Features
What would you do if you found out – at age 34 – that your mother was artificially inseminated, you’re half Ashkenazi Jewish, and you have at least six other siblings?
By BERNIE BELLAN Artificial insemination has been around for a very long time. “The first documented application of artificial insemination in humans was done in London in the 1770s by John Hunter,” says an article from The National Library of Medicine. Sperm banks were first developed in the 1950s.
In the 1970s the University of Manitoba Medical School began an artificial insemination program under the direction of Dr. Jeremy Kredentser.
According to an article in the November 3, 1985 Winnipeg Free Press, “about 100 to 120 couples a year” were being seen in that program, said Dr. Kredentser at the time.
The article went on to explain that “Donor sperm is collected from carefully screened donors such as doctors, medical students and others associated with the U of M.”
Under the rules of that program donors were allowed to submit a maximum of 25 sperm donations – which meant any children who were born as a result of artificial insemination from the program could have quite a few half brothers or sisters.
That program actually was the forerunner of what is now the Heartland Fertility Clinic, where Dr. Kredentser practised and was a director for many years.
But, just as is the case with many individuals who have found out later in life that they were adopted, many individuals who have been fathered by anonymous sperm donors want to know about their actual biological ancestry.
In the past few years, as a result of increasingly sophisticated DNA testing, many of those individuals have been able to discover, not only a great deal of information about their ancestry, but very specific information about relatives about whom they would likely never have known.
Such was the case with one young Winnipeg man, who will be referred to in this article simply as T, not because he insisted on anonymity, but because we wanted to take steps to protect the identities of his siblings and, more importantly, his biological father, whose identity was discovered by T through a process of sleuthing. To this point, T notes, despite his fairly recent attempt to reach out to his biological father, he has not received a response.
We had been made aware of T’s story by a mutual acquaintance. When I heard though that T had discovered he was “49% Ashkenazi Jewish” I thought that his story of discovery might make for a fascinating read – if he was willing to share it.
Not only was T extremely forthcoming in telling me his story, he was eager to have it written about. HIs hope is that his biological father might also become aware of this story and come to the realization that T’s motivation in attempting to make contact with him – as it often is with children who have discovered they have been adopted, is not at all malicious; it is a mixture of curiosity, also a desire to learn whether there are any genetic traits about which they should become aware.
A’s story begins in December 2021. What began largely as a lark turned into something quite unexpected. T explains that he and his wife wanted to take DNA tests – not for any particular reason, simply out of curiosity.
T and his wife decided to register on a site called “23andMe,” where all you have to do is send in a DNA sample (from your saliva) for testing. If someone else who has also registered on the site – and has allowed their identity to be known to individuals who turn out to be related, you will receive a notification that you have matches. (The other very popular site that offers a similar service is Ancestry.com.)
In most cases, as T noted, the results will turn up a slew of distant cousins – possibly some closer cousins, but not much more than that.
However, the story took a very unexpected twist – even before T and his wife got their results back. It was late 2021and T’s mother was over to T’s and his soon-to-be wife’s house. T says he told his mother about the DNA test that he and his wife had taken and explained to her – in a joking way he thought, that “we were gonna make sure we’re not related.”
But, his mother’s reaction took him by surprise, he says. She “showed that she was a little bit agitated.”
T says he wondered whether he was “like, oh God, adopted?”
He continues: “…and then she told me, she divulged that information, she said she was going to tell me sooner than later, but on account of this, you know, the advent of all these DNA kits and stuff, she realized that the writing was on the wall, but you know, when they did it, and …the origins of this, um, fertility company, which was in the mid 80s.” (By “fertility company,” T is referring to the program that had been run at the University of Manitoba Medical School.)
I said to T: “Because in anticipation of what you’re gonna find out, she’s gonna have to break the news after all these years (that she had been artificially inseminated) . Okay. so then how much longer did you have to wait for the results?”
