by Alice Hoffman
Alice Hoffman has a habit of showing big and tragic events through very small eyes, full of touch and detail. But there's a lacking of emotion that baffles me. How could I read this story without feeling? But I did.
It's an episode during the Spanish Inquisition, in a tiny village in Spain, where Muslims and Christians coexisted in a manner that seemed, on the surface, harmonious. Secreted in the midst of them were secret Jews, the Conversos, Jews who had converted to Christianity to avoid persecution. Many of them, no doubt most, continued to practice their religion in secret. But none of that mattered to the Inquisitioners or the ignorant, intolerant, peasants who were easily incited to violence against their neighbors. Open Jews, converted Jews or secret Jews--they were all the devil.
So much evil done in the name of Jesus. If there were a heaven, I'd imagine he and Muhammad are up there now, swapping sad stories and crying bitter tears.
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