At a time when the theological underpinnings of Judaism were under assault, Jews surprisingly held back. As James Caroll documents in “Constantine’s Sword,” during the second century, when “the Church Fathers loudly and aggressively preached and wrote against the Jews,” the Jewish scholars compiling the Mishnah did not insert “a single passage clearly denouncing Jesus or Christianity.”
But at other points in Jewish history and liturgy, those denouncements come through.
The limits of Jewish forbearance is brought up again during Passover Seders when, after drinking the third cup of wine and opening the door for the prophet Elijah, we read the prayer Sh’foch Chamat’cha. The prayer asks God to “Pour forth Your wrath over the nations that do not recognize You, and upon the kingdoms that do not invoke Your name. For they have devoured Jacob and destroyed his habitation. Pour forth Your indignation upon them and let Your burning wrath overtake them. Pursue them with anger and destroy them from beneath the heavens of God.”
Sh’foch Chmat’cha — which is not mentioned in either the Jerusalem or Babylonian Talmud, and first appeared in the ninth century — has always been a puzzle. That it is recited right after the door is opened for Elijah may be a clue. The traditional explanation for Elijah’s participation in the Seder is that he heralds the coming of the Messiah. However, in “The Misunderstood Jew” (2006), Amy-Jill Levine points out that the custom was introduced in the middle ages because Passover, which takes place at the time of Easter, was a period fraught with danger for Jews, especially with respect to the blood libel.
The blood libel accused Jews of using the blood of Christian children to bake matzah for Passover. The first recorded blood libel occurred in England in 1144 following the murder of a Christian twelve-year-old, who was later canonized by the Catholic Church. The libel spread to other English sites, including Winchester, London and Lincoln, and throughout Europe, fueled in part by the anti-Semitism that accompanied the Crusades. Estimates indicate that over 150 blood libel episodes occurred, resulting in arrests and massacres of Jews over the centuries, the last one taking place in Kiev in 1911. While most of these took place in Europe, a number occurred in Islamic jurisdictions as well.
Levine writes that the purpose of opening the door during the Seder was to show non-Jewish neighbors that no Christian child was being harmed. (Or, as Rabbi Avi Weiss put it in a 2016 article, Jews opened their doors fearful that a Christian child would be found there.) It was then, in great anger, that the Jews made the declaration of Sh’foch Chamat’cha.
There are other examples in the Jewish liturgy of requests for the Almighty to wreak vengeance on the enemies of the Jewish people. For example, the Jewish memorial prayer Av Harachamim (Father of mercy) was added to the Ashkenazi liturgy early in the twelfth century in response to the anti-Jewish depredations of German communities that accompanied the First Crusade. Av Harachamim includes statements such as, “Let it be known among the nations in our sight that You avenge the spilled blood of Your servants.” Similar sentiments are expressed in the liturgical poem Maoz Tsur (Rock of Ages), sung on the holiday of Chanukah, while the Book of Esther’s depiction of the harsh treatment of Haman and his followers by the Jews of Persia is another example.
There are many examples in Jewish liturgy of requests for the Almighty to wreak vengeance on the enemies of the Jewish people.
Should Jews today feel embarrassed or ashamed of such violent sentiments? Should Sh’foch Chamat’cha be altered or omitted from the Seder? I agree with the answer given by Rabbi Gerald Skolnik in “Confronting Historical Anger,” a blog he wrote for The Times of Israel (2012). The answer is no, it should not be changed or omitted. To Rabbi Skolnik, Sh’foch Chamat’cha “represents the reservoir of unresolved Jewish anger over the myriad atrocities that have been perpetrated against us throughout our history… Omitting the Sh’foch Chamat’cha is, to me, like pretending that the anger isn’t there, and that is simply a lie.”
Centuries of oppression have taught Jews to keep their thoughts to themselves, keep a low profile and avoid drawing attention to themselves for fear of retaliation. The existence of the prayer Sh’foch Chamat’cha indicates that there are limits to such forbearance. And for good reason: A strategy of keeping quiet does not always work, as suggested by the interactions between the Roosevelt administration and American Jews before and during World War II, when the muted voice of American Jewish organizations helped make it possible for the U.S. government to ignore European Jews’ pleas for refuge.
This Passover season, when Jewish communities the world over are facing a resurgence of anti-Semitism from many quarters, it is important to consider the limits of forbearance. We must speak out and confront the lies and distortions that have become all too common in this age.
Jacob Sivak is a retired scientist affiliated with the University of Waterloo. His work has been published in The Jerusalem Report, The Times of Israel, Algemeiner, The Canadian Jewish News and the Forward.
