Margaret Robinson - writer. researcher. activist - Toronto, Ontario, Canada

Anti-Judaism in Lesbian Christian Theology

Please feel free to quote or cite this document, provided the appropriate citation is provided. Ex: Margaret Robinson, "Anti-Judaism in Lesbian Christian Theology," (course paper, University of Toronto, 2002). When citing material online you may wish to add the URL, and the last date you accessed the page.

This article is particularly unfinished. It emerged from my interest in Critical theory, and particularly from my interest in The Authoritarian personality studies. This article is still very much a work in progress. I hope that recent additions to my library (particularly Elisabeth Young-Bruehl's The Anatomy of Prejudices) will help me to catch up on the work psychology and the social sciences have been doing on prejudice. If this topic is an interest of yours I would love to hear from you.

Introduction

In this article I examine three anti-Jewish tendencies within lesbian Christian theology: 1) contrasting Jesus with Judaism; 2) portraying the Jesus movement as a replacement of Judaism; and 3) using Jesus or the concept of Christ as universally applicable. Naming these tendencies is not new. Jewish feminists such as Judith Plaskow, Leonore Siegele-Wenschkewitz, and Susannah Heschel have already identified these features in Christian feminist theology.1 My focus is on how these tendencies express themselves in lesbian theology, and what unique forces shape their creation. Using the critical theory of Max Horkheimer and Theodor Adorno, I suggest that lesbian Christian theology's anti-Judaism emerges in part from the psychological mechanisms of image, projection, and transference; specifically, from the use of Judaism as feminist lesbianism's negative principle.

The use of critical theory to examine lesbian theology is not unproblematic. Critical theory's antecedents, dialectical materialism and psychoanalysis, have a history of negative constructions of same-sex desire, and this ideology has frequently formed the basis for persecution of those labelled homosexual. Horkheimer and Adorno's work specifically, in taking up the oedipus complex, posits sadomasochistic homosexuality as the root of the authoritarian personality, and thereby, of fascism.2 In light of this history and bias, critical theory is a tool best used with caution.

I approach this work as a bisexual woman, politically and socially active in many lesbian and bisexual communities. I consider myself an insider to the lesbian theology I discuss, although some will consider my identity as bisexual, rather than lesbian, to mark me as an outsider. There is not yet a sufficient body of theological writing by bisexual men or women to permit a study of bisexual theology as a genre.

My interest in anti-Judaism stems from many sources. Significant among them are the many Jewish women I have met and befriended through the lesbian, bisexual and queer women's community. Also significant is the Catholic climate in which I have trained as a theology student. The conscious view of my professors and fellow students was one of respect toward Judaism. I was not taught that the Jewish covenant had been superceded by Christianity, nor that the Jews held a special responsibility for the death of Jesus. Yet upon reading Judith Plaskow's article, "Christian Feminism and Anti-Judaism," I was horrified to discover that my own papers contained many of the anti-Judaic tendencies she described. Furthermore, I was disappointed that not one of my professors had commented on their potential anti-Judaism. Finally, my interest in Judaism stems from the similarity between the mechanics of antisemitism and anti-Judaism, and that of homophobia and heterosexism. Both groups have similar accusations launched against us: that we secretly control the media or that we are excessively and unjustly wealthy. The accusations change according to the needs of our accusers, but the methodology of prejudice remains the same.

In choosing to focus upon lesbian theology I do not intend to imply that lesbian theology embodies anti-Judaism to a greater degree than other segments of Christian tradition. I echo Elisabeth Schüssler Fiorenza in affirming that it is not "solely or even primarily feminist theology that engenders Anti-Judaism."3 Nor is anti-Judaism unique to lesbian theology. We have inherited it from our religious traditions through hermeneutical criteria and interpretive frameworks that assume Christian triumphalism.4

In my view, any discussion of anti-Judaism by Christian theologians must begin from an awareness of our history of using Christian power against Jews. This is not intended merely to elicit Christian guilt but to counteract a Christian self-understanding that blinds us to our privilege. The horrors of Christian history belong to lesbian and bisexual Christians as well; neither our sexuality, nor the history of our own oppression absolves us of this responsibility. Rosemary Ruether has argued that "[r]epressed parts of our pasts are preserved in pathological ways. History can serve as a kind of collective psychotherapy."5 An awareness of our history is essential if we are to form psychologically healthy Christian communities.

