. When we contemplate the economic problems of our society today, it is easy to get depressed. For a young family that loses a home, or a job, the economic and psychological effects can be devastating.  The idea of offering thanksgiving might even strike one as cynical. Some of you are probably familiar with Bart Simpson’s famous Thanksgiving quip, “Dear God, we paid for all this stuff ourselves, so thanks for nothing.” I fear that Bart Simpson’s remark probably reflects the contemporary attitudes we often hear in our society.

One day of Thanksgiving will not solve all the problems of the world. Suffering has always been a part of the human condition throughout recorded history. As Rabbi Harold Kushner has pointed out, there’s never been a time in which bad things didn’t happen to good people.

The pilgrims experienced enough hardship to leave them demoralized. When they first began their colony, they were propelled by the strength of their dreams. Despite the bitter winter storms that threatened their fledgling community, they did not give hope. They sat for three days, feasting, rejoicing and grateful for what they had. Rejuvenated, they made it through that first winter, and another, and another — just as our immigrant ancestors who left the Old Country did.

Thanksgiving beckons us to see the cup as half-full, as we focus upon the many blessings we experience daily. The name “Jew,” comes from the root which means “to give thanks,” and that is what our tradition teaches us in so many ways. We expect to wake up in the morning and expect to be healthy, but when we receive a diagnosis that we have an illness, suddenly we appreciate and recognize what we have now lost. There is a quality of mindfulness that we must always have when it comes to being thankful for all of God’s gifts.

As rabbis, we often see people living on the ragged edge of life. Today’s economic problems impact the lives of many people we know. The human face demands that we treat that unfamiliar person with kindness and compassion. When in doubt, it is much better to err on the side of compassion.

The Judaic meaning of gratitude must go beyond the mere recognition of God’s countless blessings we experience in our lives. What exactly does “thanksgiving” mean? Thanksgiving comes from two words, “thanks,” and “giving.” True thanksgiving involves a willingness to share God’s blessings and create blessing in the lives of others around us. By creating blessing for others, we reveal that we are not choosing to live in a state of scarcity and want. By opening our hearts to the pain of our brothers and sisters, we are infusing them with a feeling of hopefulness for a better tomorrow.

For many, the yearly community service — helping in a soup kitchen, delivering canned goods to the needy, sick or elderly — has been fulfilled, and they can feel gratified in knowing they’ve done a good deed for others.

I am reminded of a comment I once heard about Thanksgiving, from the Jay Leno Show, concerning the human condition. Leno noted how on Thanksgiving, restaurants give away free meals, soup kitchens pop up all over the place, all kinds of groups provide all kinds of food to the poor. But, Leno pointed out, for the most part, all those who help out do so only on Thanksgiving. “We give these people one big meal a year, really stuff them and tell them, “That oughta hold you. See you next Thanksgiving.’”

We’ve said our thanks, counted our blessings and passed the peas, along with the candied yams. Thanksgiving is over, and as soon as the holidays are out of the way, we can get back to our lives. Why do so many of us relegate thoughts of thankfulness and limit kindly-acts to a single day, or a single season? Continue Reading

Black Cats, Sorcery, and Superstition in Western Culture

This is an old posting, but in honor of Halloween, I thought I would resurrect it for tonight!

A student asked an interesting question: Why don’t Hassidic Jews have cats for pets?

Black cats were also associated with the demonic realm. In one bizarre passage, the rabbis said that if a person really wanted to see what demons look like, he should perform the following instructions: Take sifted ashes and sprinkle around his bed, and in the morning he will see something like the footprints of a cock. If one wishes to see them, let him take the after-birth of a black she-cat, the offspring of a black she-cat, the first-born of a first-born, let him roast it in fire and grind it to powder, and then let him put some into his eye, and he will see them . . . R. Bibi b. Abaye did so, and experienced harm from seeing them. The scholars, however, prayed for rabbi and he recovered (BT Berachot 6a).

And you wondered: What do they teach young Talmudic students?! Well, now you know!

Such rabbinical beliefs were common in the Babylonian age; it is for this reason, the Talmud is very important text for understanding Babylonian folklore, which it absorbed from their culture.

