Murder in the name of religion, from Yacoub Entebbe and Murad Farhi to Netanyahu and Ben Gvir

author

D. Muhammad Odeh

One of the most heinous crimes associated with religious fanaticism in Syria was the murder of Father Touma al-Kabushi and his Muslim assistant Ibrahim Amara in Damascus in 1840, a case that was historically known as the “blood libel” against a gang hiding behind Judaism in Damascus. According to the historical account of the case, this gang killed Father Touma and his assistant, citing religious interpretations and claiming that the blood of the two victims would be used in religious rituals, even though Jewish law does not know a ritual based on the use of human blood. The blood that is associated with rituals in Biblical law is the blood of animal sacrifices, but human blood is not a substance for a religious ritual, in one of the ugliest forms of using religion to justify killing.

Father Touma was practicing medicine in Damascus, and he was known for treating the sick and helping people in times of epidemics. On February 5, 1840, he disappeared with his servant Ibrahim Amara. The incident turned into a major political and religious issue. Investigations and arrests began. Then a number of defendants from the Jewish community were subjected to torture and confessions were extracted from them. The case turned into a conflict that went beyond the borders of Damascus to capitals and international powers.

The accounts of the case mention the names of a number of those who were subjected to arrests and investigations, most notably Yaqoub Antabi, Musa Abulafia, Musa Bemad, and Yehuda Salamiki, along with Daoud Hariri, Harun Hariri, Ishaq Hariri, Youssef Hariri, Murad Fattal, Meir Farhi, Murad Farhi, Youssef Farhi, Suleiman Salloum, Harun Aslanbouli, Aslan Rafael, Isaac Pigotto, and Yusuf Lenado, among whom were Among these are four rabbis, the most important of whom is Rabbi Yaakov Antabi, while other names were linked to the series of investigations and accusations that followed the disappearance of Father Thomas and his assistant.

In the investigation records, detailed accounts appeared about the manner in which Father Touma was said to have been killed. He was tied up and a piece of cloth was placed in his mouth, then it was said that Murad Farahi cut his neck, while others held his body until his blood was drained, before the body was cut off and thrown into the river. Then the crime was repeated, according to the story, with Ibrahim Amara, and what was said to be bones, parts of the body, a hat and hair, were presented, along with doctors’ reports and confessions extracted during the investigation.

Ten defendants were sentenced to death, while two died during the investigation, and four became indictment witnesses. The sentences were approved, but were not implemented after the French consul intervened and the case papers were sent to Ibrahim Pasha, the commander of the Egyptian forces in Syria at the time, bringing the case into a new phase of political and diplomatic interventions.

The case did not stop at the investigation and trial, as prominent Jewish figures moved to defend the detainees, most notably the French lawyer Isaac Cremieux and the British Moses Montefiore, who arrived in Alexandria and worked to pressure Muhammad Ali Pasha to stop the prosecution of the accused, release the detainees, grant them safety, and return them to their work. Stories mention that this pressure and bargaining was accompanied by an offer of three hundred thousand golden liras to Ibrahim Pasha to end the case and release the detainees.

But the crime, even when committed by its perpetrators in the name of Sharia, does not become Sharia, and those who adopt the religion do not become its representatives. Jewish Sharia is innocent of them, just as one of the clear commandments that was revealed to our Master Moses says: Do not kill. Therefore, transforming the religious text into a cover for bloodshed does not make killing a duty, nor does it make the killer a cleric.

This mechanism is what connects the Damascus issue to what is happening in Palestine today. The issue is not in Judaism or the Jews, but rather in colonial movements, movements and people who impersonate religion and invoke its interpretations to justify violence. In the Palestinian territories, the extended Zionist crime and the cascade of blood flowing in Gaza are accompanied by the orgy of settlers in the West Bank under the protection of the occupation army, and with the confiscation of lands, the uprooting of olive trees, the seizure of property and livestock, and the displacement of Palestinians from their villages, while religious and nationalist interpretations are being used to provide cover for these practices.

