Identity Theft Read online

  “We have always gotten along with our Muslim over-lords—at least in my lifetime. They haven’t persecuted us. In fact, my father Isaac and my older brother Michael fought valiantly with the Muslims to protect Jerusalem. Those Muslims are now dead—slaughtered one after another by the Crusaders as they broke into the city.

  “They arrived in early June and surrounded our walls. Jerusalem is an isolated city, barely protected by its ramparts and surrounded by mountainous deserts. Once they encompassed us, we knew it was only a matter of time before they would break through. We could get no food into the city and they poisoned our water supplies. In mid-June, as I was helping the fighters on the wall, we could see them, see their large banners with huge crosses on them. That is their symbol. It’s painted on their shields and sewn onto their tunics.

  “Finally, two days ago around midnight, just over a month after their arrival, they broke through our defenses and took the city. While some escaped, I don’t think there is a single living Muslim left in Jerusalem. As soon as they stormed through the gates, the Christians began to kill everyone around them, indiscriminately—men, women, and children, Jews and Muslims alike. There was blood everywhere. Bodies are stacked one upon another wherever you look. I have never seen anything like it—so much death. The stench is unbearable. People begged, they pleaded for their lives, but the Crusaders showed no mercy. The last image their victims saw was the vivid cross worn by their killers. It was as if these men were possessed.

  “Our family, along with about 1,000 other Jews, has taken refuge in the great synagogue. Actually, the Crusaders’ leader, Godfrey de Bouillon, drove us in here. This de Bouillon, it is said, is hoping to kill every Jew because he is convinced that every Jew is responsible for the death of Jesus. I don’t know much about the New Covenant, but I thought it was a book about love and forgiveness, not killing and murder. Did this Jesus go around butchering women and children as His so-called followers are doing? And what does a thirteen-year-old boy, just bar Mitzvah’d, have to do with the death of a Jew over 1,000 years ago?

  “Not that it matters what I think. Death has invaded our city. Hope is all but gone. They are mercilessly cruel. They have already murdered thousands of Jews throughout the city in the past twenty-four hours. We are the only ones left.

  “How could it be that less than a month ago I was celebrating my bar Mitzvah at the Western Wall of the Temple Mount? I never dreamt that I wouldn’t see my fourteenth birthday. Such a day it was, reading from the Torah and chanting the blessings. They told me I became a man that day. Little did I know how quickly that would be the truth. Instead of playing with my friends or helping my father in our shop, I was supplying arrows to fighters on the walls of Jerusalem, fighting for our lives and watching Crusader arrows fly back at us.

  “We had heard the stories of what they did in Europe. At first this was considered purely a war against the Muslims. But in Europe, greed and bloodlust perverted their cause. They reasoned, ‘Why wait until we get to Muslim territory, when there are Jews, Christ-killers, all throughout Europe?’ I overheard horrific tales coming from my parents—stories of rape and slaughter, stories of Jews being offered protection for money and then being killed by the very ones they’d paid!

  “Inside the synagogue, I huddle together with my sisters, younger brothers, and my parents. My older brother is dead. We were told he was killed yesterday, shortly after the Crusaders broke through. He was sixteen. Will I be next? I’m too young to die. What have we ever done to these people?

  “I will never grow up, never marry or be a parent. Today the Crusaders will kill me.

  “Smoke suddenly makes its presence felt. Both the smell and sight of sinister tendrils of grey smoke curling their way under the heavy locked doors relay the dire extremity of our situation.

  “HaShem! God!

  “Flames begin licking their way in through the barred windows. It is getting hotter. The godforsaken savages are going to burn us alive. Even over the screaming inside the synagogue, I can hear the Crusaders singing hymns to this Jesus Christ. What kind of religion is this? They are burning us to death and they sing of love? They have slaughtered nearly every human being in the city and they rejoice to the smell of burning flesh?

  “The people who are praying, now increase their supplication in fervency and volume. Others collapse in shock. All are in a state of panic. Some are screaming and beating on the door. Others seek to shelter their children from the smoke as most back away from the walls, which are becoming scorching hot. The flames are now clearly visible on every side. The realization that their families and little ones really are burning to death finally becomes an inescapable reality against a backdrop of voices singing Christ, We Adore Thee!

  “Incredibly, as the flames wrap themselves around rafters, which are beginning to collapse, and the intensifying heat causes some, mercifully, to succumb to smoke suffocation, the sound of these murderous Crusaders singing hymns to their Jesus Christ escalates.

  “Yet, they say this Jesus was a Jew.

  “It’s inconceivable! They are singing to a Jew while they burn us alive for being Jews!

  “HaShem! Where are You?”

  I was angry! “Ariel, how could this happen? This is so different from the first story. What changed? What happened to healing the sick and raising the dead to life? Now they are putting the living to death! Clearly Jesus is not telling them to murder in His name, for His cause! I don’t understand.”

  “David, it gets worse,” he put a comforting hand on my shoulder. “You will have to bear with not understanding for a bit longer. In time, all will be explained.” Once more the lights went out.

