The obscure origins of Yom Kippur
It is the holiest day in Judaism, yet its intent has markedly changed and its practice today is a far cry from the rites of ancient times.
By Elon Gilad | Sep. 30, 2014 | 10:47 AM

Orthodox Jews take part in a Tashlikh prayer, a Jewish New Year ritual, at Ashdod beach

A woman walks past Orthodox Jews taking part in a Tashlikh prayer, a Jewish New Year ritual, at Ashdod beach, Sept. 25, 2014. Photo by Ilan Assayag

Yom Kippur, the Day of Atonement, is by far the most widely observed of Jewish holidays and fast days.

It is a solemn day. The synagogues are packed with men and, usually in a separate section, women – often dressed in white, all praying that their sins be forgiven. Many of the worshipers wear Crocs, as leather shoes are not permitted.

Outside, children on bicycles race down the streets that in Israel at least, for this one holiest day of the year, are vacated by cars. Nothing but the odd ambulance or police car moves (except in mixed and Arab towns).

Yom Kippur in Israel is a special day indeed, but it is a far cry from the Day of Atonement of old.

Just when Yom Kippur began has been hotly debated by academics for over a century. The main question is whether it happened during the First Temple period. The evidence seems to indicate that it did not exist then.

Writing just after the First Temple was destroyed by the Babylonians, Ezekiel seems unaware of Yom Kippur. It is not on his list of holidays to be observed when the Temple would be rebuilt.

A rare relic from the First Temple period (found in the City of David, referring to Bethlehem). Photo by: Clara Amit, IAA
Neither does Zecharia seem to have any notion of it when he instructed the Jews returning from captivity on observation of fast days. When Ezra reads the Torah to the returning Jews on the first of Tishrei, they learned that they need to prepare for Sukkot, but Yom Kippur is not mentioned. This is only proof of omission, but it’s all we have.

Thus, it seems that the three biblical mentions of the Day of Atonement (Numbers 29:7-11, Leviticus 16:1-34, and Leviticus 23:26-32) were inserted by priests during the Second Temple period to validate new rites added to purify the Temple in advance of the most important holiday in the Jewish calendar at the time, Sukkot.

The priests of the Jerusalem Temple who inaugurated Yom Kippur seem to have had the 12-day Babylonian festival marking the new year, Akitu, in mind, particularly the fifth day of Akitu, which has some striking similarities to Yom Kippur that are unlikely to be coincidence.

That fifth day involved a purification ceremony called kuppuru, which involved dragging a dead ram through the temple, supposedly purifying it of impurities. Kuppuru and its Hebrew cognate kippur meant “to uncover” or specifically in this case “to remove impurity,” which means a better translation of Yom Kippur to English would be “Day of Purification.”

Preoccupation with sin

The purification of the Temple using an animal carcass was not the only similarity between Yom Kippur and the fifth day of Akitu. The two both share an occupation with sin, though they deal with it in a different way.

While in Jewish tradition, Yom Kippur is the only day the high priest enters the Holy of Holies, in the Babylonian tradition, the fifth day of Akitu was the only day the king enters the sanctuary of the god Marduk, accompanied by the high priest. Facing the statue of Marduk, the king would intone: “I have not sinned, O Lord of the universe, and I have not neglected your heavenly might.”

In the Jerusalem Temple on the other hand, no statement of good behavior was made. On the contrary, the high priest confessed to all the sins of the Jews in the presence of God, in a strange and ancient ceremony: “And Aaron shall lay both his hands upon the head of the live goat, and confess over him all the iniquities of the children of Israel, and all their transgressions, even all their sins; and he shall put them upon the head of the goat, and shall send him away by the hand of an appointed man into the wilderness.” (Leviticus 16:21)

The original scapegoat

The Temple priests, the Zadokites, saw themselves as descended from Aaron and backdated their legal prescriptions to him.

The practice of transferring the disfavor of a deity to an animal that is then removed from the community, what we call a “scapegoat” based on the biblical passage above, was common in the ancient Near East. It was probably practiced by at least some of the Hebrews from time immemorial long before incorporation into Yom Kippur ritual.

Slichot prayers at the Western Wall, ahead of Yom Kippur 2012. Photo by Michal Fattal
The earliest known reference to the practice was found in Ebla (in what is today war-torn Syria), in 1975, at a site archaeologists called “Palace G.” Among the texts found there dating from 2,400 to 2,300 BCE were two descriptions of a scapegoat ceremony, which are very similar to those found in the Jewish tradition. One reads: “We purge the mausoleum. Before the entry of Kura and Barama, a goat, a silver bracelet [hanging from the] goat’s neck, towards the steppe of Alini we let her go.”

An obscure origin for the fast

The biblical accounts of the Yom Kippur ceremonies are laconic. It is hard to know what exactly was done on that day. Even the act of fasting is not explicitly mentioned, just the phrase “ye shall afflict your souls,” which elsewhere in the Bible usually refers to fasting.

That is the only source for the most widely-practiced Yom Kippur tradition.

Thus to get a clearer view of what Yom Kippur was like in the Second Temple period we can only rely on the Mishnah, which was redacted over a century after the destruction of the Temple in 220 CE. Specifically, we should look in tractate Yoma, literally “The Day,” dedicated to Yom Kippur.

The Mishnah description – the first seven of eight Yoma chapters – is almost entirely about rites at the temple itself, nearly all officiated by the high priest himself. Only the eighth and final chapter deals with what everyone else is supposed to do on this holy day. Here is a summary of ancient Yom Kippur rites according to these chapters.

The High Priest’s rites

A week before Yom Kippur, the high priest would leave home and move into the Palhedrin Chamber in the Temple compound, where he would spend the week studying and practicing the rites he was to perform. On the night before Yom Kippur, he would stay up all night studying Torah, lest he sleep and have a “nightly emission” which would render him unclean and thus unfit to perform the ceremonies, dooming all of Israel.

In the morning, the high priest would immerse in a mikveh and adorn special golden clothes. He would then proceed to offer the normal daily sacrifice (the Tamid): A lamb doused with oil wine and flour would be burned on an altar. On all other days this would have been performed by a lower-ranking priest.

After the sacrifice, the priest would remove his golden garments, wash his hands and feet in a mikveh twice and don a set of special linen garments. He was now ready for the next stage.

Purifying blood

A bull bought with his own money would be brought in and the high priest would rest his hands on its head and confess his and his family’s sins before God, pronouncing his name, the Tetragrammaton.

Upon hearing God’s name, which in all other contexts was prohibited, the crowd would prostrate themselves. Then the high priest would kill the poor beast and its blood would be collected in a bowl for further use.

From the altar, the high priest would go to the Nikanor Gate in the eastern side of the temple, to which two goats had been led by priests. Pulling lots out of a box, the goats were randomly assigned to God and to Azazel, a slight corruption of the name of a wilderness demon. The one assigned to Azazel would be marked with a red string tied to its horns.

