Child and Cross - Konrad Yona Riggenmann - ebook

Child and Cross ebook

Konrad Yona Riggenmann

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Opis

Child and Cross from the beginning puts children in the center, listening to how they perceive the man on the cross. Three initial chapters trace the life of this Jesus bar Abbas according to highly respected sources, in a very human, down-to-earth way from mother's womb to rebels' cross. How the picture of the rabbi's deadly torture became the obsessive icon of the West and in an "automatic and preconscious" way (Melvin Lerner) continues working as the learning tool for Jew-hate is explained thanks to the sensitivity of psychologists like Søren Kierkegaard, Jean Piaget and Helena Antipoff, exposed in 73 pictures. The return of Passion details in Christian views of Jews, the reenactment of those scaring details in thousand years of "just punishment", racism as product of inquisition, the still solid cross taboo in Germany, the complex of cross and Zionism and the kafkaesque cross judgement of the European Court for Human Rights in Strasbourg are examined while the human obsession with sacrifice itself gets analyzed in "The Lamb on Cross" whose pegged legs shaped western use of animals more than this Nazarene who in his last action fought precisely animal sacrifice. The final exam "Why Johanna fed him vanilla cake and other child's play questions" intends to sensitize the reader once again concerning the child & cross issue, well in accordance with the Galilean who "called a child and set him in their midst ..." Thus Child and Cross is mainly a) an exemplary study about the power of visual images and for respecting children's empathic ways of viewing this world; b) a consistent, comprising and explaining analysis of anti-Judaism by taking serious those human beings that academic research of "anti-Semitism" deems too small and childish to deal with; c) a contribution to Christian-Muslim-Jewish dialogue by detailed elaboration of not only the Christian symbol's role in the anti-Judaism that led to Zionism and thus to Gaza, but also of the connecting potential of this man from Galilee whom Matthew (27:16-17 in original Greek wording) calls Jesus bar Abbas; and d) a human rehabilitation of this Bar Abbas ("Son of Father") and his relatives, especially his brother Judas.

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In memoriam

Elisabeth Riggenmann, née Ritter (1922-2015),

who as a retired teacher of Catholic religion supported her son’s stance and efforts against state-ordered classroom crosses.

Johann Riggenmann (1920-2004),

who in 1937 painted a wayside devotional picture deliberately giving Mary and her baby Jesus, instead of Aryan blond, the pitch-black curls of Jakob Koschland, the Jewish friend of my grandfather.

Jakob Koschland (*1896) and Emma Koschland, née Maier (*1901),

Peppi Lore (*1931) and Justin Koschland (*1934), all deported to Poland on Thursday before Holy Friday, April 1, 1942.

Auschwitz, May 1944: Edith, the 22 years old non-Jewish nanny of Jolan Wollstein’s family, going to the “showers” together with Jolan and her four children Dori (11 years), Judith (5 or 6) and Erwin (8), carrying the youngest, Naomi (2 years) on her arms.

Content

Preface: Searching keys

Mommy this man has boo-boo

Born of the victim Mary

Matthew: Jesus’ great mothers

Luke: Rising from humility

Mark: Jesus ben Miriam

John: But you were!

Toldoth Yeshu: Cheeky bastard, expelled from school

Young Mary’s old Joseph

Telling words of an intruded child

Suffered under Pontius

The breaker

The abolisher

“This conscious working toward death”

On Mount of Olives: Two swords against one legion

Sacrifice objector sacrificed?

Caught and cleft: Jesus Bar Abbas

Saint Pilate

Crucified, died, overcome

Revised by Paul

Saul, why do you persecute me?

State power is divine

Familiar ideas

Washing is bosh

And daily killed in kindergarten

Children’s eyes and childish questions

Advance in art and hatred

Early learning

Paternal love

A Father God of genocide?

Offspring’s obsession

Those dirt sacks of German sons

“All creating ones are hard”

Paternal terror

The Third Man

Roles of character

Betrayers

Money mongers

Schemers

Poisoners

Crossadists

Outsmarters

Life spoilers

Chosen

Reenactments

Play it again

The cross on stage

Nailing again: From Norwich 1144... to Bavaria 1948

Between two robbers

Bloodless pain in Spain: Autos da Fé

As naked

The cross is the nerve

The doctor as selector

The teachers as selectors

The schoolgirl as killer

Cruzion

Golgotha – Europe, and return

The child, the key

Muslim and Christian Jew-hate: A crucial difference

The areal solution of the Jewish question

The lamb on cross

This Jewish quirk of Animal Rights

Legalize by sacrifice

The usual torturers

Fending off compassion

This awful enticement to kindness

The Strasbourg Passion

The mannish Roman

The proxy of Jesus

The helpful Jew

The shouting crowd

The honest judges

EXAM: Why Johanna fed him vanilla cake and other child’s play questions

Acknowledgements

Bibliography

Pictures and their sources

Preface: Searching keys

“Good evening neighbor. Just saw you searching the ground and thought I could help, what are you looking for?” – “My house key.” – “Are you sure you lost it here under this street lantern?” – “No, I lost it in the garden, but here the light is brighter.”

“This harmless crucifix? What a sissy would bother about that? Simply overlook, forget it, okay?”

Yes, exactly that’s how it works. One tries to forget it because it depicts the cruellest way of execution mankind ever invented, and just as the impression keeps working inside unconsciously, one of its expressions were to be the “six million crucifixions” a honest Pope and rescuer of thousands addressed precisely.

Serious research in whatever field should examine evidence and come up with the most parsimonious explanation. Viewing the crucifix as the stark key and learning device to Jew-hate is not a new concept by any means. Søren Kierkegaard yet in his 1850 book Training in Christianity explained how the learning of Jew-hate works with the crucifix. In 1935, Richard von Coudenhove-Kalergi repeated his insight just more concisely. The big acting out began three years later in a pogrom whose horrors have been told in many idioms and whose childhood roots concealed in all of them.

Starting from a traumatized child in Nazareth, this book questions the graphic picture of his mortal torture as a bizarre and fatal intrusion of infantile world-view, yielding a textbook lesson about the power of visual images and subtle psychological mechanisms overlooked, belittled and forgot too easily even after Shoa by many educators. Ever listening to the little ones who are known to tell the truth as drunkards do, the fourteen chapters defend the following seven theses:

As crucifixion is mankind’s cruelest execution method, the crucifix is the cruelest, most hurtful symbol mankind ever invented, depicting the worst thing human beings can do: to torture a fellow to death.

