Tag Archives: Jacob

How Many Messiahs Will There Be?

In this week’s parasha, Vayechi, Jacob relays his deathbed blessings and prophecies to his children. When blessing his son Dan, he says “I hope for Your salvation, Hashem!” (Genesis 49:18) The Midrash explains that Jacob foresaw the future Samson, of Dan’s tribe, who was a potential messiah in his generation, and got excited that the Redemption would finally come (Beresheet Rabbah 98:14). He then saw Samson die, and exclaimed, “Alas, this one, too, has died—I hope for Your salvation, Hashem!” Jacob looked far into the future and saw all the many potential messiahs that would attempt to redeem Israel, but ultimately fail. Samson was perhaps the closest to accomplishing the task, but then Jacob saw that “this one, too, has died.”

“Death of Samson”, by Gustav Doré

Over the past three millennia, Israel has seen a fair share of potential messiahs arise, some legitimate (but failing) and some entirely false. Jewish tradition holds that there is a potential messiah in each generation, and if the generation merits it, he would immediately come. The identity of some of these potential messiahs we know of, for our Sages have told us clearly who they are. These are the ones that actually revealed themselves in some capacity, but were unable to complete the task. The Rambam (Rabbi Moshe ben Maimon, 1135-1204) might refer to these potential messiahs as being b’chezkat Mashiach, the “presumptive messiah”, but if they are unable to fulfil all the tasks that Mashiach must, whether because they died too early or otherwise, then we can be certain that they are not the messiah. It is worth reading the Rambam’s words directly (Mishneh Torah, Melachim u’Milchamot, ch. 11):

If a king will arise from the House of David who diligently contemplates the Torah and observes its mitzvot as prescribed by the Written Law and the Oral Law as did David, his ancestor, and will compel all of Israel to walk in (the way of the Torah) and rectify the breaches in its observance, and fight the wars of God, we may, with assurance, consider him Mashiach [בחזקת שהוא משיח].

If he succeeds in the above, builds the Temple in its place, and gathers the dispersed of Israel, he is definitely the Mashiach [הרי זה משיח בודאי]. He will then improve the entire world, motivating all the nations to serve God together, as Zephaniah 3:9 states: “I will transform the peoples to a purer language that they all will call upon the name of God and serve Him with one purpose.”

If he did not succeed to this degree, or was killed, he surely is not the redeemer promised by the Torah. Rather, he should be considered as all the other proper and complete kings of the Davidic dynasty who died. God caused him to arise only to test the many, as Daniel 11:35 states: “And some of the wise men will stumble, to try them, to refine, and to clarify until the appointed time, because the set time is in the future.”

Jesus of Nazareth, who aspired to be the Mashiach, and was executed by the court, was also alluded to in Daniel’s prophecies, as 11:14 states: “The vulgar among your people shall exalt themselves in an attempt to fulfill the vision, but they shall stumble.”

Can there be a greater stumbling block than Christianity? All the prophets spoke of Mashiach as the redeemer of Israel and their saviour who would gather their dispersed and strengthen their observance of the mitzvot. In contrast, Christianity caused the Jews to be slain by the sword, their remnants to be scattered and humbled, the Torah to be altered, and the majority of the world to err and serve a god other than the Lord.

Nevertheless, the intent of the Creator of the world is not within the power of man to comprehend, for His ways are not our ways, nor are His thoughts, our thoughts. Ultimately, all the deeds of Jesus of Nazareth and that Ishmaelite who arose after him [ie. Mohammed] 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. These matters have been spread to the furthermost islands to many stubborn-hearted nations. They discuss these matters and the mitzvot of the Torah, saying: “These mitzvot were true, but were already negated in the present age and are not applicable for all time.” Others say: “Implied in the mitzvot are hidden concepts that cannot be understood simply. The Mashiach has already come and revealed those hidden truths.”

When the true Messianic king will arise and prove successful, his position becoming exalted and uplifted, they will all return and realize that their ancestors endowed them with a false heritage and their prophets and ancestors caused them to err.

The Rambam gives us much to ponder in these words. He explains the distinction between a true, righteous, potential messiah, who might do a great deal of good but unfortunately fail, versus a false messiah who causes Israel to go astray. The latter is a test sent by the God, as the Torah itself states that occasionally a false prophet will arise to make Israel go astray, and God warns us that “you shall not listen to the words of that prophet, or unto that dreamer of dreams; for the Lord, your God, is testing you, to know whether you love the Lord, your God, with all your heart and with all your soul.” (Deuteronomy 13:4)

The Four Saviours

When we take a look back through Jewish history we find a number of people who claimed, or were proclaimed, to be the messiah, some false and some failed. While there have been dozens (if not hundreds) of such figures, we see that only 15 actually had some kind of significant following, or left an indelible mark on Judaism. I believe these 15 were alluded to by the prophet Micah, who said: “… Then shall we raise against him seven shepherds, and eight princes of men.” (Micah 5:4) The Midrash (Beresheet Rabbah 14:1) comments on this perplexing verse:

There is a great debate with regards to how many messiahs there will be. Some say there will be seven, as it is said “then shall we raise against him seven shepherds…” And some say there will be eight, as it is said, “and eight princes of men.” And it is neither of these, but actually four, as it is said, “And the Lord showed me four craftsmen…” (Zechariah 2:3)

And David came to explain who these four craftsmen are [in Psalms 60:9 and 108:9, where God declares: “Gilead is mine, Menashe is mine; Ephraim also is the defence of my head; Judah is my sceptre”]: “Gilead is mine” refers to Elijah, who is from the land of Gilead; “Menashe is mine” refers to the messiah who comes from the tribe of Menashe… “Ephraim is the defence of my head” refers to the Warrior Messiah who comes from Ephraim… “Judah is my sceptre” refers to the Great Redeemer, who is a descendant of David.

The Midrash rejects the notion that there are seven or eight saviours, based on the prophet Micah, and sides with the prophet Zechariah who says there will be four messianic figures. The Talmud agrees, and says that four figures will come at the End of Days: “Mashiach ben David, Mashiach ben Yosef, Eliyahu, and the Righteous Priest” (Sukkah 52b). These clearly parallel the four of the Midrash above (“Mashiach ben Yosef” being “Ephraim”), except that the Sages of the Talmud have “Righteous Priest” instead of the messiah from Menashe. They are nonetheless referring to the same person. When the time comes, we will see four messianic figures:

First comes Elijah. His role is to announce the End of Days and to inspire people to repent, as the prophet Malachi says (3:23-24). It is Elijah, as a prophet, who will confirm the identity of Mashiach and actually anoint him, since the Torah requires that a valid prophet anoint a king of Israel. (Mashiach literally means “the anointed one”.)  Then there’s Mashiach ben Yosef, the “Warrior Messiah”, to fight the great wars of the End of Days. After him comes Mashiach ben David, the rightful heir to the throne. It appears the Righteous Priest is the one who will serve as the first Kohen Gadol in the Third Temple, and will have an important role to play in the process of Redemption. These are the four “saviours” of End Times, and this is the meaning of the prophet Ovadia’s statement: “And saviours will arise upon Mount Zion…” (Ovadiah 1:21) The prophet says saviours in the plural, not saviour in the singular, because there isn’t just one messianic figure, but four saviours working together.

‘Micah Extorting the Israelites to Repentance’, by Gustave Doré

If this is the case, what was Micah referring to in his prophecy of seven or eight saviours? We cannot say that Micah is wrong, for he is a holy prophet in his own right. Rather, when we read that verse in its context, we find that God is not speaking about the Final Redemption at all. On the contrary, two verses later we see that “the remnant of Jacob will be in the midst of many people… and there will be none to save them” (Micah 5:7). It seems that the leaders that Micah is speaking of are the false and failed messiahs, who promise the redemption but are unable to deliver, and Jacob remains “in the midst of many people” with none to save them! Fittingly, in Jewish history we see 15 such potential messiahs. Seven of these—possibly corresponding to Micah’s seven “shepherds”—we know of for sure because our Sages already told us about them. The remaining eight—corresponding to the “princes of men” we learn of from the pages of history. Who were these people?

