In a parallel universe (not too far from where I live,) there is a group of people who are like Jews, doing like-Jewish things, and living like-Jewish lives. It’s like looking into a mirror that’s a little off. It’s like Bizarro Jews. It would be like waking up in Australia when you think you’re in Canada: they speak the same language — but differently; they drive cars — but on the other side.
There are many groups of people who think that they are the real Jews and that we are the imposters. But they don’t keep Torah commandments or the Brit (covenant,) or do anything that Jews are meant to do. It’s like me saying I’m a mermaid, but I don’t believe in water, and also that fish don’t exist. This group, though, are actual contenders. The fact that they don’t call themselves Jews, but “Keepers of the Torah,” helps their case.
I am talking about the Samaritans. And recently I had a chance to visit them. What an honour.
I went with a friend, who had previously gone and visited their museum and ended up in a documentary about the community. We drove through Huwara on the way there and back, down a major street where speed bumps and crosswalks pop up without warning. He said that he would expect the next Intifada to start because of someone being run over at one of these unexpected crosswalks. Dark humour about a place that had been the site of attacks recently, and an attack the day after we were there.
The Samaritans have done the world a favour, and I bless them for that. Despite being of the same Abrahamic lineage as many of us, their faith has chosen a different holy site. Not Jerusalem, but Mount Gerizim, next to Har Bracha. The place where the Israelites were told by G-d, “I place before you a blessing and a curse. Choose the blessing. Choose life!” Hence the title of Mountain of Blessing. This happened long before our Mishkan was moved to Jerusalem and the Holy Temples built there. As a result, half of the Samaritan population lives on this mountain, and only Samaritans live there. They are happy, Jews, Christians, and Moslems are happy, and everybody is good. Thank you! (Another half of their Israeli population lives in Holon.)
Samaritans have the Torah just like Jews, but with a few (thousand) differences. The script is different — and they claim theirs is the original script, before the Hebrew letters developed to what we see today. (This is their title in Hebrew script: שומרונים. This is their title in Samaritan script: ࠔࠠࠌࠝࠓࠩࠉࠌ.)
There is a commandment for us to post a Biblical quote on all doorposts, about the oneness of Divinity. For Jews it’s called a Mezuzah, and it’s rolled into a scroll that’s placed diagonally on the right side of the door. For Samaritans, it’s above the door, and the words are written on a square so that you can read them before entering (presuming you can read Samaritan script.)
I went to visit them at a very special time of year. For us, it was a day before the full moon in the month of Iyyar, the month after Passover. But for them, who follow the moons and don’t print calendars in advance, and clearly have a different system of leap years, it was the month of Nissan, and the night of Passover. For us, sacrificing a lamb is something we are waiting for the Temple to be rebuilt before doing. But for them, it’s a very real practice, still done every year. They still have a Kohen Gadol, a High Priest. And even without a Temple, in an open space in their village, they carry out this ancient rite.
They have so many points on us.
We parked the rented car on Har Bracha and walked twenty minutes up the mountain to Gerizim, because a police car wouldn’t let us drive up the road. I saw a few people walk out their doors and head to the ceremony, always wearing white. Not fancy white like Jews on Shabbat, like a robe or dress. Some wore jogging pants, some had a logo or phrase on their hooded sweatshirt, but all in spotless white. It was very confusing for me. Also, everyone was wearing pants — not a single skirt or dress to be seen. Surprisingly well coordinated, but somewhat casual at the same time.
We got to the gates of what must have been their main square, and a crowd was outside looking in. Only Samaritans and guards could get inside. There were Israeli ambulances (Magen David Adom) and Muslim ambulances (Red Crescent) on standby. And IDF soldiers inside and out, so I assumed the ones who went inside were Samaritan IDF soldiers. There were bleachers on the far end, and a tent covering on one side. In front of me were round fire pits, holes in the ground across the lawn.
Standing on a ledge, into a microphone, and wearing blue (the colour of techelet,) their High Priest read what must be the text of the Hagaddah (book we read on Passover — but in Jewish tradition, at the home of every family.) After the reading was complete, the slaughtering of the lambs could commence.
On the other side of the ledge, the head of every household held a rope to a live sheep. At the appointed time, he slaughtered the sheep, knife to the neck in the painless way we have been commanded to do it.
This is what I was thinking: How could you risk killing your sheep at that moment, instead of bringing it already dead? What if you did it wrong and it couldn’t be ritually pure, and then your family had no sheep to eat? (Well, I guess you would just share in eating your neighbour’s family sheep.)
Also: Isn’t white a bad clothing choice when there’s blood everywhere?
To my surprise, people’s clothes didn’t get all bloody. Some of the men working wore rainboots, knowing they would be stepping in a pool of blood. (This is also described in the Talmud, I believe, that there was so much blood on sacrifice days.)
They have a custom of spreading a drop of blood on the forehead of the firstborn. I saw some people walk around with blood on their forehead, undisturbed; at least one person walked home (next door) to wipe it off; and I saw one person put blood on their own forehead.
There was no distinction between whether the firstborn was a woman or man, as I saw women with blood on their foreheads just as much as men. I also saw women walking around the firepits, including one with a baby in her arms. The entire atmosphere felt very calm and easy-going. Not panicked or solemn as I would expect a religious ceremony to be, with everybody needing to be in exactly the right place at all times.
There is a lot to describe about how the lambs were hung on hooks, with certain things removed, then salted, put on sticks, and eventually brought to a fire pit. Wool and organs were separated. Families were off to the side, hanging out together and eating other things while waiting patiently. After 8 pm, when most of the work was complete, non-Samaritans were allowed into the area.
It smelled like sheep and wool. The (Jewish) mayor of the area was there. The Samaritans were hanging out and didn’t seem to mind the tourists wandering about. There were Chassidic Jews there, taking it all in. A Christian woman from Vienna asked my friend and me: “Do you think G-d is pleased with this?”
“Yes,” I said. “It specifically says that G-d is pleased with the scent of these sacrifices.”
This is what the Torah asks us to do. Especially on Passover, when one of the three things we point out on the table is the paschal lamb, the Pesach offering. Our excuse is that we don’t have a Temple, so we can’t make sacrifices in any other place. And then we don’t build a Temple, probably because we’re scared that if we do, we won’t do it right. (At least, that’s what I would be scared of.)
But here is a people who don’t have a Temple, and who do it anyway. They have a High Priest, and know his lineage, and he conducts the ceremony.
It helps that this is on a small scale — it looks like 100 families, in a small space in a chill environment. If we Jews were to do this, it would be millions of people, and the Temple would probably be huge, and it would take ages to bring your cooked lamb back to your family far away.
But, still. We should be doing this.
I don’t know whether Samaritans are the “real Israelites,” and I don’t know whether that makes us not Israelites, or just a different sect. But it seems to me like they are doing what we have been commanded to do.
And we, for whatever myriad of reasons, are not.
A Different Kind of Passover
The Samaritans are fascinating - very interesting post.