Byline: Ben Leyland

A long time in China

A model of the Kaifeng synagogue at an exhibit at the Diaspora Museum in Tel Aviv in 2011. (photo by Sodabottle via commons.wikimedia.org)

With the Chinese New Year taking place next week, it is an appropriate time to reflect on the close and positive relationship between Jewish and Chinese peoples, which reaches back almost 2,000 years.

It might be simplest to begin with the fall of Jerusalem to the Romans in the year 70 of the Common Era. This was the climax of the first of three Jewish-Roman wars that would take place over the first and second centuries. The net result of these conflicts was the deaths of hundreds of thousands of Jews, the enslavement of many others, and those who managed to escape such tragedies fled as refugees. This scattering of Jews across the world we call the Diaspora ultimately resulted in the formation of the various communities we are familiar with today, such as the Ashkenazi, Sephardi and Mizrahi Jews. But there was a smaller, lesser-known Diaspora community that settled in China.

Between 206 BCE and 220 CE, China was ruled by the Han Dynasty. The Han established a vast international trading network that came to be known as the Silk Road. According to the oral history of the Chinese Jews, their ancestors first settled in China during the late Han Dynasty. Such a period would correspond with the Diaspora that followed the Jewish-Roman wars.

After the collapse of the Han Dynasty, the Silk Road trading network collapsed, but was reestablished in 639 CE during the Tang Dynasty. The Silk Road interconnected Tang Dynasty China with the wealthy states of India, East and North Africa, across Asia and into Europe. During the Medieval period, many Jews made their living as merchants. At this time, Christians and Muslims refused to trade directly with each other, and Jews earned great profits acting as intermediaries.

Many Jews traded along the Silk Road, the most prominent group of whom were the Radhanites, who inevitably found themselves in China. It is during this period that the first document indicating the presence of Jews in China has been found. It describes how a rebel leader executed foreign merchants and Jewish residents in the city of Guangzhou. Discovered at an important stop along the Silk Road in northwest China, the document dating to some point around the eighth or ninth centuries was written in a Jewish-Persian script on paper, which at the time would have only been available in China. Some historians have suggested that the Radhanites were responsible for bringing Chinese paper technology to Europe, although this theory is contested. The presence of Jews in Guangzhou at this time should not be surprising, considering it was an important port city linking Chinese and Middle Eastern trade. Guangzhou has one of the oldest mosques in the world and, at the beginning of the ninth century, may have had a population of as many as 100,000 foreigners.

In 908 CE, the Tang Dynasty fell, the Silk Road trading network again collapsed for several centuries and the prominence of the Radhanites declined. But this did not mean the end of the Jewish presence in China. Between 960 and 1279 CE, China was ruled by the innovative and prosperous Song Dynasty, with their capital city at Kaifeng. Kaifeng has been described as the New York of its day. It was a massive cosmopolitan city, a centre of global trade and the largest city in the world, reaching a population of 1.5 million people.

Though Jews would settle in other cities, such as Hangzhou, Ningbo, Ningxia and Yangzhou, most were in Kaifeng, and it became the centre of Chinese Jewry. The first synagogue was built in Kaifeng in 1163 CE. It was made of wood, in a Chinese architectural style. It would be destroyed and rebuilt many times throughout its history. The Jews of Kaifeng were held in high esteem by the Song emperors, and went on to pursue successful careers not only as merchants, but as court officials, scholars and soldiers. There is still a Kaifeng Jewish community today.

In the early 12th century, the first Jin emperor, Wanyan Aguda, unified the Jurchen, a group of tribal peoples living in Manchuria. The Jurchen waged war against the Song Dynasty and, in 1127, Jurchen forces conquered Kaifeng, an event that has come to be known as the Jinkang Incident. After this battle, the Song capital was moved south to Hangzhou, and many of the Kaifeng Jews accompanied the Song rulers in their migration. Nevertheless, there were some who stayed in Kaifeng. The Jurchen established the Jin Dynasty, and continued to wage war against the Song Dynasty for more than 100 years. Eventually, both the Jin and the Song were conquered by the Mongols in the 13th century.