  Note

  * * *

  1. Religion hasn’t changed much in the past thousand years. Al Qaeda, Hamas, and other Islamic fundamentalist groups have sweetened the pot by throwing in seventy-two virgins for suicide bombers who die in the “line of duty.” Yet, they have only copied the manipulative tricks of the Roman Catholic Church. How easy it is to motivate a poor peasant to fight for you when you promise him Heaven. We know from history that many of the Crusaders raped, pillaged, and killed without mercy. And yet, Church leaders went outside of scriptural authority, guaranteeing these men a place with Yeshua.

  Chapter Four

  IMMERSION OR EXPULSION

  1496 CE, Tangier, Morocco

  * * *

  A young man is sitting in a chair.

  “My name is Christophe. At least that is my baptized name. I am a twenty-three-year-old Jewish man. Several years ago we had to make an extremely difficult decision as a family. The authorities told us that if we didn’t convert to Catholicism and join the Church, we would have to leave Spain.

  “We were Jews, but Spain was home. Many of my father’s friends had already joined the Church and been baptized. For a while they secretly continued to be our friends, but then, one by one, we ceased to see them.

  “Their children were not allowed to play with us anymore. It wasn’t their fault. Now that they had left Judaism, the Church forbade them to intermix with non-converted Jews—we were poison. The punishment, should they be caught, might well be death!

  “For many, many months my father wrestled with this decision. While many of his friends had already joined the Church and been baptized, many others had chosen to pack their bags and leave for other countries, such as Morocco to the south. However, they had to leave almost everything behind. Property was sold for a fraction of its worth. Jewelry was traded for food. We heard reports that some of our friends had been robbed and even killed on the way to their new life. My father did not want this for our family.

  “One evening, he sat us all down and explained that if we wanted to survive and maintain our current quality of life, we would have to play their game. He told us that we would be baptized as Catholics, but remain Jewish in our hearts. This is what many Jewish families had done.

  “We knew, and our tormentors knew as well, that this had nothing to do with religi
on; it was about politics. Spain was seeking to unify the country under Roman Catholicism. In fact, virtually all non-Catholics were suffering the same fate as we were.

  “When the day came, not only were we baptized, but my father had to read a public confession denouncing Judaism as a demonic religion. He promised never to celebrate any Jewish holiday or even associate with non-baptized Jews. We were told that if we ever returned to Judaism, in any form, we would face severe retribution from the Church. They could confiscate our property and expel us from Spain. Even death was on the table. This was one of the worst days of my life. I felt so sick and dirty. How could we have compromised to this extent, trading in our faith for acceptance?”

  This was how I felt. Although no one in twenty-first century America was threatening me with expulsion, I knew, like Christophe, that to become a Christian was to deny who I was. He continued.

  “We were called Conversos, new Christians, or the more derogatory title, Marranos—meaning ‘pigs’! Despite giving an appearance of welcoming us into the Church, they did all they could to humiliate us. It was clear that we would never be permitted to be one of them and yet we couldn’t be who we were. We were stuck somewhere in the middle of no-man’s land.

  “My father reminded us many times that we were still Jews and would always be Jews, but that we must be very careful. Everything had to be done in secret. Just a refusal to eat pork was considered sufficient reason to have a person arrested. We could trust no one, as the Church had its spies. Imagine that, a religious institution hiring people to spy on their subjects to ensure truly Catholic behavior. How could such a system claim to represent God? And how did they expect such coercion to spawn true devotion? Well, of course, they didn’t. This was all about Spain, not about religious devotion.

  “Outside the home we maintained the facade of being good Christians while inside the home we remained God-fearing Jews. We lived this way for many years and while I carried with me a permanent feeling of uneasy guilt, we were able to remain in Spain. All that came to a very abrupt end, however, when my father was finally arrested.

  “A friend came by to greet us on the Sabbath. Candles had been lit to welcome in the day of rest. We thought this friend could be trusted. In fact, he was a spy. In the beginning we had been much more careful—especially on Friday nights. Spies were encouraged to poke around the homes of Conversos on Erev Shabbat, Friday evenings, hoping to catch someone honoring the Fourth Commandment. Lighting Shabbat candles, saying the Jewish blessings, and singing the songs I grew up singing on Erev Shabbat were forbidden under the threat of death.

  “Tragically, we had grown careless; we’d relaxed our caution. Three days later they came for my father. He was arrested and brought before an inquisition. The Church then tortured him until he confessed to the wretched crime of lighting Sabbath candles.

  “My father was given a choice. He could repent of his deceit and take a part in a verguenza—a ‘shaming,’ in which he would be stripped to the waist in freezing temperatures (it was winter). He would then be paraded through the streets, led by monks and mocked by the crowds, suffering countless other indignities all along the way. The other option was to be burned at the stake.

  “We knew additional punishments would be imposed once my father accepted the verguenza. They would expect him to turn in other Conversos who were secretly living as Jews, but he had been humiliated enough. Hadn’t he already denied his faith, in public, for our protection? And now these Christians wanted to add insult to injury. No, it was too much. He would not!

  “When my father declared he would not recant, he was taken back into custody and sentenced by the religious magistrates, apparent followers of this Christ, to be burned alive. Yes, my father would be tied to a stake and endure the inconceivable agony of burning to death as the fire slowly, painfully, consumed him.

