|
Jewish World Review July 27, 2001 / 7 Menachem-Av, 5761
In spite of its exceptional popularity, or perhaps because of it, J. K.
Rowling's Harry Potter series has produced its own share of
controversy. Critics complain that Harry is a chronic rule-breaker, that the
vividly depicted magical backdrop will divorce children from reality, and
that the books instill no redeeming social values in the children who read
them.
It is true that Harry does demonstrate a certain disregard for rules and
regulations, but he is openly criticized by his friends and teachers alike
for this, and he gets into trouble as often as not on account of his rule
breaking.
It is also true that Ms. Rowling's depictions of a magical world are
mesmerizing in their detail and verisimilitude, but it's precisely this vivid
imagery that has turned millions of television-addicted preadolescents into
avid readers. Moreover, it's hard to imagine any book causing children to
become more detached from reality than the glut of fanciful movies, video
games, and trading cards with which they come into contact daily.
The third argument, however, is where Harry's critics really miss the boat
. The books are steeped in such universal ethical lessons as honesty,
discipline, and loyalty, to mention only a few. And from a Jewish
perspective, Harry Potter can offer our children (and us as well) a
contemporary insight into the destruction of the Temple that we commemorate
on the 9th day of the month of Av.
Throughout the Harry Potter series, many of the advocates of
evil and the defenders of good share a common character trait: an irrational
insistence upon the "purity of blood." Although the leader of the forces of
evil himself comes from a mixed background, his followers are dedicated to
purging the wizarding world of "mudbloods," those who have non-wizard blood
flowing in their veins.
But it isn't just the wicked who display this kind of genealogical
prejudice. Many of the defenders of good, even as evil threatens to destroy
them and their society, refuse to join forces with potential allies because
of irrational prejudices.
J. K. Rowling may never have studied Jewish history, but her series
provides a perfect parable for the causes of the destruction of the Temple in
Jerusalem. Even as the Roman siege upon Jerusalem tightened, the Sadducees,
the Zealots, the Sicarii, the Essenes, and other radical groups refused to
address the common danger that threatened every Jew, sometimes even forming
alliances with the Romans in hope of gaining the upper hand over their
political enemies within the Jewish people. The Romans exploited this
infighting until both the Temple was destroyed and the Jewish nation was
broken.
The Talmud tells us the cause of the destruction was senseless hatred.
Jew hated Jew not for what he did but for how he identified himself. Instead
of recognizing how much they had in common, instead of strengthening their
commitment to Jewish values, instead of working together in the face of a
common enemy, Jews squabbled over political agendas and schemed for political
gain, deaf to the entreaties of the sages that they set aside their
differences, blind to the impending holocaust that Rome would bring down upon
them.
1,931 years later, we are still quarreling senselessly with one another
and overlooking enemies who seek our destruction. If we haven't learned the
lessons of our own tradition, perhaps we can learn a lesson from Harry
Potter's headmaster, Dumbledore: "It is our choices, Harry, that show what
we truly are, far more than our abilities."
Of course, the talmudic sage Rabbi Akiva said it more simply in aftermath
of the Temple's destruction: "Love your fellow as yourself: this is the
great principle of the Torah."
What makes him your "fellow"? That he chooses good over evil. And how
do you love him? By setting aside your differences and seeing him for who he
is, not for what he believes -- and certainly not for what he calls
Harry Potter and the
Ashes of the Temple
By Rabbi Yonason Goldson
JWR contributor Rabbi Yonason Goldson teaches at Block Yeshiva High School and Aish HaTorah in St. Louis, and writes a regular column for the St. Louis Post-Dispatch. Send your comments by clicking here.