I asked T why his mother had been artificially inseminated? It turns our that her husband – the man T had always believed was his biological father, had had a vasectomy prior to T’s mother marrying him – and T’s mother desperately wanted to have a child.
T explains that the results came back quite quickly – only a month later.
As T describes it, “I’m dying to find out. We’ve rolled the dice here. So we’re waiting to hear what’s going to happen. I don’t know. I had no idea about the Ashkenazi Jewish thing. Back then, I had no idea about any siblings.”
Something else should be explained at this point. T’s mother was married fairly late in life – to a man who had been previously married, and who had two sons from his previous marriage – who are 20 years older than T. As T says, “I was pretty excited because I’ve always wanted, you know, a brother or sister, but my own age.” And here was his chance to discover that he did have another sibling, maybe more than one – much closer to his own age.
The results of A’s DNA test came back from 23andMe with the revelation that T was 49% Ashkenazi Jewish. Further, as T says, “only one sibling is showing, and then like a million cousins. Like, second, second, third, distant cousins at that point.” (It should be explained that not only do 23andMe and Ancestry.com provide names of relatives whose genetic profiles match – at least somewhat, they provide pictures as well.)
But, as T says, the results showed “nobody who looks like me, no names I recognize. And a lot of the distant cousins are presumably on the paternal side. So it’s like a lot of Jewish names in New York.”
Yet, there was a sibling – a half sister (whose name will not be revealed), but who didn’t live in Winnipeg any more. Still, T reached out to her and the half sister revealed to T that she had known since she was 15 that she was the product of artificial insemination, but nothing more than that.
Another year rolls by – it’s now 2022 and suddenly T and his half sister are informed by 23andMe that they have another half brother – who lives in Winnipeg, and who’s a year younger than T.
T and his new half brother connect. As T says, “he’s like 10 minutes away from me…but the weirdest part about this is like, I can’t find any connection with him in Winnipeg, which is weird because we’re lifelong Winnipeggers and it takes, you know how it is, it takes no time at all to find a Winnipeg connection, right?”
But A’s new half brother also tells T and the half sister that he had only recently tried 23andMe because he had been on Ancestry.com – but it hadn’t yielded any close matches. However, in 2023, after the new half brother is introduced to T and the other half sister, the new half brother receives a notification from Ancestry.com that they’ve reviewed his DNA results again – and this time they’ve found three new half sisters – all of whom live in Winnipeg!
It turns out that each of those half sisters had been aware they were the products of artificial insemination. There turns out to be one more half brother – who doesn’t live in Winnipeg – bringing the total of known siblings to seven. As T notes, however, there could be as many as 18 more siblings!
Okay, so now we know T has six siblings, and they’re all 49% Ashkenazi Jewish. How does that lead to T’s discovering who the sperm donor was?
At this point I have to be very careful not to get too specific, out of concern that identities that should remain anonymous are not divulged.
It turns out though that someone else had been on Ancestry.com – but later it emerges that the reason this person would have been on Ancestry.com was that she was a Holocaust survivor, likely looking for long lost relatives who had been separated by World War II.
This woman had reached out to one of T’s half sisters and asks her whether she is a cousin. The half sister responds: “No, I’m your granddaughter.”
Apparently, according to T, finding that out likely “spooked” the Holocaust survivor, and she “ghosted” T’s half sister. T says her “profile disappeared and has not been heard from since.”
(By way of explanation, when Ancestry.com reports a match, it indicates the level of closeness between two individuals. e.g., a parent or a child will be identified as a parent or child; a grandparent, grandchild or sibling will be identified as “immediate family. T’s half sister discovered that she had a paternal grandmother. She didn’t know that this woman was a Holocaust survivor immediately.)
T’s half brother – who had been on both Ancestry.com and 23andMe, did inform T of their paternal grandmother’s name – in 2023. It turns out that the other three half sisters, along with A’s half brother – all of whom had been on Ancestry.com, and who had found each other on Ancestry.com, had also done some digging on their own.