  “All this in the name of their religion!

  “When the day came, my family watched. We did not want him to die alone. This was it. The religious police were going to kill my father—take him from me because we lit candles. They brought him out with his hands bound behind his back. He was tied to a stake. He said not a word. Even when the flames engulfed him, burning his living body, he would not scream. He was telling us, without words, ‘Don’t give in…don’t compromise…be strong…’ and then, my father died.

  “After my father was murdered and all our property confiscated, we did what we should have done in the first place. We made the journey to Gibraltar and sailed on to Morocco, where we settled into a thriving Jewish community in the city of Tangier. I miss my father deeply and I will never forget his courage. I live to honor his memory and to honor Judaism, for which he laid down his life.

  “Oh, and by the way, please don’t call me Christophe. My name is Jacob.”

  “Ariel, I can’t handle much more of this. I studied the Inquisitions in college, but that was just words in a book. This is different. Those poor people! How could Christians act this way?”

  “Patience, David, patience.”

  At this point, my mind had ceased trying to determine whether I was imagining all this or really talking to an angel and traveling through time. My emotions were fully gripped by what I had just seen. All that we Jews had ever wanted was the freedom to make a life for ourselves, but it seems there was always someone seeking to prevent that and to persecute us. I thought, My God, Hitler didn’t have to look too far back in history to find a pretext for killing Jews. He needed only to look at the Church. And then it hit me.

  “No Ariel! I can’t! I won’t watch it! Take me back! It’s too much…”

  Chapter Five

  HORROR!

  The lights dimmed, but this time I wouldn’t watch. I sought to get up in order to escape and found that I couldn’t. I was literally glued to my seat. I yanked and jerked, but nothing worked. I was stuck there. Finally I resigned myself. On the screen were the words:

  1945 CE, Bergen-Belsen Concentration Camp

  * * *

  And a young boy began to tell his story of horror.

  “My name is Tuvia Lebowitz. I am sixteen years old. Today, I am free. But while my body is free my soul will ever be captive to memories and horrors too painful to utter. My mother is dead. My father is dead. My sisters may be dead. My little brother is dead. And I have not eaten a proper meal in five years.

  “It all began when I was ten years old. My father was a university professor. We lived a comfortable life and I was happy. My friends were Jewish and Polish, but over time fewer and fewer of my Polish friends were permitted to play with me. I was very sad about it and so were most of them. But one day one of those boys, Jacek, came up to me as I walked home from my violin lesson, and yelled, ‘You Jew! You killed Christ. You will also suffer!’

  “I had no idea what he was talking about, but the anger with which he said it sent a shiver up my spine like I had never known before. The coming years, however, would bring ample fulfillment of the premonition I felt in that moment.

  “The day came when all the Jews of Warsaw, nearly a third of the city’s population, were required to leave our homes and move inside an area that was smaller than two and a half percent of the city. Four hundred thousand people were living in an area that was designed for just over three thousand!

  “Once inside, no one was permitted to leave the ghetto, as it came to be called, without a work permit. And these were restricted mainly to older people. Fortunately, my father was one of the few to be granted one, although his status as a university professor was now relegated to factory worker.

  “Over time, food in the ghetto became scarce. We were surviving on fewer than 200 calories a day. My father would sell some of our possessions to keep us from starving. It wasn’t uncommon to see dead bodies on the streets. Some starved, others froze to death, and some just gave up. Hunger and disease were the two biggest killers. There were, of course, those who told us this would all pass, that we had simply to obey the rules and in time all would retu
rn to normal. They can’t kill all of us, they reasoned.

  “The day came when we were informed that trains were to transfer us out of the overcrowded ghetto. We were told that families were to be resettled in better areas in the countryside. It was a welcomed prospect and I hoped that we would be among those selected to leave this dirty, congested place for the country. But then rumors began to trickle in that the families who were leaving were not going to a better place, but to concentration camps where some were killed and others were forced to work for the Nazis. Many simply refused to give credence to these stories while the rest of us were terrified. But again, our leaders assured us that these were just rumors and everything would soon be all right.

  “And then our name was called—we would be going to the countryside. We took all our belongings, which weren’t many, and boarded a train. There were no seats like on the trains I used to love to ride when we traveled from Warsaw to visit my grandparents in Lodz. My grandparents? What had become of them?

  “We crowded into the cattle cars and just when I thought I had found a place to stand, I was shoved backward. The car was already full, but they just kept herding more and more people into the car. Where was my little brother?

  “The heat was simply unbearable and almost immediately, the complaining began: We are going to die in here. Move. I need more room. They might as well bury us in this train as we’ll never survive. I could hardly breathe, we were packed so tightly together. It was terrifying. After a few hours, people needed to relieve themselves and with no facilities, the stench was horrible. They had told us things would get better, but they only got worse. No one could have imagined that we’d be in that cattle car for four days without food or water. Sleep was nearly impossible, but after a couple of days you fell into a state of stupor where you could be asleep and awake at the same time. I would dream that I was back at home only to be jolted out of my fantasy, as someone would faint or cry out, returning me to this living nightmare.