In 1232, the Mongols besieged Kaifeng. During the conflict, the Jin used rockets against the Mongol invaders, which is the first use of rockets in warfare in recorded history; a technology all-too-familiar to the modern residents of Israel. In the mid-14th century, the Mongol rulers of China established the Yuan Dynasty, with their capital in Beijing. When Marco Polo traveled to Beijing in 1266, he wrote about the importance of Jewish merchants there.

In 1276, the Mongols conquered the Song capital of Hangzhou. In 1280, the Mongol emperor, Kublai Khan, issued a decree banning Jews from kosher practices and circumcision. Yuan Dynasty documents written in 1329 and 1354 issue a request of Jewish residents in China to go to Beijing to pay taxes. Though many atrocities occurred during the Mongol invasions, their rule was nevertheless marked by flourishing trade and the Jewish communities of China persisted.

At the site of the synagogue in Kaifeng, several stone steles have been recovered. The oldest, written in 1489, commemorates the construction of the synagogue in 1163. It describes how the Jews first entered China during the late Han Dynasty, and the Jinkang Incident, including how many of the Jewish population of Kaifeng fled to Hangzhou. Also inscribed on this stele were the following words: “The Confucian religion and this religion agree on essential points and differ in secondary ones.”

A second stone stele was made in 1512, which describes Jewish religious practices, which is fascinating considering it is written in Chinese. In 1642, a third stele commemorated the reconstruction of the synagogue in Kaifeng after it was destroyed by a flood. The synagogue was destroyed again by a flood in 1841, but was not rebuilt. This is likely due to the sociopolitical turmoil occurring in China at the time. It is interesting to note that, while Jews were persecuted, rejected and alienated by the nations of Europe, they were accepted and assimilated into Chinese culture.

During the 19th and early 20th centuries, persecution of Jews in Europe began again on a massive scale. The worst events of these times were the many pogroms in the Russian Empire, where hundreds of thousands of Jews were murdered, raped, robbed. Many Jews were forced to flee as refugees, some migrating to North America, some to Palestine, and some to China. The Russian Revolution in 1917 resulted in the deaths of around 250,000 Jews, and the orphaning of around 300,000 Jewish children. Many Russian Jews fled to the city of Harbin, in Manchuria, whose Jewish population reached 20,000. However, when the Japanese annexed Manchuria in 1931, many among that population left for Shanghai, Tianjin or Palestine.

Many Chinese intellectuals understood the plight of the Jewish people, and compared it to their own. The Chinese Nationalist and founder of the Republic of China, Dr. Sun Yat-sen, made the following comparison: “Though their country was destroyed, the Jewish nation has existed to this day…. Zionism is one of the greatest movements of the present time. All lovers of democracy cannot help but support wholeheartedly and welcome with enthusiasm the movement to restore your wonderful and historic nation, which has contributed so much to the civilization of the world and which rightfully deserves an honorable place in the family of nations.”

During the course of the Second World War, the Jewish population in China would swell to 40,000, many of whom resided in Shanghai. A number of Chinese diplomats helped smuggle in Jews using special protective passports. One such hero, a Chinese diplomat working in Vienna named Ho Feng Shan, helped Jews from Nazi-occupied Europe get to China, ultimately saving around 3,000 lives. Ho Feng Shan was posthumously awarded the title Righteous Among Nations by Yad Vashem in 2001.

photo - A plaque erected at Shanghai Jewish Refugees Museum and Ohel Moishe Synagogue in China in honor of the late Chinese diplomat Ho Feng Shan (1901-1997) who saved thousands of Jews between 1938 and 1940
A plaque erected at Shanghai Jewish Refugees Museum and Ohel Moishe Synagogue in China in honor of the late Chinese diplomat Ho Feng Shan (1901-1997) who saved thousands of Jews between 1938 and 1940. (photo by Harvey Barrison via commons.wikimedia.org)

In 1943, the Japanese forced the 20,000 Jews living in Shanghai into a ghetto that was around one square kilometre in size, with conditions described as squalid, impoverished and overcrowded. The Shanghai ghetto was also inhabited by some 100,000 Chinese residents.