One of the half sisters was told about a book titled “Stories of Winnipeg Holocaust Survivors,” which was compiled by Belle Jarniewski, currently Executive Director of the Jewish Heritage Centre of Western Canada. (At the time Belle was known as Belle Milo, which is the name given on the cover of the book.)
There is a chapter in the book devoted to the story of the Holocaust survivor who had reached out to the half sister. In that chapter the names of the woman’s children are given. It didn’t take too long for that half sister to deduce which of the women’s children would have been the sperm donor. She shared that information with her two other half sisters in Winnipeg – but none of them made any attempt to contact their biological father.
(By the way, once T revealed his paternal grandmother’s name to me I did find some references to her in the Jewish Post archives that are accessible on jewishpostandnews.ca. One of those references included the names of her children. It turns out that I knew one of those children from chlldhood.)
Once T was informed by his half brother in Winnipeg of their paternal grandmother’s name, but without having learned that the three Winnipeg half sisters actually knew who their biological father was, he began his own search online for information about the Holocaust survivor who was their paternal grandmother.
He didn’t turn anything up until he, too, discovered the same book, “Stories of Winnipeg Holocaust Survivors, ” that had been key to one of his half sisters discovering who their biological father was.
As T says, “I found the book online, read it, and I found the (children’s) names. And then I looked up her (son’s name). And after a half an hour I found, like, the timeline for (son’s name).” and the timeline for this particular individual and what he would have been doing in 1985, which is when T’s mother was artificially inseminated, fit perfectly.
T says that once “I figured out who the guy was, I found a picture, and I’m like, okay, this man looks like me, this is the guy, and then once I started connecting with the other sisters, they all confirmed that, in fact, was the guy.”
But, before attempting to reach out to their biological father, T wanted to make sure that each of the other siblings was on board with what he was attempting to do. As he says, “At this point, before I reached out to the donor, I wanted to make sure that I had consent from everybody else.”
A received everyone’s permission and T proceeded to write a hand-written letter to their biological father, which he sent in March 2024. As A says, “I get the guy’s address. And I decide that I, like, I really want to reach out I’m just dying of curiosity. Nobody else has (reached out) yet. I don’t understand why. And I’m like, okay. So I write him a handwritten letter that basically just introduced like who I am and that we understand that we might have a connection to him We’re grateful for him.
“And if he has any interest in contacting us, here’s how we can be contacted But otherwise, we’re not going to bug you. The ball’s in your court. We have no interest in ransacking your life because at the end of the day, we’re all grateful for, you know, what you’ve done for us, and we all have great lives, and thank you, that kind of thing.” To this point T says he has not received any response.
Something I wondered about – and what I’m sure you’re also wondering about, is the revelation that the genetic make-up that T and each of his siblings is carrying is 49% Ashkenazi Jewish. I wondered whether finding that out has made any difference in the lives of T and his siblings?
In fact, the answer – if T and his siblings are truthful, is that it hasn’t made any difference at all. T says he “grew up in the United Church,” but doesn’t consider himself religious. Perhaps somewhat ironically, T says that “half of my friends are Ashkenazi Jewish guys.” In fact, he’s very familiar with Jewish culture and has been to the Shaarey Zedek Synagogue many times. (I should note that the person who put me on to this story is Jewish and has known T for years.)
There are many other twists to T’s story – about how closely connected he is to so many aspects of Jewish life, but again – for the sake of confidentiality I won’t reveal them here. Suffice to say that T could very easily immerse himself into the Jewish community here without missing a beat – if that’s what he chose to do.
As for his siblings – well, that’s a different story. T says that finding out they had Jewish genes seemed more like a matter of curiosity to them than anything particularly important to their sense of identity. One should bear in mind that many of the individuals who go on to sites like Ancestry.com or 23andMe find out very surprising things about their ancestry, but it hardly changes their own concept of who they are.
