The Name of the Rose Starring Giordano Bruno Instead of Sean Connery

I just finished reading S. J. Parris's Heresy. It is a murder mystery set at Oxford University of 1583 starring one of my favorite people from the sixteenth century, Giordano Bruno. Bruno was renegade Dominican friar, who ran around Europe as an academic celebrity, preaching his particular brand of reformed Christianity, complete with magic, Kabbalah, and heliocentrism. He eventually made the mistake of traveling to the wrong place and fell into the hands of the Inquisition who burned him at the stake.

In the novel, Bruno finds himself in England searching for a lost book from the Corpus Hermeticum of Hermes Trismegistus. This was the most important work on magic in the early modern period. It was commonly believed at the time that the Corpus Hermeticum dated from the time of Moses and contained the original religion of the ancients. While searching for this lost book, Bruno befriends Philip Sydney and through him, Francis Walsingham, Queen Elizabeth's spymaster. Walsingham recruits Bruno to seek out undercover Catholics. Bruno's duel tasks of book and heresy hunting both lead him to Oxford, where Bruno finds that just about everyone there is hiding something, he is attracted to the daughter of one of the faculty and bodies are starting to mysteriously drop all over the place to the theme of Foxe's Book of Martyrs. 

Heresy reminded me of another novel, The Name of the Rose by Umberto Eco. In my mind Name of the Rose stands as probably the greatest novel about the Middle Ages ever written for its complex plot, charming if morally ambiguous characters and, most importantly, its ability to accurately present a medieval worldview without recourse to polemics about fanaticism, superstition, and misogyny. It was made into a movie starring Sean Connery. Unfortunately, the movie systematically undoes the moral complexity of the book in favor of easy to target corrupt sexually repressed monks and an oppressive Church.

The essential plot of Name of the Rose takes place in the fourteenth century and centers around a scholarly monk named William of Baskerville visiting a monastery along with his young companion Adso of Melk with the charge of looking for undercover members of the heretical Fraticelli group on behalf of inquisitor Bernard Gui. On a personal level William also seeks to examine the monastery's secret library. Before too long Adso finds himself looking into a mysterious girl, smuggled into the all-male society and bodies do start to drop with the murders all being done to the theme of the book of Revelation.

Ultimately Heresy was a fun book and certainly a much easier read than Name of the Rose. Still, the villain most certainly did not compare with Name of the Rose's. It is hard to top a blind guy armed with a poisoned copy of a lost book of Aristotle, the ultimate killer read. Still, Giordano Bruno does make for a great hero. I will even take him over Sean Connery.   

Just Say No to Polytheism: Why it is Important to Believe in a Singular Non-Physical Deity (Part III)

Part I, II

My intention is far from picking on Christianity, even pagan Christianity. My real interest and the reason why I am writing this are those Jews who have the hypocrisy to attack Christianity while holding on to doctrines that are equally as problematic as the Trinity or the Incarnation. There is no way easier to have yourself thrown out of the Jewish community, whether it is the Haredi community or the most liberal Reform community than to imply an openness to the Trinity. If this was more than just politics, we would expect equal thoroughness in going after certain other doctrines. These problematic doctrines are closely related to the Jewish mystical tradition, particularly that of Kabbalah. This is not to say that all mysticism or all Kabbalah is bad; statements have to be taken one by one and judged before the bar of monotheism and those that fail must be cast aside.

The early mystical text Shiur Koma (Song of Ascent) was listed by Maimonides as an idolatrous book because it offers measurements of God’s body. For our purpose, it is not enough to reinterpret Shiur Koma as a mystical allegory that is not meant to be taken literally. Our apologist would still have to explain how Shiur Koma serves to spread monotheist ideas more than it does to give people the idea that God has some sort of body, even an elevated preternatural one. If this person really believed that Shiur Koma was just an allegory he would have the good grace to recognize that, as with any explanation that requires more explaining than the thing it is trying to explain, it should be dropped. Thus we can assume that any Jew who actively supports Shiur Koma is either an open or closeted corporalist, thus a pagan, or is demonstrably lacking in proper monotheistic zeal. One way or another, such a person should not be allowed to hold any position of respect and authority within the Jewish community. Just as we would not allow someone who believed that God, in the person of Jesus of Nazareth, possessed a human body.