The Nazis pressured the Japanese to execute the 40,000 Jews living in China, but the Japanese purposefully delayed the planned atrocity, ultimately saving the Jews’ lives. When the Japanese military governor of Shanghai informed the leaders of the Jewish community of the planned execution and asked them why the Germans hated them, one rabbi responded by saying “because we are short and dark-haired,” a reply that allegedly caused a smile to appear on the serious face of the governor. After the war, most of the Jews in China migrated to the newly formed state of Israel.

Ben Leyland is an Israeli-Canadian writer, and resident of Vancouver.

A friend on our long journey

The close relationship humans share with yeast is truly ancient, and predates humanity itself. (photo by Lilly M via commons.wikimedia.org)

During the holiday of Passover, we are told not to eat leavened bread (chametz). The leavening of bread is caused by yeast, a single-celled fungus. The yeast induce a chemical reaction called fermentation, which converts water and sugar into alcohol and carbon dioxide. The bubbles of carbon dioxide gas produced during this reaction cause the bread to rise and become porous, ultimately resulting in delicious fluffy bread. The close relationship humans share with yeast is truly ancient, and predates humanity itself.

Since fungi lack mobility, it had often been assumed that they were more plant-like than animal-like. But genetic studies in the 1990s revealed that fungi are actually more closely related to animals than to plants. The common ancestor that animals and fungi share would have probably been single-celled, and resembled in many ways our friend the yeast. So we can consider them very distant cousins (not invited to the Passover seder).

Fruit are an important part of the diet of all apes, including humans and their ancestors. A ripe sweet juicy fruit is full of sugar and water, the key ingredients for fermentation. There are many different varieties of yeast that are found commonly all over the world, on the human body, in the soil, and often on the skin of fruits. Fermentation of ripe fruits due to the presence of such yeast is common in nature, and would have inevitably been eaten by the ancestors of humanity for millions of years. Primatologists have observed various species of monkeys getting drunk off such naturally fermented fruit. To explain this puzzling phenomenon, biologist Robert Dudley at University of California-Berkley formulated the “drunken monkey” hypothesis. Fruit evolved as a means for plants to use animals as a method of seed dispersal; however, if the fruit rots before it gets eaten, the seed doesn’t get dispersed. Alcohol is a volatile molecule, which means it floats around the air very easily. If a fruit begins to ferment, the alcohol molecules spread much further and faster than the smell of the fruit would on its own. Animals, such as monkeys and apes, can, therefore, smell from a greater distance that there is delicious fruit, helping them find and eat the fruits, and thus helping to disperse the seeds of the plant. It is an evolutionary relationship that benefits the plant, the yeast and the animal, a win-win-win scenario.

Moderate consumption of alcohol is in fact healthy and nutritional. Alcohol contains more calories than either carbohydrates (sugar) or proteins. Let us remember that calories were integral to survival before the obesity epidemic of the modern age. Alcohol can also protect against many diseases, especially cardiovascular diseases. Studies have even shown that people who consume alcohol in moderation live longer than those who don’t. Despite the many dangers associated with excessive alcohol consumption, the low doses normally consumed in nature ultimately may have provided a survival advantage to the ancestors of humanity.

The first civilizations arose in part due to intensive cereal agriculture. These cereals were used to make bread and beer. In Mesoamerica, they made a beer from corn, in China with rice and, in Mesopotamia and Egypt, they used barley and wheat to make beer and bread. These innovations that played an integral role in the building of civilization were thanks to yeast. The first writing system ever developed was Cuneiform, in Mesopotamia during the third millennium BCE. Among the first written records in history are references to the production, distribution and consumption of beer. Some scholars suspect that the Jews acquired this beer brewing knowledge during their exile in Babylon. The Hebrew word for drunk, shikur, is thought to be derived from the Babylonian word for beer, shikaru. However, if the story of Passover is to be believed, then perhaps the ancient Israelites brought the knowledge for beer making from Egypt.

Wine, an essential component of any decent Passover seder, also has an ancient history. The earliest evidence for intensive wine production can be found at the archeological site of Hajji Firuz Tepe in modern-day Iran, which has been dated to sometime around 5400 BCE. Genetic analysis corroborates that strains of wine yeast originated in Mesopotamia, but put the date back 10,000 years ago. Some archeologists have speculated that the strains of yeast used for making bread and beer originated from wine yeasts, however the evidence for this remains contentious. Wine and beer were both produced in Egypt, and were important culturally, religiously and medicinally, and Egyptians would bury jars of wine in the tombs of the pharaohs. Analysis of DNA found inside ancient Egyptian wine jars from the tomb of a pharaoh from 3000 BCE identified the same species of yeast used to make wine today: Saccharomyces cerevisiae.

