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The Cambridge History of the Papacy is organized to provide readers with a critical–historical survey of the structural development of the papacy as an institution and as an actor in Church history, and in world history. It is hard to imagine a sphere of human activity over the past two millennia that has not been influenced by, and influenced in turn by, papal action – be it in the domains of religious belief and practice; social, cultural, and political thought; art, science, medicine, ethics, diplomacy, and international relations. Four questions – each addressed throughout the three volumes of the present work – have framed that vision across vast chronological and geographical expanses: the pope’s centrality within the Catholic Church, the primacy of papal power as an instrument of governance, the papacy’s cultural influence in society and culture, and the implications of secularity for its place in the lives of believers and non-believers alike. Each question – and the search for answers – converges around the fundamental question of papal authority: its original claims; the ebbs and flows of its effective reach; and the numerous ways in which claims, and expressions of papal authority and supremacy, have been contested within the Catholic tradition, and from without.
The Cambridge History of the Papacy is organized to provide readers with a critical–historical survey of the structural development of the papacy as an institution and as an actor in Church history, and in world history. It is hard to imagine a sphere of human activity over the past two millennia that has not been influenced by, and influenced in turn by, papal action – be it in the domains of religious belief and practice; social, cultural, and political thought; art, science, medicine, ethics, diplomacy, and international relations. Four questions – each addressed throughout the three volumes of the present work – have framed that vision across vast chronological and geographical expanses: the pope’s centrality within the Catholic Church, the primacy of papal power as an instrument of governance, the papacy’s cultural influence in society and culture, and the implications of secularity for its place in the lives of believers and non-believers alike. Each question – and the search for answers – converges around the fundamental question of papal authority: its original claims; the ebbs and flows of its effective reach; and the numerous ways in which claims, and expressions of papal authority and supremacy, have been contested within the Catholic tradition, and from without.
The Cambridge History of the Papacy is organized to provide readers with a critical–historical survey of the structural development of the papacy as an institution and as an actor in Church history, and in world history. It is hard to imagine a sphere of human activity over the past two millennia that has not been influenced by, and influenced in turn by, papal action – be it in the domains of religious belief and practice; social, cultural, and political thought; art, science, medicine, ethics, diplomacy, and international relations. Four questions – each addressed throughout the three volumes of the present work – have framed that vision across vast chronological and geographical expanses: the pope’s centrality within the Catholic Church, the primacy of papal power as an instrument of governance, the papacy’s cultural influence in society and culture, and the implications of secularity for its place in the lives of believers and non-believers alike. Each question – and the search for answers – converges around the fundamental question of papal authority: its original claims; the ebbs and flows of its effective reach; and the numerous ways in which claims, and expressions of papal authority and supremacy, have been contested within the Catholic tradition, and from without.
There are any number of arguments against the idea that it is possible to write the history of Habsburg Jews, or even to locate a common, coherent, Jewish experience in the Habsburg lands. These include the inherent disunity of the empire itself, the geographic dispersion of its Jewish population, and the multiplicity of legal jurisdictions under which Jews lived. This essay nevertheless makes the case for a Habsburg Jewish experience that surpassed differences in geography, legal jurisdiction, local culture. The Habsburg monarchy itself, in its quest for imperial expansion, administrative and legal reform, and social control, had much to do with this process. So, too, did the consolidation of an Ashkenazi rabbinic leadership that was both authoritative and distinctive to Central Europe, and the laying down of an intricate network of cross-regional family and communal ties, which themselves were partly a response to repressive state legislation. Jews in the Habsburg Empire moved about, reassembled and regrouped in ever new ways, while maintaining an overarching structure of human connection.
