Today is Easter Sunday.
As is typical, the days prior are filled with conversations exploring the hidden meanings of the holiday’s commercialized symbols, such as fully bunnies and pastel eggs. In the past, The Wild Hunt has done its own contemplations on the subject. Are there really ancient Pagan origins nestled within the sacred Christian holiday?
As infinitely interesting as that discussion may be, I would like to focus on something entirely different; something often not discussed. This weekend also saw the celebration of another major religious holiday – Passover.
![[Public Domain]](https://wildhunt.org/wp-content/uploads/2015/04/640px-A_Seder_table_setting-500x375.jpg)
[Public Domain]
At some point in April, when the dark New Jersey winters began to yield their annual grip, Passover would arrive. My Jewish family would come together for the sacred Seder tradition. Gathered around an extended dining room table with adults at one end and us, children, at the other, we’d eat, drink and recount the story of Passover using the Haggadah. Admittedly, there was always a whole lot of nonsensical giggling during the plagues. Nothing is funnier than frogs, boils and locust when you’re are five.
For Jews, the world over, Passover does in a way mark the beginning of spring. While many children cheer when the Cadbury eggs arrive in supermarkets, I was always overjoyed upon seeing store shelves packed with macaroons, Gefilte fish and Manishewitz wine. Of all the Jewish holidays, Passover was my favorite. Matzoh, Matzoh brei, Matzoh balls, Matzoh farfel cupcakes.
To this day, the springtime holiday holds a space – a sacred space – within my life. Although I was never religiously Jewish and I am now Pagan, I have retained a deep connection to my Jewish heritage and the traditions that come with it.
And, as I have learned, I am not alone in that feeling. While the majority of first generation Pagans and Heathens do come from Christian backgrounds, there are those that do not. Of that small sector of the population, many are of Jewish heritage.
Ilan Weiler, an eclectic Israeli Pagan studying Hermetic Magic, said, “I still consider myself Jewish. I view my Judaism as being more of an ethnic/tribal and cultural nature, and I recognize the Jewish deity on two levels: as the tribal deity of my ancestors on a polytheistic level (recognizing an ancient practice of henotheism), and on the occult level of Kabbalistic-Mystical concept, which I incorporate into my magical practices.” Weiler added that he sometimes attends temple service and “[studies] Jewish history, lore and scripture as to learn my ancestors beliefs and traditions.”
American Hermeticist Jonathan Korman also acknowledged honoring the Jewish deity as a “personal tribal deity.” He said that, on his Pagan altar, he maintains “an empty space for that god.”
Deborah Bender, an American Pagan of Jewish heritage, explained, “Jewish identity isn’t strictly religious. Secular Jews identify themselves as Jews on the basis of culture or ethnicity, often without having had much exposure to the Jewish religion or much education about it.”
While some Pagans with Jewish roots embrace their heritage, as Bender suggested, others do not. Illy Ra, a Kemetic Pagan living in the small town of Kadima in central Israel, said, “I don’t consider myself Jewish, I define myself as a Hebrew Pagan,” adding that she incorporates nothing from Judaism into her own Pagan practice. Similarly, Moon Daughter, an eclectic Israeli Pagan from Moshav, said, “I personally do not consider myself a Jew from the religious point of view, but I am a Jew in my cultural heritage and ethnicity.”
It is true that not every Pagan of Jewish heritage clings deeply to their roots. Interestingly, in some cases, these differences are marked by nationality. Very generally speaking, it would appear that Israeli and American Pagans have a different relationship with Judaism and Jewish culture. Moon Daughter speculated, “I live in Israel and I think a lot of Pagans here, not all naturally, are quite angry at monotheistic religions and certainly Judaism … The attitudes toward [the religion] are more complicated [than in the United States] since Judaism is not just a religion, it is also a national identity.”
![[Photo Credit: Yehuda Cohen / Flickr]](https://wildhunt.org/wp-content/uploads/2015/04/205940141_d54431dcd8_z-500x331.jpg)
[Photo Credit: Yehuda Cohen / Flickr]
That is also partly true in the United States. There is a sense of Jewish-ness that exists beyond the practice of the religion itself and beyond spiritual belief. I can still feel that “belonging.” After telling my Aunt, a Jewish Atheist herself, that I was Pagan, she reminded me, “It doesn’t matter whether you believe in God. If Hitler came today, you would still be sent to a camp with all the other Jews.” And that, in her eyes, was enough.