T, though, looks upon the revelation that he’s half Jewish with a certain sense of bemusement, but also an explanation for some aspects of his own identity. As he says, “I think it makes me more interesting, and honestly, when I look in the mirror, and what I’m seeing is like, my physiology is turning into a frumpy old Jewish man. My dad (or at least the man T thought was his dad and who raised him) is, like, 6’2. My brothers are 6’1; they’re tall.”
T says though that he has “freckles and a skinny Adam’s apple. And I’m, like: ‘Why do I look like any of these (Jewish) guys (who are his friends)? So, anyway, it just, it clicks, it makes a lot more sense for me. It really helps, it helps me kind of make a little… a piece of the whole situation.”
But there are other aspects to T’s past that are more troublesome. He’s had some issues that might have been inherited – as does one of his brothers. T says that “I’d love to just talk to this guy for an hour. See what he’s like, you know, see if he’s musical,” for instance.
I say to T: “I’m not interested in outing him. You know, if he wants to remain anonymous, let him remain anonymous, but maybe he’ll have second thoughts about it. If someone happens to contact him and says, ‘Hey, uh, we read this story or we heard about a story – and it might be you they’re talking about in the story’.” After all, there must have a fair number of men who donated their sperm in that University of Manitoba Medical School program back in the 1970s and 80s. Wouldn’t some of them be curious to learn what the results were from their donations?
Of course, there have been stories about children of women who were artificially inseminated who have gone after the sperm donors. As T concedes, “I kind of assume his reticence kind of lies in that very kind of thing. There’s a whole bunch of Netflix specials that have come out, and there’s some movies over the last ten years, and I’ve watched all of them.”
Still, despite the assurances that men like T’s biological father who donated their sperm may have received that their identities would remain anonymous, advances in genetic testing have shown that those assurances have been made moot. If it were up to me I’d want to own up to my having provided the sperm that ended up helping to produce a child. Otherwise, now that T’s father has received the information that his identity is known to at least seven of the children that he was responsible for fathering, he’s going to have to live with the possibility that one of those children may show up on his doorstep one day.
One final note about this story: T tells me that he and his six known siblings are all on good terms and communicate with one another. In fact, they all had a get-together this past summer where many of them met each other for the first time. I’d have liked to refer to is a reunion – but that would be a misnomer. How about calling it a “kum zeets,” which is the Israeli term for a get together?
Features
Shayla Mindell: long-gone from Winnipeg, yet still feeling a strong connection to this city
By GERRY POSNER Recently a group of ex-Winnipeggers came together – in Montreal this time, in the form of a reunion of four women – long time pals originally from Winnipeg, now all living elsewhere. They were: the former Marcia Billinkoff Schnoor, now of Toronto; Shayla Mindell, now of Ottawa; Toby Morantz, now of Montreal; and Ruth Bellan Cooperstock, formerly of Victoria, and now of Montreal. I heard about this particular reunion from Marcia. Since it had been a long time since I’d been in touch with Shayla Mindell, recently I decided to contact her. The story on the reunion of the four women will be the subject of a different story at another time.
For those readers who go back a distance in Winnipeg, they will know the Mindell name from Shayla’s parents, Joe and Rose Mindell of blessed memory. Some might even recall the maternal grandparents as in Sam and Faiga Malamed, long time Winnipeg residents. There were several stories on Sam Malamed and they all are contained in the Jewish Post newspaper archives located at the Jewish Heritage Centre of Western Canada – available to anyone who wants to read them. Or you could just enter the Jewish Foundation of Manitoba ’s Endowment’s Book of Life and there you will find compelling accounts of members of the Malamed Mindell Mishpachah. Shayla Mindell is a granddaughter of the Malameds.
Shayla is a product of the north end of Winnipeg, having grown up at 530 Enniskillen Avenue in West Kildonan. She is also a sister to Sheldon Mindell, a name familiar to many Winnipeggers (for his longtime work in raising funds for such organizations as the Jewish Foundation and Riverview Health Centre, also his involvement in owning Rumors Comedy Club).
