Last week I left work early, drove some friends home, picked up one of my kids, some neighbors, grabbed my camera and M16, and we drove to Har Greizim -- Mount Greizim, to see the Shomronim (Samaritans) celebrate their Passover.
A quick background note; Samaritans are not Jews, but their are similarities between the religions. I've blogged about them many times before (1, 2, 3, 4, 5) and have visited them on Sukkot as well. Their entire community, worldwide, is about 750 people, split between living in a neighborhood on Har (Mount) Greizim, and a neighborhood in Holon.
Har Greizim is just a few minutes away from the "Har Bracha" Jewish settlement and overlooks the Arab neighborhoods of Shechem, while Holon a city in the Southern part of Greater Tel-Aviv. (Thanks Mark! :)
What makes their Pesach ceremony so interesting is that they continue the Passover tradition of sacrificing a lamb and roasting it. When the family sits down to eat it afterward, they also hold a "seder" of sorts, although not using the formal text used by Jews. One of the Samaritans preparing the lambs for roasting told us that during the meal, they actively encourage their children to ask questions about why the sacrifice is performed, and why various aspects of it are done in the specific ways that they're done. They encourage these questions, he said, in order to enable the fulfillment of the commandment in the Torah to tell one's children about the exodus from Egypt: "And you shall tell your son on that day" ("והגדת לבנך ביום ההוא"). I could not help but be struck by the fact that this is the very same thing that we do, in Jewish tradition, with our children on the night of the seder -- and for the exact same reason.
Since security has been better in the Shomron area of the West Bank, this year over 6000 visitors came to observe. Only Shomronim and VIPs are allowed in the enclosed, fenced in section, where the actual sacrifices and take place.
The VIPs included the media, IDF soldiers and officers, Israeli politicians, Palestinian Authority politicians, medics from the Palestinian Red Crescent, paramedics from Magen David Adom, Israeli police officers, and those with "proteczia" (friends in the right places). Next time I go, I plan on getting VIP access as well.
Its taken forever to upload these photos to blogger due to Google-related problems, but here they are. Video coming soon as well.
A quick background note; Samaritans are not Jews, but their are similarities between the religions. I've blogged about them many times before (1, 2, 3, 4, 5) and have visited them on Sukkot as well. Their entire community, worldwide, is about 750 people, split between living in a neighborhood on Har (Mount) Greizim, and a neighborhood in Holon.
Har Greizim is just a few minutes away from the "Har Bracha" Jewish settlement and overlooks the Arab neighborhoods of Shechem, while Holon a city in the Southern part of Greater Tel-Aviv. (Thanks Mark! :)
What makes their Pesach ceremony so interesting is that they continue the Passover tradition of sacrificing a lamb and roasting it. When the family sits down to eat it afterward, they also hold a "seder" of sorts, although not using the formal text used by Jews. One of the Samaritans preparing the lambs for roasting told us that during the meal, they actively encourage their children to ask questions about why the sacrifice is performed, and why various aspects of it are done in the specific ways that they're done. They encourage these questions, he said, in order to enable the fulfillment of the commandment in the Torah to tell one's children about the exodus from Egypt: "And you shall tell your son on that day" ("והגדת לבנך ביום ההוא"). I could not help but be struck by the fact that this is the very same thing that we do, in Jewish tradition, with our children on the night of the seder -- and for the exact same reason.
Since security has been better in the Shomron area of the West Bank, this year over 6000 visitors came to observe. Only Shomronim and VIPs are allowed in the enclosed, fenced in section, where the actual sacrifices and take place.
The VIPs included the media, IDF soldiers and officers, Israeli politicians, Palestinian Authority politicians, medics from the Palestinian Red Crescent, paramedics from Magen David Adom, Israeli police officers, and those with "proteczia" (friends in the right places). Next time I go, I plan on getting VIP access as well.
Its taken forever to upload these photos to blogger due to Google-related problems, but here they are. Video coming soon as well.
Enjoy.
From my vantage point, atop a concrete pillar, I had a decent view. Not perfect, but good enough for these pictures.
The Samaritans dressed in white; caps, overalls, and even white rubber boots. Some had red Fez hats instead.
Samaritan kids were running around everywhere; throwing wood into the fire pits (as some older Samaritans grumbled at them for "wasting" wood -- reminded me of Lag Baomer pyromania). The kids here were raking around dirt...which would be used later. Unfortunately, I noticed quite a few Samaritan kids with birth defects -- most probably a result of a narrow gene pool, since the Samaritan community is so closed.
One of the Samaritan cohen/priests talking to the media that was allowed in.
This Samaritan, named "Nur" ("light") was rather animated talking the the crowd outside the fence. He showed us his knife (kept in his boot) which he was going to use to sacrifice his lamb. In his enthusiam, Nur told the curious crowd all sorts of things, although some of them conflicted with things that Yefet HaKohen (a Samaritan priest and curator of the Samaritan museum) had told us. For example; he said that infants aged 1 day have to fast on Yom Kippur, according to Samaritan law. However, Yefet told us that children fast only when they no longer nurse. Nur told us that the Samaritian commandments from their Torah are all kept devoutly by all. When I curiously asked him about "Tefillin" -- he got rather annoyed at me and walked off. Yet Yefet told us that the Samaritans had lost the mesora (heritage) of Tefillin. While they also lost the heritage of a "Tallit", they borrowed it from the Jews...and their High Priest, Cohen Gadol even wore one at their ceremony.
Some of the women wore red robes over their white clothes. I wonder if this had any specific significance (were they "impure" and that's why they wore them?)
See the kids starting to heard the animals from the left hand side. The fire pits were 3 on each side.
Shlepping an unwilling animal.
