Jewish Power: What we can Learn from the Church’s Mistakes

by Ner Tamid | May 4, 2025 | Sermons

My children tell me I talk about Christianity too often. They tell me that it’s weird for a rabbi to say Jesus from the pulpit as often as I do. They’re probably right. But, in my defense, for the past 1500 years so much of our history has been directly influenced by Christianity that it’s hard to escape. So today, as Catholic leaders are busy negotiating behind closed doors who will be the next pope – a question that has tremendous ramifications to Israel and to the Jewish People, I think it’s a good a time as any to talk about Christianity in general, and Pope Francis in particular. And to my children, just chalk this up as another argument you lost to your father…

There are a number of alleged mentions of Jesus in the Talmud. I say alleged because there is much scholarly debate if the individual or individuals mentioned are actually Jesus or someone else. My favorite story is one found at the end of Maseches Sanhedrin involving Rav Yehoshua ben Prachya. The story goes that Rav Yehoshua ben Prachya, one of the leading sages of his time, was travelling with his students when one of the students made an indecent comment. Rav Yehoshua was shocked by his student’s comment and banished him by putting him in cherem. The student, named Yeshu, which is Hebrew for Jesus, begged his teacher for forgiveness numerous times. Each time he was rejected. Until finally, the student came to ask for forgiveness, and his teacher, Rav Yehoshua, was ready to forgive him, only that he was davening. So instead of speaking, he motioned to his student. Rav Yehoshua meant, hold on a moment. Yeshu understood him to indicate that he should go away. And he did. The Gemara concludes that all the evil that befell the Jewish People at the hands of this man and his followers were caused by the great sage, Rav Yehoshua ben Prachya.

I love this Gemara because it is a perfect example of how Jews are supposed to learn history. We do not point fingers. We do not vlame or play the victim. Instead of highlighting all the things that Jesus and his followers did to us, the Gemara challenges us to ask, what did we do wrong in this situation? How can we grow? How can we change?

I love this Gemara, but the Christian censors in medieval Europe did not. They felt like it was offensive and forced the printers to remove the whole story from the Talmud. If you have an older edition of the Talmud from a Christian country, that section would be missing.

Of course, censorship was the least of our problems for much of medieval history. As James Carroll observes, Christianity was originally a movement that opposed violence and power. And yet, Constantine, the Roman Emperor came along and made Christianity synonymous with power and violence. For the next thousand years, Jews were persecuted for their faith by their Christian neighbors.

In the 15^th century, a decision was made by the leaders of the Inquisition that would have ripple effects all the way to the Holocaust. Until that point in history, Jews were evil because they chose to reject who they believed to be the true messiah. But in the 15^th century this posed a problem. Many Jews, especially in Spain and Portugal, started converting to Christianity. The church was not happy; they had all sorts of incentives, political and financial to continue discriminating against these converted Jews. And so they decided to discriminate against Jews not because of their faith but because of their race, allowing the church to lead a witch-hunt against Jews who converted, who they described as Marranos, literally, pigs. Carrol argues that this shift, from discriminating by faith to discriminating by race, paved the way for the Nazis a few hundred years later, to do the same. The road from Rome to Auschwitz, argues James Carroll, is a straight one.

It’s an intriguing thesis. James Carroll, a former priest uses it to point a finger at the modern church, begging them to introspect and ask themselves if they have don enough to undo the harm they caused.

Following in the footsteps of the story of Rav Yehoshua ben Prachya, I’d like to use this story not to point fingers outward, but inward, and use this story for introspection.

For virtually the entire history of Christianity, Christians were the ones in power and Jews were powerless. The church abused that power to amass wealth and to gain political support. But now, for the first time since Jesus was born, we, the Jewish People have power. We, the Jewish People have a country and an army and the ability to wield that power over others. And now we need to look in the mirror and ask ourselves if we are using this power appropriately.