Shayla attended Edmund Partridge School and later West Kildonan Collegiate. Not long after her graduation from high school, Shayla set foot on the University of Manitoba grounds and it was there that she obtained her B.A. in 1963.
Shayla went on to get a degree in Library Science in 1964 from the University of British Columbia. After her marriage to Mark Doctoroff, also a former Winnipegger, she did a lot of travelling – owing to Mark’s studies and later, his work with the Canadian government – in the USA, Brazil and then, in Australia. From 1972 to 1980, during a time when she was back living in Canada, Shayla worked part time at the Algonquin College Library in Ottawa, where she was employed for eight years. Along the way, that is, during her stay in Australia, her children, both daughters, Fern and Jill Doctoroff, were born. In 1980, she and Mark separated.
Shayla had a long and rewarding career with the federal government as the head of a library and records management department in Ottawa. It was in 2003 that she retired and she now spends her time taking courses of various kinds, studying Spanish, volunteering ( wonder where that gene came from – hello Sam Malamed) and savouring her time with her two grandchildren, Hailey and Oliver, now 16, who live in Ottawa nearby. In short, she is busier in retirement than she was even when she worked full time.
Now, what Shayla did recently was to get her family to join her in Winnipeg for her brother Sheldon and his wife Tannis Mindell’s 50th wedding anniversary. In doing that, she went, as they say, ”the whole nine yards.” Aside from taking everyone around to see the sights of Winnipeg – via a guided tour, she also included a visit to the cemetery to see the graves of her grandparents, Sam and Faiga Malamed; her parents, Joe and Rose Mindell; and her aunt and uncle, Lily and Max Leibl. The grandkids were exposed to some serious Winnipeg Jewish history. They even placed stones on the graves of their great-great grandparents.
Lastly, she took the group to her former residence on Enniskillen. (Doesn’t everyone want to do this? I, for sure, do.) Then, she went the extra step and knocked on the door of what had been her childhood home and asked for an invitation to enter. Seek and ye shall find it is said and, for Shayla that phrase worked. Shayla said to me, ”What a great experience.” The house was much the same, though naturally enough, there were renovations, such as to the bathroom and kitchen. I suspect that the chance to see your parent or grandparent’s childhood home with your parent showing you around would be a moving experience for many.
Shayla falls into a club of ex-Winnipeggers (a large club indeed) who, though removed from the city for a long time, still live in the city in their hearts. She learned well from her parents and grandparents.
Features
New book by former Winnipegger Dr. Ted Rosenberg explores his personal experience of anti-Semitism, along with a call to action
By MYRON LOVE After a bit of a hiatus, it is nice to see Yolanda Papini Pollock and Winnipeg Friends of Israel – the group she founded ten years ago – back in action.
“I was frustrated by the media bias (against Israel), the coverage without context, the attempts to delegitimize Israel and deny our people the right of self-defense,” she said in an earlier interview. “Violent demonstrations, hate crimes, antisemitic comics, blood libel allegations, and hostile media coverage were daily events that led people to question whether Israel has the right to exist or defend herself against repeated terror attacks.”
In fighting back, over the years WFI has not only introduced its supporters to pro-Israel speakers. Papini Pollock has also brought in speakers from the Yazidi and Kurdish communities; a Christian minister from Africa; the pro-Israel son of one of the founders of Hamas, Mosab Hassan Yousef; and Kasim Hafeez, the WFI’s first guest speaker who, at the time, was doing outreach and education programming for B’nai Brith locally. (Hafeez is a British-born Muslim – of Pakistani origin – who switched from being virulently anti-Israel to supporting Zionism after reading Alan Dershowitz’s “The Case for Israel.”)
Over the past four months, Papini Pollock and WFI have organized three programs – in conjunction with her frequent partners – the Christian Zionist Bridges for Peace. Last June, the two groups brought Rabbi Leo Dee to Winnipeg via Zoom to talk about how he has overcome the murder of his wife and two daughters at the hands of Palestinian terrorists about 18 months ago.