Children, as the most vulnerable human beings, by looking at and musing about this piercing, pity arousing symbol learn “rightful anger” against the cruel torturers of Jesus.

All historically operant anti-Jewish stereotypes root in the Passion texts, in synergy with the picture of Jesus’ crucifixion.

In the persecution of Jews, grown-up Christian children performed “just punishment” of Jesus’ alleged torturers and reenacted the Jewish crime in the vain attempt to free themselves from the hurting impacts of their childhood encounter with the crucifix.

Muslim anti-Zionism, as resistence against a mainly Christian European project, builds on Christian imagery but is basically incomparable – a hopeful finding – with cross based Western antisemitism.

While the torture of the Lamb on Cross underlies the stereotype of Jews acting cruelly also towards animals, the rightlessness of objectified animals in western culture bases broadly on the reification of suffering in the wooden victim, on the function of the Lamb on Cross in atonement for human violence against animals, and on the absence of animal-friendly words in the New Testament – strongly contradicting the vegetarian Jesus whose last action tackled animal sacrifice.

Waiver of crucifixes will not only make this earth a more human place but also bring Christians closer to the rabbi and rebel Jesus bar Miriam bar Abbas who put children in the midst.

Anyone who would object the first thesis I’d like to ask where on this earth and at what point of its history a more awful, more cruel and more inhumane symbol existed.

The theses B to G are the main subject of this book, which has a strong relation with my biography. It is written with the passion of an educator who during three decades of teaching in public school used to start his didactic reflections with the question: How will children take it up? Therefore, and very naturally, this book starts with how children perceive the picture in Chapter 1: “Mommy, this man has boo-boo”.

Reviewing this man’s life is a precondition for deconstructing the symbol he is built into – a man-made symbol which developed its own dynamics from the beginning. Going back to the very beginning of his life, this book empathizes in biographical deepness and sympathizes on strictly human grounds with the man whose cruel death the sign reminds. The next four chapters focus on him and his suffering.

Chapter 2, “Born by Mary the victim”, deduces from highly acknowledged sources that Jesus in his mother most probably was a victim of Roman soldiers from the beginning, before ...

Chapter 3, “Suffered under Pontius”, describes how he again became a victim of Roman soldiers in the end. Searching for the authentic earthly Jesus the Son-of-Man, this book assesses all his words according to critical theologist Gerd Lüdemann’s comprising work “Jesus after 2000 years”, marking all words Lüdemann deems authentic by bold type, for instance “The Sabbath was made for humankind, and not humankind for the Sabbath” (Mark 2:27), a statement Lüdemann regards as characteristic for Jesus’ Jewish and human thinking.

Chapter 4, “Crucified, died, overcome” about the practise and technique of crassly cruel crucifixion is necessary to realize what the children of this world, with their sensitive eyes and unhardened souls, suffer by pictures showing what this man had to suffer.

How could this expression of sadism transform to a symbol of redemption? Chapter 5, “Revised by Paul” analyzes the newcomer apostle’s seizure-born distortions of this Jesus he never knew and their lasting effect on this world. Chapter 6, “And daily killed in kindergarten”, investigating what the cruel eye-catching symbol triggers in mind and heart of children, is the pedagogical heart of this book, aptly followed and deepened by the subsequent ...

Chapter 7: “Paternal love”, focused on the child’s relation to the most important male person of his young life, a bond exemplified in the traumatical ties of many German sons with harshly educating fathers; ties that took effect in their later hate against the religion of the old divine father.

Chapter 8, “Roles of Character” illustrates how the plastic and dramatic presentation of mankinds most cruel and most-displayed execution became the starting point for all established anti-Jewish stereotypes, before ...

Chapter 9, “Chosen” shows how the secular racism of modernity sprang from the inquisitorial limpieza de sangre statutes aiming at the chosen-victim people.

Chapter 10 is titled “Reenactments” since it reviews the bloody replays by which European children tried to act out their childhood imprints, stretching from the first child-crucifixion ascribed to Herod’s people up to the reenactment of cross-way station No.10 “Jesus is robbed his clothes” with Jewish men, women, children as naked as the crucified rabbi.

Chapter 11, “The cross is the nerve” shows that beneath the surface of political correctness Germany’s well-hibernated anti-Judaism is enhanced by a secondary antisemitism that will never pardon the Jews for Auschwitz, and protected by a taboo on its religious roots which, for instance, have a liberal Munich newspaper rather falsify a Jewish actress’s memory of classroom mobbing than trespass political cross correctness.

Chapter 12 (“Cruzionists”) attempts to prove the following four theses:

Middle-Eastern Jew-hate is generally a European export in various product lines;

Europe’s import of Holy Land news corresponds to the continent’s key images;

Muslim anti-Zionism quotes Christian imagery but differs crucially (a hopeful outlook) from Christian Jew-hate;

Zionism is mainly an occidental project and endangers Judaism.

Chapter 13, “The Lamb on cross” starts from the place of animals in Rabbi Jesus’ religious tradition that still in our days keeps being rated as cruel to animals; and it ends with their place in a Western culture bone-deeply informed by the salutary slaughter of a Holy Lamb and its objectivation as a wooden soulless entity of sacrifice for man’s sake.

Chapter 14 presents a very modern Passion Play enacted by a corrupt Roman media Caesar: The Strasbourg Passion, a Kafkaesque court performance which legalized state ordered crucifixes in all European classrooms.

Finally, the “Exam: Why Johanna fed him vanilla cake and other child’s play questions” resumes the book in poignant questions to failing theologians, returning to its first and foremost subjects: children.

Before the attempted final solution, German historian Theodor Mommsen classified antisemitism as “a horrible epidemic, like cholera – one can neither explain nor cure it”: After Shoah, survivor Esther Jungreis opined that “we mortals have no way of comprehending why, for it is only in retrospect – sometimes not even in our lifetime – that people can hope to gain a glimmer of understanding.”1

I dispute this inability with the same argument Yehuda Bauer uses: If the Shoah was committed by human beings, human beings can find out why. And like John Weiss I emphasize how fatal incomprehension would be: Incomprehensible means inevitable.2 How humans could assume that an accusative and stark cruel symbol would not result in cruelty is hard to understand; that it did so is easy to grasp. “Let violence be far from things” the great educator Jan Amos Comenius demanded 300 years ago, urging that violence be far from education. Today we all know how decisive the experiences, learning processes and images of early childhood are. One must not be a media designer to know how efficiently images work psychologically. What I do in this book is viewing childhood vulnerability synoptically together with visual power and millennial evidence, leading to insights that for the sake of human society should not be ignored. The “crucial task” in historical and psychological inquiry is always, “to lay bare the roots”, says Yerushalmi, adding: “Truth is often very improbable.”3 The crucifix as cause of “sei miglione crocifissione” in the honestly disclosing words of Pope John XXIII, seems improbable only to those who still underrate the power of early learning.