“Shepherds”

The first legitimate, potential messiah was Samson, as we learn from this week’s parasha. He was a righteous judge and teacher, defeated the enemies of Israel, and brought peace to the land, but did not build a Temple or establish a lasting monarchy. The next one after him was King David. David similarly defeated Israel’s enemies and brought peace, and went one step further in establishing a monarchy and setting the foundations for the Temple. The Talmud (Sanhedrin 94a) tells us explicitly that David was a potential messiah, and in the same passage reveals the identity of another candidate:

The Holy One, blessed be He, wished to appoint Hezekiah as the Messiah, and Sennacherib as Gog and Magog; whereupon the Attribute of Justice said before the Holy One, blessed be He: “Master of the Universe! If You did not make David the Messiah, who uttered so many hymns and psalms before You, will You appoint Hezekiah as such, who did not sing for You in spite of all these miracles which You have done for him? Therefore it was closed…

God was ready to reveal Hezekiah as Mashiach, but the angels protested. After all, David was greater and was not revealed as Mashiach, so how could Hezekiah be? We see from this that both David and Hezekiah were potential messiahs of their generations.

Between them arose another potential messiah: King Solomon. He was literally a ben David, presided over an era of complete peace, and was the one who built the First Temple. Were it not for his many wives that led him astray, he would have undoubtedly fulfilled the role of Mashiach.

When Solomon’s Temple was destroyed four centuries later the Jews were exiled to Babylon, and there lived the prophet Daniel. He was the leader of the exiled Jews, and was well-respected in the Babylonian Court. The Talmud (Sanhedrin 98b) tells us that he, too, was a potential messiah. In fact, the Sages here are debating whether Mashiach must be a currently-living person, or if it could be a historical figure who returns from the grave. If the latter is possible, the Talmud concludes that it would be Daniel, “the most desirable man”. It seems he had the potential to return the Jews to their Holy Land and to rebuild the Temple. Instead, it would be another man who set out to accomplish that goal.

“The Rebuilding of the Temple” by Gustave Doré

This other man is the little-known Zerubbabel, the Persian-appointed governor of Judah following the fall of Babylon. Zerubbabel, a descendent of King David, led the first group of 42,360 Jews back to Israel from Babylon, and started the rebuilding of the Temple. In the Books of Haggai and Zechariah, we are told how God had chosen Zerubbabel to be the messiah, together with Joshua the Priest (who would fill the role of “Righteous Priest”). Unfortunately, for reasons unknown, Zerubbabel failed to fulfil the ultimate goal, though he did begin the process of the ingathering of the exiles and the rebuilding of the Temple (see Ezra 3:8).

There is one more potential messiah that the Sages tell us about: Shimon bar Kochva. In 132 CE, Bar Kochva started a rebellion against the Romans, and was initially hugely successful. He was able to push the Romans out of Jerusalem, reclaim the Temple Mount, and even start rebuilding the Temple! He had everyone convinced that the End was near, and the great Rabbi Akiva declared him to be the presumptive messiah. Sadly, Bar Kochva’s power got to his head and he became a cruel dictator. The Talmud (Yerushalmi, Ta’anit 24b) says that the last straw was when he killed his own uncle, Rabbi Elazar haMuda’i. At that point, a Heavenly Voice declared the end of Bar Kochva, “son of a star”, henceforth to be called Bar Koziva, “son of a lie”.

“Princes”

The above seven were righteous leaders who, although unable to realize the role of Mashiach, nonetheless had a tremendous positive impact on Judaism. Samson brought peace to the Holy Land and set the stage for the Jewish monarchy. David made Jerusalem the eternal capital of Israel and composed the invaluable Psalms, which still make up the bulk of our prayers. Solomon built the First Temple and composed another three books of the Tanakh. Hezekiah ensured the survival of the tribe of Judah while the rest of Israel was destroyed and exiled—ultimately giving rise to “Jews”, ie. Judahites. Daniel kept Judaism alive in exile and wrote an important book of prophecies. Zerubbabel restored the Jews to Israel and began the construction of the Second Temple. Bar Kochva nearly succeeded in defeating Rome, and out of his failure came out the necessity to compose the Mishnah, which led to the Talmud, and all of Judaism as we know it.

David didn’t make it because he had too much blood on his hands (I Chronicles 22:8), Solomon because of his many wives (I Kings 11:4-6), and Hezekiah because he lacked gratitude (Sanhedrin 94a). It seems Samson failed because of his hubris (Judges 15:16-18), or because he married Philistine women, while Bar Kochva became a murderous dictator (TY, Ta’anit 24b). Of the others we are not certain.

There are another seven notable Jewish “messianic” figures. Although each of them started a mass movement of some sort, unlike the figures above their actions did not lead to any positive development for Israel or Judaism, and in some cases led to Israel’s great detriment. Some of these were righteous, some were not; some had good intentions, and some didn’t; yet all failed at the end.

The first is undoubtedly the most famous, and was already described for us by the Rambam cited above: Jesus. There isn’t much we can say about him for certain, and whether he ever even intended to start a new religion (as certain passages in the New Testament, such as Matthew ch. 5 and ch. 15 imply), but the result of his activity was devastating for Israel. Just forty years after his death, the Second Temple was destroyed and the Jews exiled yet again. Although a Christian would argue otherwise, one might easily make the connection that the rise of the “Christian” Jewish sect was the final straw for God, and sealed the decree for the Temple’s destruction. (The Talmud affirms that God did not decree the destruction until the Jews of Jerusalem had split into a whopping 24 bickering factions! See Yerushalmi, Sanhedrin 10:5.) The Christian world would go on to oppress the Jews for two millennia—all in the name of Jesus, ironically a Jew himself!

Six centuries later lived a man named Nehemiah ben Hushiel. Little is known of his origins. What historical records do affirm is that in the year 614 CE, he allied himself with the Persian Sassanian forces and went to war against the Byzantines, capturing Jerusalem and being appointed its governor. He opened up a synagogue on the Temple Mount and began planning the rebuilding of the Temple. His rule didn’t last long, for the Christians revolted several months later. It isn’t clear whether Nehemiah was killed then, or several years after when the Persians switched their allegiance to the Christian side. Whatever the case, within a decade Mohammed would conquer Arabia, and his successors would destroy the Persian Empire, take over Jerusalem, and build the Dome of the Rock.

Despite this, Nehemiah’s name still survives with messianic overtones in a number of Medieval Jewish texts. Sefer Zerubbabel, which was probably written around the time of Nehemiah’s conquest, links him with the Biblical Zerubbabel, and labels him Mashiach ben Yosef. A couple of other texts from that time period, some falsely attributed to Rabbi Shimon bar Yochai to give them legitimacy (and likely used as propaganda), also mention Nehemiah as messiah.

Persian Warriors, and the Pope’s Messiahs

About one hundred and fifty years later lived another Persian Jew with messianic aspirations. This was Is’hak al-Isfahani, also known as Ovadiah, and better known as Abu Isa. He led a revolt against the Arab Caliph Al Mansur, and actually managed a victory before being crushed. He claimed to be a prophet, supposedly sent to usher in the Messianic Age. Though he did not state he was the messiah, he styled himself as an Eliyahu figure, or perhaps the warrior Mashiach ben Yosef. His disciple, Yudghan (Yehuda), aka. Al-Ra’i (“the Shepherd”), did declare himself Mashiach ben David. In familiar fashion, when he was killed his followers ended up forming a new sect called the Yudghanites, who awaited his imminent return.

While Abu Isa and Yudghan were religious Jews, they nonetheless instituted some changes. In some ways they were stricter, for example, occasionally following the Mishnaic rulings of Shammai (as opposed to the more lenient Hillel). They avoided meat and alcohol, and added several extra prayer services throughout the day. At the same time, they seem to have accepted Jesus and Mohammad as valid prophets to the non-Jews. They softened the rules of Shabbat and annulled a number of mitzvot. Intriguingly, some scholars believe Abu Isa and the Yudghanites influenced the development of Shi’ite Islam, which was emerging around the same time period. Others believe they may have similarly influenced the development of Karaite Judaism, or that the Yudghanites eventually fused with the Karaite movement.