If there were indeed Jewish slaves in Egypt, they would have eaten bread and drank beer and wine, leavened and fermented by the same fungus that we use to leaven bread and ferment wine today; a little old friend that has joined us on our long journey through the vast deserts of time. L’chayim.

Ben Leyland is an Israeli-Canadian writer, and resident of Vancouver.

Menorah’s ultimate fate?

The Arch of Titus remains standing in Rome today. Built in 81 CE, it depicts the triumphal procession of enslaved Jews and Temple spoils, including the Menorah, whose ultimate fate is unknown. (photo by Basya Laye)

Sixty-thousand heavily armed, well-trained and experienced soldiers of the most militarily mighty imperial power in the world are marching on Israel. The soldiers are being led by the Roman general Vespasian and his son Titus. The first Jewish revolt against Rome, that began in 66 CE, is doomed. One of the high priests of the Holy Temple, Josephus, has been assigned as general, tasked with defending the Galilee. But after the city of Jotapata is besieged, Josephus defects to the Roman camp. He prophesizes that Vespasian will one day become emperor and, for that, his life is spared.

While the Jewish-Roman war rages on for several years, the Roman emperor Nero dies, causing a struggle for succession. As Vespasian departs for Rome to become emperor and quell the political instability of the empire, he leaves his son Titus in charge of the war with the Jews. Though vilified as a coward and a traitor to his people, Josephus chronicles the war and the history of these Jews, preserving the tragic story of the fall of Jerusalem in the only reliable contemporary historical account. This is the story of the Temple Menorah; it is the story of symbols and tragedy. This is the story of the Jews.

In the year 70 CE, general Titus succeeded in sacking the city of Jerusalem, and looted the sacred treasures of the Holy Temple, burning it to the ground. The looted treasures were sent to Rome, paraded through the streets during the triumphal victory parade of Titus. Among those treasures was the giant solid gold Menorah. The triumphal procession was described in the writings of Josephus, and immortalized in bas relief on the inner walls of the enormous triumphal Arch of Titus, which still stands today in Rome.

The fall of Jerusalem was a devastating blow to the Jewish people, and was one of the most monumental and defining moments in Jewish history. It is perhaps somewhat fitting that this event is commemorated in such a monumental form. The menorah depicted on the Arch of Titus is one of the first such artistic depictions of the Menorah, and certainly the most famous. It would have had a great influence on later depictions of menorot, and was the inspiration for the menorah now on the coat of arms of the modern state of Israel.

The Jewish-Roman war of the first century, and the Bar Kokhva revolt of the second century, resulted in large populations of Jewish refugees that were forced to flee their homeland. Many Jews settled in Diaspora communities throughout the Roman Empire. Though they were unable to return to their homeland and rebuild their Holy Temple in Jerusalem, the Jews vehemently clung to their cultural identity with a stubbornness that can only be described as chutzpah. They continued to practise their faith personally, and constructed smaller community temples, synagogues. Throughout the Roman Empire, archeologists have found depictions of menorot, often engraved on stone plaques in early synagogues, or at Jewish burial sites. There are even Jewish catacombs in Rome, where Roman-style sarcophagi bear an image of a menorah where one would expect to find the image of a Roman deity. Between the second and seventh centuries, synagogues have been uncovered at many places such as Stobi in Macedonia and Sardis in Turkey, and catacombs in such places as Aphrodisias and Tripoli in Turkey, in Sicily, and even at Melite, a now ruined Roman city on the island of Malta, all with depictions of menorot. The menorah had originally been a holy object and religious symbol, but it underwent a metamorphosis, and became something more. The Temple Menorah was stolen and, in a way, it, too, was forced into Diaspora. It thus became a symbol of the tragedy that befell the Jewish people, and the dream of a free and independent Jewish state.

