Rabbi Shimon Kefach was worried. A new Jewish movement had arisen,
headed by a charismatic rabbi who many of his followers believed to be the
Messiah. This movement had some pluses and some minuses in his eyes. On the one
hand, it appealed to many who might otherwise have moved away from Judaism
altogether. They were rural, poor, uneducated, not particularly observant of
many of the rules of rabbinic Judaism; but this new preacher excited at least
some of them, so that was probably a good thing. On the other hand, this
preacher had some eccentric ideas and was drawing the attention of the
government, and not in a good way. The Jews of his time were ruled by a
ruthless occupying power and anyone who was viewed as remotely threatening had
to be eliminated.
So Rabbi Shimon was sent by the other rabbis to infiltrate the
movement. When, as feared, the rabbi of this new movement was put to death, to
everyone’s surprise the movement did not die out. In fact, it continued to grow
and soon was attracting not only Jews but also Gentiles.
After their rabbi’s death, a very bitter dispute broke out among the
remaining leaders of the movement. They wondered: since this was a Jewish
movement and its leader was their rabbi, could a Gentile simply join the
movement? Or did he have to become Jewish to do so? Or maybe he shouldn’t have
to become Jewish but would nonetheless have to observe at least some of the
rules and rituals of Judaism.
As the new movement became predominantly Gentile, Rabbi Shimon was
torn. He was glad that non-Jews were joining the movement, giving up idolatry
and relating to the same God that the Jews worshipped. But at the same time, he
saw that the brother of the executed rabbi, who thought that Gentiles had to
become Jews before joining the group, had been pushed out of the leadership;
and that Jews who were joining the
movement were now also being told
that they no longer needed to observe the mitzvot. Rabbi Shimon wanted the
movement to succeed, because of the good elements in it; but he didn’t want
Jews to join it and thus give up their Jewish observance and become
indistinguishable from non-Jews.
So Rabbi Shimon started a new branch and it became the biggest in the
movement. Rabbi Shimon thought that if the movement he headed looked less like
Judaism, it would attract fewer Jews. He moved Shabbat from Saturday to Sunday
and instituted different holidays than those observed by Jews. He also wrote a
prayer which we said earlier this morning, which we say every Shabbat and
Holiday: Nishmat Kol Chai Tivarech et
Shimcha -- the soul of every living thing will praise your name, O God.
It might have taken you awhile to realize that Rabbi Shimon Kefach is
known to most of the world as St. Peter. What may surprise you is that the
story I told about St. Peter writing Nishmat, being sent by the rabbis to
infiltrate the Church, and purposely changing it to look less like Judaism and
thus be less attractive to Jews, is not something that I made up. While we will
never know if this is how things really happened, several ancient Jewish
authorities including Rabbenu Tam, the grandson of Rashi, believed this to be
the case.
So, with this complex history, how have Jews viewed Christians? It
might be surprising to find such a positive view of Christianity in a rabbinic
source from almost 1000 years ago. I have spent a good deal of time speaking to
Christian audiences and interacting with Christians, and I often remind them
that what for Christians is the “Good News” -- which is the literal meaning of
the word “Gospel” -- has been bad news for the Jews.
If
you know anything about Jewish history you know the stories. How the early
Christians, now thoroughly separated from Judaism and seeking to curry favor
with the Roman authorities, blamed the Jews rather than the Romans for Jesus’
death. How the Church believed it was the “new Israel”; that anyone who didn’t
accept Jesus as the Messiah was doomed to go to hell. When I was younger, I was
even taught that the Kol Nidre we recited last night was introduced during the
Inquisition for the benefit of the Conversos, Jews who had been forced to
convert to Christianity but still practiced Judaism in secret, and wanted to
nullify their Christian vows to God. It wasn’t, because Kol Nidre goes back to
the 6th century, hundreds of years earlier; but the formula recited before Kol
Nidre, declaring it lawful to pray with transgressors, is from the 15th century
and might well have been introduced because of the Conversos.
As we know all too well it was not just anti-Jewish teaching. What French Jewish scholar Jules Isaac came to label the
“Teaching of Contempt” led almost inevitably to violence -- expulsions,
Crusades, pogroms, and finally the Holocaust. While Nazism was not a Christian
movement or an inevitable outgrowth of Christian anti-Judaism, the “Teaching of
Contempt” meant that Nazi antisemitism had fertile ground in which to grow.
While there were some Christians who risked and even lost their lives to save
Jews, many others enthusiastically assisted the Nazis. Most did neither,
sitting passively by as millions were slaughtered. But they were prepared to
sit by and do nothing precisely because they and their ancestors had long been
taught that Jews were less than human. So it’s no surprise that Jews have often
been suspicious of Christians and viewed their religion negatively
Jews’ opinion of Christians has been a complex one, though. Jewish sources have not always spoken with
one voice on our relationship with Christians. Maimonides, who generally had a
negative view of Christianity, wrote in Laws
of Kings that “Ultimately, all the deeds of Jesus of Nazareth and that
Ishmaelite who arose after him will only serve to prepare the way for
Mashiach's coming and the improvement of the entire world, motivating the
nations to serve God together. . . How will this come about? The entire world
has already become filled with the mention of Mashiach, Torah, and mitzvot.” So
for Maimonides Christianity, for all its problems, nevertheless paves the way
for the era when all would worship God as one.