Most recently, in the week before Yom Tov, the partnering organizations held a program highlighting the Druze community in Israel and Syria – at the Rady JCC – and hosted an evening with Dr. Ted Rosenberg, a former Winnipegger, who quit his position as a professor at the University of British Columbia School of Medicine – in January of 2024 – after 30 years of teaching, in protest against the rising tide of antisemitism in his faculty, the university as a whole, and universities in general across the country.
Rosenberg was in Winnipeg not only to speak about his own experience as a victim of anti-Semitism, but also to talk about his book, “Ayekha (Where Are You?) A Memoir and Reflection about Antisemism, Anti-Zionism and the Western Response to October 7, 2023.”
In the book Rosenberg recounts his disappointment about what happened to him at UBC and challenges readers to take action to fight back against antisemitism.
The book’s title, he pointed out, comes from the part of Genesis where God confronts Adam and Eve – who are hiding after committing the sin of eating the fruit of the tree of knowledge – and demands to know “Ayekha (Where Are You?)”.
“Rabbi Joseph Soloveichik taught that if we don’t ask ourselves, “Ayekha?” – Where am I? – we will ask ourselves “Eicha?” – how does this happen,” Rosenberg noted. “ ‘Eicha’ is the name for the Book of Lamentations.”
By contrast, Rosenberg continued, when God asked the question of Moses from the burning bush, Moses’ response was “hineni” – “here I am.”
“It is my solemn wish, Rosenberg said, “that our leaders and people in the Diaspora will stand up and likewise answer the question with hineni.”
The author began his presentation by reminiscing about growing up in Winnipeg – where he still has many family members and friends. He attended Talmud Torah as a kid – later graduating from the University of Winnipeg and the University of Manitoba Faculty of Medicine.
“Winnipeg was a special place to grow up,” he recalled. “It was a golden age then for Canadian Jewry.”
“There was always an undercurrent of anti-Semitism in Canada,” he commented, “but after October 7, it became a torrent. This was something else. I knew we were in trouble.”
He referred to the numerous libels that were being spread. “My son was told that the Jews were not chosen,” he recounted. “Israel stood accused of stealing another people’s land. I began to think about how I could protect my children, teach them how to protect themselves.”
Rosenberg was spurred to action after 225 UBC medical students signed a petition titled “A Call for Action on Gaza” which, according to an article in the Vancouver Jewish Independent, “called for a ceasefire, condemned Israel as “a settler-colonial state, accused Israel of collective punishment through indiscriminate bombing of civilians and claimed that Palestinian people have been continually abused, traumatized and killed by the settler state of Israel and its Western allies for over 75 years.”
The response from the administration, Rosenberg noted, was that there was nothing they could do because this was all happening on social media.
“For me, this was a red flag,” he recalled. “I decided to take the bull by the horns. I believed that the administration didn’t understand the gravity of the situation.”
Rosenberg wrote a letter to the dean and president of the university, pointing out that Zionism is the culmination of the Jewish people re-establishing their homeland on their ancestral land. He further refuted the lies about “apartheid, ethnic cleansing, genocide” and others. He noted that half of Israeli Jews are originally from Arab countries and that the Jews were in the land of Israel 1000 years before Islam was born. He cited the work of writer and anthropologist Adam Louis Klein, who argued that antisemitism is akin to a religious cult. He warned about the dangers not only to Jewish medical students and faculty but also Jewish patients across Canada who may have to deal with doctors who graduated from a university steeped in antisemitic beliefs. He advocated that the administration work with the faculty to educate students about antisemitism and turn down the temperature.
Rosenberg described the response that he received from the dean was as boilerplate stuff about the university’s emphasis on respect and inclusiveness. “I further reached out to (B.C. Premier) David Eby, the Lieutenant-Governor and (pro-Israel) Members of Parliament David Housefather and Marco Mendocino and still got nothing,” he recounted. “I had nowhere else to go.”