Four years after the conquest of Jerusalem, construction in Rome of Vespasian’s Temple of Peace was completed. This “temple” displayed all the treasures and holy relics of the various peoples and nations conquered by Rome, and might more aptly be named a museum of appropriation. 

Four years after the conquest of Jerusalem, construction in Rome of Vespasian’s Temple of Peace was completed. This “temple” displayed all the treasures and holy relics of the various peoples and nations conquered by Rome, and might more aptly be named a museum of appropriation. The Menorah and other Jerusalem Temple treasures were housed in the Temple of Peace. In fact, there was also a second Jewish temple in the Egyptian city of Leontopolis, with its own distinct menorah, which Josephus describes as having been hung on golden chains. The temple in Leontopolis was shut down by Vespasian, and its relics were also displayed at the Temple of Peace. Written records indicate that when the Vandals sacked Rome in 455 CE, King Geiseric shipped the treasures of the Temple of Peace to Carthage. The Vandals were later defeated by the Byzantine emperor Justinian in early sixth century CE. The historian Prokopios of Caesarea records that the Temple treasures were then moved to the Hippodrome in Constantinople for the triumphal celebration, before being sent to churches in Jerusalem. Though there are no written records of the location of the Menorah after this time, the region enjoyed relative stability until the seventh century, and it is safe to assume nothing happened to the Menorah until then.

Though the Jewish population of Israel had been significantly reduced after the Bar Kokhva revolt, it was not completely eliminated. Many Jews still resided in the Galilee and Jerusalem, during which time the Talmud and Mishnah were written. But it was life under Roman/Byzantine hegemony, and Jews longed to regain their independence and rebuild the Holy Temple. Around this time, the Byzantine and Persian empires were more or less continuously at war, a century-spanning rivalry that ultimately led to their bankruptcy and mutual destruction during the Muslim conquests.

The Menorah may have been melted down for its gold, or secreted away to some safe cavern, or taken off as loot, but nobody really knows what happened to it.

During the seventh century, the Persian emperor Khosrau II began a successful campaign against the Byzantines, conquering much of their territory in the Middle East. The Jews allied themselves with Khosrau II and, together, they won back the land of Israel from the Romans and established an autonomous Jewish province in the Persian Empire. However, this new Zion was short-lived. In that same century, the Byzantine emperor Heraclius re-conquered the region and, because of what was considered the Jewish betrayal, began to ethnically cleanse the area of Jews. During this tumultuous period in history, Jerusalem was besieged several times, churches and temples were burnt to the ground, Jews massacred Christians, Christians massacred Jews; the Temple Mount was a pile of rubble, stained with the blood of tens of thousands. It is during this period that the Menorah likely vanished completely from history. The Menorah may have been melted down for its gold, or secreted away to some safe cavern, or taken off as loot, but nobody really knows what happened to it.

Pope Felix IV converted the former Temple of Peace in Rome into a Catholic basilica in the sixth century CE, about 70 years after the sacking by the Vandals. Felix IV may have been motivated by the sacred association it may have held for having housed the Temple treasures, and which had been visited by Jewish pilgrims for this very reason. Some believe that the Catholic Church inherited the treasures of Rome, and that the Menorah is currently housed in storerooms of the Vatican. In the late 11th century CE, the clergy of San Giovanni Laterano (in Rome) claimed possession of the Temple treasures, though that claim is unsubstantiated. Allegedly, Shimon Shetreet, Israel’s minister of religious affairs in the mid-1990s, asked Pope John Paul II for assistance in researching the location of the Menorah, a question that was followed by “a tense silence that hovered over the room.” There are many other rumors related to the possible possession of the Menorah by the Vatican, however such musings are pure speculation, and it’s most likely that it was destroyed during the seventh century. In short, its ultimate fate remains a mystery.

Ben Leyland is an Israeli-Canadian writer and resident of Vancouver. This article is the third of a short series examining the menorah.

Precursors to menorah are many

A menorah-like drawing from Kuntillet Ajrud. Source: “The Asherah, the Menorah and the Sacred Tree” by J. E. Taylor, Journal for the Study of the Old Testament (1995).