Western folklore records that if a black cat crosses one’s path—especially it is missing a tale—symbolizes bad fortune; on other hand if the black cat walks along side of the person, it is a sign he will be blessed with good fortune. A cat’s tail was used as a medicine that is why they used to chop it and use it for any type of health problem.

KILLING CATS — ANOTHER STORY ABOUT EUROPEAN “CIVILITY”

It got so bad that in Christian Europe, the church made an effort to suppress witchcraft, and the cat came to be identified with witches. Any woman owning a cat was killed along with her cat, because she was purported to be a witch. Cats, as demons, were burned, usually in a rite on Shrove Tuesday, the day before Ash Wednesday.

The early 20th century anthropologist James Frazer thus writes in The Golden Bough, “In the midsummer fires formerly kindled on the Place de Grève at Paris it was the custom to burn a basket, barrel, or sack full of live cats, which was hung from a tall mast in the midst of the bonfire . . . In the department of the Ardennes, cats were flung into the bonfires kindled on the first Sunday in Lent; sometimes, by a refinement of cruelty, they were hung over the fire from the end of a pole and roasted alive. “The cat, which represented the devil, could never suffer enough. . . While the creatures were perishing in the flames, the shepherds guarded their flocks and forced them to leap over the fire, esteeming this an infallible means of preserving them from disease and witchcraft. Squirrels were also occasionally burned in the Easter fire . . .” Cats almost disappeared from Europe, and this led to disastrous consequences when the rats brought the Bubonic Plague in the 1300s from China.

CATS BECOME SAVIORS OF HUMANITY!

Europeans back then (like now too) were not terribly astute. The mayor of London ordered the execution of all house-hold pets, but this political move did not stop the plague–it actually accelerated it.  An explosion of the rat population only increased the plague’s intensity until the Europeans eventually realized that people who had kept cats, in violation of the law, fared better; for the cats, according to their nature, killed the rats that carried the fleas that really carried the plague. With this discovery, cats became the saviors of Europe and were soon became protected by law.

ARE CATS A THREAT TO BABIES?

Since cats were often seen as symbols of evil, some cultures in the 13th and 14th centuries believed that cats would “steal a baby’s soul.” Specifically, people thought cats were attracted to a baby’s breath. This belief still  persists today; parents claimed in 2000 that an infant died with the family cat sitting on the baby’s face. However, upon an autopsy, it became clear that the baby died from Crib Death (Sudden Infant Death Syndrome). The fact that the cat’s proximity was on or near the baby’s face was coincidental. Cats will often sleep near a person’s head.

The story proves that many superstitions of history have some basis in something that occurred. Since the medievalists did not understand the nature of Crib Death, they looked to demonic reasons why an infant died. Unfortunately, the poor cat got blamed.

Getting rid of the family cat may not be an altogether bad idea; it is not uncommon for new parents to get rid of the family cat before a baby is born. Although suffocating babies is very unlikely, a cat may scratch a baby especially if the baby annoys the cat. In any event, it is a good idea for an adult to be in the room with the cat and infant.

SOME CULTURES LOVE THEIR CATS!

Not all cultures share disdain toward the cat. In Egypt, where the cat was originally domesticated, the cat was considered to be the guardian spirit of the home. In addition, cats were also mummified—anyone in the afterlife would certainly want to have one’s beloved pet! If someone killed a cat, the crime: death! Cats were so beloved because they could walk in the shadows with no fear; their heightened senses gave them a vision that could penetrate the darkness of the night.

Cats in ancient India were considered saints, while in Nordic countries it was common for brides to get married on Friday, a day that was dedicated to the cat goddess called Priya.

Still and all, despite the bad press cats get in the medieval era, the Talmud does say “Had Torah not been given to humankind, our ancestors would have had to learn modesty from the cat” (BT Eruvin 100b). Throughout much of recorded European history, Jews often kept feral cats to keep the mice population in check. Continue Reading

Late Sukkot Reflections: Creating Shelter for the Homeless and Downtrodden

One of my favorite stories about the holiday of Sukkoth comes from the 18th century.

The Duke of Manheim asked R’ Zvi of Berlin: “Why do children ask the ‘Four Questions’ on Passover and not on Sukkot? It would appear that Sukkot brings more changes to their lives than Passover does! For example: during Sukkoth, everyone eats their meals outside in the Sukkah, such a tradition does not exist with Passover  . . .”