Selected elements of Christian history are communicated symbolically, through liturgy, iconography, and most significantly, through the Christian scriptures. The image of the Church as the body of Christ reflects the identity of early Christians as persecuted and vulnerable victims. The parallel would have been striking to early Christians, many of whom were executed by Rome as Jesus had been. Yet this identity is also internalized by modern Christians, many of whom find it difficult to recognize our power over others. Whether we choose to recognize it or not, Western legal systems are infused with Christian concepts of morality and law, and Western culture still assumes Christianity to be The generic religion. For non-Christians, this Christian privilege is a daily marginalizing reality.

Definitions and Dangers

I use the term "anti-Judaism" to refer to systems of thought that assume the inferiority of Judaism as a religious tradition and belief system, either in the past or present. By contrast, I use "antisemitism" to refer to the social, political and economic systems which assume the racial inferiority of those identified as being of Jewish descent. Although in its literal meaning, antisemetic refers to a hatred of all descendants of Shem, its original use by Wilhelm Marr referred to (and advocated) the hatred of Jews as a race.6 Thus, the individual who affirms religious freedom, yet believes in the innate superiority of the "white race" may be antisemitic, but is likely to be anti-Judaic only derivatively. Similarly, one who believes strongly in racial equality is not antisemitic, but may harbour views of Christian superiority, blaming Jews as a group not on any racial basis, but for a "stubborn" refusal to accept Jesus as their Messiah.

I have chosen not to cite anti-Judaic passages from the work of lesbian authors. This has already been done by several Jewish feminists, particularly Leonore Siegele-Wenschkewitz and Judith Plaskow. I wish to avoid citing particular lesbian authors for two reasons. First I want to avoid suggesting that the problem of anti-Judaism is limited to a few authors. Rather, I argue that it is systemic in Christian thought and stems from multiple causes, one of which is psychological. Second, identifying specific authors as "guilty" would distract from the social and psychological needs which make such a theology possible. Instead, I begin from the assumption that Judith Plaskow and others are correct in identifying some lesbian theological writings as anti-Judaic. In lieu of quoting particular works, I have chosen to create fictitious but typical examples of the anti-Judaic tendencies to which I refer. This decision is certainly not in keeping with strict scholarly method. I see my choice as emerging from queer theory, which highlights the veracity of the fictional and the narrative even as it questions the construction of the historical.

Where applicable, I have used the term "lesbian/bisexual," rather than lesbian only. In my experience these communities are never fully distinct from one another. Women may identify simultaneously with both, or may move from one to the other. Likewise, bisexual women's community usually emerges from within lesbian community, which has more established resources. Theological writing to date has tended to be strongly focused on lesbians only, rather than lesbian/bisexuals. To reflect this focus I have used the term "lesbian theology" where it seems more accurate.

Although I shall discuss theology which is primarily both lesbian and feminist, the two are not equivalent. Lesbian theology does not have to be done from a feminist stance. Likewise, feminist theology is not always lesbian-positive. Indeed, feminists have put forth positive theologies which are heterosexist. While lesbian theology and feminist theology are often intertwined, I am not suggesting that they must be, or always ought to be, identical.

In writing about the relationship between actual (as opposed to ideological) Jews and lesbians I risk implying a false distinction between what are diverse groups with a significant area of overlap. Neither group is as homogeneous as their labels suggest. Both Jewish and lesbian/bisexual communities are home to a spectrum of races and classes. As well, being lesbian or bisexual does not exclude being Jewish. Jewish lesbians report that they feel invisible within their Jewish tradition, which may deny they exist, and in the lesbian/bisexual women's community, which demands its own conformity and often is unconscious of its anti-Judaism.7

The Lesbian/Bisexual Christian Dilemma

When Judith Plaskow raised the issue of anti-Judaism within feminism in 1978 there was a general fear that acknowledging any oppression within feminism would harm the movement. A similar fear is pervasive among lesbians and bisexual women. There is strong pressure to sacrifice our difference "for the good of the community." Lesbian/bisexual groups often insist that their members identify first (and sometimes only) as lesbian or bisexual.8 This mandatory conformity also serves to draw and reinforce boundaries of insider/outsider. Groups perceived as outside the community are treated as a homogeneous unit. The straight white male is the stereotype of our oppressor, but Jews, Christians, and people of colour are also assumed outsiders. All are depicted as male, straight and homophobic.