European history has been defined as a field by a notion of Europe – its borders, values, civilization, and nationalities – that is structured by Christianity and its secular legacies. Rather than seeking to globalize the history of Europe by considering the impact of European Christianity on other parts of the world, and how it was impacted by them, this chapter challenges that narrative. It asks how the historiography of Europe can be integrated with the historiographies of Europe’s historic non-Christian populations, namely Jews and Muslims. These are historiographies with their own rhythms, conceptual frameworks, and geographies in which Europe carries quite different connotations. They shift our attention from the north and west to the south and east, enjoining us to think differently about Europe and the diversity that has always existed within it. Separately, these historiographies speak to very different experiences. Taken together, they help us to think differently about the interface between Europe and the world and to write the history of Europe itself against the grain.
Throughout its history, the papacy has engaged with the world. Volume 1 addresses how the papacy became an institution, and how it distinguished itself from other powers, both secular and religious. Aptly titled 'The Two Swords,' it explores the papacy's navigation, negotiation, and re-negotiation, initially of its place and its role amid changing socio-political ideas and practices. Surviving and thriving in such environment naturally had an impact on the power dynamics between the papacy and the secular realm, as well internal dissents and with non-Catholics. The volume explores how changing ideas, beliefs, and practices in the broader world engaged the papacy and lead it to define its own conceptualizations of power. This dynamic has enabled the papacy to shift and be reshaped according to circumstances often well beyond its control or influence.
This article compares late Imperial Russia (1850-1917) and its successor states — post-revolutionary independent Ukraine (1918-1919) and early Soviet Russia and the USSR (1918-1923) — focusing on the conception and implementation of state policy toward the Jews. It argues that Russian Imperial, Ukrainian nationalist and Soviet socialist policies treated the Jews essentially as a distinct ethno-confessional or ethnic collective entitled to state protection and group rights, thus anticipating (in Imperial Russia) and de-facto realizing (in independent Ukraine and Soviet Russia) the rights of minorities stipulated in the 1919 Paris Peace Treaty and implemented by the Versailles system in interwar Europe. The article shows how by establishing and maintaining separate Jewish institutions (sophisticated state apparatuses staffed by qualified, dedicated Jewish bureaucrats), the states developed and even promoted a collective Jewish identity and collective Jewish rights, starting with state protection and official recognition of Judaism and the Jewish way of life in the late Russian empire, to state-sponsored Jewish national and cultural autonomy in the Ukrainian National Republic, to official recognition as a Soviet nationality, and territorial and semi-political autonomy in the USSR.
In Chapter 6, we present examples from the four different kinds of personal narratives that we conceptualized that connect to genocide and war, with this chapter focusing on the Holocaust. Our four types of personal narratives are termed: distancing, victimhood, ambivalence/paradoxes, and embracing the other while remaining in one’s pain. In this chapter, we present and analyze long quotes from narratives of Jews and (non-Jewish) Germans who are descendants of Holocaust survivors and Nazi perpetrators. Our examples come from a variety of sources – interviews that we undertook over the years with members of the first, second, and third generations, internet sources, YouTube, research books that present narrative interviews, and memoirs and autobiographies that exemplify the different kinds of narratives. This chapter, then, presents concrete examples of the different kinds of personal stories that we find in the context of speaking and/or writing about the Holocaust, mainly among the second and third generations, the children and grandchildren of the war generation.
In Chapter 7, we present examples of the four different kinds of personal narratives – distancing, victimhood, ambivalence/paradoxes, and embracing the other while remaining in one’s pain – connected to the Jewish–Arab/Israeli–Palestinian conflicts that appear to have the potential either to promote peacebuilding or to obstruct peace. We address these two connected, yet not identical, conflicts together for two main reasons. While the conflicts have differences (Arabs in Israel have citizenship and Palestinians in the Palestinian Authority/Gaza Strip do not, leading to different conflictual aspects), the dilemma is the same: should Israel be a Jewish State or a state of all of its citizens? Furthermore, when people share narratives about these conflicts, they often combine the two contexts. Thus, it would be artificial to separate them. Our examples come from different sources – interviews that we undertook over the years with Jewish-Israelis and Arabs, and Israelis and Palestinians, internet sources, research books that present narrative interviews, and memoirs and autobiographies that exemplify the different kinds of narratives. This chapter, then, presents concrete examples of the different kinds of personal stories that we find in the context of speaking and/or writing about the Israeli–Palestinian conflict.