A few hundred years later another Persian Jewish false messiah appears, named Menachem ben Sulayman. He was a very popular leader in the city of Amadiya, calling himself David Alroy, “the Shepherd” (or possibly al-Ruhi, “the inspired one”). When the Muslim rulers imposed heavy taxes on the Jews, Alroy started an armed rebellion. The Jews of neighbouring cities joined him, and he found some success, taking advantage of an already-weakened Muslim caliphate. At this point, he thought he could declare himself the messiah, and begin leading the Jews to their Promised Land. It wasn’t too long before Alroy was assassinated and his rebellion suppressed. The Jews were punished severely for this escapade. Once again, his devoted followers continued to believe in his return from the dead, and formed a sect referred to as the Menachemites.

Switching over to Europe, in the 16th century there was the German Jew Asher Lämmlein. He appeared near Venice in 1502 and promised the Redemption within a year if the people repented. So eloquent and charismatic was he that he drew a large Christian following, too. His disciples spread out across Europe to spread the message and, amazingly, 1502 was declared in Europe as the “Year of Penance”. Many Jews started to sell everything they had to prepare for their journey to Jerusalem. And then, just as suddenly, Lämmlein mysteriously disappeared. Sadly, a multitude of Jews were so dejected that they converted to Christianity. Among those were Victor von Carben and Johannes Pfefferkorn, Jews who had become Catholic priests bent on destroying Judaism once and for all. They went on to cause the Jewish communities of their day tremendous harm.

The next messianic pair was David Reubeni and Shlomo Molcho. Like others, they operated as a Mashiach ben Yosef/Mashiach ben David combo. Reubeni claimed to come from the hidden Jewish Kingdom of Khaybar, where the Lost Tribes of Israel prospered. He managed to convince several European monarchs, as well as the Pope, that Khaybar had a vast army ready to conquer Jerusalem from the Muslims. The Portuguese king promised him eight ships and 4000 cannons to help in the war. However, the king soon feared that the Sephardic crypto-Jews of Portugal would join Reubeni in a rebellion, and had Reubeni expelled.

Reubeni continued to preach, and inspired a convert named Shlomo Molcho, born Diego Pires. The two convinced many naïve souls including, it seems, Pope Clement VIII (1478-1534). Unfortunately for them, the Pope was in a feud with the Spanish King Charles V (1500-1558), who had the two arrested. Reubeni died in prison, while Molcho was burned at the stake in 1531. He predicted that the Redemption would come in 1540. He was wrong. (To read more about their fascinating story, and the impact they had on the study of Kabbalah, see Rabbi Gavin Michal’s piece here.)

Then came the most infamous Jewish failed messiah, Shabbatai Tzvi (1626-1676). Little needs to be said of this man, and we have written of his actions before. More than anyone else, he had nearly the entire Jewish world convinced that he was the messiah. He would end up converting to Islam under pressure from the Ottoman sultan. His followers continued to believe in him, after his conversion and long after his death, developing a new religion completely distinct from Judaism referred to as Sabbateanism. A small number of their descendants still live in Turkey today, where they are known as the Donmeh. Sabbateanism had a massively negative effect on Judaism, as history has proven. (For more on the Shabbatai Tzvi affair and its side-effects, see the works of Gershom Scholem.)

Abulafia’s 1285 treatise “Light of the Intellect”

It is important to mention again that there have been other false messiahs in history, but they have been excluded from the present discussion because they found very little success. For example, there was the case of Rabbi Abraham Abulafia, the kabbalist who declared himself the messiah in Sicily. He was immediately condemned by other rabbis, and failed to generate any kind of movement. There were also a number of messianic claimants in Yemen. Most notable were Shukr Kuhayl, followed by Yehuda ben Shalom, who considered himself a reincarnation of Shukr Kuhayl. While popular in their communities—even among some Muslim Arabs—they were essentially unknown outside of Yemen.

There have also been other potential messiahs. As mentioned previously, Jewish tradition affirms that each generation has someone who is truly worthy of being Mashiach. One example comes from Rabbi Chaim Vital (1542-1620), who writes that his master, the Arizal (Rabbi Isaac Luria, 1534-1572), revealed to him that the two of them were the Mashiach ben David and Mashiach ben Yosef, respectively, of the time. They did not publicly reveal this, or act on it in any way. It appears they recognized their generation was not quite ready. This brings us to the most recent worthy candidate, in our own generation.

The Rebbe

The Lubavitcher Rebbe

No discussion of messianic figures would be complete without the Lubavitcher Rebbe. It is very important to affirm, lehavdil, that the Rebbe was not a false messiah like the previously mentioned individuals. The Rebbe, Rabbi Menachem Mendel Schneerson (1902-1994), was undoubtedly a righteous man with the purest of intentions, and a most-impressive list of achievements. He certainly revolutionized Judaism—for the better—and had a tremendous impact all over the world, playing a central role in the baal teshuva movement, and the spread of the Torah to the farthest corners of the globe. He inspired both Jews and non-Jews alike, and to him we owe much. It therefore isn’t surprising that there are still a great many people within Chabad-Lubavitch (though not all) that believe him to be the messiah, despite his passing over two decades ago. This is a troubling development, and will hopefully fade away, although there are frightening signs that suggest the opposite. (See ‘Is the Lubavitcher Rebbe Mashiach?’)

It is much too early to tell what will happen with the messianic faction inside Chabad. Will they simply disappear as time goes on, like the Yudghanites and the Menachemites? Will they separate completely and evolve into their own cult, like the Shabbateans? Or perhaps, considering their global reach and passionate activity, they will become like the Christians, with billions of followers endlessly awaiting the return of their messiah? Time will tell.

In the meantime, we continue to await the Final Redemption, and the appearance of those four true messianic figures, as agreed upon by the Tanakh, the Talmud, and the Midrash, and as our Sages taught long ago: Eliyahu, the Prophet; the Righteous Priest; the Warrior, Mashiach ben Yosef; and the King, Mashiach ben David. May we merit to greet them soon.


A Summary of the 15 Most Impactful “Potential Messiahs” in Jewish History

Who is Samael?

In this week’s parasha, Vayishlach, we read of Jacob’s famed battle with the angel. According to many sources, Jacob battled Esau’s guardian angel. While the identity of the angel is concealed in the plain text of the Torah, Jewish tradition associates this angel with Samael. That name is one of the most famous—or infamous—of all angelic entities, not just in Judaism, but also in Christianity, Gnosticism, and other Near Eastern traditions. Who is Samael?

‘Jacob Wrestling with an Angel’ by Charles Foster

The Primordial Serpent

One of the most ancient Jewish mystical works is Sefer HaBahir. At the very end of the text (ch. 200), we are told that Samael was the angel that came down to the Garden of Eden in the form of a serpent. We read here that one of his punishments was to become the guardian angel of the wicked Esau. The Bahir explains that Samael was jealous of man, and disagreed with the fact that God gave man dominion over the earth. He came down with the mission of corrupting mankind.

The Midrash (Pirkei d’Rabbi Eliezer, ch. 14) seems to agree, describing how God “cast down Samael and his troop from their holy place in Heaven.” In the previous chapter of the same Midrash, we read how Samael is unique in that, while other angels have six wings, Samael has twelve, and “commands a whole army of demons”. The Arizal (Rabbi Isaac Luria, 1534-1572) adds that Samael is in charge of all the “male” demons, called Mazikim, while his “wife” Lilith is in charge of all the “female” demons, called Shedim (Sha’ar HaPesukim on Tehilim). He further associates Lilith with the sword of the “Angel of Death”.

A little-known apocryphal text called the Ascension [or Testament] of Moses (dating back at least to the early 1st century CE) states that Samael is the one “who takes the soul away from man”, directly identifying him with the Angel of Death. This ties neatly into his name, since Samael (סמאל) literally means “poison of God”. Indeed, the Talmud (Avodah Zarah 20b) states that the Angel of Death takes a person away by standing over them with his sword, before a drop of poison falls from the tip of the sword into the victim’s mouth. Elsewhere, the Talmud (Bava Batra 16a) tells us that the Angel of Death is the same entity as Satan, and as the source of the yetzer hara (the Evil Inclination).