Those who shun books about Shoah because the theme is scaring are right in their feeling, but the crucifix is scaring daily. Those who suggest we should stop reminding Auschwitz and those things should question a crucifix industry that daily reminds a barbaric crime committed two millennia ago that on grounds of falsified accusations led to millionfold crime. Those who denounce a “holocaust industry” should question a crucifix industry whose best customers are European public schools and kindergartens.

Nowhere in this book I ask the reader to believe me and I won’t do that also in the following assertion: This is a thoroughly religious book – since the term religio is not derived from religare, to link back (in this case believers would have religatio), but from relegere, to read again, consider, pay attention. My old Latin dictionary defines the term religio by the first notions “scruples, doubt, concern” and illustrates its meaning by the locution religioni mihi est, that is, to make something a matter of conscience. To warn against dangers in public space – for instance a hole in the sidewalk – is a civil duty. How could I, as an educator who researched the deep dangers of this picture during two decades now answer for not writing this book?

“Indeed you said you suffer from not being able to help Jesus down from the cross” my school director disclosed triumphantly, in front of forty colleagues. Well, I admit, its true. I’ve always been a sensibelchen. However: “Who lends me a ladder?” Generations of Marranos sang this line knowing well that helping Jesus down would bring Jew-hate down, and in vain Frank Andermann after Auschwitz promised his Jesus: “I’ll take you down one day. I’ll help you down from the cross of shame.”4 Though Andermann’s and Riggenmann’s strong sympathies for the rebel won’t draw out those nails he has to hang on, the reader will notice that many faithful Christians are looking for ladder and pincers already, in step with Irving Greenberg’s insight “that the religion that is most able to correct itself is the one that will prove itself to be most true.”5

The most successful one, however, is the cross religion, and cross-shaped were in 1600 the mighty vanes of windmills in the land of crypto-Jew Cervantes, and all the more appreciative might the reader be wherever in the 14 chapters of this quixotic book a Jewish joke slips in. Recall, for instance, the Jewish master tailor who finds his monied modern thinking customer in a slightly disgruntled mood when he delivers his made-to-measure trousers after ten days instead of one week as arranged. “Well, didn’t your God make a whole world within one week?” – “Well, look at the world, and look at these trousers!”

1 As to Mommsen: Pulzer, Peter G.: The Rise of Political Anti-Semitism in Germany and Austria. New York 1969, p.299 (quoted by Perry/Schweitzer, p.107); Jungreis: 2006, p. 243.

2 Weiss 1997, Preface, p.ix.

3 Yerushalmi, p.17.

4 Andermann, p.43.

5 Greenberg 2004, p.145.

I Mommy this man has boo-boo

On a playground in a German town, during the 1920s. “My mummy said I shouldn’t play with you, Sarah.” “Why not?” “Mummy says you Jews have killed good Jesus.” Sarah drops her sand-filled cake-pan and runs home furious. Ten minutes later she’s back. “Listen, Peter. I didn’t do it, Mummy didn’t do it, Daddy didn’t and Aunt Betty didn’t do it anyway. It must have been the Cohns from second floor.”

While this book is about the crazyness of adults and great men of world history, its kingpins are children from A to Z, from Sarah with the cake-tin to Johanna with vanilla cake; it focuses on the question how they experience the cast metal or wood-carved issue “Jesus crucified”; what they learn at this icon and how it mints their minds.

Exactly this was what I asked myself when I, in late summer 1993, prepared my classroom for my future third grade pupils: a reading corner with couch, self made pinewood bookshelves, colorful pictures. On the side wall, above the door, hung the obligatory cross: dark beams with carved corpus and painted blood. I took a pupil’s chair, sat down right in front of the sculpture and asked myself: What’s this symbol giving to my pupils? – “Surely nothing positive” was my answer after long consideration. I took down the death symbol, went home, pasted a beautiful poster from Misereor (a Catholic third-world solidarity NGO) on a pinewood panel: two hands, one white, one black, sharing bread in front of the blue planet. This, I opined, could visualize Christian human ethics much more adequately to my children than the picture of an execution.

Wrong by far. Next spring, one day a pupil, on behalf of his classmates, addressed me about replacing the bread-sharing hands by the crucifix. “But tell me why”, I answered, quite perplexed. “Cause the Jesus may help us during math tests” was their only one halfway non-theological answer. We sat down in a circle, listened to one another, and but now I recognized their teacher of Catholic religion, the village parson of Pfaffenhofen, as their request’s initiator. Bewildered by their earnest, perceptibly coached reasonings I didn’t want either to display my knowledge nor to infringe my duty of religious neutrality. Let’s vote. A clear majority, one steadfast young dissident, one “I-don’t-mind” Turkish Alevite, one French girl whose parents told me later how alienated they felt when they nevertheless had let their daughter vote with the foreseeable majority. I took down the bread-sharing hands and hung up the nailed-on-wood hands. And since the wooden Jesus during his sojourn in the cabinet had lost his right hand, I told my pupils about a crucifix that had lost both arms during a bombing raid and after the war was accompanied by a signboard saying “I have no hands but yours”. However, the parson’s successful intervention via pupils’ votes had shocked me. The question got a hold on me: How do children see the man on the cross? Only now I realized that this crucifix indeed was ordained by public school regulations: a manifest offence against our constitution, but tolerable to my opinion at least insofar as “the Nazis”, so we were told, had tried to remove crucifixes from public schools.

Two years later I saw the word “Kruzifix” in bright sunshine, in the headlines of half a dozen German newspapers at a news-stand. By strange coincidence this news-stand was exactly within the former Jewish ghetto of Prague. The journals reported a judgement of German Constitutional Court, in favour of Bavarian family Seler: “The mounting of a cross or crucifix in the teaching-rooms of a state-run obligatory school that is not a denominational school, offends article 4 of Basic Law.”

My goodness! The German state of rights, I thought, is working still! I took the next train home to support the Supreme Court’s judgement that was under heavy fire already. The shortest one of my letters to the editor had only three sentences: “When the Nazis wanted to remove the crosses from the classrooms, a stormwind of outrage aroused among Bavarian population. The crosses remained. Removed were the Jewish pupils.”

