#noams posts
A Medieval Gay Brawl in the Synagogue On Yom Kippur
Sometimes the finds of the Genizah are so incredible that you have difficulty believing that it’s really there, that you are really peering through this window into the lives of medieval Jews around the Mediterranean. This story caught my attention in a footnote of Goitein’s and I thought I would post it for Yom Kippur… It’s not really magic-related, except that I think there’s a certain magic in recovering and reclaiming the past.
The fragment shown here, T-S 8J22.25 in Cambridge, is a letter from a Jewish pilgrim named Hasan ben Mu’ammal, who had gone on pilgrimage to Jerusalem for the High Holidays, Tishrei 4813 = September 1052 CE. He reports that a certain Daniel had wished to see him but he was unable to, because of “the altercation” that had happened in synagogue. Apparently, on Yom Kippur, many pilgrims had gathered from around the Mediterranean, and “a man from Tiberias and a man from [Tyre] became involved in love, and the Tiberian began fondling [?] the Tyrian in the sight of everyone… and the people from Tiberias and those from Tyre began to fight with one another and went out to […] and they brought the chief of the police to the synagogue and […] until the people calmed down.” Hasan goes on to report that Daniel had told him that “such is the behaviour of these people every day,” and concludes the letter with best wishes to the recipients (his brother Abu Nasr and family). A wild ride from start to finish. Goitein drily observes that the letter indicates that homosexuality was regarded as a “vice rather than a deadly crime… [and] it did not form the object of great social concern.”
Shana tova — welcome to 5777! May all who are fasting have a meaningful, enriching, and affirming day… and hopefully a peaceful one too!
A classic post! This source is now available with a full translation and commentary in my book, A Rainbow Thread. Shana tova, and may all who are observing Yom Kippur have a meaningful holiday!
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God said “i love lgbt jewish people n muslims” because the first day of pride is both laylat al-qadr and shabbat can i get a mashallah
isn’t it a bit of a stretch to say that they’re mostly written in europe when that only applies to the medieval texts? and even then to have an *overwhelming* majority of texts written in europe would have to kind of be an active conscious decision right?
@theatrejew it’s a good question!
You’re right that it was only the medieval and post-medieval Jewish texts which were written in Europe! The preview is a little condensed — here’s the full quote, which is me imagining Rabbi Solomon Freehof describing his bookshelf, ca. 1969: “I have the classical codes of rabbinic literature, the Mishnah and Talmud; I have the medieval compilations of Jewish law, Maimonides, etc.; I have a few early modern 18th/19th century compilations of Jewish law, all written by men, mostly written in Europe; and that’s it.”
So yes, hopefully that’s clearer: the early modern compilations of Jewish law on Rabbi Freehof’s bookshelf are the ones which were “mostly written in Europe,” and that would certainly be true for almost all American rabbis in the mid-20th century. It’s thankfully not true of this anthology, which contains material from all over the Jewish world.
Hope you enjoy the podcast!
ברוך שהחינו וקימנו והגיענו לזמן הזה / Blessed is the One who has enlivened us, sustained us, and brought us to this moment.
Not much more to say at the moment except acknowledge the overflowing gratitude to all the mentors, colleagues, scholars, activists, lovers, and friends who contributed to making this book possible. Looking forward to sharing it with all of you! If you’d like to bring me to your community to share the stories of A Rainbow Thread, please get in touch!
ORDER NOW: A Rainbow Thread: An Anthology of Queer Jewish Texts from the First Century to 1969
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Salim Halali
[Image Description: a black and white photo of Salim Halali, an Algerian-Turkish man wearing a suit with a white flower and bow tie and a fez.]
The life story of Salim Halali is one with countless branches. His experiences as a gay Jewish man in Paris in the 1930’s are as eventful as one would imagine, and his music career is not only well known but well remembered, what with being crowned the “King of Shaabi” at the height of his popularity. He lived just as extravagantly behind closed doors, often throwing lavish parties with his two pet tigers. There’s much to be said of his storied life. (Read full article)
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“Do You Remember, When?
Dear, kind Gad, I owe you a present, no, I want to give you one, not just so that you get something from me that you can glance through and then lay aside forever, but something that will make you happy whenever you pick it up… Night exists for more than sleep which is why, my love, we stayed awake so often…
[In Hebrew:] Shavu‘ot
May 21, 1942
Forever my best wishes are with you.
[In Hebrew:] Be strong and courageous. Your Meir.”
In 1942, Meir (Manfred) Lewin wrote and illustrated this booklet of poetry for his boyfriend Gad, before being deported to Auschwitz, where he and his family was murdered. Gad fought in the underground resistance and survived the war, and published his memoirs, An Underground Life: Memoirs of a Gay Jew in Nazi Berlin, in 1995 (in German — in English translation, 2000). Seeing those words on the page — “be strong and courageous” — always stirs up strong emotions for me… Honoured to be bringing these stories of courage, of resistance, and of love, back into the world with A Rainbow Thread. May they continue to inspire us to find courage today.
Read the original booklet here.
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I wrote a short vaguely historical vaguely spooky ghost story about Jews and burial rites and I have to justify it existing so here it is.
“Are you the leader of the Jews?”
There was no good that ever came from that question. Rabbi Jacob stood in the doorway, one hand on the knob and the other on the frame, ready to yank it closed at a moment’s notice.