There is a whole body of early medieval Jewish mystical literature known as Merkavah texts. These texts deal with ascents into the heavenly realms by the use of various mystical names. They are premised on the notion of the heavens as a realm that can be traversed and that one can even reach the inner sanctum where God “dwells.” While one can reinterpret this as something innocuous, there is no doubting the inescapable premise that the divine realms are a place that can be conquered through the right secret knowledge. The moment you allow this you turn Judaism from a rational ethical religion to a magical and hence a pagan religion.

Maimonides’ Guide to the Perplexed is often blamed for the mass apostasy in Spain. The Guide was quite popular in Spain, but so was the Zohar, a body of mystical texts attributed to Rabbi Shimon b. Yochai and is the main source for the concept of Sephirot. Now I ask you what is more likely to get people to sincerely convert to Christianity, a book like the Guide that takes one of the most hard-line stances imaginable against God being in any way physical or a book like the Zohar that suggests that God might have different parts to him? This is ultimately the same sort of territory opened up by the Trinity. Abraham Abulafia made the argument that the belief in Sephirot was worse than the Trinity as the Christians only had three persons in their godhead and not ten. It is not for nothing that early modern Christian Hebraists were so interested in the Zohar and the concept of Sephirot. If you accept Sephirot than you have no intellectual reason to reject the Trinity. In fact, the Trinity can easily be worked into the Sephirot. God the Father could be the three highest Sephirot, Keter, Chochma, and Binah. The Holy Spirit could be six of the lower Sephirot. Jesus would then be the Sephira of Malchut. Malchut is special because it is the one Sephira that directly interacts with the physical world, a Kabbalistic version of the Incarnation. So what sort of person would support a book like the Zohar? Someone whose primary concern is not defending strict monotheism.

Zoheric concepts are developed into some of their worst features in the thought of Isaac Luria. Luria postulated an elaborate creation story in which the divine vessels were damaged in the very act of creation, leaving human beings with the task of tikkun olam, healing the world. At the heart of this theology are the notions that God is in some sense “imperfect” and in “need” of human aid to make himself perfect once again and that human beings have the power to affect the divine.

While books like Shiur Koma, Merkavah texts, Zohar and the Lurianic corpus are held in high esteem by most in the Haredi world, the group that has done the most to popularize such texts has been Chabad. This makes Chabad a logical target for someone like me who believes that such books, for all intents and purposes, advocate paganism. In addition, Chabad has its own sacred text, Tanya, which features many of the same problems as these other texts. So what do we assume about our Rabbi Eli Brackman, the Chabad rabbi at Oxford mentioned previously? If his interests are really in the realm of ethical monotheism than he would be spending his time trying to pass along the philosophy of Saadiah Gaon, Judah Ha-Levi and Maimonides. He would not be spending his time with Tanya. For that matter why, considering that Chabad has more and more become not just a side issue for Chabad Jews but the central issue of their Judaism, is Rabbi Brackman identifying himself with Chabad? Now Rabbi Brackman has denied having any polytheist intent; this leaves the conclusion that either Rabbi Brackman is just a closeted pagan or that he fails to appreciate the gravity of the situation, a common failing of so-called monotheists.

In conclusion, I admit that I have not offered a thorough discussion of Jewish mysticism nor do I claim to be an expert in the field. This is a more formal version of the challenge that I touched upon earlier and I hope that this could the start of future dialogue. My challenge to Rabbi Brackman or anyone else who wishes to defend Kabbalah in general and Chabad specifically is not whether they can offer acceptable interpretations of the texts in question but whether these texts offer something to ethical monotheism that can justify tolerating them in light of the very obvious heterodox lines of thought inherent to them.

At the Pub with C. S. Lewis and J. R. R. Tolkien

For me, no stay at Oxford would be complete without a visit to the famous Eagle and Child pub where C. S. Lewis, J. R. R. Tolkien and the other members of the Inklings used to meet.


I guess the sign is not in keeping with rabbinic thinking. According to Rashi and the Midrash, the great virtue of the eagle is that it carries the young on its back in order to shield them from men’s arrows.