Here comes the comparison between Yacoub Entebbe and Murad Farhi on the one hand, and Netanyahu and Ben Gvir on the other hand. In the narrative of the Damascus case, Yacoub Entebbe is linked to the position of the cleric who provided the religious cover, while Murad Farhi is linked to the executive act in the crime. As for Netanyahu, he stands at the head of the political and military authority that has the decision and power, while Ben Gvir represents an extremist nationalist religious movement within the authority, and declares more explicit positions in calling for extremism towards the Palestinians.

In the four cases, it appears how religious discourse, when hijacked from its moral context, can turn into a tool to justify violence. In the Damascus case, the crime was linked, according to the historical narrative, to a religious interpretation presented to justify killing, while religious and nationalist discourse in Palestine today enters into the context of war, settlement, and a broad political and military conflict whose goal is to uproot the Palestinian people from their land.

This use became more clear with the invocation of biblical vocabulary in Israeli political discourse during the war, most notably the reference to Amalek, along with religious interpretations used to justify the war on Gaza, fatwas or positions issued by rabbis and religious authorities directed at soldiers. Religious divisions of wars also appeared between wars of extermination and wars of subjugation, transforming the religious text from a moral reference into a tool for determining who deserves to live and who may be killed.

The danger of this language increases when it finds its way into the institutions and forces that implement the decision on the ground. The Sde Teman case raised reports and testimonies about torture and ill-treatment, and soldiers’ testimonies emerged about the seizure of Palestinian property in Gaza. When religious discourse turns into a justification for robbing a person of his dignity and rights, as the image was clearly demonstrated in the Naza movie, then the military force takes over the implementation of that, then we are not facing an abstract religious debate, but rather facing a political practice that has victims and officials.

Here the difference between religion and the use of religion appears: Religion places “Do not kill” at the heart of the commandment, while the extremist searches for an interpretation that allows him to kill. Religion forbids aggression against humans, while those who embody it try to make aggression obligatory. Religion is supposed to be a deterrent to the authorities, while in the hands of the extremist it becomes a tool that gives the authority an additional justification to use force.

But crime does not live by religion alone; It also needs political protection and financial and diplomatic cover, and this explains how an old model of the intersection between religion, politics, and money can appear in new forms. In the Damascus case, capitals, consuls, and funds moved to rescue the detainees or influence the case. Today, international capitals and powers move in various forms to protect Israel from political and legal pressures, or to provide cover for the continuation of war and settlement despite the scale of the victims and destruction.

The problem begins when a person or group decides that his own interpretation of the text is the rule of God, and then grants himself the right to impose it on others by force. Then the criminal becomes more dangerous because he does not see himself as a criminal, but rather as having a message, and killing another becomes a legitimate act for him because he has convinced himself that the victim is on the wrong side of his interpretation of religion.

Therefore, the transition from Yaqoub Entabi and Murad Farahi to Netanyahu and Ben Gvir is not a transition from Judaism to politics, but rather a transition from an ancient model of using religion to justify crime to a contemporary model in which this use enters the heart of power, decision-making, and war. In both cases, the victim remains a human being, and murder remains murder, no matter how much the language with which the killer tries to justify his act changes.

It is not a battle between Judaism and other religions, nor between Jews and others, but rather a battle against turning religion into a license to kill. When a criminal impersonates religion, borrows from its texts what serves his crime, and then tries to make his interpretation a law, he is not only insulting his victim, but rather the religion in whose name he claims to speak.

From Yaqoub Antabi and Murad Farahi to Netanyahu and Ben Gvir, the lesson remains clear: Religion is not a license to kill, and the criminal does not become a representative of the religion because he committed his crime in its name. Those who imitate religion and use its interpretations to justify killing are not applying Sharia law, but rather abusing it. Because the Sharia that is claimed to be applied is innocent of murder, and because you do not kill, it remains stronger than all the interpretations that killers try to hide behind.