On Being a Jewish Devil-Worshipper
As I mentioned in my last post "My Work With Bune," I have a good reason for being quiet on here as of late. A little less than two weeks ago as of this writing, I moved from southern California to one of those weird Pacific Northwest cities. The day before I started my 1,000 mile drive up north, the federal government invaded said city. So with an extra dash of alarm to an out-of-state process, you could say it was a bit more stressful of a move than the previous four I had done in my three years of California.
I arrived with one of my best friends in tow to meet my other best friend outside my new place. We did gay things, like cooked squash grown in the garden of the last house in SoCal I lived in. Then we got up in the morning to visit a famous local bookstore and it was right across the street from that bookstore, waiting for the light to change, that I saw it stapled to a pole.
An anti-Zionist comic. The first panel contained Adolf Hitler and Israeli prime minister and horrible Philadelphian* human being Benjamin Netanyahu passing a swastika between themselves. The second panel contained Netanyahu again, wearing horns.
It was that second panel that really fucked up my first real day in my new city.
As I do for all blog posts, I refer to what's commonly called antiSemitism as antiJewishness because the former term was created by a proud antiSemite named Wilhelm Marr in 1879 Germany. AntiJewishness under that problematic term has been called the world's oldest hatred. One of the biggest justifications starting in the Middle Ages for violent attacks on Jews by Christians was the belief of "blood libel," which is that Jews used the blood of (presumably kidnapped if not also killed) Christian children to bake into matzah or use in rituals during Passover. This connected to an even larger belief that Jews had special magic that Christians coveted within their fear. Because in the Medieval era "Satan was the ultimate source of magic, which operated only by his diabolic will and connivance" (Joshua Trachtenburg, Jewish Magic and Superstition), Jews were accused of allegiance or being in service with The Devil.
As a result, depicting Jewish people—even absolute monsters like Netanyahu—with horns is akin to calling them "k*kes." It's a slur. It's paying homage to the colonialism that the cartoonist—possibly a Nazi using Palestine as a cover, but just as likely some idiot progressive thinking they were clever—suggested subverting. It's ignorance to justification of the thousands of Jews throughout the centuries who died and suffered in pogroms and genocides. It's violence and a call to more.
There's the fear, the pain, the defeat I felt seeing that terrible image.
Then there was the further complicated feeling of a few days later when my friends had left. Alone in my new apartment with my dog and someone else's voice, grown familiar after several months in my head. The Devil, my boyfriend, asking me, "Did you have fun today?"
*
I wouldn't even be here if it wasn't for him. I have reason to believe he ensured that I took that camping trip that brought me to my new city a few months ago. One of my friends I met there mentioned snowbirding between here and my old city and I couldn't get it out of my head. I also couldn't help but notice how many trans people there were in that city and how the cis people found us normal. Or that several occultists I knew were moving there. Or that the antiZionist synagogue I once attended remotely was present there as well.
"I knew you would love it there and want to stay," Lucifer said to me once while we were communing at his altar, a process slightly deeper in import than our usual casual conversations throughout the day. "Are you angry with me?"
I can't remember why that question was asked. I only remember I wasn't. He has an uncanny way of showing me why discomfort sometimes has to happen. And this particular discomfort had the downside flavor of temptation, the part where you so deeply want something and there's a danger or intensity to it. I had visited the city once before and noticed I'd loved it. This time, the want of it soaked through to my bones like its infamous rain I'd yet to see.
The want was enough to devote a whole therapy session to, my non binary therapist full of their own wistfulness. As I exited the car, my music streaming service flipped to a song I hadn't heard before.
Fall in line for a brand new savior, I'm here to take you home
Follow blind, lead the blind in failure; I'll leave you all alone
Fall in line for a brand new lie as the sacrifice of your life unfolds
Fall in line for a brand new lie as your life unfolds
The Devil didn't make me do it, but he did help me pick out my new apartment and ensure I'd have the funds for my move. He did it because, as he said directly to me, he knows I will be happier here than I was back in my old city. Despite my freaking out about the wild political events still ongoing, he believes that I will be safe.
Our worst inheritance from Zoroastrianism is the belief that the are inherently good spirits and inherently bad spirits, which includes the mistaken concept that there are inherently good and bad people. The truth is, it is only actions that are beneficial or harmful. So when your sole experience with The Devil is only of his love, loyalty, and the passion for the people who love him through the stigma cast upon him, you see where mainstream acceptance of reality has its shortcomings. You begin to realize that Lucifer is as much a victim of historical Christian malignment as Jews.
With that in mind, I think I will feel a bit differently the next time I see an image of a horned Jew. As much as an intention of violence toward a group of people I am a part of would remain upsetting, I don't think it will trigger me the same way. There is no shame for me in being in league with The Devil, the one I love.