I went inside and had a pint of some of the local stuff. To quote Pippin in the Peter Jackson Lord of the Rings film, but not the original novel: “it comes in pints?” You can tell that the stuff was good because I drank all of it. This the first time in my life that I have ever drunk a full pint of beer. I think Lewis would be proud of me. I am not much of a beer drinker, but I have recently been getting into it. I am now the sort of person who will go through a bottle over the course of watching a game. In the back of me is a letter from the year 1948 drinking to the health of the proprietor of the establishment. The letter is signed by several people among them are C. S. Lewis, J. R. R. Tolkien, and Christopher Tolkien, who was then an undergraduate student at Oxford.

Later, I was helping out at the Chabad house when I mentioned Lewis to Mrs. Freida Brackman. She responded that she taught Lewis’ grandchildren. I response was: “so you know David Gresham.” Lewis late in life, married an American divorcee named Joy Davidman. She was an ex-Communist, who had converted to Christianity. Joy was originally from a secular Jewish family. Joy had two children, David, and Douglas Gresham. (Lewis actually dedicated the Horse and His Boy to the two of them.) Joy died of cancer leaving the two children with Lewis. As a teenager, David Gresham became an Orthodox Jew. Interestingly enough, Lewis actually paid for David’s Yeshiva education. According to Mrs. Brackman, David and his wife are extremely eccentric. I would certainly love to meet them. Judging from the fact that there is little information available about David on the web, I assume that he is a very private person, who likes to avoid the public spotlight.

Oxford Martyrs (The Catholic Version)

The X marks the spot where they used to burn people at the stake. I cannot think of any American Universities were people have ever been put to the stake for coming out on the wrong side of an academic debate; they are just denied tenure.

I visited a Dominican monastery here in Oxford. I feel a certain kinship to the Dominicans ever since I took a Facebook quiz and found out that the Dominicans are the monastic order I am best suited for. (The quiz was a big hit around the department. There may not be many religious Catholics, besides for one person who is in fact a Dominican priest, but there are many medievalists and early modernists with backgrounds in church politics. Most of us ended up as Dominicans. I guess it has something to do with our bookish sensibilities. My Mormon friend, Logan Smith, came out a Franciscan, but he answered the questions with that intent since he studies them.)

I found a pamphlet at the monastery titled “Catholic Martyrs of Oxford.”For those unfamiliar with English History, the Oxford Martyrs refers to a group of leading Anglican figures burnt at the stake under the reign of the Catholic Mary I (r. 1553-58).

As the pamphlet notes: Oxford’s most famous martyrs are the bishops Hugh Latimer, Nicholas Ridley and Thomas Cranmer, who died courageously for their Protestant faith by being burnt to death, ironically the same method they themselves had approved of (when they still enjoyed the Crown’s favour) for dealing with stubborn Catholics and other heretics.

The pamphlet goes on to point out that five Catholic martyrs were executed in Oxford and proceeds to give their stories. Four of them, Thomas Belson, George Nichols, Humphrey Pritchard, and Richard Yaxley, were captured at St. Giles Inn and were hanged on July 5, 1589. Nichols and Yaxley, being priests, were drawn and quartered as well. The fifth martyr was George Napper, a priest, who was hanged, drawn and quartered on November 9, 1610. I guess it helps if your side has a Foxe’s Book of Martyrs with its pretty pictures.



A simple pamphlet is just not going to compete.

I find it interesting that this Catholic pamphlet, in a sense, acknowledges the martyrdom of Latimer, Ridley, and Cranmer as something admirable. I guess in this modern world one has to be more ecumenical even when discussing this most unecumenical act. Let us face it; either these Protestants were servants of the Devil or their Catholic executioners were murderers. There is not a whole lot of wiggle room here.

The funny thing about the persecution of Catholics during the reigns of Elizabeth I and James I was that “technically” it was legal to be a Catholic as long as you acknowledged the supremacy of the monarch as the head of the English Church and not the pope, were not a Catholic priest, did not aid or abate any Catholic priests and did not take part in any Catholic masses. The penalty for any of these things was death. So one could not actually be a Catholic. During the late sixteenth and early seventeenth centuries, approximately two hundred Catholic priests and laymen were executed. Their crime was not heresy, but treason. It was treason to believe that the pope was the proper head of the Church and to take part in a Catholic mass. One of the interesting implications of this was that, since these people were not being executed as Catholics and because technically speaking being a Catholic was not a crime, many of these Catholic martyrs, when given the chance to speak their last words, gave very Catholic sermons and no one could stop them.