In Chapter 8, through the presentation and analysis of our four conceptualized kinds of personal narratives of intractable war – distancing, victimhood, ambivalence/paradoxes, and embracing the other while remaining in one’s pain – we address a major issue, which has always divided Jewish-Israeli society: Arab–Jewish/Israeli–Palestinian relations. This issue tends to divide the left wing from the right wing and the secular from the religious Jewish citizens. This schism exploded in late 2022, when a very right-wing coalition was formed in the Israeli Knesset and government, which led to numerous legislative proposals that have been perceived by many as endangering Israel’s fragile democracy. This political upheaval further led to massive demonstrations and strikes that threw the country into turmoil. While this specific ideological/religious divide is mainly between Jews and Jews, it ties into the Jewish–Arab/Israeli–Palestinian conflict, as its roots connect to the question of the desired nature of the state and to the often-hostile intergroup relationships that characterize Israeli society. In this chapter, we present personal narratives connected to Jewish–Jewish relations, a very “hot” topic in Israeli society today.
This article examines Kazantzakis’ travel writing in his 1926 newspaper series on ‘the Land of Palestine’, which introduces Zionism, and in his posthumously published chapter ‘Jerusalem’ in Journeying (1961). Revisiting the relation between the two, I argue that each is to be seen as a distinct work. While free from the antisemitic sentiment of Venizelist circles, the Greek author's reportage has three important silences – and these are matched by a sweeping lack of scholarly interest in this material. This article hopes to generate renewed interest so that Kazantzakis’ 1926 reportage may help construe a more complex reception of Zionism in interwar Greece.
Berlin was devasted by the destructive impact of the Thirty Years War. But Elector Frederick William, who had been brought up as a Calvinist and educated in the Netherlands, transformed challenges into opportunities. Using the threat of continued warfare as a pretext, he took advantage of the weakness of both the landed nobility and urban burghers to impose new taxes in order to maintain a standing army. Known as ‘the Great Elector’, he also engaged in active immigration policies to repopulate devastated lands and stimulate manufacturing and trade. The immigration of French Huguenots, as well as a small Jewish community, significantly affected Berlin’s profile and subsequent development. Frederick III, who took over as Elector in 1688, crowned himself King in Prussia in 1701, and transformed Berlin into the seat of a royal residence.
The Greek anti-Ottoman revolt in the 1820s brought increased suspicion among the empire’s ruling circles toward not only Greeks but non-Muslim subjects in general. This sparked government security measures in Istanbul, home to substantial Christian and Jewish populations. This article examines such measures intended to bring non-Muslim subjects under control, and the overall impact the Greek revolt had on the Ottoman approach to its subjects. It argues that the revolt catalyzed changes in the state’s attitude toward population surveillance and its treatment of non-Muslims. When the empire felt the need to bring non-Muslims under control, a major challenge was how to verify and vouch for the latter’s identity, since they deemed Muslim officials incapable of doing so. Thus, though they were suspicious of non-Muslims, they actively used the religious authorities of their communities to implement various security measures, including the creation of a population record and the introduction of internal passports. At the same time, religious authorities found it essential to demonstrate their and their community’s pro-Ottoman position by cooperating with the state in its efforts to find enemies within. Incorporation of non-Muslim religious authorities into imperial governance led to official recognition of the representatives of smaller non-Muslim groups, including Latin subjects, Armenian Catholics, and Jews. The result was a standardization of non-Muslim communities with officially recognized representatives before the government.