The next step was the trickiest. The high priest would carry glowing hot embers in a special shovel held using his armpit while his hands were full of incense. He would enter alone into the Holy of Holies, which was a large empty room only entered by the high priest and only on Yom Kippur, and place the shovel, embers and incense in its middle. He would wait for the room to fill with the aromatic smoke, then leave.

Once outside, he was handed the reserved bowl of bull’s blood and would enter again, this time flicking blood all over the room with his finger. He would leave the Holy of Holies and place the bowl with the remaining blood on a special stand at the entrance.

At this point the high priest would return to the Nikanor Gate, place his hands on the goat assigned to God and made a confession on behalf of the priestly class, once again pronouncing God’s holy name, at which point once again the crowd would prostrate themselves. Then he would kill the goat and its blood would be drained into a bowl.

This bowl of blood would be borne by the high priest to the Holy of Holies, where once again he would enter alone, sprinkle blood with his finger, exit and place the bowl on another stand.

Sanhedrin members preparing two sheep for sacrifice (2007). Photo by: Tomer Appelbaum
Standing between the two bowls of blood, the high priest would sprinkle their contents with his finger on the curtain obscuring the Holy of Hollies.

Next came purification of the golden incense altar. The high priest would pour the remaining goat blood into the bowl of bull blood. He would carry the blood mixture to the incense altar, and smear it with blood, then sprinkle some more.

This done, the high priest would return to the Nikanor Gate, place his hands on the head of the surviving goat and, pressing down, would confess the sins of all the People of Israel, once again pronouncing God’s name. During this, people in the crowd would make their own private confessions.

Sacrificing the scapegoat

Then the goat would be led into the wilderness by a specially appointed man, usually a priest, accompanied by the city’s dignitaries. Along the way they would stop at ten booths where food and drink were offered to the man, who would ritually decline.

At the tenth booth, the man and the goat would continue alone until reaching the top of a cliff in the Judean Hills. He would turn his back to the cliff, hoist the goat over his head and throw it down to its death.

While this was taking place, the high priest would disembowel the bodies of the bull and the goat. Once he was done the goat and bull would be taken to the Beit HaDeshen. Upon confirmation that the second goat was dead, the bull and goat carcasses would be burnt to ashes as the high priest exited the Nikanor Gate and entered the Women’s Courtyard, where he read the biblical passages describing the Yom Kippur sacrifices and rites.

After finished with this the high priest would make another wardrobe change, wash twice in a mikveh and put on another set of golden clothes. Once ready, he would go to the outer altar, where he would slaughter two rams and collect their blood into bowls, which he used to pour on the altar. Then he would disembowel the rams. Once this task was complete he would burn them on the altar, adding grain and wine.

Next up was the Musaf sacrifice, in which in a succession of animals were killed and burned: A bull, a deer, seven sheep, and yet another goat. Then the bowels of the bull and the goat from earlier in the day were burnt to ashes. After this, another ritual washing and change of clothes took place, and this time linen clothes were donned.

Now the high priest would return to the Holy of Holies and remove the shovel, embers, and incense. Then once again he would wash and change, into another set of golden clothes. Once dressed, he would sacrifice a lamb doused in flour and wine as a Tamid offering.

By this time it would be early afternoon and the day’s work was over. The dignitaries would retire to the high priest’s home, where they would celebrate with a feast.

As regards to everyone else, the Mishah says that people must abstain from food and drink, from anointing themselves with oil, wearing sandals, and sex. The young and infirm may eat and drink, it qualifies.

Elsewhere the Mishnah provides more detail what the people may do and may not: for example, if a person is buried by a landslide, one should check to see if he’s alive so he can be rescued. If he isn’t, the body must stay there until the next day.

Yoma ends with a discussion on whether all transgressions are remitted on Yom Kippur. It says that those transgressions carried out against other person’s are not, while those against God are. This is the origin of the tradition of asking your fellow man for forgiveness on the days leading up to Yom Kippur.

Naturally, once the Temple was destroyed by Titus in 70 CE, the main function of Yom Kippur, purifying the Temple in preparation for Sukkot, could not continue. Instead a new form of Yom Kippur formed over the centuries, centered on acknowledgement of wrongs, atonement – and praying for forgiveness in synagogues.

Segun tomado de, http://www.haaretz.com/jewish-world/high-holy-days-2014/high-holy-day-news-and-features/.premium-1.618194 el martes, 30 de sept. de 2014.

«NOSOTROS RECORDAMOS:
UNA REFLEXIÓN SOBRE AL SHOAH»

I. La tragedia de la «Shoah» y el deber de la memoria

Se está concluyendo rápidamente el siglo XX y ya despunta la aurora de un nuevo milenio cristiano. El bimilenario del nacimiento de Jesucristo impulsa a todos los cristianos, e invita en realidad a todo hombre y a toda mujer, a tratar de descubrir en el devenir de la historia los signos de la divina Providencia que actúa en ella, así como los modos en los que la imagen del Creador en el hombre ha sido ofendida y desfigurada.

Esta reflexión atañe a uno de los sectores principales en que los católicos pueden tomar seriamente en consideración la exhortación que dirigió Juan Pablo II en la carta apostólica Tertio millennio adveniente: «Es justo que, mientras el segundo milenio del cristianismo llega a su fin, la Iglesia asuma con una conciencia más viva el pecado de sus hijos, recordando todas las circunstancias en las que, a lo largo de la historia, se han alejado del espíritu de Cristo y de su Evangelio, ofreciendo al mundo, en vez del testimonio de una vida inspirada en los valores de la fe, el espectáculo de modos de pensar y actuar que eran verdaderas formas de antitestimonio y de escándalo»[1].

Este siglo ha sido testigo de una tragedia inefable, que nunca se podrá olvidar: el intento del régimen nazi de exterminar al pueblo judío, con el consiguiente asesinato de millones de judíos. Hombres y mujeres, ancianos y jóvenes, niños e infantes, sólo por su origen judío, fueron perseguidos y deportados. Algunos fueron asesinados inmediatamente; otros fueron humillados, maltratados, torturados y privados completamente de su dignidad humana y, finalmente, asesinados. Poquísimos de los que fueron internados en los campos de concentración pudieron sobrevivir, y los que lo lograron han quedado aterrorizados para el resto de su vida. Esa fue la Shoah: uno de los principales dramas de la historia de este siglo, un drama que nos afecta todavía hoy.

Frente a ese terrible genocidio, que los responsables de las naciones y las mismas comunidades judías encontraron difícil de creer cuando era cruelmente perpetrado, nadie puede quedar indiferente, y mucho menos la Iglesia, por sus vínculos tan estrechos de parentesco espiritual con el pueblo judío y por su recuerdo de las injusticias del pasado. La relación de la Iglesia con el pueblo judío es diferente de la que mantiene con cualquier otra religión[2]. Sin embargo, no se trata sólo de volver al pasado. El futuro común de judíos y cristianos exige que recordemos, porque «no hay futuro sin memoria»[3]. La historia misma es memoria futuri.