Lesbian/bisexual Christians have found ourselves in a difficult spot. Same-sex love is frequently denounced by people claiming to represent The Christian position on the issue. The lesbian/bisexual community identifies Christianity as a (often the) main source of oppression. Secular, and post-Christian lesbians frequently interpret Christian commitment as a failure to develop a fully healthy lesbian identity. In their desire to counteract the accusation that Christianity is essentially homophobic, lesbian theologians have attempted to distinguish between real (liberating) Christianity and negative (oppressive) influences within Christianity. One strategy has been to argue that Christian homophobia and sexism is due to external influences. The source of the taint is usually identified as either Judaism (reduced to Levitical legalism), or Greek thinking (simplified as dualism). This is tempting because it effectively absolves Christianity, in essence if not in practice, of the charge of being homophobic. In reality, this is a false dichotomy. What is portrayed as a contrast between Judaism and Christianity is actually a tension within both traditions.

Three Anti-Judaic Tendencies as they appear in Lesbian Theology

Monika Hellwig writes that "[i]t is no secret that the conflict experienced by Christian theologians in dialogue with Jews is sharply focused on christology."9 More so than other forms of Christian reflection, Christology brings forth the core issues of image, projection and transference which Horkheimer and Adorno identify as the roots of antisemitism, and which I want to suggest are a key element in understanding lesbian anti-Judaism. I will now examine how three common forms of anti-Judaism manifest themselves within lesbian theology.

1. Contrasting Jesus With Judaism

The challenge of identifying what is unique about Jesus lies at the heart of Christian identity. Traditional Christology has emphasised the ontological uniqueness of Jesus as the begotten son of God. Feminist theologians, including lesbians, have generally avoided high Christology and preferred to emphasise the human Jesus. The danger in this approach, as Judith Plaskow has argued, is that establishing Jesus as a distinct example of divine mediation has often been achieved by contrasting him with his Jewish context.10

Anti-Judaic writing portrays Jesus as accepting and welcoming in contrast to a rejecting and oppressive Judaism. A Jesus who embraces the outcasts of Jewish society is particularly attractive to lesbian and bisexual Christians, since we are often cast out of our families and our home churches. We might read (or write) that, "Jesus' practice of extending table fellowship to prostitutes and tax collectors scandalized his fellow Jews," or "Jesus welcomed those rejected by Jewish society." The image of Jesus as one whose divine authority enables him to reinterpret or even dismiss Jewish law can be inviting to those of us whose sexual expression is denounced in the very texts our tradition declares inspired. Yet this type of approach implies that Judaism was a monolithic system with a homogeneous practice. It ignores the variety of views on what exactly constituted Jewish identity and fidelity to God among Jesus' Jewish contemporaries, as well as the diversity within Jewish history. It ignores as well the Jewishness of Jesus, of his followers (not all of whom are portrayed as scandalized), and of many of the "sinners" and outcasts themselves. By claiming those Jews who admired Jesus as proto-Christians, one defines Judaism as primarily a rejection of Jesus, rather than a diverse tradition in its own right.

Both Plaskow and Elisabeth Schüssler Fiorenza have pointed out the internal contradiction of contrasting Jesus with the Jewish tradition. Fiorenza argues that this method employs "a Christian supremacist model" and actually perpetuates "the dualistic framework of the Western cultural gender system."11 Judith Plaskow has argued this contrast "simultaneously acknowledges and negates the fact that Jesus was a Jew. He was a Jew sufficiently that his supposed difference from other Jews is significant and noteworthy, yet he was not a Jew in the sense that his behaviour counts as evidence for the nature of first century Judaism."12

Jesus is contrasted with Judaism in a second way, by being compared to the apostle Paul. Despite Paul's condemnation of same-sex acts in 1Romans 26- 27 and 1Corinthians 6:9, the authority for denouncing homosexuality within Christianity has tended to rest on Leviticus, and therefore symbolically, on the Jews. Paul's words are simply taken to affirm that the prohibition, unlike the laws against unclean foods, remain in force for Christians. The anti-Judaic trend within lesbian theology has been to portray Paul as overly-Jewish, in contrast to Jesus. We may be tempted to argue that "Paul's views are typical of Hellenistic Judaism, which viewed same-sex acts as a gentile vice, the result of rejecting God." This type of argument is usually followed by a mention that Jesus is nowhere recorded to have condemned same- sex relationships. This supposedly liberal position of Jesus is not attributed to his Jewish upbringing, while the conservative view of Paul is generally seen as "typical" of Judaism. When we portray Paul's denouncement of same-sex acts as a throwback to Jewish legalism, rather than a genuinely Christian insight, we build our liberation on anti-Judaic foundations. The implication is that if Paul were less Jewish he would not have re-affirmed the Levitical rejection of same-sex acts. Such an approach relies on a portrayal of Judaism as uniformly homophobic. One wonders why prohibitions such as those found in Leviticus would have ever been deemed necessary if all Jews were constantly in agreement on the inappropriateness of same-sex acts.