Inquisitor Teddy Bears, Walking with C. S. Lewis and an English German Church Service

For Sunday I was planning on spending the day in London. I ended up changing those plans when I was invited to help out at a Teddy Bear carnival. This project is the brainchild of a local shop owner named Erica, who runs the Bead Games store.

The idea is that people donate old Teddy Bears, ranging from pocket-size to gigantic, and she hosts an outdoor tea-party where she sells the bears and the proceeds go to charity.

It was great fun stringing the bears up and tying them up to the pyramids. I thought of it as sentencing them to be hung and burned alive at an auto-da-fe. For the horrible crimes you have committed against law and order, you bear are to hang by the neck until death. May God have mercy on your soul. And you bear are charged with heresy on three counts - heresy by thought, heresy by word, heresy by deed, and heresy by action (oh four counts).

In the afternoon I toured Magdalene College, where C. S. Lewis taught. Behind the campus, there is a beautiful path called Addison’s walk, which Lewis frequented. (Anyone who has read Lewis understands the important role of nature walks in his thinking.) There is a plaque in memory of Lewis along the way. It is hard to see the writing from more than a few feet away so I actually had quite a difficult time finding it.

On the plaque is a poem of Lewis’:

What the Bird Said Early in the Year

I heard in Addison’s Walk a bird sing clear:

This year the summer will come true. This year. This year.
Winds will not strip the blossom from the apple trees

This year nor want of rain destroy the peas.
This year time’s nature will no more defeat you.

Nor all the promised moments in their passing cheat you.
This time they will not lead you round and back

To Autumn, one year older, by the well worn track.
This year, this year, as all these flowers foretell

We shall escape the circle and undo the spell.
Often deceived, yet open once again your heart

Quick, quick, quick, quick! – the gates are drawn apart.

After spending some time with Lewis, I went over to the Church of St. Mary the Virgin, a magnificent Cathedral right next door to the Bodleian library. Seeing that a service was in progress in one of the side chapels, I went in and sat down, hoping to experience a traditional English church service. There was an old lady sitting next to me and she kindly showed me where they were up to in her hymnal. I looked down at the page and then perked my ears to the singing; they were singing a German hymn. As it turns out this was not an exercise in multiculturalism. This was a German Lutheran congregation and the entire service, with the exception of a few points where they stopped to translate, was in German. At Magdalene, I had just walked past the commemoration wall where they had the names of students who died during World War I and World War II. Lewis himself fought in France during World War I and did a famous series of broadcasts, which became the basis for his Mere Christianity, during World War II. I am sure some of my Haredi relatives are reading this and are hoping that I pick up on a Nazi connection here take this as a message from above that I should not be in a church anymore than I should be at a Nazi rally. I was strongly reminded of the book Aryan Jesus, which dealt with Christianity in Germany under the Nazis. There is a part of the book that deals with efforts to change church hymns to better fit Nazi ideology.

I went over to the pastor, a blonde haired woman in formal clerical garb, afterwards and asked her about this congregation; I figured there had to be a good story behind this. It turns out that this congregation was founded right before the start of World War II by German refugees. So I guess this German church service in middle of England does work well with World War II. The congregation today is mostly made up of Germans, living in Oxford. I pointed out to her that if we go even further back we see Martin Bucer, a member of Martin Luther’s circle, coming over to England to help with the English Reformation.

Despite the fact that this is a German congregation, they gathered afterwards for tea. I guess certain aspects of English culture are inescapable. Interestingly enough, when I told this whole story over to one of the people staying along with me at Yarnton, who is German, he told me that in Berlin there is an Anglican congregation that holds services in English. I wonder about these Anglicans. After services, do they gather around for beer and knockwurst?

The view on top of St. Mary’s is just breathtaking.

To reach the top one has to go up this really narrow winding staircase. Climbing up took enough effort to have me contemplating what a useful answer this tower would serve for that most foundational question in democracy: "where would you place a machine gun?" As an American, the version I traditionally use ends with "in case King George III comes marching down the street." I guess that would not work in England. Since this is an Anglican church, maybe it can be "in case the Pope comes down the street."

