The Ten Commandments written in 10th century BC characters
Once again, here we are, in the juxtaposition of Jewish and Christian redemption and renewal holidays – Passover and Easter, respectively – and I find myself acting in two plays, one of which tells the Old Testament story of Joseph in musical form. (The other is The Lewis & Clark Melodrama, or How the Finns Discovered Astoria, at the ASOC Playhouse in Astoria.) Yes, I play Simeon, one of Joseph’s brothers who, in a fit of jealousy, sell Joseph off to passing “hairy Ishmaelites” (Arabs in modern parlance; descendants of Ishmael, Abraham’s first son, and Esau – which means hairy in Hebrew – Jacob’s twin brother, son of Isaac, grandson of Abraham), and into slavery in Egypt. Andrew Lloyd Webber’s first production, Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat is a romp through many genres of music, with perhaps the most memorable being an Elvis impersonation by Pharaoh. As it happens, Joseph’s dreams are prescient, and he becomes Pharaoh’s advisor, with his brothers starving in Canaan. They go to Egypt seeking food, and meet their forgotten brother, who toys with them before revealing his identity. Everybody lives happily ever after. (Don’t miss the performances at the Performing Arts Center in Astoria on April 11 at 7 pm and April 12 at 2 pm.)
It’s been a while since I studied the Old Testament in any detail – like 45 years or more, when I was in Hebrew school in New York. I must have been good at it, because I was the valedictorian of my Hebrew school, but I’ve forgotten the details since. Reading up in preparation for this post, I find that the patriarchs of Judaism and Islam (and also Christianity) were every bit as violent and crooked as the rulers of so many kingdoms before and since, including so-called democracies today. Jacob, the father of the Israelites, tricked his father into getting the birthright that his twin Esau, who was born slightly before, should have had. The two brothers were bitter enemies for years, finally making up when both were quite well off. But equally interesting is that all three great monotheistic religions – Judaism, Christianity and Islam – all have their roots in one family that lived thousands of years ago in the Middle East. Talk about degrees of separation!
Da Vinci’s The Last Supper
In my Jewish education, Jesus was given little time, since Jews don’t believe he was the Messiah; only that he was a rabbi in the period of Jewish history around the building and subsequent destruction of the Second Temple by the Romans. So it was quite to my amazement, when cast as John the Baptist and Judas for the Astor Street Opry production of Godspell, to learn of the parables of Jesus, and a little bit about his teachings. I’ve never quite understood how religions could elevate mere mortals to deity, but it certainly seems as if Jesus was a good man with some good ideas that we would be well served to study.
At the suggestion of my wife and friends, I later read Lamb – The Gospel According to Biff, Christ’s Childhood Pal by Christopher Moore, and was very impressed with Moore’s “thesis” that Jesus got many of his ideas from visiting South Asia in his youth. Though meant as a comical novel, it kind of made sense to me. I’ve always been fascinated by the cultures and religions of the East, and a big believer in connections. And besides, the book was hilarious!
The above plays and book are three examples of redemption, connections and renewal that pervade my thoughts especially at this time of year, when, on my daily walks with our dog Lilly, and on my walks to work and to town many times a week, I see and hear flowers blooming, bees buzzing, leaves budding out, birds chirping – the rebirth of plant and animal life that characterizes the beginning of spring. Easter egg hunts, the egg on the seder plate, Easter bunnies, and the cleanup of chametz and breaking out of a new set of dishes and utensils in preparation for Passover – all of these traditions are celebrations of life, renewal and change that give us hope each year that our planet can survive all that we throw at it, and shine! As we Jews (and many others) do each year at the seder, 
let’s pray for an end to slavery, mistreatment of people, other species and the environment. And as Christians celebrate the resurrection of Christ on Easter each year, let’s hope that his radical ideas on treatment of the sick and poor, authority, fairness, and wealth distribution can be resurrected and form the platform of all political parties running for office here and abroad.
May the season bring redemption, renewal and bounty to you, readers, and your family and friends, and to the Earth!