R’ Zvi answered the Duke’s question with sardonic wit, “During the Passover Seder, the child sees everyone sitting around the table, at ease like free men, and not like a wandering people in exile. This brute fact arouses the child’s curiosity and he asks the obvious question: ‘Why is this night different?’ On Sukkot, however, the child sees Jews exiled from their homes and without a true roof over their heads. That does not surprise him at all; Jews have always lived that way, ever since they first went into exile.”

Freedom for the Jew living in Europe seemed more like a dream, rather than a reality.

As I pondered this story, I decided to double-check the historical records of various different expulsions of Jewish history—if only to satisfy my curiosity.

Here is a cursory glance at many of the wanderings our people have experienced over the last 2000 years.

250 — – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – Carthage

415 — – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – Alexandria

554 — – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – Diocèse of Clermont (France)

561 — – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – Diocèse of Uzès (France)

612 — – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – Visigoth Spain

642 — – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – Visigoth Empire

A member of the western Goths that invaded the Roman Empire in the fourth century settled in France and Spain, and established a monarchy that lasted until the early eighth century. The Arian Visigoths were also tolerant of Jews. However, the Visigothic persecution of Jews began after Visigothic King Reccared converted to Catholicism. Shortly after the King was elected,  the bishops urged him to declare that all Jews must be baptized or expelled. Sound familiar? Now let’s look at some other dates of Jewish history where this same pattern reoccurred:

855 — – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – Italy

876 — – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – Sens

1012   — – - – - – - – - – - – —-Mainz

Note: 1012  – Emperor Henry II of Germany expels Jews from Mainz; this marked the beginning of persecutions against Jews in Germany.  As you can see, by the time Martin Luther had come around, anti-Semitism had several centuries to gestate in Germany.

  • In 1290, King Edward I issued an edict expelling all Jews from England. Lasting for the rest of the Middle Ages, it would be over 350 years until it was formally overturned in 1656, thanks to the efforts of Oliver Cromwell and Rabbi Manasseh ben Israel, the famous Jewish leader of Amsterdam. The edict was not an isolated incident, but the culmination of over 200 years of conflict on the matters of usury.

Note: 1306  The Expulsion from France. Jewish wealth was more often than not the main motivation in the Jews’ expulsion from these countries. The Catholic Church coveted Jewish money, and their local leaders frequently used religion as an excuse to rid their countries of the Jews.

Historically, the Jews had settled in France for well over a thousand years, but this quickly changed when Philip Augustus came to power in 1179. Augustus decided to rid the country of his Jewish citizens so he could confiscate their wealth and also solidify his power as King. He used the infamous blood libel canard as his excuse.

I will not go into further detail about the other expulsions; I just wanted to provide some simple illustrations why the Rabbi Tvi of Berlin was more correct than many people might realize.

The various expulsions of the Jews illustrates the morally bankrupt polices that governed the Christian world all the way up to the modern period. The Holocaust would never have been possible had the Christian world not already prepared the ascent of Hitler by promoting the Jew in the most disparaging light.  It is a pity that Christianity has rarely ever practiced the precept of forgiving one’s enemies, as Jesus instructed in his Sermon on the Mount and in other NT narratives (cf. Matt. 5:43-44; Luke 17:2-4, passim). Jews have been unforgiven–even though 2000 years separate their 1st century ancestors. I often wonder what Jesus himself would say to his followers, “Ladies and gentlemen, I think you got it all wrong . . .”

Most modern Jews tend to think that anti-Semitism is not especially virulent in the United States. However, in troubled times such as ours, it could very easily become a spiritual airborne virus. Today, with the Occupy Wall Street crowd, once again we are hearing many of the same type of canards against “Jewish money” that we have heard long ago.

Sukkoth reminds us that anti-Semitism is a disease that transcends geographical boundaries. More importantly, Sukkot teaches all human beings the importance of creating shelter for the homeless and the vagabonds, who more often than not, become the scapegoats for a troubled society.