2. Portraying the Jesus Movement as a Replacement of Judaism

Elisabeth Schüssler Fiorenza has written that "the notion of 'renewal' still carries traces of supersessionism insofar as it suggests that Christianity is best understood as a 'better' form of Judaism." 13 A sense of Christian superiority and supersession is encoded in the very language with which most Christians describe our Scriptures: Old and New Testament. As women who believe a renewal is needed within Christianity, we may be tempted to read onto Jesus our own struggle with religious traditions and establishments. By portraying the Jesus movement as primarily one of reform we legitimate our own role as reformers within Christianity. This use of "Jesus as reformer"carries an implicit threat: just as Christianity replaces Judaism in Christian polemics, our movement (whether feminism, lesbian liberation, or reformed religion) threatens to replace Christianity.

The following are typical examples:

"In affirming the relevance of Levitical prohibitions against homosexuality, despite the obvious presence of the work of the spirit in GLBTQ Christians, the Pope has 'neglected the weightier matters of the law: justice and mercy and faith' (Matthew 23:23- 24, NRSV)."
"Jesus elevated ethical relationships over concerns with purity and religion, attempting to shift Judaism's focus from external ritual to the internal and the spiritual. Christian denouncements of gay and lesbian relationships today bear resemblance not so much to the words of Jesus as they do to his opponents."
"If we are to be true disciples of Jesus, we must likewise value the spirit of Christ over Pharisaic adherence to the letter of the law."

Elisabeth Schüssler Fiorenza has argued that we must stop speaking about Christianity within a framework of reform and recognize that just as there were many Judaisms at the time of Jesus there were many early Christianities.14 The Jesus movement was one among many other Jewish movements, each of which emphasised different elements already present within their tradition. Queer theorists would argue further, that monolithic images of present religions, like those of the past, are fictions which serve to authenticate dominant forms of tradition, and discredit others.

3. Using Jesus or Christ as Universally Applicable

Orthodox Christian theology has argued that because Jesus was in fact "God, the Son" he has significance for all people. This claim is based upon Jesus' hypostatic union with God. Even in those theologies which declare that Jesus is fully or only human, his universal significance is often maintained as the paradigm for other God-seekers. For example, we might read, "In Jesus we have the prototype of all people who oppose structures which dehumanize the oppressed, even when such opposition leads inevitably to death itself." All who wish to embody justice are then labelled as disciples of Jesus, whether they consciously recognize this or not, and sometimes even if their lifespan pre-dates Jesus' actual birth. Ultimately, Jesus acts as the norm by which other would-be justice-seekers are judged.

Another area where we are tempted to universalize is in theologizing about the significance of the "Christ" title. Some theologians have extended the title of "Christ" beyond Jesus of Nazareth, using it to describe the universal phenomenon of God acting in history. Thus, all those individuals (both inside and outside Christianity), who mediate the divine (whether powerfully or as the suffering servant), are in some way "Christic." Although the intention is to free Christ from the stranglehold of Christianity, the universal Christ concept instead co-opts for Christianity anyone who models justice and the love of God: "Christ, as one whose life exhibits the love and compassion of God, is not limited to Jesus of Nazareth. Rather, the christ experience is one with which people of other faiths are already familiar: through Buddha, Gandhi, et. al."

When we apply the image of the universal suffering Christ to our own experience, we create the image of Jesus as the queer Christ. The crucified Christ is thus present in every victimized gay man (for though universalized, Christ tends to retain Jesus' maleness, if not his masculnity). This has been most evident in images of Matthew Sheppard, whose body on the Wyoming fence seems to have been easily conflated with that of Jesus on the cross. The shadow behind this image of the universal Christ is that of the universal persecutor, symbolically resurrecting the accusation that "the Jews killed Christ." Even universalized, and projected onto a new enemy (fundamentalists, homophobes, neo-Nazis), the charge relies upon a Christian fiction which has had genocidal results.

