From miracle men to global spies, book of Jewish wild cards is sure to surprise
Out on December 1, ‘Mavericks, Mystics & False Messiahs’ by Rabbi Pini Dunner brings alive historical peculiarities — including a Jewish Dalai Lama
Reporter at The Times of Israel
In 1666, Jews in Europe, Africa and Asia received astounding reports of the long-awaited arrival of the Messiah in the Holy Land.
This self-proclaimed messiah, a Jew named Sabbatai Zevi, had some influential supporters — including propagandist Nathan of Gaza and important rabbis such as Chaim Benveniste of Smyrna. But he also faced censure over his messianic claims, as well as his unconventional style of Judaism, which replaced fast days with feast days.
Ultimately, in a showdown with Ottoman Sultan Mehmed IV, Zevi was faced with a choice between conversion to Islam or a test of his immortality involving a volley of arrows from the sultan’s archers. Zevi cast off his Jewish attire and donned a turban, disappointing most of his followers except for those who also adopted Islam (the donmeh) or who followed his practices in other ways (the Sabbateans).
Judaism has had its share of colorful characters and communal controversies over the centuries, and several of the most notable are profiled in a book by Los Angeles-based Rabbi Pini Dunner: “Mavericks, Mystics & False Messiahs: Episodes from the Fringe of Jewish History,” published by Toby Press on December 1.
“I’m being told by everyone reading it that they are startled by the book, they’ve never come across something quite like it,” said Dunner, the senior rabbi at Beverly Hills Synagogue.
And there may not quite be anything like the controversies simmering within its pages. There is, for example, the 18th-century dispute between famed rabbis Jacob Emden and Jonathan Eybeschutz relating to mystical amulets Eybeschutz had allegedly given to help pregnant women.
Readers can also learn about the history of the Get of Cleves, intended to end an 18th-century marriage after the bizarre behavior of the groom; and arguably the strangest character in the book, infamous 20th century conman Ignaz Trebitsch-Lincoln, who at one point or another was a Christian missionary, an English parliamentarian, an international spy, a supporter of German far-right putsches and a Tibetan lama.
Many of Dunner’s subjects stirred heated debate in their time. He seeks to present them in a balanced way to better inform readers.
As he explained, “I have one agenda, to captivate people with a story [and] make it come alive so it’s not just a bunch of dry facts in a book or article.”
He certainly has his share of vivid personalities — Trebitsch-Lincoln, for example, whom he described as “sort of a Walter Mitty character combined with Zelig from the Woody Allen movie. He morphs from one personality to another, desperate for attention in any way he can find.”
Born an Orthodox Jew named Yitzhak Trebitsch in Hungary in 1879, he converted to Christianity while visiting England in 1897. By the turn of the 20th century, he was living in Canada as a Christian missionary with his German wife, Margarethe. Then the couple relocated to England, where he successfully ran for parliament in 1909, only to resign several months into his term due to bankruptcy.
World War I saw him attempt to spy for both England and Germany before fleeing to the United States, escaping from jail in New York, and telling sensational stories to the press before his repatriation to England.
The post-WWI years found him scheming with far-right plotters in Germany — Hitler was reportedly urged not to speak with him because of his Jewish roots. Trebitsch-Lincoln ultimately betrayed his associates and traveled east, where he became a Buddhist abbot named Chau Kung and was recognized by the Japanese as the Dalai Lama of Tibet, before his death in 1943.
“In the end, there’s nothing, nothing there,” Dunner said. “It was all projection, all show, all Hollywood. He was just a selfish individual.”
A period ripe for a messiah
The story of Zevi is more complex than that of Trebitsch-Lincoln.
“He clearly had a very influential view of his own importance,” Dunner said of the messianic pretender. However, he added, this was “further inflated by Nathan of Gaza. There were external factors as well. People bought into Sabbetai Zevi’s messianic claims. It was a perfect storm.”
“I don’t blame anyone who fell for Sabbetai Zevi,” Dunner said. “It was the exact moment in Jewish history when what people were hopeful would occur, appeared to be. [Zevi] appeared to fit the bill — unless you knew him. People were hopeful for the messianic age at a particular time and a particular place when it was possible.”
Not only did Zevi roil Jewish life in the mid-17th century, his beliefs played a role in another controversy decades after his death.