On the way down I noticed that they had a sign up for John Henry Newman’s office. (At this point I should point out how grateful I am to Rabbi Shalom Carmy for introducing me to the writings of this nineteenth-century Christian thinker.) I wonder whether the sign is for the pre-Catholic Anglican Newman or for after he converted to Catholicism and became Cardinal John Henry Newman. I find his reasoning for converting quite relevant to contemporary religious thought. He argued that, in a growingly secular environment, the Church would increasingly find itself under pressure to make compromises to make itself presentable to modern society. The only thing that could stand in the way of this was a strong church structure and hierarchy. As Newman saw it, the Catholic Church was the only Church that could do that. I assume the sign is for the Anglican Newman, who used to preach here. I greatly admire those who kept the sign. If these were Haredim there would be a full denial that someone like Newman, who converted out of the faith, ever was associated with this place.

If a movie is ever made of Asael, this church would be great for staging a fight scene. I am thinking something for the later books, once you get characters that are immune to standard weapons running at each other with sharp pointed objects that are not of this world. (Paleface, from the prologue, being one of these people) They can go up the stairway, to the ledge and crash over the ledge to the rooftops of the lower buildings.

Shabbos at the Oxford Chabad

I spent Shabbos at the Chabad at Oxford and was hosted by Rabbi Eli Brackman. Since I regularly go to the Chabad at Ohio State, I figured that it would make for a fun comparison. Small Jewish world, Rabbi Brackman knows Rabbi Zalman Deitsch of Ohio State. (I wonder if they are, even now, exchanging notes on me. “So who exactly is this Chinn guy and what is his deal?”) There was a guest speaker, Dr. Aharon Giamani of Bar Ilan University in Israel. Dr. Giamani’s field, which he spoke to us about, is in the history of Yemenite Jewry. I was fortunate to be able to speak to him over Shabbos and I am grateful to him for allowing me to hold the conversation in my rather poor conversational Hebrew.

Due to a conversation about Jewish philosophy with one of the Chabad people about, I was presented with the tenth chapter Sha'ar ha-Yichud ve'ha'Emunah in the Tanya, the foundational text of Chabad thought. The essential point of this chapter is that God is one with the sephirot. The analogy used is that of the relationship between the sun and the rays of light it gives off. This may be the medievalist in me, but when I hear the analogy of the unity of the sun and sunlight I think of the classical apology for the Trinity that uses this same analogy. I raised this issue with Rabbi Brackman and he was remarkably non-pulsed about it. He agreed that there was a parallel here and that it was probably written like that on purpose. Rabbi Brackman went on to argue that the difference would be that the Tanya does not take any of this literally. Rabbi Brackman went on point out the basic tenant of Chabad theology that God literally includes everything and that individuality is simply an illusion. I had a similar experience with another Lubavitch person a few years ago who, when I asked him what the difference between the Chabad belief that human souls are literally part of God and the Christians doctrine of the Incarnation beyond the fact that Chabad would multiply the problem billions of times over by turning every human being into their own Jesus Christ. My Lubavitch friend responded that he did not know, but that anyway it was not a problem.

If we are going to go with the classical understandings of Jewish thought as found in Saadiah Gaon, the Kuzari, Maimonides and medieval Jewish anti-Christian polemics, the rejection of the Trinity and the Incarnation are critical parts of Judaism. A Judaism in which one cannot give a coherent reason for rejecting the Trinity and the Incarnation is one in which Jews might as well start lining up to the baptismal font. Yet we have Chabad rabbis nonchalantly throwing around arguments that are almost identical. Put it this way, if what Chabad believes about the nature of God and him being one unified entity with the sephirot and all human souls is not heresy then I do not know of any coherent argument against the acceptance of a classical Christian understanding of the Trinity and the Incarnation that will hold water for more than five minutes.

I know people who have or are in middle of converting to Judaism. Last I checked, unless you can give a straightforward NO to the question of whether you believe in the Trinity or the Incarnation with no equivocations or scholastic discourses, you will not be accepted for conversion. This applies equally to the most conservative Satmar court as it does to the Reform movement, making this one of the few things that the entire spectrum of Judaism actually agrees on. Prof. David Berger wishes to argue that Chabad is heresy because of the messianic beliefs held by many in the movement. In truth, it goes much further, into the fundamental doctrines of the movement found in Tanya.