Though the religious symbolism of the menorah is consistent with Jewish mythology and ideology, the archeological record suggests that the significance of this symbol was influenced by surrounding religions of the region, which would have been preceded the conception of the menorah. For instance, lamps from the Middle Bronze Age composed of a bowl with seven sprouts for wicks on the rim have been found in Israel at Ta’anach and Nahariya. Such findings suggest that the precedent for a seven-branched oil lamp would have existed in the region.

Tree worship is common in religions throughout the world, and may have held particular significance in the Middle East due to their limited distribution. It’s not difficult to imagine, in a region constrained by water resources, the presence of a tree would indicate the presence of water and food, and would thus come to symbolize life. Furthermore, the generation-spanning longevity of trees, and their seasonal “rebirth” would perhaps lead some to associate trees with immortality. In fact, there is evidence to suggest that the Tree of Life, which Jews are familiar with from the story of the Garden of Eden, is based on a Mesopotamian religious myth.

Mesopotamian depictions of the Tree of Life resemble the menorah, leading many scholars to speculate that the design of the menorah was influenced by Mesopotamian iconography. The Mesopotamians believed that the Tree of Life grew on a cosmic mountain; similarly, the branching menorah arises from a clearly defined base. The image of a tree on a mountain is also featured in the Hebrew flood myth (which may borrow heavily from Sumerian mythology), in which Noah’s dove retrieved an olive branch from a tree on a sacred mountain. We grant special significance to the central lamp on the menorah, which we call the shamash. Interestingly, Shamash is also the name of the Mesopotamian sun god. These are more than mere coincidences; these are evidence of cultural influence.

Ancient Semitic peoples, who lived in what is now modern-day Israel, Syria and Iraq, had a pantheon that included a goddess called Asherah, or sometimes called Athirat or Elat. Asherah was a fertility goddess, and believed to be the mother of the gods. Asherah is described in cuneiform documents from the first Babylonian dynasty as the bride of the king of heaven, and a mistress of sexual vigor and rejoicing. An Ugaritic text found at Ras Shamra, Syria, describes Asherah as the bride of El, creator of the world. Asherah was often depicted as a tree, usually with an ibex on either side. For example, a pitcher dated to the 13th century BC found at the archeological site of Tel Lachish in Israel bears a stylized depiction of a tree reminiscent of the menorah, with an inscription dedicated to the goddess Asherah. At an archeological site in the Sinai called Kuntillet Ajrud, a drawing was found of a lion with a menorah-like tree with ibexes on either side of it, bearing the inscription “Yahweh of Samaria and his asherah.”

An asherah is something described in both the mishnah and Babylonian Talmud as a sacred tree. Some scholars speculate that an asherah was a living, pruned sacred tree used during Canaanite cultic practices. Recall that the original description of the menorah used the term almond. The biblical name for almond was luz, which is also the name of the site in the Tanach in last week’s parashah, where Jacob had a dream in which a ladder reached toward heaven (like the branches of a tree/menorah), and afterward he erected an altar and renamed the site “the House of God,” Beit El, now thought to be the site Bethel. Archeological excavations at Bethel reveal it was a Canaanite centre for worship of the goddess Asherah. Scholars speculate that there may have been a pruned almond tree used in cultic practices dedicated to the goddess, and the menorah is a symbol of that specific tree. The Latin name for almond trees, Amygdalus, is likely derived from a Semitic root word for “great mother”; Asherah was considered by the Canaanites to be the great mother of the gods. The blooming of almond trees precedes spring, and Asherah was a fertility goddess. Tu b’Shevat, which once involved the lighting of the menorah, celebrates the blooming of the almond trees.

image - A Hathor tree giving food and life to humans
A Hathor tree giving food and life to humans. Source: “The Lachish Ewer and the Asherah” by Ruth Hestrin, Israel Exploration Journal (1987).

Sacred trees are important in Egyptian mythology, too. The Egyptians also believed in a Tree of Life, the acacia tree, which was also associated with the goddess Iusaset, the grandmother of the gods. Iusaset wore a solar disk on her crown, which harkens the shamash as the crown of the menorah. There was also an Egyptian goddess called Hathor, who was often interchangeably represented as a sycamore tree. Hathor was a mother goddess, the “living soul of trees,” and could take the form of a lion. In Egyptian art, the Hathor tree would often be depicted giving life and food to humans. When Egypt occupied Canaan, the cult of Hathor became entrenched in the region, and Hathor began to be correlated with the goddess Asherah. Another name used to describe a Canaanite/Egyptian tree mother goddess was Qetesh. Plaques recovered at archeological sites in Israel and Egypt depict Qetesh with ibexes by her side, above a lion, wearing a Hathor wig. Perhaps it is no coincidence, either, that the Hebrew word for holy is kadosh.