Al dirigir esta reflexión a nuestros hermanos y hermanas de la Iglesia católica esparcidos por el mundo, pedimos a todos los cristianos que se unan a nosotros para reflexionar en la catástrofe que se abatió sobre el pueblo judío, y en el imperativo moral de asegurar que nunca más el egoísmo y el odio puedan crecer hasta el punto de sembrar tal sufrimiento y muerte[4]. Especialmente, pedimos a nuestros amigos judíos, «cuyo terrible destino se ha convertido en símbolo de las aberraciones adonde puede llegar el hombre cuando se vuelve contra Dios»[5], que dispongan su corazón para escucharnos.

II. Lo que debemos recordar

El pueblo judío, al dar su singular testimonio del Santo de Israel y de la Torah, ha tenido que sufrir mucho en diversos tiempos y en numerosos lugares. Pero la Shoah fue, ciertamente, el peor sufrimiento de todos. La crueldad con que los judíos han sido perseguidos y asesinados en este siglo supera la capacidad de expresión de las palabras. Y todo ello se les hizo por el mero hecho de que eran judíos.

La misma magnitud del crimen suscita muchas preguntas. Historiadores, sociólogos, filósofos políticos, psicólogos y teólogos tratan de conocer más sobre la realidad y las causas de la Shoah. Quedan aún por hacer muchos estudios especializados. Pero ese acontecimiento no puede valorarse plenamente sólo con los criterios ordinarios de la investigación histórica, pues exige una «memoria moral y religiosa » y, especialmente entre los cristianos, una reflexión muy seria sobre las causas que lo provocaron.

El hecho de que la Shoah se haya producido en Europa, es decir, en países de una civilización cristiana de largo tiempo, plantea la cuestión de la relación entre la persecución nazi y las actitudes de los cristianos, a lo largo de los siglos, con respecto a los judíos.

III. Las relaciones entre judíos y cristianos

La historia de las relaciones entre judíos y cristianos es una historia tormentosa. Lo ha reconocido el Santo Padre Juan Pablo II en sus repetidos llamamientos a los católicos a examinar nuestra actitud en lo que atañe a nuestras relaciones con el pueblo judío[6]. En efecto, el balance de estas relaciones durante dos milenios ha sido, más bien, negativo[7].

En los albores del cristianismo, después de la crucifixión de Jesús, surgieron disputas entre la Iglesia primitiva y los judíos, jefes y pueblo, los cuales, por su adhesión a la Ley, a veces se opusieron violentamente a los predicadores del Evangelio y a los primeros cristianos. En el Imperio romano, que era pagano, los judíos estaban legalmente protegidos por los privilegios otorgados por el Emperador, y las autoridades al principio no hicieron distinción entre comunidades judías y cristianas. Sin embargo, pronto los cristianos fueron perseguidos por el Estado. Cuando, más tarde, incluso los emperadores se convirtieron al cristianismo, primero siguieron garantizando los privilegios de los judíos. Pero grupos de cristianos exaltados que asaltaban los templos paganos, hicieron en algunos casos lo mismo con las sinagogas, por influjo de ciertas interpretaciones erróneas del Nuevo Testamento relativas al pueblo judío en su conjunto. «En el mundo cristiano —no digo de parte de la Iglesia en cuanto tal— algunas interpretaciones erróneas e injustas del Nuevo Testamento con respecto al pueblo judío y a su supuesta culpabilidad han circulado durante demasiado tiempo, dando lugar a sentimientos de hostilidad en relación con ese pueblo»[8]. Esas interpretaciones del Nuevo Testamento fueron rechazadas, de forma total y definitiva, por el concilio Vaticano II[9].

No obstante la predicación cristiana del amor hacia todos, incluidos los enemigos, la mentalidad dominante a lo largo de los siglos perjudicó a las minorías y a los que, de algún modo, eran «diferentes». Sentimientos de antijudaísmo en algunos ambientes cristianos y la brecha existente entre la Iglesia y el pueblo judío llevaron a una discriminación generalizada, que desembocó a veces en expulsiones o en intentos de conversiones forzadas. En gran parte del mundo «cristiano», hasta finales del siglo XVIII, los no cristianos no siempre gozaron de un status jurídico plenamente reconocido. A pesar de ello, los judíos, extendidos por todo el mundo cristiano, conservaron sus tradiciones religiosas y sus costumbres propias. Por eso, fueron objeto de sospecha y desconfianza. En tiempos de crisis, como carestías, guerras, epidemias o tensiones sociales, la minoría judía fue a veces tomada como chivo expiatorio, y se convirtió así en víctima de violencia, saqueos e incluso matanzas.

Entre el final del siglo XVIII y el inicio del XIX, los judíos habían logrado, por lo general, una posición de igualdad con respecto a los demás ciudadanos en la mayoría de los Estados, y un buen número de ellos llegó a desempeñar funciones importantes en la sociedad. Pero en este mismo contexto histórico, especialmente en el siglo XIX, se desarrolló un nacionalismo exasperado y falso. En un clima de rápidos cambios sociales, los judíos fueron a menudo acusados de ejercer un influjo excesivo en relación con su número. Entonces comenzó a difundirse, con grados diversos, en la mayor parte de Europa, un antijudaísmo esencialmente más sociopolítico que religioso.

Durante el mismo período, comenzaron a surgir teorías que negaban la unidad de la raza humana, afirmando la diferencia originaria de las razas. En el siglo XX, el nacionalsocialismo en Alemania usó esas ideas como base pseudocientífica para una distinción entre las así llamadas razas nórdico-arias y supuestas razas inferiores. Además, la derrota de Alemania en 1918 y las condiciones humillantes que le impusieron los vencedores, impulsaron en ella una forma extremista de nacionalismo, con la consecuencia de que muchos vieron en el nacionalsocialismo una solución a los problemas del país y, por ello, colaboraron políticamente con ese movimiento.

La Iglesia en Alemania respondió condenando el racismo. Dicha condena se realizó por primera vez en la predicación de algunos miembros del clero, en la enseñanza pública de los obispos católicos y en los escritos de periodistas católicos. Ya en febrero y marzo de 1931, el cardenal Bertram de Breslavia, el cardenal Faulhaber y los obispos de Baviera, los obispos de la provincia de Colonia y los de la provincia de Friburgo publicaron sendas cartas pastorales que condenaban el nacionalsocialismo, con su idolatría de la raza y del Estado[10]. El mismo año 1933, en que el nacionalsocialismo alcanzó el poder, los famosos sermones de Adviento del cardenal Faulhaber, a los que no sólo asistieron católicos, sino también protestantes y judíos, tuvieron expresiones de claro rechazo de la propaganda nazi antisemita[11]. A raíz de la Noche de los cristales, Bernhard Lichtenberg, preboste de la catedral de Berlín, elevó oraciones públicas por los judíos; él mismo murió luego en Dachau y fue declarado beato.