“Well, not all of the Jews.”
The man at the door made a frustrated little grunt. He was clad almost completely in dark grey clothing that seemed to fade into the shadows of the darkened street behind him. The collar of his coat was pulled up so high that it was impossible to make out more than a pair of sharp grey eyes beneath the brim of his hat, and the cloak he wore over the top of it concealed most of his body. There could be any number of guns, knives, or angry mobs hidden under there.
“But the ones in this town, yes? You are their priest, you lead prayers and weddings and so on?” the man said impatiently.
“Rabbi. Yes. I’m the rabbi, that’s correct.” Jacob said, stiffening his posture and assuming the most neutral expression he could manage. Being completely ignorant didn’t exclude someone from being completely dangerous–if anything, that heightened the risk. “What can I do for you?”
“Rabbi,” the man repeated, as if to seal it into his memory properly. One gloved hand squeezed the pommel of his walking stick. “And you preside over the funerals of your people, and perform the rites to send them to the next world?”
“Yyyyyes?” Jacob shifted his weight to his back foot, poised to slam the door in his face. This sounded unpleasantly like an opening for a death threat.
“To any of them, regardless of the sins they carried in life?” An eagerness entered the man’s voice.
“Of course. Though sin as a Jewish concept differs from the Christian…mm. Yes, of course.” The scholars of old might have debated the nature of the evil in men’s souls until the crack of dawn but Jacob had no intention of doing so at half-past midnight with a complete stranger.
The shadowed man took a half step forward and Jacob leaned back to maintain the distance between him. “What about a gentile?” the man pressed. “Would you tend to his corpse too?”
“Huh?”
“There is a man needing to be buried tonight who requires absolution. He is not a Jew, but a Jew’s prayers may be close enough for what is needed.”
“Um. It’s not usually a request I get.” Jacob tried to keep his voice calm and soothing. There was some kind of entrapment lingering in the conversation, he just knew it. That or a giant box of crazy that had managed to dress itself stylishly. Gentiles asking Jews intrusive but urgent questions never turned out well for their target–a day-long case of irritation was the best outcome the target could hope for.
The man’s hands pressed together as he completed the full step forward, making Jacob back up into the doorframe. Desperation was in his tone and Jacob was forced back over the threshold just to stay out of his grip “All I need is someone to accompany me to the cemetery to consecrate the body and pray for its soul. Barely an hour of your time. I cannot pay you with anything but my gratitude, but you will have it eternally.”
“And you came to me?”
The man sighed. Even the top hat seemed to slouch slightly as his body slumped. “I have asked every holy man in the city, Catholic and Protestant alike, and they have refused to come to the cemetery,“ he bemoaned. “The last one told me to visit you. Likely a ploy to make me leave faster, but you are all I have left.”
“What did this man do, that so many people refused him? Who was he?”
The man at the door hesitated. The sharp eyes vanished as his eyelids slid down, and then appeared a few moments later.
“Must you ask?” he said quietly. “Is it not enough that it is a corpse which can do no man harm any longer, and you will lose nothing but a half-night of sleep?”
The inside of Jacob’s head was ringing with warning bells like the frantic clanging of gongs announcing a fire. He swallowed and tried to ignore them.
“You say he wasn’t Jewish?”
“He was not…much of anything. He felt God had no interest in him, and returned a lack of interest in kind. Perhaps if he had been more attentive he wouldn’t lie in a pauper’s grave…or perhaps he would have not changed a whit.” The man’s voice was bitter and the sharp eyes briefly looked away from Jacob, to Jacob’s deep relief.
“Who was this man, to you?” he asked.
“Close. I would prefer to say no more. Please, rabbi. It must be done, and it must be tonight.”
Seminary did not prepare me for this, Jacob thought, and then thought again. There is absolutely something in the Talmud about this and I’ve just forgotten it, because I’m an idiot and I’m half asleep and there is a goy on my doorstep asking me to go out to the cemetery with him at midnight to bury a man whose name he won’t tell me.
“Look, I’ll need someone to help dig the grave.”
“Of course.”
“And a coffin. A plain pine box. And I’ll need to get my supplies from the–”
“But you’ll do it?” said the man excitedly, standing up even taller. “And do it tonight, before the cock crows?”
Jacob held up his hands to keep the man from getting even further into his personal space. “Fine. Yes. Give me half an hour and a lazy rooster.”
The cloak almost seem to inflate as the man gasped for joy. He grabbed Jacob’s hands and shook both with enthusiasm, sending Jacob stumbling. “Thank God for you, my good rabbit! Whatever God there is, thank God for you!”
The man ran off into the shadowed streets and was out of sight almost immediately.
Jacob’s hands slowly fell back to his side as he mumbled, “Rabbi,” to the darkness.
My wife is going to kill me if whatever’s at the cemetery doesn’t.
On World AIDS Day, reflect on this Hanukkah lamp titled In Search of Miracles, on view now. In his use of test tubes for oil containers, the artist Salo Rawet associates the ancient miracle of Hanukkah with the search for a cure for AIDS, cancer, and other plagues of our time. The artist proposes here an alternative version of lighting the Hanukkah lamp, extending beyond the traditional eight days of the holiday to symbolize continuous cycles of the sun and moon. In this new interpretation, the lamp becomes and embodiment of hope and an expression of “human attempts to intervene and support the divine process of exuding miracles in our daily life.”
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