Rosenberg chose to resign his position, wrote about his decision and took to the media to explain his decision. He says he received a lot of positive response.
In January 2024, he went on a medical mission to Israel. “I felt in Israel that I could breathe again,’ he said. “I was very impressed by the resilience of the people and the humanity from both Arabs and Jews.”
In May of 2024, he began writing a blog on The Times of Israel – whIch led to “Ayekha”.
Before turning to a more detailed description of his book, Rosenberg provided an overview of Canada and the world vis-à-vis Israel and the Jews – and a gloomy overview it was. He pointed to ongoing antisemitic violence throughout the Western world, egged on by political leaders, unions and educational leadership – including our own federal government leaders in Canada. He suggested that antisemitic speech has become normalized. He further suggested that Israel is more isolated than ever and that even the Jewish community in Canada is divided.
“I am pessimistic about the future – but remain hopeful,” Rosenberg said.
On the positive side, he cited examples of Jewish communities taking action to “reclaim our story” and pursue legal redress. He furthere welcomed the support of Christian communities such as Bridges for Peace.
He also expressed his gratitude for the largely positive reaction to “Ayekha,” which has opened the eyes of many readers to the reality of the situation in Israel.
“Each one of us has a role to play,” Rosenberg suggested to his audience. “We are commanded to be a light unto the nations. Most people are ill-informed and under informed about the entire subject. We have to reach out and try to educate. If you need to be better informed so that you are more confident explaining these complex issues, you can read my book.”
Rosenberg’s book is part memoir, part historical documentation about the author’s experience , he said. All book sales support the first Jewish day school in Victoria, BC, founded on October 7, 2024. “Ayekha” is available on Amazon.
Features
In Dan Brown’s chaotic tale of a rampaging Golem, a case of missing Judaism
By Mira Fox September 27, 2025
This story was originally published in the Forward. Click here to get the Forward’s free email newsletters delivered to your inbox.
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Strap on your best smooth-soled Italian loafers and get ready to spring over some cobblestones, because Robert Langdon — everyone’s favorite tweed-jacketed, baritone-voiced, handsome Harvard “symbologist” — is back, and he’s racing through the streets of Prague.
In Dan Brown’s newest thriller, however, there’s no Dante or Mary Magdalene; Brown is finally veering away from the Christian mythos that drove all of his previous adventures such as The DaVinci Code and Angels and Demons. This time, he’s taking on something older and far more mysterious: Judaism.
Each of Brown’s symbology books has a central guiding myth or story, i.e. the Holy Grail, Dante’s Inferno or the Founding Fathers’ involvement with Freemasonry. The Secret of Secrets follows the same formula, and its opening moments make its central myth obvious. Within the first few pages of the book, the Golem of Prague — which for some reason Brown insists on spelling as Golěm — has already murdered someone.
The story proceeds about as you’d expect, if you’ve read any of the previous Robert Langdon novels; though it has been eight years since we last read about the Harvard professor’s misadventures, he remains dashing and impressively fit for his age, as Brown reminds us regularly, though this time we hear less about his penchant for tweed. Langdon still has a photographic memory, which still comes in handy as he deciphers various codes, and the book is still loaded with long tangents about the history of various buildings and artifacts that Langdon is sprinting by. (Even while desperately attempting to escape from a gunman in a historic library, the symbologist has the presence of mind to consider the artist behind the frescoes on the ceiling.)
But the book is notably lacking in something surprising: the Jewish history of Prague, or of the Golem, or blood libel. There are no Hebrew translations or reinterpretations of Talmudic texts. We don’t learn some little known midrash that holds a secretive double meaning. These are the kinds of factoids that usually drive Brown’s mysteries, yet they’re absent.
The plot revolves, instead, around a damsel in distress, who readers may remember from the previous Langdon books: The beautiful “noetic scientist” Katherine Solomon, who is about to publish an academic treatise detailing her research on human consciousness and death. Apparently some very powerful people want to destroy her manuscript, so the action and mystery unfold across Prague as Langdon attempts to save Katherine, save her book, and — hey why not — save all of Prague and also maybe the United States. And, somewhere in there, a Golem is on the loose.