In December 1995 the Christian-conservative majority in Bavarian Landtag parliament passed a new law that clears everything yet in its first sentence: “In every classroom a cross is to be mounted.” Surely, this law admits exceptions in case of “serious objection”. I applied, with 22 pages of serious objection, for the removal of the crucifix in my classroom. Munich ministry of education replied with a circular, stating that, different from parents, teachers were not entitled to objection. Tongue-in-cheek, however, officials told me: “You surely can sue”. For which Bavarian teacher would dare to sue against the holy picture?

“Don’t you have better pastimes?” This was the final question of the presiding judge at Augsburg administrative court, his jury having rejected my claim for detaching tortured Jesus, albeit recognizing my “credible and convincing” rationale. I led my class of teenagers to their final exams in summer 1998, took a one year grant leave, made my M.A. in Pedagogy; and when the court still delayed my trial, I continued with my PhD including a 479 pages thesis about John Dewey’s influence in Brazilian education. And while the court still had no time for my case I found an editor for my 448 pages book about Kruzifix und Holocaust.

In December 2001 finally, when the authorities had not achieved to drop me out of the proceedings neither by patient starving nor by a tricky order of relocation, I won at the appeal court amidst of Munich. “Church is Raging” the tabloid Bild-Zeitung headlined, and “Der Mann muss raus, raus, raus!” the Christian Party’s secretary general ranted on TV, urging to bump this man out of school. Almost daily now the postman delivered new murder threats, apt to correct the court’s outrageous judgement that, by way of exception, had conceded to me, being classified as an “atypical singular case”, the right to teach in a cross-free classroom. What made me “atypical” was my “intense Christian faith”, the judges claimed. I protested against this distortion that pigeonholed me with the anonymous bigots who urged me to shove off, but the presiding judge replied that there was “no space” for changing the judgement’s text, and maybe I could find comfort, Judge Thomas wrote, in the fact that the court itself had received “letters of likely reviling content”. Anyhow, besides of the psychologically interesting insults and menaces I received by phone and mailbox or while walking or bicycling in my home district, I also got strong support by courageous Christians.

For instance by Munich resident grandmother Lisa Wanninger, who told me in her letter:

“Only when, some 15 years ago, my then three-year-old grandson viewing a wayside cross with the crucified one asked me: ‘Grandma, does this not hurt that man?’ I became aware of what barbaric symbol I often had admired in Gothic style, Baroque et cetera. And what this symbol causes in tender souls of children. I thank you very much for your engagement and your refractoriness against this inhuman sign.”

Obviously, Grandma Lisa understood how a child tries to grip this sign internally: What’s that – a man – naked but has kind of pants okay – hands up, clings on this bar – but can see all fingers so how can he hold fast and does not slip off – why? – must look closer ... Oops! – Grandma…

Strong support also, for example, by parson Ludwig Dallmeier, not the only one Bavarian cleric who sympathized with me. He had removed the big black crucifix from his Catholic kindergarten already before the scandal that my Munich judgement triggered, and after it he dared to go public. “Crucified One Undue to Children” Munich tabloid tz quoted him in its headline.6 “It is the brutal presentation of a maltreated man” he explained to the readers and pointed to his key moment four years before “when one of the nurses of the kindergarten told him that the little ones are afraid of the crucified one”. His courageous confession created a stir; he asked me for my juridical reasoning and wrote back that during reading it “the scales fell from my eyes ... Yes, as a child (I was born in 1940) I viewed the Jews as murderers of the Godson! ... For decads I didn’t recall these feelings of my childhood, also cannot remember my school lessons in religion, but this my dislike for the Jews now suddenly was so present to me as if all happened just yesterday!” The parson annexed supportive letters he had received as replies to his reader’s letter which Dingolfing Journal had published under the heading “Must it be a cross absolutely?” Here a schools inspector calls the parson’s courage a “sign of hope”, there a school director grants him his staff’s support, while a teacher of religion agrees completely to his opinion: “Da muss mehr Leben rein!” (We must get more life into that!). And an observant Catholic lady told him: “As one of the attending mothers I was close by when during rehearsal for Thanksgiving celebration a Greek kindergarten child suffered a shock when she saw the crucified one for the first time! The girl just cried and cried and no one could calm her, she was in panic really! ... Why is there a dead man being prayed to in the churches? ... Your words in the article, saying ‘it is the brutal presentation of a tortured man’, I emphasize completely!!!”

A case for the child therapist? “Kruzifix, Kind, Angst” – by this keyword combination, google presented the following childish questions reported by their helpless parents; questions of little ones having come to this planet just two or three years ago:

“Hello Mummies, my daughter (two-and-a-half-year-old) frequents kindergarten since September. Having been with a day care mother before, she was accustomed to being attended by other women. But since she goes to kiga she always says in the morning that she’s afraid of the big cross in kiga. The “man with the nails” gives her a fright. Meanwhile I don’t know any more whether I should react and what I should say to begin with. They definitely won’t remove it because of her. All my appeasements and explanations just come out making it more serious. I have to add that the cross in kiga is truly a monstrous ugly thing in two-meter-size and hanging exactly on children’s eye level (with a real Christ figure). As a small child I probably would be frightened by such an item, too. Can anyone give me advice how I should deal with my child? Whose child has fear of crosses, too?” (“huxe 91”, on netmoms.de)

Remark: When a child of two and a half years is frightened so strongly by the nails in Jesus’ hands, we may suppose that this child has already watched how one drives nails into wood. This handwork – one of the first “true adult” tasks children try themselves – stands out for children as an archetype of handicraft and of physical force: trying to drive with noisy hewing, striking, hitting, knocking, beating a sharp metal pin into flesh-like brown material. And you’ll hurt yourself badly if you fail the nail and hit your thumb.

“Hallo and a beautiful Saturday afternoon altogether. Somehow you’re already wont you should be well prepared to always have in stock some sense giving answers to a three-and-a-half-year-old daughter. But yesterday she had us seriously challenged by her question why Jesus hangs on the cross and why he bleeds? And this just 5 minutes before sleeping time!” (Mac, on chefkoch.de/forum)

Instead of giving advice to daddy Mac, forum user Syldron adds own memories: “I still remember how my little brother was afraid of the cross in the bedroom when we were visiting our Catholic relatives. Fortunately, we didn’t have to visit them so often.”

“My granddaughter is four years old and has angst of the crucifix”, writes grandmother Christa who was born in 1939. “The church in our neighborhood has a big cross outside. She refuses to pass by that site saying she’s afraid of the crucifix. She cries because the man is aching and bleeds. How can I explain that to her, child-adequately? Greetings, Christa.