That’s a right smart reflection on life in the vernal moment, Bob. Todah rabah, rabbi! Thanks so much for this budding weblog.
Sounds like you’re having fun with the thespians in Astoria. I’ll never forget our first chats when we were acting with our kids in Fiddler on the Roof. Huddled back stage at the Cannon Beach Coaster Theater, I felt like we were in our own little yeshiva. We’d start out whispering, but soon became loud enough to get shushed by the stage manager.
I offer this little memory so readers will know you and I are practiced at picking topics to fire each other up. The subject of patriarchal violence, for example, has often entered our conversations about cultural roots. Indeed the founding act of faith for Jews, Christians (and Muslims, I’m guessing) was a patriarch’s willingness to obey the order to kill his child. The official script doesn’t offer much back-story for that order. Yet the archeological record shows that child sacrifice was practiced in ancient times throughout the Middle East, as it was throughout the world.
Apparently that kind of faith was more common back then. Mortal men wrote about it in the story of Abraham and Isaac, and believers were instructed to accept the story as God’s truth. That’s the way men elevate our ranks to deity – with words. Even if we’re careful not to spell out God’s name, we’ve conveyed his character as an almighty authority who often demands obedient bloodshed. Such religious compliance is especially useful when men are ordered to kill women and children.
Here’s how it’s done. The prophet Samuel wasn’t God, right? But he was a star prophet. Thus IT IS WRITTEN Samuel spoke with God and God told him to order the king to command his men to do certain things. As in: go and kill every member of a certain tribe of people. Kill them all, including the infants, because their leaders did something bad a while back and God wants every last one of them exterminated. If any are spared, even one baby, God will be very pissed.
I’m not making this up. The dudes who wrote 1 Samuel 15:3 did. And sure enough, God’s chosen folks didn’t fully obey, and that sin piled up with others that had to be punished. That’s where Christian patriarch’s fit Jesus in. According to some written accounts, Jesus became the perfect sacrificial lamb who’s blood could wash away all sin. One could infer that Jesus’ death was the very best thing that could have happened. God killed his child to redeem us from our sins of disobedience.
I know such thoughts seem far too dark for a season of quickening sunshine. This is a time when folks celebrate resurrection and release from slavery. Yet the flip-side is also true. Now is when many re-enact the murder of an innocent man as if it were a ritual blood sacrifice. It’s also when many remember the collective killing of first-born sons as an act of divine might.
Beyond such violence I believe there is real divinity – in Judaism, Christianity, Islam, and other religions. I also think men have brutally twisted traditions to justify our own ends. Time to untwist our hearts so we can help take care of all God’s children. God is love.
And now the stage manager is asking me to be quiet.
After posting that comment I went out to the barn to find triplet baby goats. First kids of the season, born to a new mom. Will set the alarm to check on them during the night. The runt may need bottle-feeding before dawn.
Springtime!
Another example of the miracle of renewal on Earth that gives me inspiration that the bad done by us humans can be overcome. Perhaps God is this renewal. Maybe not to follow blindly, but certainly worth marveling. Go God! Here’s hoping that mama and kids are doing great!
It was a cold spring night. I actually put on long underwear after the alarm woke me from a deep sleep at 2 am. The first time I visited new mama and her kids, the two larger ones were up wobbling around. But the runt wasn’t moving much. Lotus (the mama) was licking the larger kids, still cleaning them up. She wasn’t paying much attention to the little one, though, which worried me. I put all the babies close together and gave mama some more hay.
Around 4 am I went down to the barn again. The larger kids were sleeping next to each other, but the runt was all by herself in the middle of the stall. I got a little grain to give Lotus, to keep her in one place. Then I picked up the runt and carried her over to see if I could get her to nurse. She felt very weak, and I was worried she wouldn’t have enough energy to find the teat. But she tried.
After a few minutes, I could hear nursing sounds. Something was happening, but was the baby getting anything? Just a small amount of colostrum (a mother’s first milk) is packed with vital nutrients. I knew that if she got just a little, her chances of living were good.