Elijah and the Limits of Forbearance
Jacob Sivak
At a time when the theological underpinnings of Judaism were under assault, Jews surprisingly held back. As James Caroll documents in “Constantine’s Sword,” during the second century, when “the Church Fathers loudly and aggressively preached and wrote against the Jews,” the Jewish scholars compiling the Mishnah did not insert “a single passage clearly denouncing Jesus or Christianity.”
But at other points in Jewish history and liturgy, those denouncements come through.
The limits of Jewish forbearance is brought up again during Passover Seders when, after drinking the third cup of wine and opening the door for the prophet Elijah, we read the prayer Sh’foch Chamat’cha. The prayer asks God to “Pour forth Your wrath over the nations that do not recognize You, and upon the kingdoms that do not invoke Your name. For they have devoured Jacob and destroyed his habitation. Pour forth Your indignation upon them and let Your burning wrath overtake them. Pursue them with anger and destroy them from beneath the heavens of God.”
Sh’foch Chmat’cha — which is not mentioned in either the Jerusalem or Babylonian Talmud, and first appeared in the ninth century — has always been a puzzle. That it is recited right after the door is opened for Elijah may be a clue. The traditional explanation for Elijah’s participation in the Seder is that he heralds the coming of the Messiah. However, in “The Misunderstood Jew” (2006), Amy-Jill Levine points out that the custom was introduced in the middle ages because Passover, which takes place at the time of Easter, was a period fraught with danger for Jews, especially with respect to the blood libel.
The blood libel accused Jews of using the blood of Christian children to bake matzah for Passover. The first recorded blood libel occurred in England in 1144 following the murder of a Christian twelve-year-old, who was later canonized by the Catholic Church. The libel spread to other English sites, including Winchester, London and Lincoln, and throughout Europe, fueled in part by the anti-Semitism that accompanied the Crusades. Estimates indicate that over 150 blood libel episodes occurred, resulting in arrests and massacres of Jews over the centuries, the last one taking place in Kiev in 1911. While most of these took place in Europe, a number occurred in Islamic jurisdictions as well.
Levine writes that the purpose of opening the door during the Seder was to show non-Jewish neighbors that no Christian child was being harmed. (Or, as Rabbi Avi Weiss put it in a 2016 article, Jews opened their doors fearful that a Christian child would be found there.) It was then, in great anger, that the Jews made the declaration of Sh’foch Chamat’cha.
There are other examples in the Jewish liturgy of requests for the Almighty to wreak vengeance on the enemies of the Jewish people. For example, the Jewish memorial prayer Av Harachamim (Father of mercy) was added to the Ashkenazi liturgy early in the twelfth century in response to the anti-Jewish depredations of German communities that accompanied the First Crusade. Av Harachamim includes statements such as, “Let it be known among the nations in our sight that You avenge the spilled blood of Your servants.” Similar sentiments are expressed in the liturgical poem Maoz Tsur (Rock of Ages), sung on the holiday of Chanukah, while the Book of Esther’s depiction of the harsh treatment of Haman and his followers by the Jews of Persia is another example.
Should Jews today feel embarrassed or ashamed of such violent sentiments? Should Sh’foch Chamat’cha be altered or omitted from the Seder? I agree with the answer given by Rabbi Gerald Skolnik in “Confronting Historical Anger,” a blog he wrote for The Times of Israel (2012). The answer is no, it should not be changed or omitted. To Rabbi Skolnik, Sh’foch Chamat’cha “represents the reservoir of unresolved Jewish anger over the myriad atrocities that have been perpetrated against us throughout our history… Omitting the Sh’foch Chamat’cha is, to me, like pretending that the anger isn’t there, and that is simply a lie.”
Centuries of oppression have taught Jews to keep their thoughts to themselves, keep a low profile and avoid drawing attention to themselves for fear of retaliation. The existence of the prayer Sh’foch Chamat’cha indicates that there are limits to such forbearance. And for good reason: A strategy of keeping quiet does not always work, as suggested by the interactions between the Roosevelt administration and American Jews before and during World War II, when the muted voice of American Jewish organizations helped make it possible for the U.S. government to ignore European Jews’ pleas for refuge.
This Passover season, when Jewish communities the world over are facing a resurgence of anti-Semitism from many quarters, it is important to consider the limits of forbearance. We must speak out and confront the lies and distortions that have become all too common in this age.
Jacob Sivak is a retired scientist affiliated with the University of Waterloo. His work has been published in The Jerusalem Report, The Times of Israel, Algemeiner, The Canadian Jewish News and the Forward.
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