A fascinating episode in the history of Judaism:
Far away from the eyes of the Jewish mainstream, in modern-day Turkey there live hundreds, if not thousands, of crypto-Jews — and today, one of their most sacred shrines is in danger.
This is the hidden, fascinating tale of the doenmeh, descendants of the faithful followers of the 17th-century false messiah Sabbetai Tzvi, who converted to Islam in 1666. Tzvi’s own conversion came under duress: The Ottoman sultan demanded that he don the turban or die after nearly one-third of European Jewry had come to believe he was the messiah and had begun swarming into Turkey, expecting the long-awaited triumph of the Jews.
And then he converted to Islam.
That must have disappointed quite some followers. Luckily for him though, not everybody stopped believing in his divine nature:
Tzvi chose to convert, and most of his followers lost hope — but not all of them. Many saw the conversion as a heroic act of tikkun, or repair, and followed their messiah’s lead by outwardly becoming Muslims while secretly maintaining their messianic Jewish faith. They were called doenmeh, meaning “turncoatsâ€â€” a pejorative term not unlike marrano (“pig.â€) Among themselves, they were called ma’aminim, “believers.†Sabbateanism did not die out in 1666, or even 10 years later when Tzvi himself died. There were subsequent messiahs — largely forgotten men like Baruchiah Russo and Jacob Frank — and, as recent scholarship has shown, Sabbateanism greatly influenced the 18th-century emergence of Hasidism. And then there are the doenmeh, who live on until the present day, in secretive communities, at first primarily in Salonika and today almost entirely in present-day Turkey.
What about their situation now?
Over the years, most of the doenmeh assimilated into Islam; many more were annihilated during the Holocaust, and still more have, in modern-day Turkey, come to see their background as a curious but largely irrelevant heritage. But even those who did assimilate usually maintained some knowledge of their ancestry, and doenmeh were among the founders of the secular Turkish republic. Today, many doenmeh are among Turkey’s elite, though it is taboo to speak their names; since doenmeh are regarded as traitors by both Muslims and Jews, it is scandalous to accuse a person of being one of them, even if his or her identity is an open, unspoken secret. (Recently-deceased Turkish foreign minister Ismail Cem, for example, was “outed†by several Turkish newspapers, but he denied being a Sabbatean, and Iglaz Zorlu’s best-selling 1999 memoir, “Yes, I am a Salonikan,†stirred controversy throughout the country.) But the secret is open, like the doenmeh cemeteries outside of Istanbul, with their distinctively unadorned gravestones, and the mosques where doenmeh are known to pray.
Forward’s reporter was lucky enough to speak with a descendant of the doenmeh: Barry Kapandji (fake name). Barry’s father told him about his ancestry when he was nine years old. He has been fascinated by his heritage ever since. Today Barry is worried: the government wants to destroy “the house in Izmir (formerly Smyrna) in which Tzvi is believed to have lived.” Barry tried to organize resistance but there is one minor problem: most doenmeh keep their heritage a secret.
Kapandji: “This is a crime against culture, history and my heritage. The Jewish community elders do not want the house turned into a museum.… They would like Sabbetai’s name to be eradicated from history.”
Sadly, Izmir’s Jewish community did not want to comment on it: what is known, is that “in traditional Jewish circles it is customary to add the epithet ‘Yemach shemo,’ ‘May his name be blotted out,’ to the names of Sabbetai Tzvi and other heretics.”
Dr. Cengiz Sisman, an expert on Sabbateanism who received his doctorate from Harvard University, strongly believes that the house in question is indeed the house where the Jewish heretic was born. If true, “it is an important relic of a key episode in Jewish history,” and its destruction would be a shame. Forward’s Jay Michaelson explains that the doenmeh continued to live in the same neighborhood for centuries: this makes it more likely that the story of the house is true.
Of course there are other reasons to preserve the house Tzvi once lived in: it’s not just part of the history of this Jewish sect, its also part of Jewish history in Turkey and of the history of Turkey. As Dr. Sisman explained, it shows the country’s “multicultural heritage.”
Absolutely fascinating: the history of this sect, but also that they still secretly exist. If anyone out there knows more about them, please contact me (send me an e-mail). I would appreciate that greatly.
Truly a fascinating article, I encourage all of you to read it. A big hat tip to Holly for e-mailing me the article.
Cross posted at my own blog.
PAST CONTRIBUTOR.