También el Papa Pío XI condenó, de modo solemne, el racismo nazi en la encíclica Mit brennender Sorge[12], que se leyó en las iglesias de Alemania el domingo de Pasión del año 1937, iniciativa que provocó ataques y sanciones contra miembros del clero. El 6 de septiembre de 1938, dirigiéndose a un grupo de peregrinos belgas, Pío XI afirmó: «El antisemitismo es inaceptable. Espiritualmente todos somos semitas »[13]. Pío XII, desde su primera encíclica,Summi pontificatus[14], del 20 de octubre de 1939, puso en guardia contra las teorías que negaban la unidad de la raza humana y contra la divinización del Estado, que, según su previsión, llevarían a una verdadera «hora de las tinieblas»[15].

IV. Antisemitismo nazi y la «Shoah»

No se puede ignorar la diferencia que existe entre el antisemitismo, basado en teorías contrarias a la enseñanza constante de la Iglesia sobre la unidad del género humano y la igual dignidad de todas las razas y de todos los pueblos, y los sentimientos de sospecha y de hostilidad existentes desde siglos, que llamamos antijudaísmo, de los cuales, por desgracia, también son culpables los cristianos.

La ideología nacionalsocialista fue mucho más allá, en el sentido de que se negó a reconocer cualquier realidad trascendente como fuente de la vida y criterio del bien moral. En consecuencia, un grupo humano, y el Estado con el que se había identificado, se arrogó un valor absoluto y decidió borrar la existencia misma del pueblo judío, llamado a dar testimonio del único Dios y de la Ley de la Alianza. Desde el punto de vista teológico, no podemos ignorar el hecho de que no pocos afiliados al partido nazi no sólo mostraron aversión a la idea de una divina Providencia que actúa en la historia humana, sino que dieron prueba de un odio específico hacia Dios mismo. Lógicamente, esa actitud llevó también al rechazo del cristianismo y al deseo de ver destruida la Iglesia o, por lo menos, sometida a los intereses del Estado nazi.

Fue esa ideología extrema la que se convirtió en fundamento de las medidas tomadas, primero para expulsar a los judíos de sus casas y, luego, para exterminarlos. La Shoah fue obra de un típico régimen neopagano moderno. Su antisemitismo hundía sus raíces fuera del cristianismo y, al tratar de conseguir sus propios fines, no dudó en oponerse a la Iglesia, incluso persiguiendo a sus miembros.

Pero conviene preguntarse si la persecución del nazismo con respecto a los judíos no fue facilitada por los prejuicios antijudíos presentes en la mente y en el corazón de algunos cristianos. El sentimiento antijudío ¿hizo a los cristianos menos sensibles, o incluso indiferentes, ante las persecuciones desencadenadas contra los judíos por el nacionalsocialismo, cuando alcanzó el poder?

Cualquier respuesta a esta pregunta debe tener en cuenta que estamos tratando de la historia de actitudes y modos de pensar de gente sujeta a múltiples influjos. Más aún, muchos desconocían totalmente la «solución final» que estaba a punto de aplicarse contra todo un pueblo; otros tuvieron miedo por sí mismos y por sus seres queridos; algunos se aprovecharon de la situación; otros, por último, actuaron por envidia. La respuesta se ha de dar caso por caso y, para hacerlo, es necesario conocer cuáles fueron las motivaciones precisas de las personas en su situación específica.

Al inicio, los jefes del Tercer Reich querían expulsar a los judíos. Por desgracia, los Gobiernos de varios países occidentales de tradición cristiana, incluidos algunos de América del norte y del sur, dudaron mucho en abrir sus fronteras a los judíos perseguidos. Aunque no podían prever cuán lejos iban a llegar los líderes nazis en sus intenciones criminales, las autoridades de esas naciones conocían bien las dificultades y los peligros a que se hallaban expuestos los judíos que vivían en los territorios del Tercer Reich. En esas circunstancias, el cierre de las fronteras a la inmigración judía, sea que se debiera a la hostilidad o sospecha antijudía, o a cobardía y falta de clarividencia política, o a egoísmo nacional, constituye un grave peso de conciencia para dichas autoridades.

En los territorios donde el nazismo practicó la deportación de masas, la brutalidad que acompañó esos movimientos forzados de gente inerme debería haber llevado a sospechar lo peor. ¿Ofrecieron los cristianos toda asistencia posible a los perseguidos, y en particular a los judíos?

Muchos lo hicieron, pero otros no. No se debe olvidar a los que ayudaron a salvar al mayor número de judíos que les fue posible, hasta el punto de poner en peligro su vida. Durante la guerra, y también después, comunidades y personalidades judías expresaron su gratitud por lo que habían hecho en favor de ellos, incluso por lo que había hecho el Papa Pío XII, personalmente o a través de sus representantes, para salvar la vida a cientos de miles de judíos[16]. Por esa razón, muchos obispos, sacerdotes, religiosos y laicos fueron condecorados por el Estado de Israel.

A pesar de ello, como ha reconocido el Papa Juan Pablo II, al lado de esos valerosos hombres y mujeres, la resistencia espiritual y la acción concreta de otros cristianos no fueron las que se podía esperar de unos discípulos de Cristo. No podemos saber cuántos cristianos en países ocupados o gobernados por potencias nazis o por sus aliados constataron con horror la desaparición de sus vecinos judíos, pero no tuvieron la fuerza suficiente para elevar su voz de protesta. Para los cristianos este grave peso de conciencia de sus hermanos y hermanas durante la segunda guerra mundial debe ser una llamada al arrepentimiento[17].

Deploramos profundamente los errores y las culpas de esos hijos e hijas de la Iglesia. Hacemos nuestro lo que dijo el concilio Vaticano II en la declaración Nostra aetate, que afirma inequívocamente: «La Iglesia (…) recordando el patrimonio común con los judíos e impulsada no por razones políticas, sino por la religiosa caridad evangélica, deplora los odios, persecuciones y manifestaciones de antisemitismo de que han sido objeto los judíos de cualquier tiempo y por parte de cualquier persona»[18].

Recordamos y hacemos nuestro lo que afirmó el Papa Juan Pablo II, al dirigirse a los jefes de la comunidad judía de Estrasburgo en 1988: «Repito de nuevo, junto con vosotros, la más firme condena de todo antisemitismo y de todo racismo, opuestos a los principios del cristianismo»[19]. La Iglesia católica repudia, por consiguiente, toda persecución, en cualquier lugar y tiempo, perpetrada contra un pueblo o un grupo humano. Condena del modo más firme todas las formas de genocidio, así como las ideologías racistas que los han hecho posibles. Dirigiendo la mirada a este siglo, nos entristece profundamente la violencia que ha afectado a grupos enteros de pueblos y naciones. Recordamos, en particular, la matanza de los armenios, las innumerables víctimas en Ucrania durante la década de 1930, el genocidio de los gitanos, también fruto de ideas racistas, y tragedias semejantes ocurridas en América, en África y en los Balcanes. No olvidamos los millones de víctimas de la ideología totalitaria en la Unión Soviética, en China, en Camboya y en otros lugares. Y tampoco podemos olvidar el drama de Oriente Medio, cuyos aspectos son muy conocidos. Incluso mientras hacemos esta reflexión, «demasiados hombres son todavía víctimas de sus hermanos»[20].

