My Visit to the Bnei Menashe Tribe in India
By Rabbi Shlomo Riskin
Excerpted from The Jewish Press, February 7, 2003
Last year I spent Sabbath, as well as the week previous to it,
in the precinct of Manipur in southeast India, not far from Bangladesh.
I was on a mission, together with my distinguished colleagues Rabbi
Eliyahu Bierenboim, a revered Rabbi in Israel; Rav Eliyahu Avichail;
and my good friend and respected journalist, Michael Freund, to
connect with some five to six thousand Jews who claimed descent
from the tribe of Menashe and who lived in the provinces of Mizoram
and Manipur India.
It would be a virtually impossible task to adequately describe
the magnificent greenery and the majestic mountainsides upon which
the most primitive bamboo dwellings housed many communities of individuals
who looked part Indian and part Chinese, but who were living deeply
religious and committed Jewish lifestyles. As I joined in their
many celebrations in our honor, replete with special ethnic dances
and rhythms mixed with Psalms and modern Israelis songs, as I prayed
with them and watched in awe the manner in which they were teaching
the Hebrew language and the sacred Torah to their children, I could
not believe that I was walking the paths of southeast India.
In each community, there were elders who regaled us with ancient
songs in the Miso dialect which began with tales of the Garden of
Eden and our Patriarchs and concluded with the Kings of Israel and
the Holy Temple in Jerusalem. After every stanza of their song came
the refrain "tzena tzena Tziona" Go, Go to Zion. Their
sincerity was awe-inspiring, and their love for Zion was a glory
to behold. I originally made the journey to India as a skeptic,
but by the third day, I was convinced that these very sincere people
were indeed the carriers of the tradition of the children of Menashe
who had been expelled from Israel by the Assyrians, and had somehow
made their way to India via China.
On the Sabbath of the portion of Terumah, we were excitedly told
that there was to be a circumcision ceremony in the thatched roof
bamboo synagogue. The Mohel told me of their ancient ceremony to
circumcise 8 day old boys with a stone, just as Tzipporah had done
when she circumcised the son born to her and Moses - and my heart
stopped. (Even under the best, sterile conditions in Efrat, the
circumcision is not one of my favorite rituals.) My fears were laid
to rest when he explained that for the last several decades, they
used a regular circumcision knife instead. The synagogue was filled
to capacity; the circumcision lasted exactly 22 minutes. I received
a glimpse into the kind of commitment that these Jews carried with
them for thousands of years, isolated from all other Jews but persistent
in rituals which they knew and loved and were willing to die for.
The Bnei Menashe have performed the act of circumcision - a painful
and life threatening act of commitment - for thousands of years.
Indeed, every Jewish father who has his son circumcised is experiencing,
albeit to a lesser degree, the sacrifice of Abraham and Isaac. Such
ultimate commitment provides the wings which have enabled the Jewish
people to soar heavenwards despite persecution and isolation.
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