Remarkably, much of the Sukkot holiday focuses on the importance of hospitality. Despite the countless expulsions of our people, Jews celebrated Sukkoth by creating shelter for all those who found themselves on the ragged edge of life. I, for one, am very proud of how Israel has welcomed so many refugees who have been rejected by their original country of origin.  Since her inception as a nation, Israel absorbed over a million Jews, who were kicked out of the Arab countries in 1948.  Thousands of Druze also found sanctuary in Israel, as well as the Bahai, whose Temple was rebuilt in Haifa.

Israel is the only country that protects the rights of its Arab citizens as well. I would also add that when people suffer from natural or man-made catastrophes anywhere around the world, Israel is always there to offer a helping hand—creating shelter wherever possible. In the early 1970s, Israel welcomed the famous Vietnamese boat people, and later Christian Ethiopians, Sudanese refugees, and numerous other ethnic groups.

Much of historical memory is rooted in the biblical injunctions, “You shall not wrong a stranger or oppress him, for you were strangers in the land of Egypt” (Exod. 22:20). “You shall not oppress a stranger, for you know the soul of the stranger, having yourselves been strangers in the land of Egypt” (Exod. 23:9). Think about it. There are thirty-six warnings against exploiting the resident alien, who frequently was at the mercy of the host country. Sound familiar?

With 36 warnings against unsuitable behavior toward a stranger, no other commandment is referred to as frequently as much as this particular biblical proscription. Our tradition teaches us over and over again: “You shall love the stranger…The resident stranger that dwells with you shall be unto you as the home-born among you, and you shall love him as yourself, for you were strangers in the land of Egypt” (Lev. 19:34).

Henri Nouwen, the distinguished Catholic theologian writes about the basic essential qualities of hospitality shortly before he died:

  • In a world full of strangers, estranged from their own past, culture, and country, from their neighbors, friends, and family, from their deepest self and their God, we witness a painful search for a hospitable place where life can be lived without fear…That is our vocation, to convert the hostis into hospes, the enemy into a guest and to create the free and fearless space where brotherhood and sisterhood can be formed and fully expressed. Continue Reading

Letting Go of Our Scapegoats

One of the strange customs observed by many Orthodox on Erev Yom Kippur, involves the ritual of taking a rooster on the Eve of Yom Kippur. Here are the instructions: Men must take a rooster, while women must take a hen. Take a rooster in the right hand and afterwards say:  “This is my exchange, this is my salvation, and this is my atonement. This rooster shall go to its death, while I will enter and proceed to a good long life, and to peace.”

Then revolve the chicken around your head swinging it over your head. Some authorities argue that this should be done three times others say once is sufficient. If you are an expecting mother, it is customary to use two chickens for atonement, one for the mother and one for the unborn child.

The custom of Kapparot has some peculiar similarities to the ancient pagan and black magic rituals. The 16th century scholar R. Joseph Karo, author of the Shulchan Aruch, condemned it as a pagan superstition. Today, several leading Haredi rabbis have complained for the first time about the problems with animal cruelty, and have now banned it. Some scholars thought it was better to give food gifts or money to the poorer.

Yet, despite rabbinic reservations, folk religion often follows customs because of tradition. I would imagine that being able to transfer our collective and individual sins unto the poor chicken, must be a real exhilarating experience.

I mention this odd piece of Jewish folk religion because in some ways it highlights man’s eternal desire to seek some symbolic way of banishing our sins. Despite the fact we no longer have a Temple to perform these ancient rites, we nevertheless yearn for rituals of personal purification.

The origin of the scapegoat derives from the Yom Kippur rituals where the sins of the community were transferred unto a goat which was sent to die in the wilderness. As primitive as this rite is, bear in mind that the Torah improved on the concept of the scapegoat. Note that it is only the goat that is singled out for destruction–and not human beings. (One possible exception: Job, but Job is truly the one person who refused to be his society’s scapegoat; however, this is discussion for another time . . . )

THE SCAPEGOAT IN ANTIQUITY

Sir James Frazer illustrates in his famous work, the Golden Bough, shows how the ancient Greeks and Romans utilized the scapegoat. On every March 14th in the calendar year, the  ancient Romans used to send a man clad in skins through the streets of Rome, beating him with long white rods until they drove him out of the city.  The ancient Greek historian and philosopher Plutarch records how the ancient Greeks utilized the scapegoat in their society. Bear in mind Plutarch was considered pious and quite friendly—well, to most people!