The Emden-Eybeschutz dispute erupted in 1750 after Eybeschutz was chosen as chief rabbi of the Triple Community (the German cities of Hamburg, Altona and Frankfurt) over Emden, whose father had once held the position. Several other rabbis asked Emden to investigate amulets that Eybeschutz had allegedly given to pregnant women to ward off evil. To Emden, they were evidence of Sabbateanism, an accusation he eventually leveled against Eybeschutz.
“I don’t think Emden looked for attention,” Dunner said. “The dispute drew him into the spotlight. He did not go down without a fight. I’m not saying he’s a mystic, maverick, false messiah. He believed Eybeschutz was a false messiah.”
Dunner does not hold that Emden made his claims out of resentment for not being chosen as chief rabbi. But he describes Emden’s view of Jewish life as “unbendable, inflexible, truculent,” a view that was antagonistic to Eybeschutz because of his alleged Sabbateanism.
“He believed Rabbi Eybeschutz posed a danger,” Dunner said.
Ironically, Dunner reflected, “I always say, if I had been in Hamburg in 1752, after Rabbi Eybeschutz was appointed chief rabbi, and I was invited to Friday night dinner to eat at either Rabbi Eybeschutz’s or Rabbi Emden’s, whatever I might think about Rabbi Eybeschutz’s integrity in terms of his rabbinic Judaism because of his suspected Sabbateanism, I would still have Friday dinner with him.
“He had the more attractive personality — a genius, charming, erudite, charismatic, engaging. Emden might have been these in one way or another, but he was not as warm, welcoming, charismatic. He was more of a stickler for the truth,” Dunner said.
The strange case for annulling a Jewish divorce
Emden ironically was among those urging a pragmatic solution to a controversy that arose a decade later: the Get of Cleves in 1766 and the possibility of annulling a Jewish divorce.
“It’s not just a story of a massive dispute between rabbis,” Dunner said. “A young couple married, divorced. Were they [divorced]? We have to find out.”
German Jews Isaac Neiberg and Leah Gunzhausen married in the summer of 1766. Just one week later, they were divorced after Isaac’s unusual behavior, which included disappearing on a Shabbat before the wedding with a sizable sum of money and hiding in a farmhouse four hours away from his hometown out of fear that his life was in danger.
The strange actions continued after the wedding, and on August 26, Rabbi Israel Lipschuetz of Cleves issued the get or divorce decree. However, Isaac’s family protested the swiftness and secrecy of the divorce, and referred the matter to the Frankfurt beit din, or rabbinical court.
Led by Rabbi Abraham Abish Feld, the court contended that Isaac was mentally unstable when the get was issued, and therefore, according to the Talmud, the decree was invalid. The end of the story is “a little bit ambiguous,” Dunner said.
Two years later, Isaac and Leah remarried, according to a book written in the late 19th century by Rabbi Marcus Horovitz, a former Orthodox chief rabbi of Frankfurt.
While many rabbis had urged the Frankfurt rabbinical court to accept the validity of the Jewish divorce, Isaac and Leah sided with the court.
And so their wedding ceremony had a unique feature: The marriage vows were changed to indicate that they had never been divorced, with Isaac telling Leah, “You remain betrothed to me with this ring in accordance with the laws of Moses and Israel.”
Finding nuance in past community struggles
Dunner is hopeful his book offers a way to view past controversies in Jewish life through a more balanced lens.
“My impression is, people think they know about these episodes, and discover they really don’t know,” he said. “For example, the Emden-Eybeschutz controversy, people know these two titanic rabbis got into a terrible dispute, but they do not really know the details. Even historians get caught up in their version of the narrative. I’m very besotted by stories. A story is a story. Whether or not you think Emden was right or wrong, the story is what matters.”
He indicated that such a story-focused approach could even be helpful in viewing the current controversy over conversions in Israel.
“All kinds of politicians and activists are very vexed over this topic,” Dunner said. “Every single one involved is an individual. We lose sight of the baggage that every individual brings to the table … Rather than use it as a political football, we’ve got to assess what the story is, why are rabbis so opposed to conversion, the pressures they are under, how can they resolve them, their relationship with other rabbis.”
“I think that when I hear a much fuller story about something, I look at whatever that thing is differently, I would like to apply this message in a much broader way,” Dunner said — one that can be applied “into the pastiche, the patchwork quilt of life, to understand all the different pulling and pushing.”
For the personalities in the book, however, the author’s sympathy has its limits.
“All of the stories are examples of things that go awry,” Dunner said. “There are some instances in life when one is taken in by something or someone, when they believe in someone, and in some instances being disappointed.”