Grandma Christa’s question triggers a debate between a mother with high emotional IQ but modest diction who calls herself SubsTanz and a more rational, more eloquent man who chose the codename Adept.

SubsTanz: “I once had this problem myself and could understand my child easily. In rather all churches there hangs a cross on which hangs a tortured man. ... There’s no legal protection of the young with regard to such images and stories. The man is hanging there with nails in hands and feet that have been rammed through his flesh. Would you confront your granddaughter regularly with a picture showing an almost naked woman hanged on a tree by other humans, fixed cruelly by nails? Imagine this through a child’s eyes! Why don’t we show this to our children of three or four years? Perhaps because this is not a religious picture but only a sadistic one?”

Adept: “According to Christian conviction the one who was nailed to the cross has overcome death, too. So no one has to be afraid of him.”

SubsTanz: “Aha, guess I got it ... and that’s why you may show to children this picture and not the picture of the tortured woman.”

Adept: “You surely know that crosses are art works whose effects are not comparable to a real scene by any means. In the cross representation the crucified one is by no means the man of suffering only, but also already the conqueror of death, this being expressed formally in his upright position fixed on the cross. For Christians, the reality of the cross is bearable by the reality of resurrection. To someone who doesn’t share the faith in resurrection I wouldn’t recommend to confront his children with the death on cross. SubsTanz: “Oha ... so if the parents are pious, children can bear it. If they are not pious, it makes the children afraid and they suffer too much in feeling with him?”

Adept: “If parents are pious, they should be able to tell their children something about cross and resurrection. One may even assume that atheistic or non-Christian minded parents will be able to familiarize their children with their own view of the Christians’ symbol. I can’t grasp the advantage of styling oneself or one’s offspring as victims in this regard. Or do you have a victim-complex?”

SubsTanz: “Laughlaugh, no. As to complexes, I don’t have any, but a victim of Catholic Church I for sure have been. Once I had to kneel down at the altar for punishment and pray the Our Father ten times with the crucified Jesus before my eyes who injected more than angst into me, cause I was a sensibelchen, I had so much compassion with the poor man and also disgust because this crown of thorns still stuck in his head and the blood ran over his dying face. Those nails in hands and feet, I always tried to avert my look from them. I refused to look at them and that’s how it started ... If you shun, [he said] you will be punished severely for your sins in hell and so on and so on ... and when he menaced that if my parents would not come to church more often they too would be punished, after that I gave in and did it ... And now, would you show a picture of a woman nailed on a tree, to a child of four years, and explain to her: She suffers for you and your sins? I also might put the question whether one should nail a child to a tree and show that to another child. Hard thought, isn’t it? Such cruel things one shouldn’t even think about, right? I don’t give up. (Nov. 4-8, 2011, spin.de/forum).

I do hope this mother will not give in anymore like she was forced to in her childhood; no matter if the mainstream keeps smiling at those squeamish sensibelchen who suffer by the sight of crosses. Are they such queer and rare exceptions really? A cautious approach to this question is given by German Wilhelm-Griesinger-Institut in a web text in which I mark the quantitative aspect by italics:

“Many adults report that they themselves at the age of three or four years were afraid of crosses they had seen in a church or in the house of relatives who had crosses on their walls. For most people, the cross is a Christian symbol standing for the resurrection [sic!] of Jesus Christ. Since younger children mostly don’t dispose of the religious background, far from rarely the cross represents something uncanny and threatening to them, all the more so if the cross contains a Jesus-figure that visualizes the sufferings of Christ. This childlike angst of crucifixes might not at all events be understandable for adults, because to them it is an everyday religious symbol. There is not much use in minimizing the child’s fear saying ‘Jesus protects you’ or the like, because for children it is not understandable in their world that someone of whom they don’t have any more detailed knowledge and who suffers visibly on the cross should protect them. The fear of crosses however vanishes mostly by itself when the children are grown somewhat older and have understood the religious background of cross and crucifixion at least roughly.”

Remark: In physics nothing vanishes; it but transforms.

How childhood crosses may cause late after-effects on sensitive, intelligent adults is revealed by a student of pharmacy, who relates his case on the psychological website “suite101.de”. His dream sequence might represent uterus (cavern) and phallus (crucifix), but more concisely it appears to stage the sequence in Catholic creed, where the born of ... is followed immediately by the suffered under ...

“I have such terrible nightmares. They come to me since my childhood: I live in a big cavern. All around me is darkness only. In far distance I see a small light. Suddenly I feel that I am fastened on a cross and see terrible figures approaching me. They scourge me hard. There’s a chain put across my face. I feel helpless and have terrible angst of those merciless figures’ strokes. I wake up with my heart beating excitedly and have to start finding my way in the darkness before I realize that I am lying in my bed.”

I cited this student’s case as an example of long term cross effects on sensitive, intelligent adults – since I want to encourage the reader to practise civil courage, that is, not to be afraid of appearing as a fearful hypersensitive. Concerning the relation of intelligence and sensitivity, Kierkegaard stated yet in 1848 very shortly: “The less intellect, the less fear.”7 Andrea Brackmann stresses the “strong feeling of justice” and the “pronounced delicacy” of highly gifted children. Two examples: “If Ina witnesses how someone is treated unjustly, she is so bewildered and afflicted that she does not recover for a long time, remaining all churned up inside, unhinged and terrified.” – “In kindergarten there was spoken about Easter and Holy Friday. By the fact that Jesus was crucified, Ben was so appalled that he cried again and again during the holidays, asking ‘Why did Jesus have to die?’”8

This does not mean that only highly gifted children suffer by crucifixes. My former pupil Stefan Gassner told me about his work as educator in a special school for mentally handicapped children: “Once Karin told me: ‘This Jesus I don’t like.’” Karin’s Jesus is the crucified one who, hanging tacid in the classroom, is meant to explain also to mentally retarded children how nailing a man on beams has brought salvation to mankind. Who, actually, is retarded here?