Whenever the Greek colony of Marseilles, one was ravaged by a plague, a man of the poorer classes used to offer himself as a scapegoat. For a whole year he was maintained at the public expense, being fed on choice and pure food. At the end of the year he was dressed in sacred garments, decked with holy branches, and led through the whole city, while prayers were uttered that all the evils of the people might fall on his head. He was then cast out of the city or stoned to death by the people outside of the walls.  (I believe this type of story probably inspired several Stephen King horror novels.)

Frazer also describes how primitive societies throughout the world have relied on scapegoats and other ritual purification ceremonies, usually performed annually and seasonally, to purge their communities of evil and epidemics, demons and natural disasters. “To effect,” Frazer writes, “a total clearance of all the ills that have been infesting a people.”

THE SCAPEGOAT IN MODERN TERMS

Yes, our forbearers were not terribly sophisticated; their world was steeped in magic and superstition. The scapegoat reflected their need to purify themselves as a society—but often it came at the expense of an innocent victim—quite often the poorest and most vulnerable elements of society.

Modern society is much more subtle about its use of scapegoats. Psychologists Alice Miller and Robert Coles explain  that  scapegoats are targets that “absorb our pain, our feelings of hopelessness.” I would add: we crave scapegoats to absorb our hypocrisy and moral duplicity. The scapegoat is also often applied to individuals and groups who are accused of causing misfortune; they are identified with evil, blamed and then cast out of the family or community so that the remaining members are left with a feeling of guiltlessness.

The political arena tends to promote class warfare, pitting the rich vs. the poor, when the real problem is the lack of accountability when it comes to how government monies are being spent. Rather than exposing the crooked and dishonest politicians, we often see our political leaders create scapegoats, so that nobody will notice the real source of our problems—namely, our own leaders’ moral corruption.

People who see themselves as life’s victims tend to see somebody else to blame. The phenomena of frivolous lawsuits are empirical evidence of how ordinary people sue large companies no matter how silly the claim might be. Personal responsibility is seldom ever taught as a virtue worth cultivating in schools.

A thought from Ayn Rand really gets to the heart of our reticence to accept personal responsibility: “We can evade reality, but we cannot evade the consequences of evading reality . . .” If we act in ways that are so totally and obviously self-destructive, we have nobody else to blame but ourselves for failing to think and act responsibly–which I might add, is the hallmark of  spiritual adulthood. It is also the key to unlocking our human potential and actualizing our life purpose in this temporal world.

Freud understood this human problem and observed, “Most people do not really want freedom, because freedom involves responsibility, and most people are frightened of responsibility.” Is it any wonder why people seek to blame others for life’s injustices?

THE JEW AS SCAPEGOAT

Since the days of Late Antiquity, the Jews have become the perennial scapegoat for Western Civilization (“What a concept!”—Gandhi)  we have long been the scapegoat for everything that is wrong. The resurgence of anti-Semitism is not just in Muslim countries, it has spiked up even in the Western countries. The world is always looking to blame Israel—her crime: she exists!

Yet despite all the tragedies that have befallen the Palestinians, their greatest blunder in a history was failing to realize the opportunities that came their way.  As Abba Eben once said, The Palestinians have never missed an opportunity to miss an opportunity.

Paradoxically, Arab leaders needs Israel, for without Israel, who else would they blame for their societal problems. With the development of the “Arab Spring” this past year, for the first time Arab population centers are beginning to recognize that Israel is not to blame, but their own leaders are corrupt!

IN SUMMARY . . .

As primitive as the scapegoat ritual is, its inclusion in the Yom Kippur liturgy is a painful reminder of what is wrong in our lives and society.  Rather than looking for somebody else to bear the stigma of our pain, Yom Kippur teaches us that we need to take responsibility for our own behavior.

An interesting human behavior is pointing out everyone else’s faults and sins rather than looking at your own. It can be summed up in the following conversation between Linus and Lucy.

Linus asks Lucy, “Why are you always so anxious to criticize me?”

Lucy responds, “I just think I have a knack for seeing other people’s faults.”