This sense of tribal belonging – that Jewish-ness – is something that can be and is carried into Pagan practice. Bender explained, “The Jewish religion has a very strong tradition of discussion and argument, and the Talmud records minority opinions. I take from this that it’s okay to arrive at a different conclusion than other people if it’s based on reason and evidence and you don’t make yourself an enemy of the Jews.” She added that the Jewish people are “used to being a religious and ethnic minority, and not basing our self-image on what the dominant culture think.”
In our conversation, Bender also noted the similarities that she personally finds within Judaism and her Pagan practice. She said, “Judaism shares with Wicca the outlook that what you do is more important than what you believe. Wiccan sacred time is cyclical. Jewish sacred time is both cyclical and historically linear. The calendars of both have a lunar month and a solar year. Judaism and Wicca both concentrate on living this life but recognizing something beyond. Both teach that the world is fundamentally good that physical pleasures are divine gifts that we are responsible for our own actions.” She went on to list more.
Because of the strong cultural aspects that thrive within Judaism, many Pagans, at least in America, do not reject their Jewish heritage with the same level of hostility and frustration as often expressed by Christian peers. However, as noted earlier, Moon Daughter clarified that this generalization does not necessarily apply to those in Israel where Jewish culture informs the dominant social structure. Moon Daughter said “I guess [American Pagans] still feel like a minority that needs to stick together and do not want their criticism of Judaism to revert to anti-Semitism.” And that may be partially true.
American Pagans of Jewish heritage are minorities within a minority, which complicates the building of a religious and personal identity, especially when you still embrace your Jewish-ness. I have attended Pagan gatherings where I have felt moderately alienated, simply because I had no context for something happening or being discussed. The very first time that my coven sang Pagan “Yule” carols, I was a bit lost. The Frosty and Rudolf parodies were no issue, but when they got to “Goddess Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen,” I just sat quietly dreaming up Pagan words to the Dreidel Song. “I have a little cauldron. I may it out of clay….”
But getting back to spring and Passover, many Pagans of Jewish heritage still make their way to family or friends’ homes by sundown as tradition dictates. Once there, they relive an ancient story and participate in a sacred ritual and, more importantly, a family tradition. Moon Daughter said that she has attempted to find a Pagan interpretation for Passover Seder but “that is not always easy, since holidays are about family, and most of my larger family are of course non-Pagans.” Illy Ra said, “I do celebrate the holidays with my parents to respect their belief and culture, but I guess I would do the same if they belonged to any religion.”
Weiler also emphasized that the Seder is a time for family, describing his own tradition as being “secular” and “nothing more than a glorified family dinner.” However Weiler added that when he has his children, he would like to do a “real Seder, incorporating traditional, modern and Pagan notions.”
Bender, on the other hand, doesn’t like to mix her rituals. She said, “I try to stay within Jewish tradition when I’m doing Jewish rituals. If I want a fully Pagan ritual, it’s separate.” However, she did add that it is possible to “adapt” the Seder structure into a spring Pagan ritual, but she said, “You would have to do it carefully to avoid incoherence and cultural appropriation.”
As for me, this Jewish heritage has remained close by my side. I can still sing the four questions in Hebrew and make tasty kneidels, even though I no longer participate in a formal Seder. Should an emergency occur, I do own multiple Haggadahs, a matzo cover and a Seder plate. Each spring, as I prepare for Ostara, I also purchase a box of matzo and a few cans of macaroons. Like many others, this Jewish-ness colors who I am and, in many ways, the practice of my adopted Pagan religion.
Springtime cheers to all our readers who are enjoying this weekend’s religious festivities, whether it be for family, tradition, faith or simply matzo. L’Chiam and may you always find the afikomen!
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I remember a Wicca Seder Starhawk hosted in the late ’70s. It worked well.