1847: “Children who hardly can stammer a word”, a Christian mother complains, “learn to detest the name Juden like a demon”, and very early they are taught “that those nasty Juden had nailed the Lord on the cross.”9

1893: Little Dov Berkovitz had, like all Jewish children in Poland, been inculcated to turn his face away at every roadside crucifix, not to have his eyes defiled by the idol. But one day he wants to know it – and turns his face to it! “What’s that to mean? Is that he? ... The impression was ... uncanny, terrifying in its strangeness ... But then a peasant on a horse-cart came passing by, stopped and made the cross-sign on his body. When he saw me standing there, he uttered a curse and tried to hit me with his whip.”10

1925: Little Michael, son of a Nobel-Prize awarded novelist, was afraid of the little man hanging on the cross. Had this fear to do with the Jewish ancestors of his mother, or even of his father’s Brazilian mother? Anyhow, the time-proven German “child-must-cope-with” therapy went this way: “The crucified naked one the father nailed above the pillow of his bed, explaining that ‘this is part and parcel of our western culture and the boy has to get used to this’.”11 It is the boy’s sister Elisabeth who remembers this educational act. Her brothers Michael and Klaus died by suicide: too soft for this crossworld puzzle or for this German father Thomas Mann?

1938: Little Victor, a descendant from the many Pereiras who escaped Spanish inquisition, grew up in Guatemala cosseted by his seventeen-year-old nanny: “Chata, a Catholic Maya from a highland village of Cobán, was determined to save my Jewish soul from perdition; she often sneaked me into the cathedral, where she had me kneel at the foot of the crucified Christ and recite the Ave Maria. My senses reeled from the mingled scents of incense and Chata’s blouse as she pressed her firm breasts against the back of my neck; this was her way of allaying my fright of the terrifying naked figure on the cross.”12

In 1967 she had been a girl of four years, the teacher of arts and mother of two daughters who told me in 2002 that back then she used to view the holy cards in her mother’s prayer-book nosily. “One picture ... stuck deeply in my mind: the punctures of the crown of thorns, the pierced hands with fingers bent in pain, the face streaming with blood. I could not fall asleep then. My mother took that for theater, but she wouldn’t let me view the holy cards again. Actually I felt very much pity with Jesus Christ and big guilt at the same time because he had died ‘for us’. Sometimes when we were too noisy in our children’s bedroom I had to sleep in my parents’ bedroom, but there hung a crucifix above the bed. Stylized indeed, but it instantly reminded me on the cruel holy card and all came up again. I started crying but my mother thought it was for the chuck. When I recently asked my mother about this childhood experience, she opined that back then she had taken down the crucifix so I could fall asleep. But even after she had taken down the cross, it had kept haunting me so much that I pressed away the wrinkles in the feather bed because in their round arch form they reminded me on Mary the mother, as I sketched her with four or five years, and on the fate (?) of her son.”

1970: ”I can remember from a very early age the experience of being in a church – I must have been about five years old – and when I looked up to the cross, I was very aware that I was struggling in my acceptance of Jesus as God. I was afraid of Jesus on the cross. I was afraid of it because it was very graphic, but it was my secret and I kept it to myself.” The little girl chose the name Shlomit years later when she converted to Judaism.13

1985: Housewife Terry Kallet was more than astonished when one day her son Nathan at age three came home from preschool and said, “Protect me from Daddy!” I said, “Why, why, what happened?” His preschool teacher had told him that the Jews killed Jesus and that Jesus was the son of a Jew. “So my own son went home thinking that because his father was Jewish and he was the son of a Jew, therefore Daddy was going to kill him. This whole conversation happened while I was preparing a seder!”14

1993: “For as long as someone is not allowed to see something, he will have to overlook, misunderstand, to ward it off in any way”, says Jewish-Polish born Swiss psychotherapist Alice Miller.15 The same surname bore the faithful Catholic carpenter A. Miller at whose local saw mill I bought some roof laths for theatre sidescenes when he, by no perceivable motive, went on telling me a story that visibly lay on his heart: “‘Take that crucifix out of this room’, the young woman said when she came to the hospital for delivery. ‘I don’t want my baby have to look at that when it comes to this world’, she said. And when the baby had come to world, it was – blind!” May I interpret the unsaid feelings of this loving father and grandfather A. Miller this way: “The cross is awful. But God wants it. And woe to those who avert their eyes”?

2001: Preparing for the trial in Munich, the Bavarian government’s attorney had reproached me for reasoning “pedagogically”, this being “not the plaintiff’s task” since pedagogical reasoning is “unfit to support his legal claim”. So as a teacher I have the duty to act pedagogically responsible but not the right to?

2010: The far from revolutionary staff and director of Röfingen primary school, near Suebian town Günzburg decided to remove a huge crucifix from the entrance hall because its view was “not bearable for first and second grade children”. The scandal was made public by the parson during Corpus Christi holiday procession; only the director and one female teacher resisted the ensuing pressings. In a web forum, a mother of 40 years who describes herself under the codename Dembara as “Roman-Catholic, conservative”, comments the pedagogical issue: “My son (3 years) needs a crucifix to recognize the person Jesus. If Jesus is represented another way my boy is in trouble because he doesn’t know the Bible already. I never noticed him being especially shocked by bleeding Jesus. However, yes, it’s true: I know churches which, due to numerous presentations of martyrs, really resemble a chamber of torture more than a holy room. But I also think truth may be required to put up with. I think that 99.9 percent of all crucifixes are a more than embellished presentation of this torture technique and thus one may suppose they are endurable even for children. A crucifix is grotesque only if one doesn’t know what it means. In this case Christendom suddenly looks like a sadomaso chamber. But because ‘earlier on’ ordinary people knew why Jesus is presented this way, they had no problems with it. Today there are many who even don’t know that Jesus is a historical person. Thus, the crucifix inevitably becomes an evil torture-fairytale, à la Hansel and Gretel. So, it’s not as important to redesign the crucifixes in a more harmless style or to fade them out than rather to point people to the backgrounds of this presentation. For, behind the cross”, Dembara knows, “is standing our redemption” – whatever this final word, and final image, may mean to children.

Does her son understand redemption? How should a girl age two, a boy age three like Dembara’s son, a first grader age six be able to integrate this Pauline concept into his innocent, young, vulnerable outlook on this world? And if all the children cited in this small sample are more sensitive than average – who would be that naïve to say that the more robust children will simply overlook the hurting man, storing no tiny trace of him in their innermost? And when all these children, those with fine aerials as well as the overlookers – have accustomed to the sight: everything’s OK then? Or will the “man-with-nails-emoticon” remain stored in the amygdale, every nail and thorn working as a synapse ready to transmit an electric impulse whenever the child, the adult, the aged one will hear the name of those Jews who racked this man with nails and thorns?