“What about your own faults?”

“I have a knack for overlooking them.” Continue Reading

The Journey of a Thousand Miles Begins with the First Step . . .

The Chinese say, “The journey of a thousand miles begins with the first step.” Tonight we begin our spiritual journey with a celebration of Yom Kippur—a holiday that is wholly devoted to the cultivation of forgiveness and spiritual renewal—both as individuals and as a community.

“I have forgiven you as you have spoken” Fewer subjects personally challenge our moral sensibilities like forgiveness—both as individuals and as a society.

As we commemorate the 10th anniversary of 9/11, it is important for us to revisit some of the important questions about the nature and dynamics of forgiveness.

But what are the limitations of forgiveness? What are its possibilities? Should a person forgive unconditionally? Should the terrorists be forgiven for their crime of murder? In Jewish tradition, it is often customary to broach an important topic with a story. Afterwards we shall examine the important implications of the story to our original questions.

You are a Jewish prisoner in a Nazi concentration camp. You are sent to work in a hospital. A nurse brings you to a German soldier named Karl, who is mortally wounded. The dying soldier confesses that he has committed terrible atrocities against your people and asks you to forgive him. What would you do?

Actually, this was the question faced by renowned Nazi hunter Simon Wiesenthal and is the focus of his autobiographical novel, The Sunflower. Wiesenthal took the soldier’s hand listened to his story.

The patient recounted a horrible act in which he had participated. All of the Jews, mothers with infants and children, young and old, were rounded up and crowded into a large yellow house. The commanding officer ordered the house to be set afire.

When the Jews started running from the burning building and jumping out windows, the commander ordered the troops to fire. After telling the story, the patient asked Wiesenthal if he would forgive him for his role in the massacre.

Ultimately, young Wiesenthal walks away in silence. He can’t forgive the man. But his own soul is scorched with the agony of his decision to walk away.  Liberated from the camps, Wiesenthal seeks out the dead soldier’s mother to ease his mind. He finds a broken woman, left with nothing but the good memory of her son.

Wiesenthal decided not to tell her of her son’s confessed atrocities, his silence brings him peace of mind. He couldn’t forgive the soldier for the murder of others; he can spare an old woman suffering.

WHO HAS THE RIGHT TO FORGIVE?

Wiesenthal later wrote, “Forgetting is something that time alone takes care of, but forgiveness is a choice, and only the person who suffers is qualified to forgive”  As the years went by, his conscience still haunted him: Did I do the right thing in refusing to forgive the SS soldier? What do you think? Are there some crimes that simply cannot be forgiven?

When Wiesenthal first printed his book, there was a remarkable range of responses. Most Jewish respondents felt that Wiesenthal was right in not forgiving the dying Nazi. How could a mass-murderer be forgiven?

DID KARL FINALLY REPENT?

Did Karl truly repent? Possibly. However, in Karl’s case, we cannot confuse the beginning of a journey with its ending. Only God knows, but it is possible that he took a significant meaningful first step toward some form of redemption . . .  The rest of his journey can only continue in the World of Eternity. Therefore, it seems only apropos for the souls of the victims to deal with the souls of their perpetrators on their own terms.  But regardless how one views the story, this much is known: Could either young Simon or Karl have ever imagined that their mysterious encounter would challenge the moral sensibilities of countless millions of people across time? I believe there is a profound spiritual significance that is behind this synchronicity–one which ought to give our souls a pause to reflect upon . . .

THE DIFFERENCE BETWEEN JUDAISM AND CHRISTIANITY

Wiesenthal’s book highlighted for me one of the most important distinctions between Judaism and most but not all forms of traditional Christianity.[1] Many Christian thinkers and theologians argued the opposite. Forgiveness should and ought to be unconditional. Just as God is gracious in forgiving sinners, so must we be as well.  Not long after 9/11, Pope John Paul II expressed the following prayer:  “We pray for the victims today, may they rest in peace, and may God show mercy and forgiveness for the authors of this horrible terror attack . . .”

This position is not altogether new. Shortly after Timothy McVeigh was found guilty of murdering 168 people in the Oklahoma City bombing, a minister invited Americans to forgive him In a second case, Michael Carneil, a freshman at Heath High School in West Paducah, Kentucky, gunned down three students attending a prayer group on campus. A few days later the students erected a banner saying, “We forgive you, Michael.”