In his Kabbalah (pg. 385), Gershom Scholem brings a number of sources that state Satan and Samael are one and the same, together with another figure called Beliar, or Belial. There are those who say that while Satan simply means “prosecutor”, and is only a title, Samael is actually his proper name. The Zohar (on parashat Shoftim) appears to agree, stating that the two main persecuting forces in Heaven are Samael and the Serpent. Some sources depict Samael as actually riding upon the Serpent!

Belial, meanwhile, is a term that appears many times in the Tanakh. It is first found in Deuteronomy 13:14, in a warning that certain bnei Belial will come out to tempt Israel into idolatry. While the simple meaning (and the way it is generally translated) is “base” or “wicked men”, the Kabbalistic take is that it refers to impure spirits that come to lure Israel to sin. Note that the Torah says these bnei Belial will emerge from among our own people.

Not surprisingly, the Zohar (Raya Mehemna on Ki Tetze) says that there are a very small group of “Jewish” imposters who actually worship Samael. These are the ones that give all Jews a bad name, and aim to reverse all the good that Jews do in the world. We have written much of this small group of imposters before, as they are more commonly referred to as the Erev Rav. The Zohar states that Samael and Lilith were once good angels before their “fall”, and began to be worshipped as deities in their own right in the pre-Flood generation. The people in those days worshipped them in order to manipulate them to do their bidding. The Erev Rav aims to do the same today. Thankfully, God will destroy them all in the End of Days, and this is the deeper meaning of Zechariah 13:2:

“And it shall come to pass in that day,” says the Lord of Hosts, “that I will cut off the names of the idols out of the land, and they shall no more be remembered; and also I will cause the prophets and the unclean spirit to pass out of the land.”

Which prophets is God referring to? Those leaders of the Erev Rav that attempt to convince the masses that they are “prophets”, only to lead the people astray.

With this in mind, Jacob’s battle with Samael takes on a whole new meaning. It reminds us that the job of each Jew is to fight Samael and all his evil minions—the bnei Belial, the Erev Rav—tooth and nail, unceasingly, all through the dark night, as Jacob did. We must always stand on the side of light and truth, holiness and Godliness. This makes us Israel, as Jacob was renamed, the ones who fight alongside God. The Jewish people are meant to be God’s holy warriors in this world.

Battling 365 Days of the Year

Commenting on this week’s parasha, the Zohar states that there are 365 angels ruling over each of the 365 days of the solar year. These further correspond to the 365 gidim (“sinews”, or more accurately, major nerves) of the human body, as Jewish tradition maintains. In Jacob’s battle, Samael struck him in the thigh, on his gid hanashe, the sciatic nerve. For this reason, the Torah tells us, the Jewish people do not eat the sciatic nerve “until this day” (Genesis 32:33). Removing this sinew is a key part of koshering meat. In most places, since removing it is so difficult, they simply do not include the back half of the cow or sheep in the kosher meat process.

The Zohar says that since there are 365 days corresponding to 365 sinews, the gid hanashe corresponds to a specific day of the year, too, of course. Which day is that? Tisha b’Av, the most tragic day in Jewish history. The Zohar concludes that Samael is the angel that rules over this day, which is why it is so “unlucky” and sad. At the same time, it suggests that Jacob fought Samael on that same day, so even when Samael is at his strongest, each Jew has the power to defeat him.

Interestingly, the Talmud has a different approach. There we read that Satan rules 364 days of the year! (Nedarim 32b) This is why the gematria of HaSatan (השטן, the way it appears in the Tanakh) is 364. According to the Talmud, the one day a year that Satan “rests” is Yom Kippur. Thus, Yom Kippur is a particularly favourable day to repent and to have God accept our prayers. The Midrash (Pirkei d’Rabbi Eliezer, ch. 46) takes it one step further and states that not only does Satan rest on Yom Kippur, but he actually crosses the floor in the Heavenly Court and joins the defense!

How do we reconcile the seeming contradiction between the Talmud and the Zohar? Perhaps Samael, before his “fall”, was originally appointed to rule over Tisha b’Av. After his rebellion, he sought to dominate as much of the year as possible, and remains at large 364 days of the calendar, being particularly strong on Tisha b’Av. Only on Yom Kippur does God make sure that Satan has no dominion at all.

This should remind us that, at the end of the day, God is infinite and omnipotent, and there is none that can stand before Him. Satan or Samael can be winked out of existence instantaneously if God so willed it. Alas, the impure spirits still have a role to play in history. They will soon meet their end:

Kabbalistic texts state that Satan will lead one last battle in the End of Days, against Mashiach. He will come as the dreaded Armilus. In Sefer Zerubavel, Armilus is identified with Satan himself in bodily form, while in Nistarot d’Rabbi Shimon bar Yochai, he is the son of Satan. He will seek to kill Mashiach, and he may succeed in killing Mashiach ben Yosef, before being in turn extinguished by Mashiach ben David. This is why the Arizal instituted a custom to insert a short prayer for Mashiach ben Yosef, that he should survive, in the blessing for Jerusalem in the Amidah. We have written elsewhere, though, why Mashiach ben Yosef must die to accomplish an important tikkun (see ‘Secrets of the Akedah’ in Garments of Light).

Until then, how do we keep Samael away? The Arizal (Sha’ar HaMitzvot on Shemot) taught not to pronounce his name out loud, for this attracts him. In Jewish tradition, we instead say the letters ס״ם, “samekh-mem”. The Ramak (Rabbi Moshe Cordovero, 1522-1570) stated that eating too much red meat during the week gives power to Samael. It is generally best to leave red meat consumption for Shabbat and holidays if possible. It goes without saying that one should eat kosher meat to avoid the gid hanashe. Meanwhile, the Talmud (Shabbat 30b) famously recounts how David kept the Angel of Death at bay by constantly being immersed in Torah study. We should be focused on study of holy texts, prayer, repentance, doing mitzvot and good deeds. Finally, we must do everything we can to defeat our own inner evil inclinations, struggling as long as it takes, unrelenting, as Jacob did in his battle. In the same passage where the Talmud speaks of the death of Mashiach ben Yosef (Sukkah 52a), it tells us:

In the time to come, the Holy One, blessed be He, will bring the Evil Inclination and slay it in the presence of the righteous and the wicked. To the righteous it will have the appearance of a towering hill, and to the wicked it will have the appearance of a hair thread. Both the former and the latter will weep: the righteous will weep saying, “How were we able to overcome such a towering hill?!” The wicked also will weep saying, “How is it that we were unable to conquer this hair thread?!” And the Holy One, blessed be He, will also marvel together with them, as it is said, “Thus says the Lord of Hosts, ‘If it be marvellous in the eyes of the remnant of this people in those days, it shall also be marvellous in My eyes…’” [Zechariah 8:6]

The Mystical Connection Between Jacob and David

‘Jacob Keeping Laban’s Flocks’ by Gustave Doré

In this week’s parasha, Vayetze, we read how Jacob journeys to his relatives in Charan and the details of his twenty-year sojourn there. He falls in love with Rachel at first sight, then works tirelessly for seven years for the privilege of marrying her. When that fateful day comes, his father-in-law Lavan tricks him into marrying Rachel’s sister, Leah. Jacob is then forced to work another seven gruelling years. We read how Jacob didn’t care very much for Leah, as he only truly wanted to marry Rachel, and Leah felt entirely unloved. One question to ask is why Jacob didn’t simply divorce her? He had no intention of marrying Leah in the first place. One can argue that the marriage was null and void from the beginning, since a person must be aware of whom they are marrying. Why did Jacob stay with her? A number of explanations have been given for this:

The simplest is that Jacob pitied her. Lavan tricked Jacob into marrying Leah because she had no suitors. She would have grown old, all alone, and Jacob did not want to abandon her once they had been “married”. Another take on this is that Rachel was the one that deeply pitied her sister, and herself asked Jacob to stay married to Leah. One version of this story has it that Rachel even instructed Leah in how to play the part of Rachel so that Jacob wouldn’t be able to distinguish between them (see Bava Batra 123a).