At some point in history, the ancient Jews took the deeply religious symbolism that was already present in the region and amalgamated it into the abstracted form of the menorah. Do these pre-Judaic influences somehow invalidate our culture? To the contrary, the archeological record only confirms that the symbolism and mythology of our culture are truly ancient. More importantly, the ancient Israelites did not live in a vacuum. They lived in a complex and cosmopolitan world, much like today. We were not alone, we coexisted with other diverse peoples and ideologies. And, after Sumer and Babylon fell into ruin, when the Sphinx and Ozymandias lay buried in the sand, and the library of Alexandria burned to the ground, we continued to tell our stories. When we light the candles of our chanukiyot this holiday, we continue a legacy that is thousands of years old. And that is cause to celebrate.

Ben Leyland is an Israeli-Canadian writer, and resident of Vancouver. This article is the second of a short series examining the menorah.

The menorah: shining literal and figurative light

Many scholars believe that the menorah is a stylized version of a tree. The Knesset Menorah, pictured here, was built by Jewish sculptor Benno Elkan, and presented to Israel by the U.K. parliament in 1956. (photo from commons.wikimedia.org)

For the winter festival of Chanukah, we will all light the candles of our chanukiyot. A chanukiyah is a menorah with an additional two candles. The eight candles (not including the shamash), we are told, represent the miracle of Chanukah, in which the oil for the Temple menorah lasted for eight days following the Maccabean victory. But what of the menorah itself? From where does it derive its form, and what does it mean?

Many scholars believe that the menorah was a stylized version of a tree. This should seem quite obvious; it is, after all, a central trunk with branches. Indeed, when first mentioned in the Book of Exodus, it is described as having branches and cups like almonds, and bearing flowers.

Sacred trees play an important role in Jewish mythology, beginning with the Trees of Life and Knowledge in the Garden of Eden. The Tanach refers to trees or wood a total of 535 times, more than any other organism other than humans. Olive trees, for instance, were important not only biblically, but to the economy of ancient Israel. The menorah was lit with olive oil. Jeremiah metaphorically describes Israel itself as an olive tree: “The Lord called thy name, a green olive tree, fair, and of goodly fruit: with the noise of a great tumult He hath kindled fire upon it, and the branches of it are broken.” (Jeremiah 11:36)

Note in the preceding passage reference not only to a branching tree, but one crowned with fire. Taking Jeremiah’s image of the burning olive tree to be a menorah, one can then conclude that the menorah is a symbol of Israel. Not that it should necessarily be considered to specifically represent an olive tree per se. Different scholars have attributed it to various trees, like the almond tree, or tamarisk, or even a special species of sage indigenous to Israel that looks strikingly similar to the menorah, and may have been used as incense by the priests of the Temple.

Many Jewish holidays involve agricultural celebration with an emphasis on arboreal reverence. One such holiday, Tu b’Shevat, also called the New Year of the Trees, takes place in late winter/early spring, around the time of the blossoming of the almond trees. Depictions of menorot found archeologically would often be accompanied by other Jewish religious symbols, such as the etrog, lulav and shofar. Their use in the autumn harvest holiday of Sukkot is described in the Tanach as follows: “And you shall take on the first day the fruit of beautiful trees, branches of palm trees, and boughs of leafy trees and willows of the brook, and you shall rejoice before the Lord your God for seven days.” (Leviticus 23:40)

It should be noted the special religious significance placed upon trees and the number seven, both of which are embodied within the menorah itself. The holidays of Sukkot and Tu b’Shevat both would have once involved pilgrimage to the Temple in Jerusalem, and be celebrated with the lighting of the menorah. These associations clearly indicate that the menorah is not only a ritualistic object, but symbolic of holidays and celebrations, bringing light into people’s lives both literally and figuratively.