After a while she seemed to lose interest in the teat, so I pulled her away and looked carefully into at her face. My heart swelled with contentment when I saw a band of white foam at the edge of her mouth. As much as anything I experience in life, such moments affirm the presence of God. The affirmation was especially potent this time because of where my mind was, writing that first comment.
We named the little one Chavalah, of course. Tzeitel and Lazar Wolf are her sister and brother. The kids are all thriving and Lotus is doing fine. Praise God!
As always, Brother Watt, a thought-provoking give on my take. I should explain that the thumbnail on this post is the Ten Commandments as shown in the movie by that name that I looked forward to every spring when I was a kid. Written in ancient Aramaic script, the sixth of these commandments in English says something like “Don’t murder.” Seems like there should have been a disclaimer added – something like “except when I tell you to.”
When I attend Passover Seders, like the one coming up this Friday, as well as other holiday services these days, I am struck by the references to mass murder, hatred, and destruction of our (Jewish) enemies. Most of these are quotes from the bible. The ones most relevant to Passover are the ten plagues. Talk about mass murder. And with the final plague, even children.
I take some solace in the possibility that these stories were written to explain natural events that were unexplainable with the science of that time, or that they are fables that teach us some morals. But I’ll admit that like most of my friends and family, I didn’t do much thinking about these passages, and sort of accepted their message – in order to free the Hebrew slaves in Egypt, it was necessary to kill enormous amounts of Egyptians. The lesson – don’t mess with the Jews.
This is borne out in present times by the policies of the U.S. and Israel towards the Arab countries in the Middle East. The murder continues, clearly violating commandment #6, but sanctioned by many rabbis more prominent than me.
I wonder if it all comes down to those memorable words from the Shalom Aleichem stories sown together in a play that I’ve seen in several venues (including the Sydney Opera House) and had the great honor of sharing the stage with you, Brother Watt, performing in it: “Without our traditions, life would be as shaky as a fiddler on the roof!”
Shaky perhaps, but maybe a little less bloody.
A fiddler on the roof? Sounds meshuggah, no? Yet in our little village at the Upper Left Edge we try to make and share our music. Keeping our balance means being as sure-footed as goats. The muse moves through you, Rabbi Bob. I’m grateful for our brotherhood.
Surely the rabbinic tradition offers more room for questioning and debate than did my southern Christian upbringing. Many in the Bible-belt accept what’s said between the leather as the literal inerrant word of God. And mass murder isn’t the only malevolent plot element that’s thought to be divinely inspired. Go back and read the whole passage about the tenth plague. After all the other awful tribulations, Pharaoh finally decided to do the right thing. He was going to let God’s people go. But then God hardened Pharaoh’s heart so God could prove his supremacy by killing every first-born boy in the land who’s parents hadn’t smeared lambs blood on their door.
No doubt some religious reasoning is offered by Bible-belt preachers who whip such scripts into the psyches of their congregations. Yet here’s a lesson that soaks into the subconscious minds of literalist readers, regardless of any theological context. The Judeo-Christian God can make you do the wrong thing, then kill your children as punishment. So be extremely afraid. Do whatever God and his spokesmen order you to do. Because if you don’t you could suffer unthinkable consequences.
That same God has told hardened patriots of a Christian nation to unconditionally support hardened patriots of a Jewish nation. And hardened patriots of an Islamic nation are probably building nuclear weapons so they’ll be as capable of mass murder as we are.
What script will leaders use to determine how to proceed? I’ll never forget reading an op-ed published in the New York Times, six years ago, shortly before President Obama had his first meeting with Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu. When asked to gauge Netanyahu’s bearings toward Iran, an advisor answered “Think Amalek.”
Those words touched a deep nerve in me. Amalek was the king who attacked the Jews during the exodus from slavery. In retaliation, many years later, God ordered Israel’s leader to exterminate the descendants of Amalek – every man, woman, and infant; every calf and kid; all crops and property. 1 Samul 15:3. Divinely-ordained genocide.