Jews historically have been mindful of our shared beliefs with
Christians. An authority who lived about 800 years ago, Menachem Meiri, ruled
that both Christians and Muslims are “nations bound by the ways of religion,”
meaning that they subscribe to the same moral principles as do Jews, and that
therefore in matters of societal and business interactions, we are to treat
them precisely the same as Jews. While there are many laws in both the Torah
and later rabbinic writings that allow Jews to treat idolaters differently from
Jews in business and other matters, both Meiri and his rough contemporaries
Tosafot ruled that neither Christians nor Muslims are idolaters and these laws
do not apply.
What is truly remarkable is that these teachings which view
Christianity as a positive thing for Gentiles are from 800 to a thousand years
ago, when persecution of Jews in many places throughout the Christian world was
quite common. These sages understood that it was not Christianity per se which
lead to persecution so much as it was perverse human nature and xenophobia.
Judaism has made room for the validity of other religions. The reverse
has not always been historically so. For most of its history until very
recently, Christianity has taught that unless you are a Christian you cannot
gain salvation. Judaism has never taught that. From its very beginning, it was
the particular path of a particular people, although it was open to those who
felt called to join it.
On the second day of Rosh Hashanah, we read the story of Abraham’s
aborted sacrifice of Isaac. After the angel tells Abraham not to go ahead with
the sacrifice, he says that because of Abraham’s faith his descendants will be
blessed and furthermore, that all the nations of the earth will be blessed by
Abraham’s seed. The blessing and call of Abraham was not to make people into
Jews, but rather to teach them to abandon idolatry and to know God as a God of
justice. Can Christianity, as Rabbi Shimon Kefach hoped, be a vehicle for doing
that?
As long as Christians sought to convert Jews, at best, and kill us, at
worst, there is no way that most of us could see Christianity in a positive
light. If the Church as it existed up until the early 1960s had been successful
in its quest, we would not be here today as Jews if at all.
More recently, however, there have been major positive overtures to
Jews from Christians. Beginning in the 1960s, in the wake of the Holocaust, a
true Christian teshuvah began. In 1960 the French Jewish historian and
Holocaust survivor Jules Isaac met with Pope John XXIII and showed him the evidence
he had collected demonstrating how the “Teaching of Contempt” had paved the way
for the Holocaust. At the
end of the audience, Isaac asked the Pope whether he could “carry away a bit of
hope.” The Pope replied, "You have a right to more than hope!" Shortly thereafter, the Pope set in motion
the Second Vatican Council which reminded Christians of Paul’s statement that
“the gifts and calling of God are irrevocable” and that it was the Roman
authorities, not the Jews, who crucified Jesus. But even before that, Pope John
XXIII engaged in a couple of dramatic gestures. One Saturday morning the papal
motorcade was passing by the Great Synagogue of Rome just as services were
letting out; the Pope had his car stop and got out to greet and mingle with the
worshippers. And on one Good Friday afternoon while officiating at Mass, in the
middle of the service he took out a pencil and visibly crossed out a sentence
in the liturgy which mentioned “the perfidious Jews.”
It is more than 50 years since
Vatican II and much has happened since then -- more than can be discussed in
one sermon. While Vatican II took place within the Catholic Church, in is wake
many Protestant denominations also took steps to revise what they believed and
taught about Jews and Judaism. Even within the Evangelical community there have
been positive steps, as I learned this past June when I was one of 20 Jewish
leaders chosen to participate in the annual Jewish - Evangelical Dialogue. Of
course we know that the Evangelical community is pro-Israel; but Evangelicals
are also showing new interest in the Jewish roots of their faith and trying to
figure out how to stay true to their own beliefs while respecting the integrity
of Jews and Judaism. As Rev. Jose Roberto Escobar, the pastor of the
Evangelical church which rents space from us said to me, they consider it an
honor to pray in a Jewish space and are anxious not to do anything which would
offend our beliefs in any way.
One of the
highlights of the Rosh Hashana service is the “Great Aleinu” during the
malchuyot section of the Amidah. We end every service with the Aleinu but it
was originally written for the High Holy Days and only later, because it was so
beloved, was it added to every service. It contains probably the earliest
reference in the liturgy to “Tikkun Olam,” our religious commitment to mend the
world.
But in the Aleinu we
do not merely mention “Tikkun Olam” but we say “l’taken olam b’malchut
shaddai,” to mend the world under the sovereignty of God. And we end this
prayer by singing “ba-yom ha-hu, yihyeh Adonai echad u’shmo echad” -- on that
day the Eternal shall be one and God’s name shall be one.
While there are still fundamental
differences between Jews and Christians, we are also very much like a
family--related with common origins, interwoven beliefs, and histories. And
like with all families, our relationships are complex, and require constant
vigilance to remind ourselves of what we have in common in order to work
together for tikkun olam.
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