From a spiritual perspective, this whole thing can be seen as one big middah k’neged middah—“measure for measure”—consequence: since Jacob had tricked his father into taking his brother’s blessing, he was now, in turn, tricked by his father-in-law. On a deeper level, we have written before how, when Jacob took his brother’s birthright and blessing, he essentially took on his brother’s mission in life. In the original conception of things, Jacob and Esau should have been twin holy warriors, with Jacob fighting the spiritual battles and Esau fighting the physical battles for God. When Esau failed, Jacob took over that mission. This is symbolized by the new name he was given: Israel, one who “fights with [or, alongside] God”. Jacob is unique in that the Torah continues to shift between his new and old name (whereas, for example, once Abram became “Abraham”, he is never again referred to as “Abram”). This is because Jacob and Israel are not old and new names, but rather dual names, for his dual personalities, representing his dual missions.

In the original plan, Jacob was meant to marry Rachel, and Esau was meant to marry Leah. (According to at least one opinion, Rachel and Leah were also fraternal twins, like Jacob and Esau; see Seder Olam Rabbah, ch. 2.) Once Jacob took over Esau’s mission and birthright, he also took on his wife. This is why he had to marry her! And he knew it all along. The Midrash states that Jacob initially feared marrying Leah because Esau would come after him for it! (Midrash Tanchuma, Vayetze 12 in Buber edition.) Meanwhile, another Midrash says that Jacob did love Leah, but turned away from her when she pointed out that her father tricked Jacob in the same way Jacob had tricked his own father, measure for measure (Lekach Tov on Genesis 27).

Whatever the case, their marriage was an unhappy one. Leah always felt unloved, and named all of her kids in relation to her hope that her husband would finally cherish her. He didn’t. Meanwhile, the wife he did love—Rachel—was barren for many years, and this strained their relationship tremendously (Genesis 30:1-2). It is little wonder that when Jacob meets Pharaoh decades later, he tells him that his whole life has been miserable (Genesis 47:9).

Jacob made many mistakes in his life, and such mistakes, of course, need rectification. This is where the Arizal (Rabbi Isaac Luria, 1534-1572) comes in, explaining how Jacob’s life was rectified in the life of King David.

David and Abigail

In Sha’ar HaGilgulim, “Gate of Reincarnations”, Rabbi Chaim Vital (1543-1620, the Arizal’s primary disciple) details Lavan’s various incarnations. Lavan’s soul was originally rooted in Abel, the son of Adam. The holy part of Abel (הבל), symbolized by the letter hei, was reincarnated in Moses (משה, whose other two letters come from Shem, שם, who was also incarnated in him), while his evil part, symbolized by bet-lamed, reincarnated in Lavan (לבן). Lavan was unable to rectify this part of Abel, and descended into sorcery and evil. Unrepaired, he had to reincarnate once more, as Bilaam (בלעם), the “non-Jewish version” of Moses. Thus, when Moses and Bilaam go head-to-head later in the Torah, they are actually two ancient halves of Abel!

As we know, Bilaam also descended into sorcery and evil, so he had to reincarnate again. This time around, he comes back as Naval (נבל). Recall that Naval was a very wealthy man, “with three thousand sheep and a thousand goats” (I Samuel 25:2). At the time, David and his loyal soldiers were encamped in Carmel, and protected Naval’s shepherds. This was before David had consolidated his monarchy, when King Saul had refused to give up the throne and sought to get rid of David.

David eventually reached out to Naval and asked for his help. He reminded Naval that his soldiers had watched over Naval’s flocks and shepherds, and ensured no harm came upon them. Instead of showing his gratitude, Naval rebuffed David’s messengers. This was wrong for a number of reasons, including the fact that David was already the rightfully-anointed king of Israel, and refusing a king in such a way carries a capital punishment. David armed four hundred of his men and headed towards Naval.

Naval’s wife Abigail got word of what was going on, and went out to greet David and pacify him. She took with her “two hundred loaves, and two bottles of wine, and five sheep ready dressed, and five measures of parched corn, and a hundred clusters of raisins, and two hundred cakes of figs” as a gift (25:18). While David was angrily racing towards Naval and thinking “he has returned me evil for good” and intending to exterminate his entire household (25:21-22), Abigail suddenly appeared. She placates him with a beautiful soliloquy (25:24-31), to which David responds:

Blessed be Hashem, the God of Israel, who sent you this day to meet me; and blessed be your discretion, and blessed you be, that you have kept me this day from bloodshed, and from finding redress for myself with my own hand.

David spares Naval, and sends Abigail back home in peace. Although David was merciful, God was not, and He struck Naval with what appears to be a heart attack: “his heart died within him, and he became as a stone” (25:37). In the aftermath of the narrative, David ends up marrying the widowed Abigail, and she becomes one of his most important and beloved wives.

Abigail meets David

Jacob Reincarnated

In the same way that Lavan reincarnated in Naval, Jacob returned in David. Upon closer examination, the parallels between them are striking. Jacob was the father of the Twelve Tribes, and David was the king that unified the Twelve Tribes into one cohesive kingdom (establishing the only divinely-approved dynasty). Jacob is the one that prayed in Jerusalem at Beit El, literally the “House of God”, placing twelve foundation stones there in his vision of the future Temple, and David was the one that actually acquired Jerusalem and paved the foundations for the Temple at that same Beit El site. Jacob is the only patriarch of whom it is said that he never “died”, just as it is common to sing David melekh Israel chai v’kayam, King David lives on. (The Ba’al HaTurim, on Genesis 32:12, points out many more connections between Jacob and David.)

Jacob’s first flaw was in slaving away for Lavan partly because of his physical desire for the beautiful Rachel (as we see in Genesis 29:21). This was rectified in David because he slaved away for Naval without any ulterior motive, and certainly with no desire for the beautiful Abigail (among the most beautiful women of all time, as per Megillah 15a). Just like Lavan tricked Jacob out of his rightful wages, Naval tricked David out of his rightful wage. Whereas Jacob fled from Lavan and was pursued by Lavan’s army, this time around it was David who had the military might on his side and pursued Naval.

Ultimately, David restrained himself from violence—not stooping to the level of Lavan/Naval—and God took care of the problem for him. He was rewarded with Abigail. And who was she? The Arizal reveals that she contained the spirit of Leah! (Incidentally, the gematria of אביגיל is 56, equal to כלאה, “like Leah”). The first time around, Jacob worked for Rachel and spurned Leah, making her feel “hated”. This time, David rectifies the mistake of his past life by essentially working for Leah, and marrying her willingly and lovingly.

To be clear, the Arizal does not state all of the above explicitly, though it may be extracted from his teachings, as recorded in Sha’ar HaGilgulim (particularly chapter 36). We must keep in mind that Rabbi Chaim Vital’s (together with his son Rabbi Shmuel Vital’s) transcription of his master’s teachings was not perfect, as he himself admits in many instances. He often introduces a statement, or an alternate teaching, with the words נראה לפי עניות דעתי, “it appears, from my limited knowledge…” Sometimes, he also adds פעם אחרת, that “another time” he apparently heard something different.

In the present discussion, the main teaching of the Arizal is actually of a different nature, taking the souls of Jacob and Lavan, Rachel, Leah, and David all the way back to Adam and the “Original Sin”.

Adam and the Snake

The Arizal taught that the Nachash (loosely translated as “snake” or “serpent”) caused Adam to waste two seminal drops. These two seminal drops carried the souls of Rachel and Leah. Lavan carried the essence of the Nachash who had imprisoned those souls. Jacob worked hard in order to free them from Lavan and marry them, because Jacob was a reincarnation of Adam and sought to reunite with those lost spiritual sparks of his. Jacob succeeded in fulfilling this tikkun.