A personal note: Within a day of the 9/11 attack, I will never forget the words of the local Presbyterian minister who said, “We should understand and forgive the terrorists for bombing the World Trade Center which left over 3000 dead, since they were only reacting to our foreign policies . . .” Some local ministers said, “We need to love the bombers in the spirit of compassion and forgiveness . . .”  There seemed to also be a consensus of religious leaders across the world see who felt that we must solve the problem of evil by listening, offering compassion and bestowing forgiveness. As one might have expected, they were more concerned about the terrorists than they were about their innocent victims.

IMAGINING MAIMONIDES’ RESPONSE TO 9/11

Maimonides in his Laws of Repentance writes that repentance requires five elements: recognition of one’s sins as sins (hakarát ha‑chét’), remorse (charatá), desisting from sin (azivát ha‑chét’), restitution where possible (peira’ón), confession (vidúi) and–only then–forgiveness (michila).

From Maimonides’ criteria, we can deduce several important points: Forgiveness can only be given by the victims; those clamoring for forgiveness were not the ones who were wronged—it is the victims of these terrorist attacks who were wronged. Therefore, it is totally inappropriate for anyone to offer forgiveness on behalf of someone else. Fortunately, not all Christians believe like the Pope, the Protestants and countless New Age cults. Some of the scholars and theologians I will briefly mention offer a very Judaic understanding of forgiveness and even may serve to amplify our understanding of Maimonides’ Laws of Repentance.

One of the great Lutheran heroes of WWII was the German theologian Dietrich Bonhoeffer (1906-1945); he will always be best remembered for participating in a plot to assassinate Hitler; in the end, he was hung by the Nazis. Aside from being a great symbol of conscience, he went against the classical Christian understanding of forgiveness and warned all Christians about the dangers of “cheap forgiveness” because it enables evil. Had Bonhoeffer lived to see 9/11, he would have condemned the desire to forgive Al Qaeda terrorists as misguided and morally outrageous.

Bonhoeffer is not the only one thinker to challenge the morally vacuous theology of carte blanche forgiveness.  One contemporary Korean Christian theologian, Andrew Park, develops a similar approach. He argues that every broken or shattered relationship requires that the offender heal the shame of the victim; this applies no less if the person is a victim of emotional abuse, sexual victimization, violence, or any number of other ways.

Park argues convincingly that forgiveness is a two-step process; whenever you harm someone in word or deed, you are unleashing anguish and misery to that person, resulting in a scarring of the soul. The offender cannot find healing in his own soul until he takes the necessary steps to heal his victims. Both the Catholic and Protestant Church have done a serious injustice by ignoring the victims, putting the onus on them to find their own way to wholeness and inner peace.

Thus, the person who was once a drug pusher who now commits his life to keeping young kids off the streets, or the father who had in the past neglected his children, now becomes a model father who is truly involved in their lives, or the spouse who cheats, who later becomes an ideal mate and life-partner—all these examples personify the concept of han. Or as the Talmud would say, Yom Kippur has the power to transform sins into good deeds—provided someone truly repents.

I believe that Park’s observation fits perfectly with the Maimonidean paradigm that we have mentioned.

The process of addressing the victim’s pain is what Korean society refers to as han; han is the relational consequence of sin—and shame of their victims. To reconcile yourself with God and with other humans, you must take the steps to heal the pain you have caused.

The bottom line is simple: The evil we see in the world is a sad reflection of the apathy and tolerance we have for evil. Religious leaders have to stop making excuses for the diabolical exploitation of religion. For the most part, Muslim leaders especially, have done a terribly poor job speaking out against the hijacking of their faith; we have a duty to hold their leaders accountable and insist that they take a more active role in condemning the jihadistic theology that inspires young people to commit such acts of violence in the world. Yes, there are some outspoken Muslim leaders who share this sentiment, but they pale when compared to the lunatics that speak in the name of  the Islamic  faith. The media can play an important role in assisting these men find a broader audience, but the media seems to be only interested in only maintaining the status quo. Continue Reading

“The Epistle of Straw” — Rabbinical Reflections on Faith vs. Works

The Letter of James is arguably one of the most Jewish sounding works of the NT.