V. Mirando juntos hacia un futuro común

Mirando hacia el futuro de las relaciones entre judíos y cristianos, en primer lugar pedimos a nuestros hermanos y hermanas católicos que tomen mayor conciencia de las raíces judías de su fe. Les pedimos que recuerden que Jesús era un descendiente de David; que del pueblo judío nacieron la Virgen María y los Apóstoles; que la Iglesia se alimenta de las raíces de aquel buen olivo en el que se injertaron luego las ramas del olivo silvestre de los gentiles (cf. Rm 11, 17-24); que los judíos son nuestros hermanos queridos y amados; y que, en cierto sentido, son realmente «nuestros hermanos mayores»[21].

Al final de este milenio, la Iglesia católica desea expresar su profundo pesar por las faltas de sus hijos e hijas en las diversas épocas. Se trata de un acto de arrepentimiento (teshuva), pues, como miembros de la Iglesia, compartimos tanto los pecados como los méritos de todos sus hijos. La Iglesia se acerca con profundo respeto y gran compasión a la experiencia del exterminio, la Shoah, que sufrió el pueblo judío durante la segunda guerra mundial. No se trata de meras palabras, sino de un compromiso vinculante. «Nos arriesgaríamos a hacer morir nuevamente a las víctimas de muertes atroces, si no sintiéramos pasión por la justicia y no nos comprometiéramos, cada uno según sus propias posibilidades, a lograr que el mal no prevalezca sobre el bien, como sucedió a millones de hijos del pueblo judío… La humanidad no puede permitir que todo eso suceda nuevamente»[22].

Pedimos a Dios que nuestro dolor por la tragedia que el pueblo judío ha sufrido en nuestro siglo lleve a nuevas relaciones con el pueblo judío. Deseamos transformar la conciencia de los pecados del pasado en un firme compromiso de construir un nuevo futuro, en el que no existan ya sentimientos antijudíos entre los cristianos o sentimientos anticristianos entre los judíos, sino más bien un respeto recíproco, como conviene a quienes adoran al único Creador y Señor, y tienen un padre común en la fe, Abraham. Invitamos, por último, a todos los hombres y mujeres de buena voluntad a reflexionar profundamente en el significado de la Shoah. Las víctimas, desde sus tumbas, y los supervivientes mediante su emotivo testimonio de lo que sufrieron, se han convertido en un fuerte clamor que llama la atención de la humanidad entera. Recordar ese terrible drama significa tomar plena conciencia de la saludable advertencia que implica: a las semillas podridas del antijudaísmo y del antisemitismo jamás se les debe permitir echar raíces en ningún corazón humano.

16 de marzo de 1998

Cardenal Edward IDRIS CASSIDY
Presidente

Pierre DUPREY, m.afr.
Obispo titular de Thibaris
Vicepresidente

Remi HOECKMAN, o.p.
Secretario

NOTAS

[1] Tertio millennio adveniente (10 de noviembre de 1994),33:AAS 87 (1995)25.

[2] Cf. JUAN PABLO II, Discurso a la comunidad judía en la sinagoga de Roma (13 de abril de 1986), n. 4: AAS 78 (1986) 1.120; L’Osservatore Romano, edición en lengua española, 20 de abril de 1986, p. 12.

[3] JUAN PABLO II, Ángelus del 11 de junio de 1995, n. 2: L’Osservatore Romano, edición en lengua española, 16 de junio de 1995, p. 1.

[4] Cf. JUAN PABLO II, Discurso a la comunidad judía de Budapest (18 de agosto de 1991), n. 4: L’Osservatore Romano, edición en lengua española, 30 de agosto de 1991, p. 10.

[5] JUAN PABLO II, Centesimus annus (1 de mayo de 1991), 17: AAS 83 (1991) 814-815.

[6] Cf. JUAN PABLO II, Discurso a los delegados de las Conferencias episcopales para las relaciones con el judaísmo (5 de marzo de 1982): L’Osservatore Romano, edición en lengua española, 11 de abril de 1982, p. 11.

[7] Cf. COMISIÓN DE LA SANTA SEDE PARA LAS RELACIONES RELIGIOSAS CON EL JUDAÍSMO, Notas para una correcta presentación de judíos y judaísmo en la predicación y la catequesis de la Iglesia católica (24 de junio de 1985), VI: L’Osservatore Romano, edición en lengua española, 15 de septiembre de1985, p.18.

[8] JUAN PABLO II, Discurso a los participantes en el encuentro de estudio sobre «Raíces del antijudaísmo en ambiente cristiano» (31 de octubre de 1997), n. 1: L’Osservatore Romano, edición en lengua española, 7 de noviembre de 1997, p. 5.

[9] Cf. Nostra aetate, 4.

[10] Cf. B. STATIEWSKI (Ed.), Akten deutscher Bischöfe über die Lage der Kirche, 1933-1945, vol. I, 1933-1934 (Mainz 1968), Apéndice.

[11] Cf. L. VOLK, Der Bayerische Episkopat und der Nationalsozialismus 1930-1934 (Mainz 1966), pp. 170-174.

[12] La encíclica está fechada el 14 de marzo de 1937: AAS 29 (1937) 145-167.

[13] La Documentation Catholique, 29 (1938), col. 1.460.

[14] AAS 31 (1939) 413-453.

[15] Ib., 449.

[16] Organizaciones y personalidades judías representativas reconocieron varias veces oficialmente la sabiduría de la diplomacia del Papa Pío XII. Por ejemplo, el jueves 7 de septiembre de 1945 Giuseppe Nathan, comisario de la Unión de comunidades judías italianas, declaró: «Ante todo, dirigimos un reverente homenaje de gratitud al Sumo Pontífice y a los religiosos y religiosas que, siguiendo las directrices del Santo Padre, vieron en los perseguidos a hermanos, y con valentía y abnegación nos prestaron su ayuda inteligente y concreta, sin preocuparse por los gravísimos peligros a los que se exponían» (L’Osservatore Romano, 8 de septiembre de 1945, p. 2). El 21 de septiembre del mismo año, Pío XII recibió en audiencia al doctor A. Leo Kubowitzki, secretario general del Congreso judío internacional, que acudió para presentar «al Santo Padre, en nombre de la Unión de las comunidades judías, su más viva gratitud por los esfuerzos de la Iglesia católica en favor de la población judía en toda Europa durante la guerra» (L’Osservatore Romano, 23 de septiembre de 1945, p. 1). El jueves 29 de noviembre de 1945, el Papa recibió a cerca de ochenta delegados de prófugos judíos, procedentes de varios campos de concentración en Alemania, que acudieron a manifestarle «el sumo honor de poder agradecer personalmente al Santo Padre la generosidad demostrada hacia los perseguidos durante el terrible período del nazi-fascismo» (L’Osservatore Romano, 30 de noviembre de 1945, p. 1). En 1958, al morir el Papa Pío XII, Golda Meir envió un elocuente mensaje: «Compartimos el dolor de la humanidad (…). Cuando el terrible martirio se abatió sobre nuestro pueblo, la voz del Papa se elevó en favor de sus víctimas. La vida de nuestro tiempo se enriqueció con una voz que habló claramente sobre las grandes verdades morales por encima del tumulto del conflicto diario. Lloramos la muerte de un gran servidor de la paz».