Rachel and Leah were actually sparks of Adam, and parts of Jacob’s own soul. (In addition to the fact that, as Rabbi Vital reminds, a man infuses a part of his own soul into a woman when the two are intimate.) That spirit within Rachel then migrated into her son Benjamin, which is why the Torah tells us that Benjamin was born “when her soul left her” (Genesis 35:18), ie. left Rachel and entered him. The spirit within Leah, meanwhile, went into Abigail. This is why, in one place in Scripture (II Samuel 17:25), she is called Avigail bat Nachash, “Abigail, the daughter of Nachash”, as her spirit had come from those souls taken by the Serpent.

Alternatively, Avigail bat Nachash is not the wife of David, but actually the name of his sister, who was also called Abigail. Rabbi Vital points out (introducing it with those uncertain words פעם אחרת נראה לפי עניות דעתי) that the spirit within Leah split between Abigail the wife of David and Abigail the sister of David, for a completely different tikkun. This was a rectification for the fact that Jacob married two sisters—something explicitly forbidden by the Torah. (To be fair, Jacob lived before the official giving of the Torah.) To fix that error, Leah partially came back within David’s own sister whom, of course, he did not marry, and instead loved like a brother.

If all of this soul migration and rectification sounds complicated, that’s because it is! There are countless souls, each made up of thousands of sparks, all of which are dynamically moving through us, passing throughout history, jumping across space and time, and quietly weaving themselves into the tapestries of our intriguing lives.

How Esau Became Rome

In this week’s parasha, Toldot, we are introduced to the twin sons of Isaac: Jacob and Esau. The Torah tells us that the boys grew up and Esau became a “man of the field” while Jacob was “an innocent man sitting in tents” (Genesis 25:27). In rabbinic literature, Esau takes on a very negative aura. Although the Torah doesn’t really portray him as such a bad guy, extra-Biblical texts depict him as the worst kind of person.

A 1728 Illustration of Esau selling his birthright.

Take, for instance, the first interaction between Jacob and Esau that the Torah relates. Esau comes back from the field extremely tired. At that moment, Jacob is cooking a stew. Esau asks his brother for some food, and Jacob demands in exchange that Esau give up his birthright (ie. his status as firstborn, and the privileges that come with that). Esau agrees because “behold, I am going to die” (Genesis 25:32). The plain text of the Torah makes it seem like Jacob took advantage of Esau’s near-fatal weariness and tricked him into selling his birthright. This is later confirmed when Esau says that Jacob had deceived him (Genesis 27:36), implying that Esau never really wished to rid of it.

Yet, the Torah commentaries appear to flip the story upside down. When Esau comes back from the field exhausted, it isn’t because he just returned from a difficult hunt, but rather because, as Rashi comments, he had just come back from committing murder! When Esau says “I am going to die”, it isn’t because he was on the verge of death at that moment, but because he didn’t care about the birthright at all, choosing to live by the old adage of “eat, drink, and be merry, for tomorrow we die”. This is a very different perspective on the same narrative.

Another example is when, many years later, Jacob returns to the Holy Land and Esau comes to meet him. Jacob assumes Esau wants to kill him, and prepares for battle. Instead, Esau genuinely seems to have missed his brother, and runs towards him, “embracing him, falling upon his neck, and kissing him” (Genesis 33:4). Again, some of the commentaries turn these words upside down, saying that Esau didn’t really lovingly kiss his brother, but actually bit him! Rashi’s commentary on this verse cites both versions. He concludes by citing Rabbi Shimon bar Yochai in stating that although Esau, as a rule, hates Jacob, at that moment he really did love his brother.

So, how bad was Esau really?

Seeing the Good in Esau

Occasionally, we read about Esau’s good qualities. The Midrash (Devarim Rabbah 1:15) famously states that no one honoured their parents better than Esau did. This is clear from a simple reading of the Torah, too, where Esau is always standing by to fulfil his parents’ wishes. For instance, as soon as he learns that his parents are unhappy with his choice of wives, he immediately goes off to marry someone they might approve of (Genesis 28:8-9).

We should be asking why his parents didn’t simply tell him from the start that his original wives were no good? Why did they allow him to marry them in the first place? If Esau really was the person who most honours his parents, he would have surely listened to them! We may learn from this that Esau’s parents didn’t put too much effort into him. It’s almost like Rebecca gave up on her son from the moment she heard the prophecy about the twins in her belly. The Torah says as much when it states, right after the birth of the twins, that “Isaac loved Esau because his game-meat was in his mouth, but Rebecca loved Jacob.” (Genesis 25:28) Rebecca showed affection to Jacob alone, while Isaac’s love for Esau was apparently conditional. Of course, children always feel their parents’ inner sentiments, and there is no doubt Esau felt his parents’ lack of concern for him. Is it any wonder he tried so hard to please them?

From this perspective, one starts to feel a great deal of pity for Esau. How can anyone read Esau’s heartfelt words after being tricked out of his blessing and not be filled with empathy?:

When Esau heard his father’s words, he cried out a great and bitter cry, and he said to his father, “Bless me, too, O my father! …Do you not have a blessing left for me?” (Genesis 27:34-36)

Esau was handed a bad deal right from the start. He was born different, not just in appearance, but with a serious life challenge. He was gifted (or cursed) with a particularly strong yetzer hara, from birth. His fate was already foretold, and his parents believed it. They invested little into him. And it seems all he ever wanted was to make them proud.

Incidentally, this is one of the major problems with fortune-telling, and why the Torah is so adamant about not consulting any kind of psychic. The psychic’s words, even if entirely wrong, will shape the person’s views. It is very much like the Talmud’s statement (Berakhot 55b) that a dream is fulfilled according to how it is interpreted. A person believes the interpreter, and inadvertently brings about that interpretation upon themselves. It’s a self-fulfilling prophecy.

Who knows what might have happened if Rebecca never bothered to consult a prophet about her pregnancy? After all, Jewish tradition is clear on the fact that negative prophecies do not have to come true. God relays such a prophecy in order to inspire people to change, and thus avert the negative decree. Such was precisely the case with Jonah and his prophecy regarding Nineveh. The people heard the warning, repented, and the prophecy was averted.

Perhaps this is what Isaac and Rebecca should have done. Instead of giving up on Esau, they should have worked extra hard to guide him in the right direction. (Isaac indirectly did the opposite, motivating his son’s hunting since he loved the “game-meat in his mouth”.) The Sages affirm that Esau was not a lost case, and state that had Jacob allowed his daughter Dinah to marry Esau, she would have reformed him (see, for example, Beresheet Rabbah 76:9).

At the end, Jacob returns to the Holy Land and, instead of the war with Esau that he was expecting, his brother welcomes him back with open arms. He weeps, and genuinely misses him. Esau has forgiven his brother, yet again, and buries the past. He hopes to live with his brother in peace henceforth, and invites him to live together in Seir. Esau offers to safely escort Jacob and his family. Jacob rejects the offer, and tells Esau to go along and he will join him later (Genesis 33:14). This never happens. Jacob has no intention to live with Esau, and as soon as his brother leaves, Jacob a completely different course. Esau is tricked one last time.

We only hear about Esau once more in the Torah. When Isaac dies, Esau is there to give his father a proper burial (Genesis 35:29). In fact, the Book of Jubilees, which doesn’t portray Esau too kindly either, nonetheless suggests that Esau had repented at the end of his life. There we read that it was his sons that turned evil, and even coerced him into wrongdoing (37:1-5). In Jubilees, Esau tells his parents that he has no interest in killing Jacob, and loves his brother wholeheartedly, more than anyone else (35:22). He admits that Jacob is the one that deserves the birthright, and a double portion as the assumed firstborn (36:12).

The Torah never tells us what ends up happening to Esau. The Midrash states that he was still there when Jacob’s sons came to bury their father in the Cave of the Patriarchs. Esau tried to stop them, at which point Jacob’s deaf grandson Hushim decapitated him. (A slightly different version is found in the Talmud as well, Sotah 13a.) Esau’s head rolled down into the Cave of the Patriarchs, while the rest of his body was buried elsewhere. Perhaps what this is meant to teach us is that while Esau’s body was indeed mired in sin, his head was completely sound, and he certainly had the potential to be a righteous man—maybe even one of the forefathers, hence his partial burial in the Cave of the Patriarchs.