You can see the crowds standing on rooftops...more red-robed Samaritan women below.
To the right, was the actual area where the Samaritan High Priest would lead his congregation's ceremony. The internal, covered, gated area here was for VIPs and others from the Samaritan community.
The crowd then recited about 15 minutes worth of prayers, which included the Shma, and probably Halell as well. As soon as the sun set, the High Priest gave the signal, and everyone slaughtered their animal at the same time. One movement of the knife, and the animal was killed. Immediately afterward, the Samaritans rejoiced in the ceremony, clapping, singing and dancing -- while dabbing a bit of lood from the sacrifice on their family's foreheads. Afterward, they put blood on the doorposts and lintels of their home, as is described in the Torah.Here's a video (not taken by me) of the chanting just prior to the actual animal slaughter.
And here's a video (from 3 years ago) which is basically identical to this past years -- the celebration after the ritual slaughter.
Here, the green-robed Cohen Gadol is relaxing after the ritual slaughter, greeting people, hugging children, and having pictures taken with children on his lap.
Children wait by the fire pit, while the animals are being skinned.
Throwing olive wood in the fire pit.
The skewers are being prepared for the animals. My son noted that for the korban pesach in Judaism, the skewers came from pomegranate trees.
And then, this Samaritan proudly came to our side, saying, "I'm the first, I'm the first" as he brought his skewered animal. They Samaritans told me there were 38 (or 41) sacrificed animals altogether this past year.
Lining up for the photo ops.
The cohanim lined up their animals along the fence where I was standing...in preparation for hosing them down with water.
I had a birds eye view of the media...
Removing entrails from the animals.
Washing them off...
Zooming in...
Close up.
The animals prior to being roasted over the fire pits.
The heart of one of the animals.
Some final thoughts from Jameel:What struck me most most about the Samaritan passover ceremony, was one of jealousy. The Passover sacrifice, one of the most important mitzvot of the Jewish people is simply not done today, despite the Jewish people's reign over Yerushalayim and the Temple Mount. Not having a Beit HaMikdash was never a prerequisite for bringing the Passover sacrifice, and there have been different periods in our history, even as recent as the 7th century, when the Jewish people observed this mitzva, on Har HaBayit.
Today, due to our weak politicians we do not control the Temple Mount, and only a relatively small group of rabbis even advocate bringing the korban Pesach today.
It's so close to within our grasp...just waiting for us to reach out, and we could return to this mitzva.
And when I see the Samaritans joyfully bringing their Passover sacrifice, I'm simply jealous that they have managed to retain their tradition, while Judaism shies away. Of course, we have retained so many others, we've managed to grow, and we've managed sovereignty in parts of the Land of Israel...yet this important mitzva is so close, so painfully and tantalizingly near, yet the majority of Jews today have no interest in actively pursuing it.
Some final thoughts from Lurker:
I couldn't help but notice the wide variety of visitors present, both among the VIP's milling around inside the plaza, and among the crowd watching from the sidelines: There were all kinds of Jews, both secular and religious -- including a noticable number of haredim (among the VIP's as well). There were Israeli soldiers, including some high-ranking officers. There were paramedics -- both from Magen David Adom and from the Palestinian Red Crescent. There were non-Jews of all different sorts, including representatives of the Palestinian Authority. The U.S. Ambassador was there, too. I saw someone who, by his tunic and collar, appeared to be a Roman Catholic priest. It was a remarkable mix of so many different kinds of people, all present as visitors to the Samaritan Pesach sacrifice. And it was all the more remarkable because many of those people have contempt and hatred for one another, and one would not expect to see them together in such close quarters. And yet there they all were, with no noticeable anxiety or animosity in the air. The atmosphere among them seemed to be a relaxed mix of respect, festivity, and curiosity.
I found it fascinating to be witnessing such a rare, brief island of relaxed coexistence in our volatile, tension-ridden part of the world. I'm not trying to over-dramatize the significance of this -- I certainly have no naive illusions that this will somehow lead to "peace in the Middle East". But I do think that the tiny Samaritan community can feel a bit of pride in their ability to be the catalyst for such a rare, peaceful moment -- even if it comes only once a year, and lasts only for an evening.
Another thought that I experienced as I watched the Samaritan Pesach ceremony: Over the centuries and millenia, the Samaritans have been subjected to murderous attacks and endless persecution by countless enemies (including the Romans, the Byzantine Christians, the Turks, the Palestinians, and many others.) From a large nation with an estimated population of more than 1,500,000 at the time of the Second Temple (according to a Roman census), they dwindled down to little more than 100 souls in the 1930's. Today, there are about 750 of them.
As Jews, we know a lot about suffering and being a persecuted minority among the nations. We number around 14,000,000 people in a world of billions, and consider our numbers (quite correctly) to be few. But it's hard to conceive being reduced by persecution down to 3-digit numbers, on the verge of near-extinction. Imagine what the Jewish people would be like today if we were reduced down to just a few hundred people. Would we find the strength and fortitude to carry on, to still see ourselves as a nation -- the nation chosen by God?
This is what the Samaritan reality is like. And in spite of their tiny numbers, they continue undeterred, maintaining their traditions, faithfully keeping the commandments of the Torah according to their own millenia-old understanding of them. For this reason, I feel inspired by them: Firstly, I am filled with a deep sense of admiration for their fortitude and perseverance. And secondly, I feel inspired as a Jew: If they can maintain their people-hood, their traditions, and their faith after having been reduced to such incredibly small numbers, then certainly we, the Jewish people, can do the same.
All Photos here are property of the Muqata Blog (c) 2010 and were taken by Jameel
Reproduction permitted with credit to the Muqata Blog, http://muqata.blogspot.com
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