Considering this man’s life and death, surveying all the facts and falsities around his globally displayed ordeal, we should walk the humble but honest way Hyam Maccoby suggests for reconstructing the historical Jesus (and his brother Judas): “We have to read between the lines in the documents that are available to us, catching hints from passages that seem to have survived from earlier accounts. This enquiry is not merely academic and theoretical. It helps us understand how myths arise, and it helps to dispel prejudices still remaining from myth-derived indoctrination. Even if we are left finally with a question-mark and a theory that reaches only to the probable, we nevertheless strengthen the rational approach that aims primarily to the probable, and eschews the bigoted certainty of minds imbued with myth and fantasy.”16

Paixão de Cristo: During a passion play in a small Brazilian town an ignorant child, spontaneously succouring Jesus, disrupts the studied drama by his true, childishly active compassion (compaixão).

6 Tz München (Munich tabloid daily), January 19/20, 2002, p.1.

7 Kierkegaard: “Der Begriff Angst”; in: Kierkegaard 1982, p.377.

8 Brackmann, p.22, 48 and 59.

9 Erika Weinzierl: Stereotype christlicher Judenfeindschaft; in: Jüdisches Museum, Die Macht der Bilder, p.131.

10 Lapide 1985, p.17.

11 Roggenkamp, p.125. Viola Roggenkamp supposes that the masculine body with its “loose loincloth” could “signify something homosexual” to the bisexual Thomas Mann. Of course this aspect for viewers of both sexes is taboo. See also the chapter “Kruzifixus” in Michael Degen’s novel about the Mann family (Familienbande, Reinbek 2011, p.11-21).

12 Perera, p.231.

13 Myrowitz, p.193.

14 Myrowitz, p.72. The Seder is the dinner table celebration on the eve of Passover, with the children’s active participation.

15 Miller 1983, p.24.

16 Maccoby 1992, p.128.

II Born of the victim Mary

“Tremble, Jews!“ exclaimed the monk, “fear the God whom you with scourges, with a crown of thorns have tortured whom into his death you’ve chasen.

His murderers, revengeful people, That’s what you have been, the Juden – Always do you kill the Saviour Him who comes for you, redeeming …” Heinrich Heine, Disputation

Heine’s monk describes the one who makes Jews tremble in a triple way: as God, as redeeming Saviour – and as victim of the Jews.

Only one of these roles was ascribed to Jesus by the Ebionites, this early Christian community led by people who must have known the ropes: Jesus’ biological relatives. To them, their crucified brother, uncle, great uncle was just “the Righteous One (saddiq), the only man who has completely fulfilled the law [and therefore] been appointed to be the Christ ... ‘If another man likewise would have fulfilled the precepts of the law, he too would have become Christ’” as reports Church Father Hippolytus (ca.170-235). “Jesus, moreover, fulfilled the law as man, not as Son of God (huios theou) but as Son of man (huios anthrópou). He was consecrated for Messiahship and endowed with the power of God not through real preexistence but through the act of adoption which was announced in Psalm 2:7 ...”17

In this psalm verse, God Himself affirms “You are My Son, I have fathered you this day” towards the same King David to whom he elsewhere promises “I will be a father to him, and he will be a son to me”; the same King David who will answer him in another psalm: “You are my father, my God, the rock of my deliverance” (Ps 2:7; 2 Sm 7:14; Ps 89:27).

This King of the people that in Exodus 4:22 is called “my firstborn son” by Yahve himself and “children of Yahve Elohim” in Deuteronomy 14:1, this royal ancestor of Jesus however is not regarded as a “genuine” Son of God by any Christian or Jew. The most appropriate answer to the question when and where Yahve sired His Son with the Virgin would be: about 50 CE, shortly before Damascus, in the head of Saul. This eager tracker of the Christian sect by order of the Sadduceans during his investigation surely had gained and gathered all information available (place of birth, father, mother, brothers ...?) concerning Jesus. All this huddled and mingled in Saul’s head, together with all the myths of divine sons provided by his Greek education, those famous Osiris, Attis and Adonis, Heracles and Dionysus. Note that these self-sacrificing sons of mystery religions were “all human-divine figures. Frequently the necessary mixture of human and divine in the sacrifice was achieved by the arrangement that one parent of the victim was human and the other divine.”18 All those pied parts for a patchwork-myth garment just had to be sewn together and put onto the naked man on cross who used to talk so much about his father. The sewing happened some miles before Damascus, when suddenly the glinty needle or rather “a light from heaven flashed around him”, Saul heard a voice and fell to the ground blind (Acts 9:3), but three days later the scales fell from his eyes (9:18) and Saul, now having romanized himself as Paul, proclaimed in synagogues that “this one be the Son of God” (9:20).

Why exactly this one?

Before Paul, never in the 1800-years-biography of Yahve Elohim, the invisible, unseizable “I will be who I will be” (Ex 3:14) had anybody tried to link Him to attitudes of the kind the Greeks enjoyed to tell about their Zeus, who himself was a son of Cronos and father of many a semi-divine offspring of his diverse earthly love affairs.

To ascribe such things to Yahve obviously was difficult to Paul the Jew. To the Romans he wrote yet in the letter’s first sentence that Jesus “was descended from David according to the flesh”, but to the Galatians he specified with new formula (4:4) that “when the fullness of time had come, God sent his son, born of a woman”. Fifteen years later, the first gospel knows nothing about a virgin Mary but describes the Nazarene’s “act of adoption” as Son of God à la David in quite an Ebionite way: “And a voice came from heaven, ‘You are my Son, the Beloved ...’” (Mark 1:11). Again fifteen years later Matthew and Luke relate the Saviour’s virgin origin in two very different conception narratives which agree in few more details than that, in Matthew’s words, “the child conceived in her is from the Holy Spirit” (1:20). From their simultaneous but obviously independent narrations, Reza Aslan concludes that “the tradition of the virgin birth was an early one, perhaps predating the first gospel, Mark.”19

Aslan is right, of course: The “early one” is Paul’s vision which became prevalent here after three decades of tradition.

In this world of causality, nothing comes by chance. Were there, in the Nazarene’s CV that Paul had studied eagerly, any odd indices propitious to see in him the son of super-natural begetting? Was there a thread in his biography fitting and robust enough to sew up the strange Greek-Hebrew couture design?

There were. In the sixth chapter of the earliest gospel, written probably in Rome around 70 CE by a non-Jewish Roman named Mark, the former neighbors of Jesus in Nazareth ask themselves: “Isn’t he the carpenter, the son of Mary and a brother of James, Joses, Judas and Simon?”

Son of Mary? No father mentioned? Every Jew then had it clearly: Oops, an illegitimate. And at that, his brothers, one, two, three, four counted and still he is just son-of-mother?