[17] Cf. JUAN PABLO II, Discurso al nuevo embajador de la República federal de Alemania(8 de noviembre de 1990), n. 2: AAS 83 (1991) 587-588; L’Osservatore Romano, edición en lengua española, 7 de diciembre de 1990, p. 20.

[18]Nostra aetate, 4.

[19] JUAN PABLO II, Discurso a los representantes de la comunidad judía de Alsacia (9 de octubre de 1988), n. 8: L’Osservatore Romano, edición en lengua española, 20de noviembre de1988, p. 19.

[20] JUAN PABLO II, Discurso a los miembros del Cuerpo diplomático (15 de enero de 1994), n. 9: AAS 86 (1994) 816; L’Osservatore Romano, edición en lengua española, 21 de enero de1994, p. 19.

[21] JUAN PABLO II, Discurso a la comunidad judía en la sinagoga de Roma (13 de abril de 1986), n. 4: AAS 78 (1986) 1.120; L’Osservatore Romano, edición en lengua española, 20 de abril de 1986, p. 12.

[22] JUAN PABLO II, Discurso con motivo de la conmemoración del Holocausto (7 de abril de 1994), n. 3: L’Osservatore Romano, edición en lengua española, 22 de abril de 1994, p. 15. 

Segun tomado de, http://www.vatican.va/roman_curia/pontifical_councils/chrstuni/documents/rc_pc_chrstuni_doc_16031998_shoah_sp.html  el lunes, 29 de sept. de 2014.

Who was Gedaliah, and why are Jews fasting for him?
It was a time of upheaval in the Israelite domain, as the Babylonians and Egyptians struggled over the land, during which a little-known Judean official named Gedaliah briefly came to the forefront.
By Elon Gilad | Sep. 18, 2014 | 9:16 AM

Jews fast on for Gedaliah, even if they don’t know who he was.
Jews fast on for Gedaliah, even if they don’t know who he was. Photo by Ayala Tal

The third of Tishrei is a Jewish fast day for observant Jews, who abstain from food and drink from dawn to dusk. Less well known is why.

Gedaliah was a high-ranking official in the Judean court in Jerusalem, as had been his father before him, Ahikam, and his father, Shaphan.

Shaphan was the man who delivered the book of Deuteronomy to King Josiah after it was mysteriously discovered in the Temple during renovations, which is a good point to start our story.

In about 640 BCE, King Amon of Judah was assassinated, leaving his 8-year old son Josiah to rule the Judean Kingdom. After Josiah received the Book of Deuteronomy from Shaphan, he began a series of profound religious reforms that involved the centralization of the Jewish cult in the Temple of Jerusalem, and around one single god. Most households of the time seem to have been polytheistic.

Meanwhile, the world around tiny Judea was in flux. The Assyrian Empire, which dominated the region and had destroyed the northern Israelite Kingdom just some 70 years earlier, was disintegrating. In the south, Egypt – the other regional superpower – was recovering from the Assyrian rule it had shaken off, and was concentrating on rebuilding its former glory.

This was an opportune moment for the Judeans to do some empire building of their own, or at least that was the vibrant Josiah thought.

Pharaoh to King Josiah: Why are you here?

Taking advantage of the power vacuum. The Judeans began gobbling up the territories to the north those that used to belong to the Israelite Kingdom. They may have been trying to reconstruct the unified kingdom of David and Solomon, which may or may not have existed, not that Josiah knew that.

Josiah didn’t plan to accomplish this alone: he allied with a rising power in the east, the Babylonians, who were starting to eclipse their former overlords the Assyrians.

Thus when in 609 BCE, Pharaoh Necho II led an army from Egypt up the Judean coast to aid the Assyrians in battle against the upstart Babylonians, Josiah led his army to Megiddo to block Necho’s path.

2 Chronicles quotes Necho’s ambassadors as telling Josiah: “What have I to do with thee, thou king of Judah? I come not against thee this day, but against the house wherewith I have war; and God hath given command to speed me; forbear thee from meddling with God, who is with me, that He destroy thee not.” (35:21) But Josiah did not heed the Pharaoh and was killed in battle in Megiddo.

A statue believed to be of Pharaoh Necho Israeli, at the Brooklyn Museum. Photo by: Keith Schengili-Roberts, Wikimedia Commons
Josiah was succeeded by his younger son King Jehoahaz, but not for long. Three months later, on his way back from battle, Pharaoh Necho paid Judea a visit. He took Jehoahaz into captivity in Egypt and installed his older brother in his stead as King Jehoiakim. Necho also exacted a huge levy of gold and silver.

Judea was now a client state of Egypt, but that too was not to last long.

A few years later In 605 BCE, the Babylonians, led by Nebuchadnezzar II, defeated the Egyptian army in Carchemish (in modern-day Turkey). From there, they made their way to the gates of Jerusalem and laid siege.

Having decided that he wasn’t ready to die yet, Jehoiakim swapped allegiances, paid Nebuchadnezzar a levy and gave some relatives over as hostages. Judea was now a vassal of Babylon, but once again not for long.

The Babylonians lose their cool

Three years later, after the Babylonian invasion into Egypt had failed, Jehoiakim once again felt the Egyptians breathing down his neck. He decided to switch sides once more and ally himself with Egypt.

At this point, the Jerusalem court was split between supporters of alliance with Babylon and supporters of alliance with Egypt. Apparently, Gedaliah was on the Babylonian side, but Jehoiakim didn’t listen, which proved to be a fatal miscalculation.

In 599 BCE Nebuchadnezzar II returned to Judea, and he was sorely vexed. He laid siege to Jerusalem, during which Jehoiakim was killed, and his corpse was flung over the walls.

Jehoiakim was succeeded by his son Jeconiah, who ruled the besieged Jerusalem for all of three months until the city fell. Jeconiah, his family and 3,000 of the city’s upper echelon were taken into captivity in Babylonia.

Two years later, in 597 BCE, Nebuchadnezzar placed Jeconiah’s uncle (Josiah’s son) Zedekiah on the throne of Jerusalem. But the new monarch decided to switch allegiances and side with the new Egyptian Pharaoh, Hophra, which led to another Babylonian siege of Jerusalem in 589 BCE.