At the end of the day, Esau is not so much a villain as he is a tragically failed hero.

Why Did Esau Become so Evil?

Esau meets Jacob, by Charles Foster (1897)

As we’ve seen, the Torah itself doesn’t portray Esau as such a bad person. Conversely, one of the 613 mitzvot is “not to despise an Edomite, for he is your brother.” (Deuteronomy 23:8) The Torah reminds us that the children of Israel and the children of Esau (known as Edomites) are siblings, and should treat each other as such.

Nearly a millennium later, the prophet Malachi—generally considered the last prophet and, according to one tradition, identified with Ezra the Scribe—says (Malachi 1:2-3):

“I have loved you,” says Hashem, “Yet you say: ‘How have You loved us?’ Was not Esau a brother to Jacob?” says Hashem, “yet I loved Jacob, but Esau I hated…”

The text goes on to differentiate between Israel and Edom, stating that while Israel will be restored, Edom will be permanently extinguished. We have seen this prophecy fulfilled in history; Israel is still here, of course, while Edom has long disappeared from the historical record. Jacob’s descendants continue to thrive, while Esau’s are long gone.

By the times of the Talmud, there were no real Edomites left, so the Sages began to associate Edom with a new entity: the Roman Empire. The Sages certainly didn’t believe that the Romans were the direct genetic descendants of Esau, but rather that they were their spiritual heirs. Why did the Sages make this connection?

I believe the answers lies with King Herod the Great.

Recall that approximately two thousand years ago Herod ruled as the Roman-approved puppet king of Judea. He was a tremendous tyrant, and is vilified in both Jewish and Christian tradition. The Talmud (Bava Batra 3b-4a) relates how Herod slaughtered all the rabbis in his day, leaving only Bava ben Buta, whom he had blinded. Later, Herod had an exchange with Bava and realized how wise the rabbis were:

Herod then said: “I am Herod. Had I known that the Rabbis were so circumspect, I should not have killed them. Now tell me what amends I can make.”

Bava ben Buta replied: “As you have extinguished the light of the world, [for so the Torah Sages are called] as it is written, ‘For the commandment is a light and the Torah a lamp’ (Proverbs 6:23), go now and attend to the light of the world [which is the Temple] as it is written, ‘And all the nations become enlightened by it.’” (Isaiah 2:2)

A model of Herod’s version of the Second Temple in Jerusalem

Herod did just that, and renovated the Temple to be the most beautiful building of all time, according to the Talmud. It wouldn’t last long, as that same Temple would be destroyed by his Roman overlords within about a century.

What many forget is that Herod was not a native Jew, but an Idumean. And “Idumea” was simply the Roman name for Edom. Herod was a real, red-blooded Edomite. (Though it should be noted that the Idumeans had loosely, or perhaps forcibly, converted to Judaism in the time of the Hasmoneans.) Herod took over the Jewish monarchy, and began the horrible persecutions that the Roman Empire—of which he was a part—was all too happy to continue. It seems quite likely, therefore, that the association between Edom and Rome began at that point. The people resented that Roman-Edomite tyrant Herod that persecuted them so harshly.

Henceforth, it was easy for the Sages to spill their wrath upon Edom, and their progenitor Esau. Esau became a symbol of the Roman oppressor. “Esau” and “Edom” were code words, used for speaking disparagingly about Rome to avoid alarming the authorities. Indeed, when the Sages speak about the evils of Esau, they are often really referring to the evils of the Roman Empire. It is therefore not surprising that Esau becomes possibly the most reviled figure in the Torah—as the Romans were unquestionably the most reviled entity in Talmudic times.

Before Rome had collapsed, it had adopted Christianity as a state religion. The seat of Christianity would remain in Rome forever after. The Bishop of Rome, ie. the pope, would soon become Europe’s most powerful figure. Thus, when the Roman Empire itself collapsed, the Jews of the time saw the entire European-Christian world that arose in its place as Esau. 

There is a great deal of irony here: The mighty Roman Empire that so violently suppressed the Jews and their Torah soon adopted a quasi-Jewish cult as the state religion, and worshipped a Jewish man from Judea (Jesus) as their god! Christians would go on to push a “replacement theology”: that they are the new “Israel”, that God had abandoned the Jews in favour of Christians, and that the New Testament supersedes the “Old Testament”. In some ways, this is little more than Esau trying to take his old birthright back!

It is interesting to see that just as Esau teetered back and forth between loving Jacob wholeheartedly and wanting to exterminate him, Christian history displays much the same love-hate relationship with the Jews. There were times when the two happily coexisted side-by-side, and times that were the exact opposite. We see the same today, when there are Christian groups that are some of Israel’s biggest supporters and the staunchest opponents of anti-Semitism, and at the same time, other Christian groups that are some of Israel’s staunchest opponents and the biggest supporters of anti-Semitism. As a whole, Christians really do look like the spiritual descendants of Esau.

And “Is not Esau a brother to Jacob?” God asks (Malachi 1:2). From a religious perspective, Jacob and Esau are undeniably brothers, for Christianity emerged out of Judaism, and believes in the same ancient origins, texts, and traditions. So why does God “hate Esau” (Malachi 1:3)? Maybe He hates that Esau who is obsessed with converting Jews, or falsely accusing them of all sorts of horrible things, or constantly persecuting them; that Esau who simply won’t leave Jacob alone to “sit in his tents”.

Martin Buber once summarized the difference between Jews and Christians as such:

…to the Christian, the Jew is the incomprehensibly obdurate man who declines to see what has happened; and to the Jew, the Christian is the incomprehensibly daring man who affirms in an unredeemed world that its redemption has been accomplished. This is a gulf which no human power can bridge.

Hopefully the true Mashiach will soon come to bridge that gulf, and Esau and Jacob will finally reunite as old brothers.

The Ten Martyrs & The Message of Yom Kippur

Tomorrow evening we usher in the holiday of Yom Kippur, the Day of Atonement. The Torah does not make clear why this day in particular (the 10th of Tishrei) should be a day of atonement. The traditional explanation is that on this day God forgave the Israelites for the Sin of the Golden Calf, and presented Moses with a new set of Tablets. Based on the wording of the Torah, the Sages deduce that Moses ascended Mt. Sinai a total of three times, each for forty days: The first time was from Shavuot until the 17th of Tammuz; the second from the 19th of Tammuz until the 29th of Av; the third form Rosh Chodesh Elul until the 10th of Tishrei, Yom Kippur (see Rashi on Exodus 33:11). On that final day, God forgave the people, and established henceforth that each year should be a day of forgiveness.

‘Joseph Sold by His Brethren’ by Gustave Doré

There happens to be another, more ancient, explanation for the origins of Yom Kippur. This one comes from the Book of Jubilees, that mysterious apocryphal work dating back to the Second Temple era. Though not canonized by our Sages (it was by the Sages of Ethiopian Jewry), it still tremendously influenced many traditional Midrashic teachings. According to Jubilees, the sons of Jacob sold their brother Joseph at the start of a new year, and returned to their father on the 10th of Tishrei. On that day, they presented their father with Joseph’s bloodied tunic. So sad was this tragic “revelation” that, according to Jubilees, Dinah and Bilhah died from grief! Jacob henceforth commemorated the 10th of Tishrei as Joseph’s yahrzeit. His sons, meanwhile, feeling forever guilty for their sin, begged God for forgiveness each year on that day. Therefore, Jubilees (34:18) concludes, the 10th of Tishrei became the ultimate Day of Atonement for all of Israel.

This explanation may have indirectly found its way into the Rabbinic tradition. Today, it is customary to read an account of the Ten Martyrs on Yom Kippur. These were ten great sages that were murdered by the Romans. The story appears in a number of Midrashim, which don’t all agree on the details. In brief, the Roman Emperor Hadrian (r. 117-138 CE) and/or his Judean governor Tineius Rufus (c. 90-133 CE) summon the ten great rabbis of the time. The rabbis are questioned about the sale of Joseph: doesn’t the Torah prescribe the death penalty for an act of kidnapping? If so, why weren’t the brothers of Joseph put to death for their sin?