Merely stating that Christ refers to a universal phenomenon and is not the personal property of Christians, does not erase the history which the symbol of Christ has had for Jews. The controversy which erupted in 1985 over the establishment of a Carmelite convent near the site of the Auschwitz camp, followed by the erection of over 300 crosses, shows the intensity of the symbolism for both Jews and Christians. Like the swastika, the history of the Christ symbol taints its use, and part of its true meaning must be found in the way it is received by others.

Anti-Judaism as Our Negative Principle

Elisabeth Schüssler Fiorenza cuts to the heart of this issue when she asks, "Why is it that Christian feminists, despite their expressed intention to the contrary, end up reinscribing anti-Jewish arguments?"15 While Fiorenza's question is best answered as a community, I can offer some theories as to why lesbian or bisexual theologians might employ anti-Judaism in our theologies. My proposal is primarily psychological. I turn to psychology with some trepidation, aware of its negative history for women, feminists, and especially for lesbians and bisexuals. It is not my intention to point to psychological roots as the sole cause of anti-Judaism in individuals or in communities. Although I feel that image-projection-transference explanation accurately describes my own (at the time unconscious) motivations for producing anti-Judaic theology, I offer it as a partial solution rather than as a systematic whole.

Writing in 1944 of fascism's anti-Semitism, Max Horkheimer and Theodor Adorno argued that the fascists "do not view the Jews as a minority but as an opposing race, the embodiment of the negative principle."16 Taking up this idea, I propose that lesbian theology's anti-Judaism springs in part from an image of Judaism as its negative principle. Judaism is imagined to be everything that lesbian feminism is not: authoritative, powerful, traditional, respected, and male. If we have a hard time writing as if we believe our work might endanger the Jews, it is because on some level, we do not believe it. As symbols of male authority, the Jews are perceived as more powerful than feminism, and certainly more powerful than the lesbian/bisexual women's community.

Horkheimer and Adorno use psychological terms to describe what they believe to be the root of anti-Semitism: false projection. In projection the most intimate experiences are construed as hostile and alien and thrust outward, onto others. This other is then perceived as a threat which must be destroyed. Symbolically the person has destroyed the intolerable within themselves.17 Several authors have described Christian (or ex-Christian) anti-Judaism as the result of projecting the intolerable within Christianity onto Judaism. Arthur Hertzberg describes Voltaire's anti-Judaism as "a way of despising what he hates most in the Church."18

It is possible that as queer feminist theologians we have solidified in the image of Judaism the traits which make our identification with Christian theology difficult: male superiority, literalism, legalism, power, arrogance. The anger which results from the struggle with our own tradition's homophobic authorities is transferred to Judaism. The Jew becomes the symbol of unbending judgement and inhumane condemnation, in opposition to the loving Jesus, accepting of the leper and other outcasts. Portrayals of the Christian-Jewish conflict as one between love and the law reinforce this transference as a traditionally Christian way of theologising. Anti-Judaism can thus become a security blanket which affirms our Christian orthodoxy despite our fears to the contrary.

This identification of the Jew with our oppressor is possible for two reasons. First, because the figure of the Jew is always construed as male, and is thus an outsider to the lesbian/bisexual community. The image of the Jew as male is partly the result of speech which makes the male the neutral, the assumed, and the female the specific and particular. To speak of "the Jew" is then really to speak of "the Jewish Male." Secondly, in the arena of world religions, Judaism is similar enough to Christianity function as a scapegoat, but external enough to not be threatening. As Terence Anderson writes of repression and projection, "'The enemy' must be located outside the system-though not too far outside."19

Where Do We Go From Here?

Dialogue between Christians and Jews has frequently been put forth as the key to overcoming Christian anti-Judaism. I believe such dialogue is inadequate for two reasons. First, it abdicates Christian responsibility, placing the burden upon our Jewish partners (often Jewish women) to let us know when we have gone too far. This is a pattern that is played out again and again between groups of unequal power. Women bear the burden of educating men about sexism, gays, lesbians and bisexuals teach heterosexuals about homophobia, and people of colour teach those with white skin privilege about racism. My second reason for being suspicious of an over-reliance upon dialogue is that the dialogue solution sometimes presupposes that anti-Judaism is dependent upon interactions (positive or negative) with Jews. On the contrary, anti-Judaism does not need actual Jews to flourish; it merely requires the symbolic Jew-a character which may actually thrive better in areas where there are no genuine Jews to muddy the waters which reflect our disavowed selves. Despite its inadequacies, I am not opposed to Jewish-Christian dialogue. The lesbian/bisexual community is itself a locus of such dialogue, as are many same-sex relationships. What I do oppose is the use of dialogue as a substitute for dismantling structures of Christian privilege. I agree with Terence R. Anderson, who writes that in addition to changing the Christian conscience we must commit to "developing and maintaining social structures that would make the well-being of Jews less dependent on Christian goodwill or the goodwill of others."20.