A bust of Pharaoh Hophra, also known by his Greek appellation “Apries”. Photo by: Daniel Benutzer, Wikimedia Commons
When things started to look desperate, Zedekiah made a run for it, heading east down the Judean hills in the direction of the Dead Sea – only to be captured by the Babylonians. They killed his sons before his eyes, then blinded him so that their death would be the last thing he saw. Zedekiah joined his kin in captivity in Babylon, where he died.

The very brief rise of Gedaliah

Needless to say, Nebuchadnezzar had enough of these Judean troublemakers. He destroyed the Temple, sent the Judean urban classes into exile in Babylonia.

Then he placed one of the high-ranking officials of Jerusalem and member of the don’t-side-against-the-Babylonians-what-are-you-crazy?! faction – Gedaliah – as governor of the newly constituted Babylonian province of Yehud.

Gedaliah did not reign for long, though. Probably less than a year after his appointment, Ishmael son of Nethaniah, a Judean military commander and member of the royal family, led a group of captains to the administrative capital of Yehud, Mizpah, and assassinated Gedaliah during a feast, possibly for Rosh Hashanah.

Fearing Babylonian reprisal, the remaining Judeans fled into Egypt, ending Jewish autonomy in Judea.

During the long years of Babylonian Captivity, four fast days were established in memory of the destruction of Judea and the Temple. We first hear of these in the Book of Zechariah, when the Jews ask the prophet upon their return from captivity if they should continue to fast now that they had returned and rebuilt the Temple; or should they continue to mourn.

Zechariah tells them: “Saith the LORD of hosts; The fast of the fourth month, and the fast of the fifth, and the fast of the seventh, and the fast of the tenth, shall be to the house of Judah joy and gladness, and cheerful feasts; therefore love the truth and peace.” (8:19).

Rabbinic Judaism interpreted Zechariah’s “fast of the seventh month” as a fast commemorating the assassination of Gedaliah. Tosefta Sukkah 6:10 (redacted at the end of the 2nd century) says: “The fast of the seventh [month] is on the third of Tishrei – the day Gedaliah the Son of Ahikam was killed.”

Later rabbis suggested that in fact, Gedaliah was killed on Rosh Hashanah, but since we cannot fast on that day, the fast was postponed to the first available day – the third of Tishrei. Either way, Jews have been fasting in memory of Gedaliah ever since.

Segun tomado de, http://www.haaretz.com/jewish-world/high-holy-days-2014/.premium-1.616433 el domingo, 28 de sept. de 2014.

¿Quien es como Tú, Oh Di-s, que disculpa el pecado y perdona la trasgresión? …Tú echarás todos nuestros pecados dentro de las profundidades del mar. Y todos los pecados de Tu pueblo Israel Tú echarás en un lugar donde ellos no serán evocados ni contados, ni se pensará en ellos hasta la eternidad (plegaria de Tashlij en Rosh HaShaná).

Esta plegaria es dicha a la orilla de un lago o río, y un popular concepto erróneo se ha desarrollado de que nos despojamos de nuestros pecados arrojando migas de pan dentro del agua.
No se puede disponer de los pecados tan fácilmente. El único camino para deshacernos de nuestros pecados es teshuvá apropiada: sincero arrepentimiento, remordimiento, y una firme resolución de nunca repetir los malos actos.
El simbolismo del tashlij está en la plegaria. Una vez que hemos hecho lo que es necesario para lograr el perdón, nuestros pecados serán arrojados lejos para que nunca sean evocados ni contados, ni se piense en ellos otra vez.
Asi mismo,el agua simboliza la bondad de Di-s, los peces representan los ojos del Creador que siempre se encuentran abiertos velando por Sus creaciones. Esta costumbre tiene como objetivo, despertar la Misericordia Divina y simboliza el deshacernos de todos nuestros pecados.

Según tomado de, http://www.jabad.org.ar/festividades/rosh-hashana-festividades/tashlij/ el viernes, 19 de sept. de 2014.

Photo

“Why does everything about Jewish history have to be long and sad and filled with persecution?” This was the refrain Harry D. Wall said he heard all too often from his children during their travels, so he set out to correct that with Jewish Discoveries.

The website is devoted to telling the stories of Jewish communities around the world through the videos and photos Mr. Wall takes on trips, some of which are for the American Jewish Joint Distribution Committee relief and rescue organization. On it are his discoveries of synagogues, restaurants, community centers, even wineries. “There’s a lot more than ghettos and shtetls to see,” Mr. Wall said. Recently Mr. Wall talked about Jewish communities he’s visited. Following are edited excerpts.

Q. Where did you find a lesser-known side of Jewish culture?

A. Cape Town is a small but a very vibrant community, with a couple of good museums and the oldest synagogue in South Africa — the Great Synagogue, they call it — built in 1841.

Its great migration came at the end of the 19th century, almost entirely from Lithuania. And they got involved in so many different areas, started as peddlers and shopkeepers. They were allowed, from the beginning, to be involved in all aspects of society, so they made a significant contribution culturally. Even the wine in Stellenbosch, there’s a couple of wineries started by Jews; Graham Beck is probably the best known among them. Some of the most outspoken people in the anti-apartheid movement were Jewish, Helen Suzman, for example. The South African Jewish Museum goes into that.

What’s another small community? 

Mumbai has about 4,000 Jews living there today. Most have roots in a community called Benne Israel. They claim they arrived over 2,000 years ago on a boat fleeing Palestine and got shipwrecked on the Konkan Coast.

Though many Indian Jews have emigrated to the West or to Israel, there are a few synagogues that remain. Magen Hasidim synagogue, architecturally, isn’t very remarkable, but it is the main gathering place for the community, holidays, services, weddings and bar mitzvahs. The Magen David Synagogue was built in 1864, sponsored by the philanthropist David Sassoon. His community was known as the Bagdahdi Jews, those who arrived from Iraq, Lebanon and Syria. It’s light blue with a clock tower, the only time I ever saw one on a synagogue. Knesset Eliyahoo is another synagogue built by the Sassoon family. We had a Sabbath meal at the Joint Distribution Committee in Mumbai. Instead of challah, there was chapati bread, did the blessing over that, and tandoori chicken. Moshe’s has wonderful food, a mixture of Mediterranean and Indian. It’s always interesting to see how Jewish communities take on the local coloration.

Where were you most surprised?

Krakow, where a younger Jewish community has emerged around theJewish Community Center. They have some really good programs: literature, Torah readings, Hebrew lessons. I went to a Shabbat dinner, where there was easily a hundred people, and you get by easily in English. These are young people who may have had Jewish grandparents who were afraid of connecting with this culture, so it’s all emerging right now.

And this is only 60 miles from Auschwitz and right in the Old Jewish Quarter of Krakow, which for the most part is a bit of Disney World experience. You have these trams driving through and klezmer groups playing continuously, though they’re not Jewish musicians. It’s a bit kitschy, and you can sometimes question the tastefulness and the commercialization because you’re near hallowed ground there. You can have mixed feelings about it.