Fast forward: “If my good friend Dr Gasparri says a curse word against my mother, he can expect a punch. It’s normal. It’s normal. You cannot provoke.”20 The man who would defend his mother’s honor so manly is Latin American Pope Jorge Mario Bergoglio. He made this comment referring to the twelve journalists of French satirical magazine Charlie Hebdo who however didn’t die by punches and not because they insulted someone’s mother. Which curse word could the good Dr Gasparri have said to make Pope Francis lose his temper? Or which insult could hit all honest men more deeply, if applied to the one female person to which their whole life refers from its very beginning? Figlio di troia! Son of a bitch! Filho da Puta!

Of course, nowhere in the gospels Jesus is called a son of a bitch, at least not directly. And let me state my view already at this point very clearly: He was no harlot’s son and his very honest mother was, just like Pope Francis’ mother, never a whore, hooker, harlot, prostitute or whatever vulgarism men have coined for those usable despicables. But: What would be so inacceptable in that? Let’s remember that Jesus’ predecessor Moses, the “meshiakh fun knekht” (messiah from slavery)21 was the by-drifted child of an illicit sexual relation (Ex 6:20) between aunt and nephew; that the incest between Lot and his daughters (Genesis 19) is a detail of the Messiah’s pedigree; that the Messiah’s low birth was the essence of Luke’s manger story. And let’s recall, on the following pages, that Matthew’s gospel points to no less than four “disreputable” grandmothers of Messiah Son of David, exactly in Mary’s genealogy.

Matthew: Jesus’ great mothers“Book of descendance of Jesus Christ, the Son of David, the Son of Abraham: Abraham begot ...” and so on. This passage (Matthew 1), presenting the transition from the “Old Bible” to the “New Testament”, counts down 40 old ancestors of Jesus. But scanning this congregation of long-bearded patriarchs exactly, five female headscarfs gleam among them:

“Judah begat Perez and Zerah by Tamar ...”

“Salmon begat Boaz by Rahab ...”

“Boaz begat Jobed by Ruth ...”

“David begat Solomon by the wife of Uriah ...” whose name was Bathseba. “Jacob begot Joseph the husband of Mary, of whom was born Jesus, who is called Christ” (Matthew 1, verse 16). The husband of Mary who elsewhere and doctrinally rates but as Jesus’ stepfather is here the indispensable link in the genealogical chain from Abraham to Mary’s son. So was Jesus begot by Joseph ben Jacob? No, for immediately after the whole chain of ancestry follows the disclaimer: “When his mother Mary was betrothed to Joseph, it happened that she, before they lived together, had conceived from the Holy Spirit” (Matthew 1, verse 18). Here Joseph is definitely not the natural father, having not yet lived together with Mary.

Textual contradiction or careless edition? One shouldn’t take Matthew, the probably only Jewish one of four gospel authors, for silly. Of course he was completely conscious of the contradiction within one and the same chapter of his text. Completely consciously he had copied the line of David’s forefathers from the first book of Chronicle (1-2) and modified the line of David’s offspring to get to a neat three-fold symmetry of 14 generations up to David, 14 up to Babylon and 14 from Babylon to Jesus – provided, however, that Mary is counted as a man’s equivalent. Matthew’s new edition is completely intentional. But what is his intention? Did he, who “writes among Jews for Jews”22 intend to hint his Jewish readers, by introducing the four Davidian grandmothers, at an open secret in his Jewish ambience, a vital biographic detail of the fifth Jewish mother, Mary of Nazareth? What detail this might be, we can find out by taking a close look at the four uncommon women Tamar, Rahab, Ruth, Bathseba, those special mothers Matthew deemed worthy to stand in line with 40 virile patriarchs.

Tamar screws the chief: Jacob’s fourth son Judah had migrated to Canaan and become the husband of the Canaanite woman Shua in mixed marriage. She bare him three sons named Er, Onan and Shelah, who grew up to – so he hoped – give Judah grandsons, and “Judah took for his firstborn Er a woman named Tamar.” But Er dies early. Now the second son is obliged to marry the widow to deliver offspring to his dead and childless brother. Not very romantic, and no wonder Onan now starts to do not exactly what is termed referring to his name but coitus interruptus, every time, “and let his semen drop to earth.” Because this is not healthful and “Yahve disagreed of what he did”, Onan also dies. Now Tamar has to wait until Judah’s third son Shelah advances up to marriagable age to be given to her as her third husband. In vain she waits. Her father-in-law Judah, meanwhile a widower himself, makes no arrangements to give his third son to his two sons’ black widow. After the mourning period, widower Judah journeys to Timnah for sheep shearing. At the entrance to the village Enayim he catches sight of a veiled harlot, and for the price of a he-goat she agrees. But since he-Judah has no he-goat at hand, he asks the harlot if she will accept his signet-ring, cord and rod as pawns? Okay, she does, they do.

Three months later Judah gets alerted: “Your daughter-in-law has gone astray and become pregnant due to her sin.” Well, with such a woman the chief will make short trial: “Take her out. She shall be burnt!” But the condemned young woman puts three objects in front of the patriarch’s eyes: Signet-ring, cord and rod. Accused by those objective objects Judah confesses: “She’s in her right against me. Why did I not give her as his wife to my son Shelah?” (Gen 38). And the child of shame and incest is named Perez and becomes one of the Messiah’s great-grandfathers.

Rahab whores and helps: While Jesus’ greatgreat~grandmother Tamar had to play the harlot just for a short time to win her case against the patron, his great~grandmother Rahab is right in the service and probably not lacking clients in Jericho. Into this capital of Israel’s enemies, two spies are sent by Joshua son of Nun. They stay in Rahab’s house during the night, but raise suspicions and Madame is asked by her compatriots to deliver her strange customers. They’re gone already, Rahab says, but if you hurry you’ll catch them! Alone again, she goes up to the roof where she has hid the two spies beneath stalks of flax. Here she requires them to promise that her father, her mother, her brothers and sisters will be treated merciful when the city gets conquered. On a chord she lets the two James Bonds climb down out of the brothel’s window, “for her house was at the city’s wall (Joshua 2:15). Short time later, God’s people advances to take Jericho. Joshua orders the tabernacle to be carried seven times around the walls and seven priests to blow on seven ram horns; and on the seventh day at first the walls come tumbling down and second the citizens are slaughtered.

For the walls are falling down

And the town is flattened to the earth alike

But one cheap hotel is shunned from every strike

And they ask what VIP is living there?

And this very noon there will be silence in the harbour

When they ask themselves now: Who will have to die?

And then everyone will hear me saying: All them!