The Lubavitchers that I know, I like and respect for the most part. Considering that I have been living outside of a major Jewish community, dealing with Lubavitch is sort of a practical necessity. I find the implications of Berger’s proposed ban too frightening to seriously consider. That being said, I must admit that it is a real problem.

Shabbos did not end here in the southern part of England until a quarter to eleven at night, so much for doing something on Saturday night. It must strange trying to raise children in such a situation. “Alright kids, go to bed now. Shabbos will be over when you get up in the morning.”

My Escapades around Oxford (No I Have Not Been at the Center of Any International Intrigue)

I have fallen head over heels in love with the city of Oxford. Heaven should look like it. Oxford may not be a beautiful city in the conventional sense, but it is old, historic and the academic city that every other academic city wishes it could be. In other words, my kind of town.

While walking about I ran into a former professor of mine, James Bracken. I was really surprised when he introduced me to his friend from Gustavus Adolphus College in Minnesota (If only Gustavus had been Norwegian and not Swedish we could have had the perfect Garrison Keillor Minnesota stereotype.). Dr. Bracken actually managed to remember the paper I wrote on Christian Hebraism for his History of the Book class. We promptly did the sacred letters, O-H, to demonstrate Ohio State’s kinyan, ownership, of this land. (We did not have the manpower to perform the I-O, but I am sure Coach Woody Hayes up above understands.)

Oxford, like Columbus, has a Broad and a High Street. So I think this makes it a very ripe target for my brand of academic imperialism.

A few posts back, I discussed Terry Eagleton and his Marxist beliefs. If anyone has any doubts about that, Eagleton is listed as a speaker at an upcoming Marxist rally.

I walked into a Borders here at Oxford. It is good to feel some of the pleasures of home. Stephenie Meyer and her Twilight vampires are clearly a hit in this country as well.

I got this picture of myself next to posters for the upcoming performances of Shakespeare’s Comedy of Errors and Roald Dahl’s BFG. Between Shakespeare at his worst and Dahl at his best, I think I am going to go with Dahl.

I managed to befriend some of the workers at the theater pub. They were Dahl fans as well and believed in the continued relevance of Dahl in saving the world. We also got to talking about Disney and Monty Python. There was a girl in the group; she was intrigued by the fact that I was an American. She had not spoken to any Americans since the election and wanted to know what I thought about Barack Obama. That was a tricky one for me as I am part of the small minority of my peer group that does not support Obama, making me a very poor sample. I started dancing around the issue, explaining that I liked Obama as a person, but I had problems with many of his policies. In the end, I told her point-blank that I was a Republican, who voted for McCain, though one who is not happy with the party, mainly because it had been taken over by the Christian right. I furthermore explained that I was a Libertarian and elaborated on what that meant. She seemed satisfied with my response. In my experience, most people become very open to Libertarianism once you explain to them what it is. Libertarianism has a lot to offer, particularly if you are a well-educated person, working hard to make ends meet, who enjoys the occasional beer and hand-rolled cigarette.

Sitting around in the Oriental Studies library, I came across an essay by David S. Katz, “Edmund Gayton’s Anti-Jewish Poem Addressed to Manasseh Ben Israel, 1656.” [JQR 71(1980-81)] This essay deals with a series of rumors, circulated by royalists, while the issue of Jewish readmission into England was being debated, that the Jews were negotiating with Oliver Cromwell’s government to buy St. Paul’s Cathedral and the Bodleian Library, the main library at Oxford. Apparently, the Jews offered 500,000 pounds but Cromwell wanted 700,000-800,000 pounds. I showed this to the librarian and he got a good laugh.

Now, this is a plot that I could go for. So here it is for all you members of the Elders of Zion. I am not interested in taking over banks or Hollywood; what I want is the Bodleian Library. Well, the Bodleian and the rest of Oxford. The Bodleian can be my castle and the rest of greater Oxford can be my personal feudal kingdom, which would give me the Yarnton Manor as a summer/plague retreat.