Brown’s previous novels have delved into various Christian mysteries with vigor and palpable fascination; whatever Brown’s many foibles as a writer, you could tell that he was excited by the myth of the Holy Grail, which took centerstage in The DaVinci Code, which he reinterpreted to be an allegory about a love affair between Jesus and Mary Magdalene. In Angels and Demons, Brown has great fun with the secretive inner workings of the Vatican, and Inferno is laden with delighted diversions into Christian history and ideas about the afterlife, courtesy of Dante Alighieri’s Divine Comedy.
In The Secret of Secrets, Brown outlines the basic myth of the Golem: Rabbi Judah Loew, a 16th century Talmudic scholar and leader of Prague’s Jewish community, created a magic guardian out of clay to protect the ghetto from antisemitic attacks. Loew engraved the word “emet,” or truth, in Hebrew on its forehead to bring it to life. Eventually the Golem turned on the rabbi, almost killing him, until Loew managed to rub away the aleph in “emet,” turning the word to “met,” or death, and stopping the creature; its body was placed in an attic in case it was needed again.
That’s about all we get, yet there’s so much more to explore. In another version of the story, Loew made sure to erase the aleph from the Golem’s forehead every Shabbat to allow it to rest; instead of going on a murderous rampage, the creature was eventually destroyed because it desecrated the holy day. According to some stories, a Nazi tried to ransack the attic where the Golem was stored, and died mysteriously. Others say its body was stowed in a genizah, where sacred Jewish texts are placed since they cannot be destroyed.
Then there is the actual Jewish history, the blood libel, accusations of witchcraft and antisemitic laws that kept Jews segregated in Prague’s ghetto. There is also Loew’s own life as a lauded Talmudic scholar — not a Kabbalist, as Brown describes him — and, of course, a rich tradition of Talmudic and midrashic exegesis. The setting is rife with the kind of symbols and mystery that Brown uses as fodder in all his other thrillers, inventing secret societies and mystical artifacts lost to history.
Instead, The Secret of Secrets has no Jewish characters and very little Jewish history. Though Brown sprinkles in a few of Prague’s Jewish landmarks — the Old-New Synagogue and the city’s historic Jewish cemetery — the book still manages, despite its Golem centerpiece, to spend most of its time in churches. When Langdon first encounters the Golem and sees its forehead inscription, Brown notes that the symbologist “did not read Hebrew well,” though the professor, who specializes in religion, regularly relies on his fluency in Greek, Latin, Arabic, Cyrillic and even a fake angelic language invented by two crackpot mediums that was never spoken by more than a handful of people. At one point, the Golem is described as arriving “like some kind of ascendant Christ.”
The real focus of the book is an imaginary bit of science having to do with human consciousness and life after death, a topic Brown has been exploring in the Langdon books for some time now. His interest in religion seems to stem from the idea that they are all, fundamentally, the same, and that all religions are reaching for proof that life persists after death.
But Judaism doesn’t. There are concepts — which Brown overemphasizes — like gilgul or gehenna that imply some post-death experience, but they’re not central to Jewish thought. Though one of the characters reads Loew’s most famous text, Brown clearly didn’t. (Like most works of Jewish commentary, it’s hardly the kind of work one buys in a bookstore and reads in a sitting.)
It’s not as though Brown’s previous books got everything, or even most things, right about Christianity. His wacky inventions are part of the fun — no one is reading a thriller about a fictional professor of an imaginary discipline for accuracy. The Golem is a myth, a rich story that has remained resonant over the centuries due to its flexibility and ability to be reinterpreted; Brown can make whatever he wants of it. The problem is that he has made so little.
Mira Fox is a reporter at the Forward. Get in touch at fox@forward.com or on Twitter @miraefox.
This story was originally published on the Forward.