The way the Israelites celebrated Passover is described in the Torah and that is the way the Samaritans still do it. The seder reworks that ritual. It developed in the Hellenistic period to keep Passover observance practical and meaningful for urbanized Jews living among a Pagan majority culture. The Seder is a Jewish response to Hellenism, which presented the same sorts of appeal and challenge to the Jews of that time as late twentieth century American culture did for people in the developing world. The Passover Seder is modeled on the kind of upper class male dinner party described in Plato’s Symposium, but modified in line with core Jewish values.
A Passover seder is designed to have something for everyone: young, old,
learned, new to it, political, religious, universalist, particularist,
serious, playful. it is also a structure which allows for additions and
modifications to suit the interests and tastes of the group which is
doing it. It’s a brilliantly designed and adaptable ritual structure. Within the Jewish tradition there are Haggadot which take a variety of approaches, including nontheist. Nonetheless, if one removes the seder from its original context, issues of cultural appropriation arise. Most of them are surmountable IMO.
For Pagan ritualists whether neopagan or reconstructionist, examining how the seder ritual was developed as a new way to celebrate an old holiday might suggest fruitful approaches to ritual design in our times.
L’Chaim!
My first teachers in the ways of the craft where Jewish and embraced many aspects of the Jewish teachings From the Tree of Life to other elements of the Jewish faith and cabbalistic traditions . We learned to honor and respect Other faiths and the richness they could bring to a spiritual life.
Word. As a Jewish Wiccan who grew up in NJ, I have nothing to add except how much I relate.
Thank you for including the perspectives of some Israeli Pagans. Being Jewish in the Diaspora has always been different from being a Jew in the Land of Israel.
I’ve been thinking about this article all day, so I decided to write up my thoughts on it.
As someone who came from a Jewish background into my current religion, I’m a bit thrown off by it, I guess. As some may know, I was a Torah-observant Jew for over a decade — what some may call Orthodox, though I never officially associated myself with any particular movement/denomination — before finding a home in Canaanite reconstructionism. Perhaps because of my new faith being the ancestor of my old faith, I’ve never felt the warm fuzzies the author seems to when thinking of Judaism or Jewish tradition. I’ve never felt the need to hybridize or even felt comfortable maintaining both. Instead, I feel what many who come out of Christianity into various pagan religions feel — disenchantment or even anger at my old faith.
I see Judaism as having hijacked and then villainized Canaanite religion — a fact that I’m quite angry about. As an anthropologist of religion, I’ve spent over a decade learning the roots of Near Eastern religions (especially Judaism, as it was my faith tradition at the time). The constant disconnect between what I learned in university and what was being taught in synagogue and rabbinical school drove my scientific mind utterly nuts. I could not live in a constant state of cognitive dissonance, so I had to make a choice of who had the “correct” answers: academia or Judaism. Choosing academia is how I came to Canaanite religion as my home.
Because of all of that, I’m very disconnected to my “Jewishness.” I’m not Jewish by faith (which for the majority of history was the ONLY marker of one’s “Jewishness”) and I’m not Jewish by culture (which in a post-Holocaust world is the new marker of “Jewishness”). These things no longer have meaning to me. Yes, I acknowledge my Jewish ancestors, the long line of Sephardi rabbis from which I descend, but I acknowledge them with the exact same level of connectedness as I do with my French Catholic, Scottish and Roman pagan, Irish Protestant, and Ottoman Muslim ancestors. I’m no more “Jewish” than I am any of those.
This year was the first year we decided to completely break with our “Jewishness.” It’s been a slide for a while, but we decided that to “Judaize” Canaanite rituals by combining Jewish Passover traditions with our own spring holiday (which is roughly at the same time this year) was wrong. No seder for us, as it was a Jewish invention from the late Roman Empire. It just wasn’t Canaanite. So instead, we dressed in our ritual costumes and had the family over for a Canaanite barley protection ritual. There was no mention of the exodus, Moses, plagues, or Egyptians, no seder plate, no kabbalah or haggadah (no matter how “Canaanite” we made it in the past). And the best part? It was surprisingly well-received. It was honest. It felt right. It didn’t feel like a compromise. We did a wonderful ritual involving swords and fire and then sat down to a home-cooked meal of authentic Bronze Age recipes. For the first time in a very long time, it just felt right.
I’m not sure of how this may help others in similar situations other than by saying “Be true to you — not who you were or where you came from, but who you ARE.”