Let’s be abundantly clear, does the State of Israel need to do everything in its power to defend her people? Yes. Has the State of Israel gone above and beyond in limiting the deaths of Arabs in all its wars, including in the current war against Gaza? Without a doubt. When a nation wages war, there are consequences and people in that nation, even if they are entirely innocent, will die. And the only one to blame, in this case, is Hamas. Have peace deals, the exit of Gush Katif in any way shape or form worked? Have the PA or Hamas been partners in peace? No. Not even close. Full stop.

But there is a growing trend of racism in some of our circles. Jews who deny the notion of tzelem Elokim, of the intrinsic value of every human being, and comfortably describe Arabs as subhuman. There are Jews who argue that we are allowed to take justice into our own hands by firebombing mosques, by terrorizing Arab children, and much worse. None of that is acceptable.

This is not an indictment on any current or past political figure in Israel. It really isn’t. They don’t matter. (See Noam Weissman for a great analysis of modern Kahanism: https://unpacked.media/meir-kahane-jewish-defender-or-jewish-supremacist/.) We’re not talking to them. As the Talmud teaches us through the story of Rav Yehoshu ben Prachya, the only thing that matters is us; what we do and what we think. How do we, Jews who are finally in a position of power, think about that power?

Are Arabs ‘animals’ that must be treated as such by vigilantes, or alternatively, are we in a war, and must do whatever is necessary to protect the Jewish People and fight our enemies through the State of Israel’s military apparatus? Those are not the same.

Are all Arabs ‘bloodthirsty’ and undeserving of peace, or alternatively, must we be exceptionally skeptical of any peace agreements, and yes, entertain idea that may even be politically incorrect to ensure the safety of the Jewish People? Those are not the same.

There is a big difference between those two sides. One is about denigrating other human beings and the other is about personal safety – the ethical imperative to ensure one’s own safety and the safety of one’s family.

We now have the sword and we now have authority. And that is a terrible and complicated responsibility.

Which brings me back to Pope Francis.

I’ll be honest, I was initially very excited when he was elected as pope. I was enamored by the images of him riding that dinky little car instead of a royal entourage. I was moved by the pictures of him caring for the most needy and broken. He exemplified one of the characteristics that the original priests, the Kohanim, were meant to characterize. In our parsha we read how the Metzora, the leper, who is banished from the camp, is visited by the Kohein. The Kohein is there not only for technical reasons, but to give chizzuk, to give support, to give guidance and love to the individual who is an outcast. In this respect, Pope Francis was a model of what a spiritual leader should look like.

But there is another role for the Kohein; he is also the spiritual guide, a person of authority. This week’s parsha goes into overwhelming detail as to how the Kohein assesses whether or not the leprosy is indeed Tzoraas. He visits the Metzora once and then again and then a third time. Each time, he measures, he analyzes, and he weighs. To be a spiritual leader one must be able to be mavdil bein kodesh l’chol, bein hatamei uvein hatahor. Crystal clear guidance is needed.

And in this respect, Pope Francis fell woefully short. He spoke positively about gay unions but outlawed gay marriage. In doing so, he confused his followers and caused confusion to the entire religious world. He spoke out against sexual abuse in the church, and appointed a friend, Victor Manuel Fernandez, as prefect despite his well-known history of sexual abuse. In doing so, he gave false hope and sewed frustration in the hearts of the most vulnerable. And, as he did in his final address, he spoke out against antisemitism – he was undoubtedly opposed to those who discriminated against Jews, and in that same speech, vilified the Jewish state, and in doing so, paved the way for even more antisemitism.

A spiritual guide is an authority, his or her role is to provide clarity. One of the greatest gifts that our Torah presents to us is the knowledge that this is moral and this is not, from the moment of conception until we take our last breath, the Torah clearly defines what we should do and should not do, what is right and what is wrong. Religion is meant to provide clarity in a relativistic confusing world, l’havdil bein kodesh l’chol, bein hatamei uvein hatahor.

Will the church learn the lessons of history and elect a pontiff who will once and for all undo the harm caused by two thousand years of the Christian sword? Will they put into power someone who can provide moral clarity in a world of confusion? I really hope so. But even more importantly, will we?