This is apparently the mindset of a prime minister who governs one of the few nations that owns a functioning nuclear arsenal that was developed in secret without ever signing the Treaty on Non-Proliferation of Nuclear Weapons. I suspect Netanyahu’s nationalism is religiously shared by southern Christian politicians like Ted Cruz. Will the next president of the United States be guided by the same violent stories that apparently guide Netanyahu?
Stories have a huge influence over human actions. Time to reveal and heal the damage that’s done when men shape stories about God to suit our nationalist purposes. Perhaps there’s some deeper significance in the fact that the first word for “nation” in the Bible is “goy.”
Wow, Watt, you brought us up to the present quickly, tying the Bible stories to present-day politics and war quite nicely. I’ve yet to see Bibi’s halo; he doesn’t seem divinely inspired to me. But maybe that’s your point, and what we’re discussing here — what is the nature of the Jew, the Christian, the Muslim? I’m having enough trouble with the first of these monotheistic groups, my own. I can’t fathom the nature of the Christian or the Muslim. I leave that to others.
As for the Jewish nature, we display the gamut. My former neighbors and friends from New York that I see Facebook posts from seem to have the warlike nature of Bibi and much of the Old Testament. Certainly if you read the stories in the bible, and reflect on them during holiday gatherings, you get the idea that we are a special people, protected by God, and constantly being harassed, enslaved, deprived, and destroyed (needing that protection). Lashing back at our enemies (and we have many) is nothing new.
I’m going to focus here on the Passover story as an example of what we’re talking about, and hope that someone out there has some answers. Let’s take a modern analogy — the enslavement of Africans. In America, it was necessary to fight a civil war to get the South to give up official slavery, but it’s also been necessary for the civil rights movement to lose many people continuing the fight for freedom. Here’s the question: Is it OK to kill the masters to free the slaves? Is it necessary? What’s the Jewish theological view on this? The Christian view? The Muslim view?
I can see why Jesus might have gotten some followers from among the poor and oppressed, and I can see why Bernie Sanders has his followers from the same sets of people. I can also see how folks could use God to further their agendas. I’d like to think, though, that God is more like the George Burns character in the movie, basically saying, “I got you started. Now it’s up to you. Stop bothering me.”
“Yahu” seems a more fitting nickname for Israel’s prime minister. He’s their gun-totting version of George W. Bush, pitching to the same right-wing audience that gave Shrub two terms in the White House. Recently Netanyahu took the national stage to undercut Obama’s negotiations in the Middle East. He did so at the behest of a Republican Congress ruled by hard-line Christian hawks. A scattering of Jews were also present to hear Yahu’s political grandstanding in Washington. All but one were Democrats, many who objected to the context of the speech (Bernie Sanders skipped it).
There are many different manifestations of slavery in the world. Kill the masters? No. Not a good idea, unless one believes it’s OK to fire lethal rockets on people from the subjugated zones of Palestine, or hijack planes and crash them into the World Trade Center. I do not, and I know you don’t either. Let’s agree that question has been firmly answered.
I do think it’s useful to focus on the two turning points in history you mention — the civil war and the civil rights movement. Maybe not in the way you were imagining.
My understanding is that the Confederates States of America seceded for economic reasons, and that slavery was one of several economic factors that led to the civil war. My family fought on both sides of that conflict. So did many Jews. In fact one source says America’s Jews were split in the war, with a slightly greater number fighting for the Confederacy.
I know that seems out of step with our assumption today, which anchors Jewish influence in the urban North. Yet the South hosted early waves of Jewish immigrants in cities like Richmond, Charleston, Savannah, and New Orleans. In 1820, the largest Jewish population in the United States was in South Carolina. The state boasts the first constitution in the world to guarantee religious freedom to Jews.
I’d like to loan you a copy of “The Jewish Confederates” by Robert N. Rosen. Replete with scholarly research, the author argues that prior to 1860, anti-Semitism was more common in the North than the South. Rosen claims historians of the American Jewish experience reached a consensus long ago that Jews were more accepted in Dixie. Our nation’s first Jewish congressmen were Southerners. A U.S. Senator from Louisiana, Judah Benjamin, became attorney general of the Confederacy.