The lights of the menorah are thought to have had the power to ignite the soul. Its seven lamps could be representative of the seven days of Creation. When Adam and Eve were banished from the Garden of Eden, God created a magical fire to protect the way to the Tree of Life, which perhaps also has some significance to the symbolism of the fires atop the menorah “tree.” The prophet Zechariah supposedly had a vision in which God had seven eyes that wandered through heaven. Some scholars have speculated that the seven lights in that vision, and the seven lights of the menorah, are in fact symbolic of the seven planets of classical astronomy. Some rabbis believe that the shamash represents the sun, and the first day of Creation. In the story of Genesis, on the first day, God created light. The first verse of Genesis is, in fact, composed of seven words, in Hebrew, which translate as: “In the beginning God created the heaven and the earth.” (Genesis 1:1)

The early analytical psychologist Carl Jung noted that the menorah is a synthesis of the antagonistic symbols of the tree/growth from the earth and fire/the heavens, which combine to symbolize the growth of spiritual enlightenment. Jung hypothesized that the lights of the menorah were symbolic of the illumination of consciousness. The burning bush, the way God chose to reveal himself to Moses, is thus a symbol embodied within the form of the menorah as a symbol of revelation.

Ben Leyland is an Israeli-Canadian writer, and resident of Vancouver. This article is the first of a short series examining the menorah.

“Chad Gadya”: an ecologist’s favorite seder song

Passover is soon upon us, and many Jews will celebrate by singing rounds of their favorite classic Passover songs. “Chad Gadya” is a song that ensnares the singer in an increasingly complex chain of causality. Starting with one’s father who buys a goat that gets eaten by a cat that is bitten by a dog that is beaten by a stick, etc., etc. But “Chad Gadya” is not simply an incredibly fun shanty, it is also a great lesson in food chain ecology.

A food chain describes the complex interconnections that occur in nature from different organisms that eat each other. At the start are plants that absorb energy from the sun. The plants are then eaten by herbivores, that are then eaten by predators, that are then eaten by higher-level predators and so on. Each step up the food chain is called a trophic level, from the Greek word trophikos, meaning food.

One phenomenon documented by ecologists is called a trophic cascade. When you remove a key species from the food chain, say from the top, the effects will cascade down the food chain, affecting every organism along the way. One classic example involves the sea otter, a charismatic marine mammal that lived off the coasts of North America as far south as California. Unfortunately, the sea otter was once prized for its lovely fur and, by the early 20th century, they had become extinct south of Alaska.

Sea otters happen to eat a lot of sea urchins. Sea urchins eat a lot of kelp. When the sea otters disappeared, the effect cascaded down the food chain. Sea urchin populations skyrocketed, and began feasting on the kelp. Entire forests of kelp began to disappear, only to be replaced by barren underwater fields full of spiky urchins. This spelled trouble for the many fish and other animals that depended on the kelp forests for shelter and food. Bald eagles, for instance, would normally eat fish hiding in the kelp forests. Without those fish, the eagles had to search elsewhere for food.

Fortunately, sea otter hunting was banned, and populations from Alaska were shipped in. Those new immigrant sea otters have begun to repopulate our coasts, restoring the kelp forests and returning balance to the ecosystem.

Understanding how ecosystems work can be very helpful. For instance, in Israel, on Kibbutz Sde Eliyahu, they grow many useful crops, such as alfalfa and oats. But voles (a type of rodent) can be a huge pest problem. Thousands of burrow openings can accumulate per hectare, causing severe damage to their crops. Poisons are expensive, can be dangerous for consumption and for other animals, and are often ineffective anyway because more voles can just immigrate from nearby fields. Barn owls eat voles, but they only nest in pre-existing cavities, so farmers began putting up nesting boxes to encourage the owls. The strategy worked, the owls keep the voles under control, and they end up being more cost effective than poisons. Manipulating ecological systems for pest management in agriculture – known as biocontrol – is an increasingly common strategy used around the world to improve yields.

So, when sitting down for your Passover seder, eating your favorite foods, reclining and singing your beloved songs, take a moment to reflect on the complex chains of events that brought that food to your table.

Ben Leyland is an ecologist at Simon Fraser University, a musician and an Israeli-Canadian resident of Vancouver.