Martin Luther’s disdain for James is especially significant. Luther writes in his Preface to the NT that James is an “epistle of straw”[1] because the author rejected the Pauline doctrine of “justification by faith”  that is at the heart of Pauline Christianity.[2] By referring to James’ value as “straw,” Luther wished to convey the idea that the Letter of James has no value to a Christian. Luther even argued for its removal from the NT canon because of its “Judaic” overtones.

Traditional Judaism has long stressed that actions speak louder than platitudes about faith. In fact, a person’s faith even says much about that person’s true beliefs and values. That being said, in deference to Luther, Christian scholars have been historically debating about the inclusion of James into the NT canon for nearly 1700 years!

Except for the opening line of James–an obvious interpolation–the rest of James focuses good old fashion Jewish ethics. To the chagrin of Luther, there is no mention about Pauline Christianity anywhere in the book. I suspect this book may have been a favorite among the ancient Jewish-Christian sect known as the Ebionites (the “poor ones”) who regarded Paul the Apostle as a heretic.

If I did not know better, the book of James almost sounds like a prototype for the Pirke Avoth (the “Ethics of the Fathers” is a short tractate dealing with the famous wisdom aphorisms of rabbinical tradition).

Here are some of my favorite passages in James:

“Anyone who listens to the Word, but takes no action is like someone who looks at his own features in a mirror—once he has seen what he looks like, he promptly forgets what he looked like. But the one who peers into the perfect law of freedom and perseveres, and is not a hearer who forgets but a doer who acts, such a one shall be blessed by what he does” (NT James 1: 23-25).

James writes in the second chapter, “So also faith of itself, if it does not have works, is dead. Indeed someone might say, ‘You have faith and I have works.’ Demonstrate your faith to me without works, and I will demonstrate my faith to you from my works.  You believe that God is one. You do well. Even the Devil believes that and trembles. Do you want proof, you ignoramus, that faith without works is useless?”

Commentary: Who do you think is the “ignoramus” James is referring to? Obviously he is speaking about anyone who would be foolish enough to follow Paul’s “justification by faith” doctrine that subsequent Christianity accepted, hook, line and sinker.

“Was not Abraham our father justified by works when he offered his son Isaac upon the altar?  You see that faith was active along with his works, and faith was completed by the works.  Thus the scripture was fulfilled that says, “Abraham believed God, and it was credited to him as righteousness,” and he was called “the friend of God.” See how a person is justified by works and not by faith alone. And in the same way, was not Rahab the harlot also justified by works when she welcomed the messengers and sent them out by a different route? For just as a body without a spirit is dead; so too, is faith without works also dead” (NT James 2:17-26).

Commentary: I would argue Abraham shows more faith by not sacrificing his son! Moreover, this position is more consistent with ethos of James.

But wait a minute, there’s more to Martin Luther’s personality than meets the naked eye.

Despite Luther’s disdain for James, in some ways, Luther would have made James quite proud of him—at least in the beginning of his career. Think back . . . Wasn’t it Luther who opposed the medieval practice of purchasing credit (the first “Buy now, sin later . . .” campaign in Christian history) with God through indulgences and opposed it with his cry of “faith alone”?

Yep, he sure did! Why did he so radically change? Maybe because the book of James reminded him too much of Judaism. Friends, that is one very important reason why Jews ought to study James!

Like Mohammed before him who befriended the Jews only to turn his back against the Jews, Luther also turned his back against the Jews after failing to convert them to his new faith. Just take a took at Mohammed’s ruthless  jihad on the Jews of Mecca and Medina.  Although Luther wasn’t as violent as Mohammed, he nevertheless knew how to fan the fire of religious bigotry just like Mohammed.  Anti-Semites always seem to follow the same playbook; some are more benign, while others are just plain malignant.

Luther made some Nazi-esque comments about the Jews that goes completely against the ethics that is spelled out in James. In 1543, Luther’s animus probably reached its zenith in a scathing pamphlet, Concerning the Jews and Their Lies, in which he urged the authorities to act against Jews with the utmost severity. Continue Reading