Rep. Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez’s favorite biblical story is mired in a dark, anti-Jewish past
The so-called “temple cleansing,” or as some scholars put it: “temple tantrum,” is easily misunderstood, experts told me for a National Catholic Reporter article.
In Giotto’s fresco of the expulsion of the money changers from the temple at the Scrovegni Chapel in Padua, Jesus occupies the central portion of the picture. The Christian faithful—haloed—occupy the left side of the composition, while the two money changers, their hands in the air, are on the receiving end of Jesus’ whip and clenched fist to the right. The picture’s true villains appear on the far right: the long-bearded, conspiratorial-looking rabbinic Pharisees. They, of course, have no halos.
Giotto’s visual staging of this scene, which appears in all four Gospels, isn’t unusual. Throughout art history, as well as the history of biblical explication, this story has often been appropriated for anti-Jewish propaganda. The corrupt Jews would have continued to desecrate greedily sacred ground ad infinitum if not for Jesus’ violent intervention and accusation that they had turned his “Father’s house” into a “den of thieves” and a “a house of merchandise.”
In late October, U.S. Rep. Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez told National Catholic Reporter that the temple “cleansing” was her favorite biblical story, and that just as Jesus dramatically and violently attacked the temple money changers, it’s essential to confront “money changers” hawking their wares in the “temple” of U.S. democracy today. Whether intentional, that formulation risks fueling anti-Jewish hatred, several scholars told me for my recent National Catholic Reporter article.
(Close readers will note the piece appears in the paper’s opinion/commentary section, but I treated it as a reported news piece and didn’t intend to share any of my opinions therein.)
Jonathan Karp, director of Judaic studies at Binghamton University, SUNY, told me in an interview that Christians should forgo phrases like “30 pieces of silver” and “the money changers from the Temple” even when they don’t intend to invoke Jews consciously. “I like AOC, so I’m not singling her out,” he told me. “When Jews like me hear them we flinch, because we know that they have been put to insidious use.”
“I don’t think AOC, who is obviously not a full-time historian of this period, knows anything about the positive treatment of discerning, honest, and faithful money changers in early Christian traditions,” added Curtis Hutt, associate professor of religious studies at University of Nebraska Omaha. “She probably can’t envision Jesus or the Church Fathers telling people to be good money changers—even though this is perfectly sensible.”
I sought repeatedly over the course of more than a week to secure comment from the congresswoman’s congressional and campaign offices, but was unable to hear her, or a surrogate’s or staffer’s, explanation of her intentions here. That was disappointing for the story, as well as very enlightening about a unique way that her offices handle media queries. (Perhaps that will be the subject of its own piece down the road.)
The full piece appears here, and I always welcome subscribers’ thoughts in the comments section.
The artistic characterization of Jews in medieval art is indeed unfortunate. Like various classic essays or novels, these illustrations also are huge windows into historical condescension (but at other times, remarkable and appropriate veneration). The Museum of the Bible exhibits the Fifteen Signs of Domesday, a block book from Germany--one of its national heritage pieces (the original remains most of the time in Wuffenbuttel's library--also laden with Luther artifacts--and a facsimile in DC). The Jewish merchant is pictured therein as you describe, as shady, sinister, lurking. And the pope is also depicted in a demeaning way--actually as the antichrist with a dragon on his shoulder. (The main value of the book, however, is in its window into block printing, and that form of German--and as such its historical backdrop and biases are inextricably linked with its artisans and medieval patrons). Like Giotto's fresco, viewing it is gaining an understanding of history, not endorsing it. And, such pieces present opportunities for correctives, for education, for insights in outlets like, oh, CSR and RS. In your other article (National Catholic Reporter), you summarize well the issues with these Gospel narratives taken out of context: "To early Christians, it cast 'other' Jews as rejected by God, and medieval adherents leveraged it to associate Jews with money and power." A wide stream of examples of such a stereotype are found throughout history. I am cautious about the overplay here, however--in banning a reference from public discourse, such as not using phrases such as "thirty pieces of silver" for fear of some blanket characterization of a people. No more so than "tilting at windmills" miscast as an indictment of the common sense of all Spaniards from La Mancha, or "Achilles heel" of all Greeks or descendants of Peleus, or "Benedict Arnold" indicative of all patriots from Connecticut. The Hebrew and Christian Bibles are both filled with descriptions of human character flaws, which seem highlighted here--not all money changers which served an important societal purpose, or all Jewish leaders and thinkers in first-century Jerusalem. Another observation about your short piece above--that your other piece appears as "opinion/commentary." However, I'm happy to see it in the NCR wherever it landed, which reflects well on its editor. Perhaps Editor Schlumpf didn't have room elsewhere, or she thought it would receive more attention in the commentary space. We had extended conversations about such placements when I was at RNS. You're absolutely right--that generally there's a reason for the "commentary" versus reporting placement, and sometimes obvious reasons, but not always.
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Another eye-opening essay, thank you