Since the mechanism which enable anti-Judaism to flourish are internal to Christianity, it stands to reason that external solutions will not be fully successful. Scapegoating lies at the very core of Christian atonement theologies, in the projection of our own sins onto the other, who is then destroyed. Yet the destruction of the victim leads only to a selection of a new "other" onto whom we can project our unacknowledged desires and worst self-images. Thus Jesus symbolically rises each Easter only to be crucified again. If we are to seriously address Christian anti-Judaism, particularly in the lesbian/bisexual Christian community, we need to begin with a serious reassessment of the fruits of or theologies. Those which have proven to be death-dealing, particularly to the vulnerable, cannot form the basis for faith, regardless of their long history in our churches.

Notes

Judith Plaskow, "Christian Feminism and Anti-Judaism," Cross Currents 33 (Fall 1978): 306-309; Leonore Siegele-Wenschkewitz, "The Discussion of Anti-Judaism In Feminist Theology-A New Area Of Jewish-Christian Dialogue," Journal of Feminist Studies In Religion 7 (1991): 94-98; and Susannah Heschel, "Anti-Judaism in Christian Feminist Theology," Tikkun 5:3 (May/June 1990): 25-28, 95-97.
Randall Halle, "Between Marxism and Psychoanalysis: Antifascism and Antihomosexuality in the Frankfurt School." Journal of Homosexuality 29, no. 4 (1995): 295-317.
Elisabeth Schüssler Fiorenza, Jesus, Miriam's Child, Sophia's Prophet: Critical Issues In Feminist Christology (New York: Continuum, 1995), 69.
Douglas John Hall, "Rethinking Christ," in Antisemitism and the Foundations of Christianity, Davies, Alan T., ed. (New York: Paulist Press, 1979), 168.
Rosemary Radford Ruether, "The Faith and Fratricide Discussion: Old Problems and New Dimensions," in Antisemitism and the Foundations of Christianity, 230-231.
Alan Davies, "On Religious Myths and Their Secular Translation: Some Historical Reflections," in Antisemitism and the Foundations of Christianity, 168, 207 note 54.
Evelyn Torton Beck, ed., Nice Jewish Girls: A Lesbian Anthology (Boston: Beacon Press, 1982).
A further issue is the insistence that women choose sexual identity labels which emerge from white European culture rather than those rooted in their culture of origin.
Monika K. Hellwig, "From the Jesus of Story to the Christ of Dogma" in Antisemitism and the Foundations of Christianity, 120.
Monika Hellwig, "From the Jesus of Story to the Christ of Dogma," 106.
Elisabeth Schüssler Fiorenza, But She Said: Feminist Practices of Biblical Interpretation (Boston: Beacon Press, 1992), 33.
Judith Plaskow, "Feminist Anti-Judaism and The Christian God," Journal of Feminist Studies In Religion 7 (1991): 105.
Elisabeth Schüssler Fiorenza, Jesus, Miriam's Child, Sophia's Prophet: critical Issues in Feminist Christology (New York: Continuum, 1995), 91. She attributes the point to Jacob Neusner.
Elisabeth Schüssler Fiorenza, Jesus, Miriam's Child, Sophia's Prophet, 71
Elisabeth Schüssler Fiorenza, Jesus, Miriam's Child, Sophia's Prophet, 72.
Max Horkheimer, and Theodor W. Adorno, Dialectic of Enlightenment (New York: Social Studies Association, Inc., 1944; reprint, New York: Continuum, 1996), 168 (page citations are to the reprint edition).
Max Horkheimer, and Theodor Adorno, Dialectic of Enlightenment, 87
Arthur Hertzberg, The French Enlightenment and the Jews (New York: Columbia University Press, 1968) 286-313.
Terence R. Anderson, "An Ethical Critique: Antisemitism and the Shape of Christian Repentance." in Antisemitism and the Foundations of Christianity, 227.
Terence R. Anderson, "An Ethical Critique," 227.