This paper traces discourse and practices among Jewish communal leaders in Western Europe and the United States regarding the need for Jewish missions to China and Ethiopia. Though thousands of miles apart, China and Ethiopia became closely entwined in their racial imagination. Beginning in the 1840s, the Jewish international press depicted both as biblical lost tribes, languishing in isolation and ignorance, and in need of a guiding hand with the mounting threat of Christian missionizing. Jewish communal leaders began to call for Jewish missions in the 1850s, and they looked to contemporary scientific, evangelical, and civilizing missions as models, merging elements from all three. Throughout the 1860s, in debates over who should lead a Jewish mission, three different types surfaced: an explorer, rabbinic emissary, and Orientalist. Each of these reframed prophetic calls for the return of the lost tribes within a modern scientific and imperial project. Drawing on the work of Sylvia Wynter, I argue that these communities in China and Ethiopia came to serve as boundary markers, demarcating the outer limits of the Jewish world, of Jewishness, and Judaism as it became increasingly circumscribed through theological, behavioral, and racial norms. Not only does this upend assumptions about Jewish solidarity and internationalism, but it also points to how missionizing was deployed by minoritized communities in the nineteenth century.
According to Tacitus, Tiberius declared before the Senate that he observed all of the deeds and pronouncements of Augustus as if they were law (Ann. 4.37). This chapter explores the degree to which that statement is true and the consequences of Tiberius’ adherence to Augustan precedents. I begin with an overview of Tiberius’ relationship with the Senate. I then examine the much criticized fiscal policies of Tiberius. Even those were a consequence of his reverence for Augustus and his desire to preserve Augustan precedent. Next, we examine the notion of the pax Augusta under Tiberius. Again, we see that Tiberius was bound by Augustan policy in his failure to expand the empire. Finally, we analyze the persecution of Jews, worshippers of Isis, and astrologers in the reign of Tiberius. These persecutions were prompted not only by Tiberius’ desire to follow Augustus’ precedents but also, more importantly, by attacks on the domus Augusta.
What are the implications of Darwin’s theory of evolution through natural selection for thinking, prejudicial or otherwise, about foreigners, race, Jews, sexual orientation, and women? Did Darwin himself, caught in Victorian prejudices, have any awareness of the full implications of his theorizing?
Examines American relations with non-Protestant others within the Mediterranean, primarily Jews, Catholics, and Muslims. Pays particular attention to shipwrecks in Morocco.
Once Christian Europe’s most paradigmatic internal Other, Jews are now mostly seen as a well-integrated and successful religious minority group. For centuries, Jews faced political, social, and legal exclusion. Now, politicians proudly invoke the West’s shared ‘Judeo-Christian’ heritage. Compared to the past, public expressions of antisemitism have become increasingly taboo. Jews have seemingly moved from being paradigmatic outsiders to accepted insiders. Despite this undoubted success, there are still moments when this position can become suddenly unsettled. There are not only the terrible attacks on Jewish life, such as the synagogue shootings in Halle in 2019 and a year earlier in Pittsburgh, the still alarming rates of antisemitic violence, the groups of white supremacists chanting in the streets that Jews will not replace them, or the flourishing antisemitic conspiracy theories in the online and offline worlds. Uneasiness with Jews and Judaism also still manifests in less extreme and less overtly hostile ways in the midst of society on the terrain of liberal law.
This chapter is the first of two that examine the legal encounter with Jewishness in public space by focussing on the Orthodox practice of the eruv. The eruv is a distinctly Orthodox practice and fault lines here do not run simply between Jews and non-Jews but also between different Jews. In the modern secular legal arena, questions of non-establishment and the boundaries of religious freedom serve as the dominant legal frames, turning the eruv into a matter of excessive religiosity to be contained by law. Yet underneath the lofty language of constitutional separation often lurk concerns about national and local identity as well as sovereignty and ownership. Moreover, while circumcision has often galvanised Jews of different denominations, the eruv exposes internal Jewish rifts about Jewish identity and difference in contemporary societies. Indeed, some Jews themselves have not shied away from mobilising the authority of secular law to enforce their vision of what they consider the acceptable boundaries of Jewishness today.