But you have the great synagogues there. You have the wonderful Galicia Jewish Museum there and this new younger community. On balance I think it is positive because it engages people.

Segun tomado de, http://www.nytimes.com/2014/09/21/travel/exploring-the-worlds-jewish-communities.html?mabReward=RI%3A11&action=click&pgtype=Homepage&region=CColumn&module=Recommendation&src=rechp&WT.nav=RecEngine&_r=0  el martes, 16 de sept. de 2014.

3,300-year-old ‘Titanic of the Med’ gives invaluable clues to Mideast’s past
The Uluburun Shipwreck is at the center of a study of five wrecks by Tel Aviv University’s Yuval Goren.

Where did the Ulubrun come from? And where was it headed?
By Ido Efrati | Sep. 13, 2014 | 1:01 AM

Wooden remains of wickerwork fencing, which may have lined the Uluburun’s bulwarks to keep out waves in rough weather. Photo by INA
About 3,300 years ago a large ship left the northern Mediterranean Sea region carrying a treasure of copper, tin, glass, gold, silver and other materials to an unknown destination.

In 1983 the ship was accidentally discovered by a 13-year-old diving for sponges near the Turkish fishing town of Kas. The copper ingots led the youth to go to the curator of the local museum.

The shipwreck was dug up by an excavation expedition of underwater archaeologists, first under the leadership of Professor George Bass and later under Professor Cemal Pulak, both from the Institute of Nautical Archaeology at Texas A&M University. Excavating and documenting the 10,000 items found on the ship was a 10-year project. The late Bronze Age shipwreck, known as the Uluburun Shipwreck, is seen as one of the most important underwater discoveries of the second half of the 20th century.

“This ship is an immense source of information about that period, there’s nothing to equal the extent of those findings,” says archaeologist Professor Yuval Goren of Tel Aviv University. Goren is about to publish a series of studies dealing with a selection of findings on ancient shipwrecks from the second and first millennium BC, a project he has been working on for eight years.

Goren’s essays focus on new findings from five shipwrecks dating to the same era, with the Uluburun Shipwreck as the jewel in the crown.

An archaeologist replicating and consolidating damaged ingots using an underwater curing epoxy and plaster. Credit: INA

“The amount of essays written about that shipwreck could fill an entire room. It’s an endless source of various studies, including one focusing on the jaw of a mouse found on the ship,” says Goren.

Shipwrecks tend to enthrall people, they capture and preserve one traumatic moment experienced by a group of people at sea and encapsulates their entire life. Some of them, like the Titanic, have become box office hits. Most will remain the domain of archaeologists, museums and aficionados.

“In archaeology shipwrecks are especially interesting. They’re like time capsules from the past that have frozen time. In some cases they preserve everything that was in them, especially when they sink fast and in deep water, that’s when they’re preserved in good condition. The slower a ship sinks and the shallower the water, the more exposed it is to currents, animals and plants that attack the findings,” he says.

Unlike ships that sink in the modern era, finding ancient ships is an archaeological asset, enabling scientists a glimpse of trade routes, political and diplomatic relations, various seafaring techniques and even the sailors’ way of life thousands of years ago.

“In the Uluburun Shipwreck case, the questions that interested us were, who did the ship belong to? Where did it come from and where was it headed? We’re dealing with a ship from the late Bronze Age, when the Ramses dynasty ruled in Egypt,” says Goren.

The ships Goren is studying were discovered in the Mediterranean region, mainly along the Turkish border. Without an engine or navigation instruments, their captains had to sail with the currents, navigating by the stars and landmarks on the shore. This forced them to maintain eye contact with the shore. “Since the Turkish shore is rocky and indented, numerous ships were shipwrecked as they sailed along it,” he says.

Cypriot pithoid krater containing Cypriot fineware pottery. Credit: INA

It is difficult to ascertain what the ship’s destination was. Goren said the ship’s cargo, which was unprecedented in wealth and volume, was probably a royal shipment by an Egyptian ruler to another ruler in the Aegean Sea region. It is likely that it played a role in the regional interests and politics of the time.

The findings also provide a clue to the wealth and abundance of those days and the political use they were put to. The cargo consisted of hundreds of copper ingots weighing a total of ten tons, a ton of tin rods, 300 “containers” mostly filled with tree resin weighing a ton, 30 glass ingots, gold, jewelry, silver, which was more precious than gold at the time, and African ebony trees.

“It’s a huge cargo in terms of the ancient world. It’s a huge amount of raw materials, therefore it’s likely to be a royal shipment…Egyptian jewelry including a gold beetle – which was sacred to the Egyptians – with Nefertiti’s name on it – was also found.”

The scientists believe the intended recipient was a man of status and power in Cyprus or Greece.

“In contemporary terms, the loss of such a treasure would mean the bankruptcy of the insurance company,” says Goren.

For archaeologists, the lost crew of the ships also provide a clue to the mystery. Unlike vessels from later periods, these ships had no decks. They were large vessels with that consisted of one level, and the crew walked around on the cargo. When the ship sunk, therefore, the crew jumped ship and swam away; their skeletons weren’t found, and it is not known how many people were in the crew. Findings from other ships indicate that the crew of such a ship would have eaten cooked fish, and the archaeologists found fishing hooks, clay pots and barbecues in one of the ships.

“The crew’s equipment helps us trace the route of the ship. For example, the water containers, or flasks, they used were made of clay, and would break every once in a while. When the ship docked along the way the crew would buy new equipment,” says Goren. Analyzing the material that this equipment was made from, it is possible to ascertain where it was produced, and the same goes for cooking pots, candles, and other things that the crew used on a regular basis. “These are exactly the things we are looking for,” he says.

One of the interesting things that Goren’s study found is that oil lamps, drinking flasks and jugs were produced on Israel’s north coast, between the Carmel coast and Tyre and Sidon in Lebanon. “In the study I claim that this is a Canaanite ship. Canaan was ruled then by the Egyptians, whose ships were fit to for the waters of the Nile but not for sailing the seas, and for that they used the ships of the Canaanites who they ruled. My hypothesis is that an Egyptian ruler wanted to send the ship to a ruler in the area of the Aegean Sea, and that it sunk.

The Egyptians had interests in this area, and the ships were an important political tool in those days. This wasn’t an organized fleet like that of the British Navy in the 18th century, but it had an important role,” says Goren.
The ships back then were mainly used for trade, he says, and there was no such thing as a “cruise.”

Another thing found on the early ships was weapons in good condition from the area of Israel, Syria and Lebanon and the Aegean coast. The archaeologists have not been able to explain how a large stone axe from the Black Sea area got on to the Canaanite ship. “We don’t have an answer for that, maybe one of the sailors bought it in a market. In fact, we don’t know anything for certain. That’s what’s great about archaeology,” says Goren.

Segun tomado de, http://www.haaretz.com/archaeology/.premium-1.615514, el viernes 12 de sept. de 2014.