Rosen argues that such loyalty was not based on the support of slavery or the idea of succession. Many Jews accepted the South as their new homeland, a place where they found freedom that was denied them elsewhere. This fortified their sense of patriotic duty.
Of course demographics changed following the Civil War and continued to transform throughout the 20th century. Fast forward to the Civil Rights movement, when Jews and Christians in the North joined forces with Southern reformers to challenge social injustices. When I listen to recorded speeches of Dr. Martin Luther King, my heart rumbles with a feeling of exodus that surely inspired those brave leaders.
These two points in history illustrate different potentials for collaboration between American Jews and Christians. During the time of the Confederacy, Southern Jews and Christians sought to secure their political interests by fanning the flames of nationalism. By contrast, shared conscience between American Jews and Christians helped to support the Civil Rights movement. I believe the latter effort mirrors current work to foster peace and freedom in the Middle East.
All people are rooted in a common way of being that preceded national identity. It is human nature to nurture and provide for our families while participating in community. Most of us feel good when we engage in good acts, mitzvot that help care for the whole. Most of us feel bad when we hurt others. This commonality has been diverted by politicians who serve commercial masters while capitalizing on national egos.
Here’s a beautiful video shared by a Jewish sister who believes we can overcome those politics with music.
Final thought of the night on this topic: I’m thinking that the Old and New Testament and the books in between can be thought of as an epic tale of the Jews and the Christians. Same epic battles, epic family histories and explanations of natural events as other epics such as the Iliad. Less gods, but similar themes. Great fodder for movies…
Yes, epic myths full of insights into man’s perceptions of God, often revealing how man has adapted God for our own action movies. I don’t mean “myths” as falsehoods, but as sacred stories that hold historic, cultural and spiritual value even at those points when they aren’t literally true. Of course there are also deep truths within these stories. The difference must be sorted out in the hearts of readers.
Funny you should mention Judah Benjamin. I’m reading Philip Roth’s The Plot Against Anerica, and Benjamin is mentioned. A fantastic story of an alternate history of America during WWII, and the relationship of Jews and Christians is stressed, along with the different natures of Jews. I’ll report more to our readers when I finish the book.
I’ve often wondered about that book, Bob. Perused it in the shop today. Hope we have the opportunity to read an astute no-spoiler review from you.
Judah Benjamin also figures into the civil war novel “All Other Nights” by Dara Horn. She’s an excellent author who’s received the National Jewish Book Award for her fiction. I loved her novel “The World to Come,” and try to keep her work stocked at the shop. Yet the passages I skimmed in “All Other Nights” presented a less scholarly view of Benjamin and the Jewish South than did Robert N. Rosen. Perhaps it’s unfair to compare fiction and non-fiction, but I think Rosen offers important insights that have been overlooked by dominant narratives on the civil war. I’m really looking forward to sharing his “Jewish Confederates” with you.
Here’s the end of Benjamin’s final address to the U.S. Senate, quoted from Rosen’s book.
“What may be the fate of this horrible contest, no man can tell, none pretend to foresee; but this much I will say; the fortunes of war may be adverse to our arms; you may carry desolation into our peaceful land, and with torch and fire you may set our cities in flames…you may, under the protection of your advancing armies, give shelter to the furious fanatics who desire, and profess to desire, nothing more than to add all the horrors of a servile insurrection to the calamities of civil war; you may do all this, — and more, too, if more there be — but you can never subjugate us. An enslaved and servile race you can never make of us — never! never!”
After which the whole gallery burst into loud uncontrollable applause. The presiding officer attempted to clear the galleries, but the crowd was “wild with enthusiasm.”
Some label this uncontrollable force nativism. I prefer to call it nationalism, since the word “native” is often used in reference to indigenous communities. Whatever we name it, however, this human emotion is common to all people. Dangerous blinding stuff, as history has shown us.