The rabbis admit that this is indeed the case. The Romans decide that these ten rabbis should be put to death in place of the ten brothers of Joseph. The rabbis request time to deliberate, and ultimately determine that it has been decreed in Heaven. They submit to the edict. Each one is subsequently tortured to death by the Romans. Some say they were slaughtered on Yom Kippur, or at least one of them was—the most famous among them, Rabbi Akiva.

The Arizal further suggests that these ten rabbis were the reincarnations of the Ten Spies (Sha’ar HaGilgulim, ch. 36). This was another grave ancient sin the Ten Martyrs had to rectify. The Arizal cites an older Midrash that when Joseph was tempted by the wife of Potiphar, it was so hard for him to resist that ten drops of semen emerged “from his fingertips”, and the Ten Spies were the souls of those ten drops, as were the Ten Martyrs, who finally fulfilled all the necessary spiritual rectifications.

Revisiting the Ten Martyrs

There are several major issues with the account of the Ten Martyrs. First of all, the identity of the ten rabbis is different depending on the source. In Midrash Eleh Ezkerah, the ten are listed as: Rabbi Shimon ben Gamaliel, Rabbi Ishmael (the Priest), Rabbi Akiva, Rabbi Chanina ben Teradion, Rabbi Yehuda ben Bava, Rabbi Yehuda ben Dama, Rabbi Hutzpit (“the Interpreter”), Rabbi Chananiah ben Chakhinai, Rabbi Yeshevav, and Rabbi Elazar ben Shammua. In Midrash Tehillim (9:14), however, we are given the following list; Rabbi Shimon ben Gamaliel, Rabbi Ishmael ben Elisha (the Priest), Rabbi Yeshevav (the Scribe), Rabbi Hutzpit (“the Interpreter”), Rabbi Yose [ben Halafta], Rabbi Yehuda ben Bava, Rabbi Yehuda haNachtom, Rabbi Shimon ben Azzai, Rabbi Chanina ben Teradion, and Rabbi Akiva.

The problem with the latter list (other than having three, or even four, different rabbis) is that Shimon ben Azzai is known from the Talmud to have died by mystically ascending to Pardes (Chagigah 14b). More intriguingly, just about everyone is familiar with the Talmudic account of Rabbi Akiva’s tragic death—where he faithfully recites Shema while being raked with iron combs (Berakhot 61b)—yet Midrash Mishlei (ch. 9) has a different idea: Rabbi Akiva was indeed imprisoned by the Romans, but died peacefully in his cell on a yom tov. His student, Rabbi Yehoshua, with the help of the prophet-angel Eliyahu, got Rabbi Akiva’s body out while all the guards and prisoners miraculously fell into a deep sleep. He is later buried with a proper funeral in Caesarea, and the presiding rabbis say to him, “Blessed are you, Rabbi Akiva, who has found a good resting place at the hour of your death.”

This Midrash fits with a Talmudic passage that describes how Rabbi Shimon bar Yochai learned from Rabbi Akiva during the latter’s imprisonment (Pesachim 112a). In that passage, Rabbi Shimon incredibly blackmails his master by saying that if he won’t agree to teach, Rabbi Shimon will pull some strings to have Rabbi Akiva executed! Rabbi Akiva goes on to relay five teachings. This suggests that Rabbi Akiva was not scheduled for execution at all, and his punishment for participating in the Bar Kochva Revolt was only imprisonment. It also fits with the accepted tradition that Rabbi Akiva lived to 120 years. It is highly unlikely that the Romans conveniently executed him on his 120th birthday, and far more likely that he died peacefully after living to 120.

Another well-known issue with the account of the Ten Martyrs is that these ten figures lived in different time periods. Rabban Shimon ben Gamaliel and Rabbi Ishmael were alive at the end of the Second Temple era. If they were killed by the Romans, it would have been during the Great Revolt, which ended with the Temple’s destruction. The other rabbis lived decades later. They were active in the time of the Bar Kochva Revolt, and would have died around that time (c. 135 CE), some 65 years after the Temple’s destruction. Interestingly, the Roman-Jewish historian Josephus (37-100 CE), who was an eyewitness to the Temple’s destruction, wrote that Rabban Shimon ben Gamaliel was killed not by the Romans, but by the Jewish Zealots, one of the extremist factions that terrorized Jerusalem.

Some say that there were two Rabbi Ishmael haKohens. The first was Rabbi Ishmael ben Eliyahu, and he was the one who served as a priest at the end of the Second Temple era. The other was his grandson, Rabbi Ishmael ben Elisha, who was a contemporary of Rabbi Akiva. It isn’t clear which of these Rabbi Ishmaels was martyred. According to Midrash Tehillim, it was Rabbi Ishmael ben Elisha, which makes sense since it would have been in the times of the Hadrianic persecution, during the Bar Kochva Revolt. (To further complicate things, the Talmud [Gittin 58a] says that Rabbi Yehoshua ben Chananiah once ransomed a young Ishmael ben Elisha out of a prison in Rome!)

The Talmud states that during the Water-Drawing Ceremony of Sukkot, the greatest celebration of the year in Temple times, Rabban Shimon ben Gamaliel I would juggle with fire! His descendant, Rabban Shimon ben Gamaliel II, taught “Great is peace, for Aaron the Priest became famous only because he sought peace.”
(Illustration by Ilene Winn-Lederer)

Similarly, there are two Rabban Shimon ben Gamaliels. While the second one was alive during the Bar Kochva Revolt, we know he survived that conflict, and went on to head the new Sanhedrin in Usha. It is possible that he was eventually killed by the Romans. He himself stated how terribly unbearable the persecutions were in his day (Shabbat 13b, Shir HaShirim Rabbah 3:3). In that case, perhaps the list in Midrash Eleh Ezkerah is accurate. If it was Rabban Shimon ben Gamaliel II (not I, who was killed by Zealots), and Rabbi Ishmael ben Elisha (not ben Eliyahu), then all Ten Martyrs lived around the same time. Still, they wouldn’t have been executed in one event, but that isn’t necessarily a requirement. We know that Rabbi Yehuda ben Bava, for example, survived for some time after Rabbi Akiva, and ordained five of the latter’s students (Sanhedrin 14a). The list in Midrash Tehillim must be mistaken, as is the alternate account of Rabbi Akiva’s death in Midrash Mishlei. (There is little doubt that Rabbi Akiva was a victim of the Romans, considering he was a key supporter of the Bar Kochva Revolt.)

The Message

Going back to our original question, the Ten Martyrs died as a spiritual rectification for the sale of Joseph. The two are linked by the Yom Kippur holiday, which is said to be the day of Joseph’s false “yahrzeit”, and the day that the Ten Martyrs were murdered (or their fate decreed). The key lesson in all of this is that from the very beginning, the number one problem plaguing Israel is sinat hinam, baseless self-hatred and infighting. This was the issue with the very first, literal, Bnei Israel, the sons of Jacob, who conspired against one of their own, and continues to be the primary issue to this very day.

If we want true atonement and repentance, along with the Final Redemption, we must completely put an end to the incessant conflicts within our singular nation. This applies to both personal conflicts among family and friends, as well as larger political or cultural ones. We have to start seeing beyond the divides—Ashkenazi/Sephardi, secular/religious, Litvish/Hassidic, Orthodox/non-Orthodox, Israeli/Diaspora, liberal/conservative—and fully embrace one another. Long ago, the Arizal instituted an important practice of reciting each morning: “I accept upon myself the mitzvah of ‘and you shall love your fellow as yourself’, and I love each and every one within Bnei Israel as my own soul.” (הֲרֵינִי מְקַבֵּל עָלַי מִצְוַת עֲשֵׂה שֶׁל: וְאָהַבְתָּ לְרֵעֲךָ כָּמוךָ, וַהֲרֵינִי אוהֵב כָּל אֶחָד מִבְּנֵי יִשְׂרָאֵל כְּנַפְשִׁי וּמְאודִי) Centuries earlier, it was Rabbi Akiva himself—first among martyrs—who declared this mitzvah to be the greatest in the Torah.

Gmar chatima tova!