Because TWH has drastically shortened the window for comments, you may not have an opportunity to reply to this. I regret that but I can’t do anything about it other than putting these comments up as quickly as I can. I’d like to respond to several things you wrote.
First, you don’t need my approval, but I think the approach you took to recreating a Canaanite barley protection ritual is utterly valid. You bypassed two snares, symbolic and theological incoherence, and cultural appropriation, that lie in wait for those who try to combine ritual elements from different cultures.
One statement you made is not historically correct. You wrote, ” I’m not Jewish by faith (which for the majority of history was the ONLY marker of one’s “Jewishness”) and I’m not Jewish by culture (which in a post-Holocaust world is the new marker of “Jewishness”).” On the contrary, before the Enlightenment, religion/culture/ancestry were a package deal for Jews and most other nationalities, Jews in Christendom and various empires were treated in law as communities of resident aliens, and this was typical for other ethnic groups as well. The same is true today in some Arab countries that have only one foot in modernism. When Napoleon imposed new legal codes on the countries he conquered, Jews in those places were granted full citizenship for the first time, but to keep it, they had to become Frenchmen of the Jewish faith instead of plain Jews. Don’t take my word for this; read How Judaism Became a Religion: An Introduction to Modern Jewish Thought, by Leora Batnitzky.
It’s rare but possible to be a Torah-observant Jew in the modern (or post-modern) age without buying into historicity of Biblical narratives, much less the interpretations put on them in synagogue, the doctrine of the Covenant, or any number of things that strike many scientifically educated people as unbelievable. Some people find observance of the Law cultivates useful habits of mindfulness and or keeps one out of bad company.
I’m sure it’s water under the bridge now, but I wonder if in the period where you were struggling with cognitive dissonance, you ever ran across Reconstructionist Judaism. This denomination, started by a rabbi with Orthodox ordination, regards Judaism as a living culture that changes in each historical period. The one Reconstructionist rabbi I’ve taken classes from teaches history courses in secular universities, is totally evidence-based in what he teaches, and seems to be uninterested in mysticism. I don’t know enough about Reconstructionism to expound on it, but one of its maxims is “Torah has a vote, not a veto”, and it seems not to expect belief in anything or anyone.
I went through a somewhat parallel period of struggle and dissatisfaction with the variety of Judaism I grew up with. My issues were different. Reform Judaism long since made its peace with the academy. The mid-century Reform movement had other weaknesses that sent me looking for another religion, and that’s why I connected with Wicca.
If you have found that Canaanite Recontructionism meets your needs and your standards, no more need be said. I decided eventually that a culture with several thousand years of experience in varying circumstances, recorded and accessible, has more to say to me on some subjects than the very young religion of Wicca. Horses for courses.
“On the contrary, before the Enlightenment, religion/culture/ancestry were a package deal for Jews and most other nationalities.” That’s not anthropologically or historically correct. While that is certainly true for most of pre-Christian history (and, therefore, also pre-Jewish history, as Judaism is a creation/evolution of the 3rd-4th century CE), the same cannot be said of civilizations under Christian dominance and, later, Muslim dominance. The reason for this is in the nature of those two religions in contrast to their ancient predecessors. Christianity was born out of the Romano-Hellenic world, a culture (or, more properly, a group of cultures) with a worldview of religious conversion (one which also permeated nascent Judaism). This concept blossomed within Christianity into the doctrine of universality, a doctrine which would later also find root in Islam. Universality is a statement of the universal nature of the religion as well as of its “truthfulness.” Through conversion, anyone could become Christian, and in the West, this was never tied to one’s ethnicity. An Irish Christian was still Irish, and a French Christian was still French. They didn’t share culture or language, only religion.
While religions in the past were often seen as true for the culture which spawned it, most cultures recognized that the religions of other cultures were also true for their practitioners as well. In this way, as you said, religion and ethnicity were linked. With the growth of imperial religions, this changed, however. In the ancient Near East, the Kingdom of Judah rooted out other religions counter to the imperial religion as they were not taxable. Edom and Moab were brought under Judah’s control and were forced to subscribe to Judahite religion, but they still weren’t ethnically Judahite. Religion changed, but ethnicity remained the same. Centuries later, when Judaeans were returned to their own administrative control by Persia, numerous religions existed among ethnic Judaeans, not just the religion of the established temple in Jerusalem. When the Hellenes invaded Judaea, many new religions were brought in and, through syncretism, many others were created. These varied religions competed with one another for control of Judaean converts as other religions did for the varied ethnic groups throughout the Hellenic world. When Judaism was created in the 4th century CE by the writers of the Mishnah, they were but one of many religions among ethnic Judaeans. Additionally, texts from this period record the conversion efforts of the newly formed movement among Roman populations of varied ethnic identities throughout the empire. Judaism was, at this point, clearly not linked in any way to ethnicity.
When one fast-forwards to a period when Judaism has become a dominant religion among ethnic Judaeans (roughly the 7th century CE), many ethnic groups had been taken into the “Jewish fold.” Additionally, many ethnic Judaeans were religiously Christian, Muslim, Samaritan, Karaite, and varied forms of pagan, among others. By the 11th century, conversion efforts by Christianity and Islam were growing among ethnic Judaeans, and the Jewish population was a mixed bag of ethnicities that had begun to localize and hybridize into distinct cultures like Ashkenazi, Sephardi, Maghrebi, Zarphadi, Shuadi, Galitzianer, etc. Jews who converted into Christianity or Islam during this period were generally welcomed with open arms (this was before the suspicion of Judaizers that spawned the Inquisition). So too, Christians, Muslims, and pagans who converted to Judaism were accepted wholly, regardless of their ethnicity.
By the late Middle Ages/early Renaissance, this attitude shifted. Jews became a nationality similar to any other, and largely, they accepted this label. You are correct about the rest of history from this point forward. Napoleonic law and the Haskallah resulted in a shift back to religion over ethnic identity in many ways, but the national identity within Judaism remained. This, of course, came to a head with the Holocaust and the birth of the state of Israel, when ethnic identity and nationality became permanently linked to Judaism.
I haven’t read Batnitzky, but based on some scholarly reviews of the book (and it has not been without its criticisms), I’m guessing her view has to do with the Western Protestant definition of religion (the most common definition in the West — the same that often classes Buddhism and Taoism as “philosophies”) and less with the anthropological definition, which, as an anthropologist of religion with a focus on Near Eastern religious culture and religious development, is what I always use (Religion is a “system of symbols which acts to establish powerful, pervasive, and long-lasting moods and motivations in men by formulating conceptions of a general order of existence and clothing these conceptions with such an aura of factuality that the moods and motivations seem uniquely realistic.” –Clifford Geertz, Religion as a Cultural System). Over a decade invested in the anthropological study of Judaism frames the above debate. Any anthropological text on the subject will support it.
______
My cognitive dissonance began with a religious issue and grew into an anthropological one. As an anthropologist, I find revisionism intriguing, but as a historian, it is the bane of my academic existence. Judaism is a religion plagued with revisionism. I did come across the Reconstructionist movement as well as Jewish Renewal (two sides of the same coin, and both necessary studies in my field), but I found them to be filled with apologists who tried desperately to make Judaism work within a framework of modern scientific understanding while still clinging tightly to the husk of revisionist history dying in their arms. They didn’t serve to assuage my discomfort any more than Orthodox, Conservative, or Reform.
I saw Canaanite religion, the religion of Judahites and Israelites before the advent of Judahite and Judaean religious reforms, to just be more honest to me. I could forget about the fallacies and revisionism that plague Jewish thought and deal with the gods of Canaan as they were, not as rabbis had restructured them.
________
A side note:
As an anthropologist, I do wish that people would refrain from using phrases like “The same is true today in some Arab countries that have only one foot in modernity.” It rings of a cultural elitism and imperialism that is all too common among Westerners and has no place in an academic discussion.
In college, I hung out with more Jews than not–no proselytizing, better humour, and I was comfortable among the folks in the Hebrew section of the language dorm I lived in. A number of us combined to rent a room at SF conventions, too.
I’ve been to a few seders and Passover dinners, then and since. In addition to Deborah, I’ve met several Jewitches.
When songs and hymns and chants are derived from Protestant practice, I am confused, having been reared Catholic, without those pieces. It’s assumed everyone knows them, but I don’t, and I suppose most Jewitches do not, either.