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Rabbi Ishmael and the Idols Buried Under Mount Gerizim

A Samaritan challenged Rabbi Ishmael on the road to Jerusalem by pointing to their sacred mountain. The rabbi's answer reached back to Jacob's camp.

Curated by Arthur · Told by Maggid ·
Table of Contents
  1. The Challenge on the Road
  2. What Jacob Buried at Shechem
  3. The Dove That Survived
  4. The Permanent Record Under the Tree

The Challenge on the Road

Rabbi Yishmael ben Rabbi Yosei was walking toward Jerusalem to pray when a Samaritan stopped him on the road near Mount Gerizim.

The challenge was old and well-rehearsed. Why walk to the ruins of Jerusalem when the blessed mountain stands here? The Samaritans worshipped on Gerizim, the mountain the Torah identifies as the mountain of blessing, and they pressed this argument against every Jew who passed. Their sanctuary was on the living mountain. Jerusalem was rubble. The geography seemed to support them.

Rabbi Yishmael did not answer with theology. He answered with archaeology.

What Jacob Buried at Shechem

The answer reaches back to the moment Jacob returned from Laban's house. Genesis 35 records that Jacob commanded his household to put away the foreign gods, purify themselves, and change their garments. The midrashic tradition in Bereshit Rabbah, compiled in the land of Israel around the fifth century CE, reads this command with unusual severity. Jacob did not ask merely for statues. He knew idolatry in all its forms, the images woven into cloth, the icons hanging from ears, the small household gods brought from Mesopotamia and carried through twenty years of wandering. He stripped all of it from his camp.

The material had to go somewhere. Genesis 35:4 records that Jacob buried the foreign gods and the earrings beneath the terebinth tree at Shechem. The targums, the Aramaic translations of the Torah, expand this: Jacob did not merely bury the objects. He destroyed what could be destroyed. He pulverized. He burned. The terebinth absorbed what could not simply be buried.

The Dove That Survived

Targum Pseudo-Jonathan adds a specific detail: among the objects Jacob buried was a dove-shaped idol, and unlike the others, this one was not fully destroyed. It went into the ground intact. Centuries later, when the Samaritans settled in the territory of Shechem near Mount Gerizim, they found it. They dug it up. They worshipped it.

This is Rabbi Yishmael's answer to the man who points to the blessed mountain. The mountain your ancestors chose is the mountain that sits over Jacob's discarded idols. The ground beneath your feet is the ground where the patriarch buried his household's false gods because he could not bring them any closer to the God he served. You did not build your worship on something ancient and sacred. You built it on the refuse of Jacob's purification.

The Permanent Record Under the Tree

The terebinth at Shechem appears in the tradition as a threshold object, a place of decision and disposal. Abraham had stood there. Jacob had stood there and stripped his camp of everything that divided his household from the one God. The tree marked the line between what Jacob brought with him and what he left behind, and everything he left behind went into the ground of the mountain the Samaritans would one day claim as their sacred center.

Rabbi Yishmael's argument is that the Samaritan claim to ancient, pure worship collapses the moment you know what is under the soil they stand on. The Torah's description of the burial site is not incidental geography. It is a recorded transaction: Jacob deposited the history of idolatry into this specific ground, and the ground received it. The claim to sanctity built on top of that deposit is built on the wrong foundation.

IdolatryWisdomRabbi IshmaelSamaritansJacob
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From the tradition

Sources

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The texts this telling draws on, in full. Open a card to read inline, or expand it for a wider, quieter read.

Bereshit Rabbah 81:3Bereshit Rabbah

The verse Simple enough. But it's the rabbinic unpacking of this verse that's truly revealing.

The text immediately zeroes in on Jacob's instructions to his household. Rabbi Kruspedai, quoting Rabbi Yoḥanan, makes a rather bold statement: "We are not expert in the minutiae of idol worship, like Jacob our patriarch." What does that even mean? It suggests that Jacob possessed an almost unparalleled understanding of the subtle ways idolatry could manifest.

To illustrate this point, the text references Mishna Avoda Zara (3:3), which deals with laws concerning idolatry. The Mishna states that if you find vessels with images of the sun, moon, or a dragon, you should discard them in the Dead Sea. But Jacob, according to Rabbi Yoḥanan, went even further! He insisted that his household change their garments, disposing of any clothing with any images whatsoever. The fear? That these garments might have been made for idolatrous purposes. It wasn't just about avoiding obvious idols; it was about eliminating anything that could even remotely be associated with idolatry. Rabbi Yoḥanan even goes so far as to say, "All garments are included in the category of idols," deriving this from Jacob's actions. This seems to contradict the relatively more lenient stance of the Mishna. Were they really that concerned about the influence of idolatry? Absolutely.

Let's move on to (Genesis 35:4): "They gave to Jacob all the foreign gods that were in their possession, and the rings that were in their ears, and Jacob interred them beneath the terebinth that is near Shekhem." This verse leads us to a rather dramatic anecdote.

Rabbi Yishmael ben Rabbi Yosei, a real historical figure, was on his way to pray in Jerusalem. He encountered a Samaritan near Mount Gerizim – a mountain considered sacred by the Samaritans, who had their own version of Israelite religion. The Samaritan questioned why Rabbi Yishmael was going to Jerusalem, suggesting that it would be preferable to pray on Mount Gerizim, which he called a "blessed mountain," rather than in the "ruins" of Jerusalem. Remember, the Samaritans had a long and complicated relationship with the Jews of Jerusalem, often marked by religious and political rivalry.

Rabbi Yishmael's response is… well, let's just say it's colorful. He compares the Samaritan to "a dog that is eager for a carcass." Ouch! Why such a harsh comparison? Because, according to Rabbi Yishmael, the Samaritans knew that idols were buried under Mount Gerizim – specifically, the idols that Jacob had interred! That's why they were so eager to have him pray there.

The story doesn't end there. The Samaritans, suspecting that Rabbi Yishmael was planning to steal the idols, decided to kill him! He barely escaped with his life, fleeing in the night. This little story, tucked within the larger narrative, reveals the intense, sometimes violent, religious tensions of the time. It also emphasizes the belief that these buried idols still held power, even after all that time.

So what can we take away from this? It's clear that for Jacob, and later for the rabbis interpreting his actions, the fight against idolatry was not just a theological concept; it was a constant, vigilant struggle. It required not only the rejection of overt idols but also a deep awareness of the subtle ways idolatrous influences could creep into daily life. And the story of Rabbi Yishmael ben Rabbi Yosei reminds us that these beliefs could have very real, and very dangerous, consequences.

It makes you wonder, doesn't it? What "idols" – not necessarily literal statues, but perhaps values, beliefs, or attachments – do we unwittingly harbor in our own lives today? And what would it take for us to recognize them, confront them, and bury them deep beneath the metaphorical terebinth of our own Shekhems?

Full source
Targum Pseudo-Jonathan on Genesis 35:4Targum Pseudo-Jonathan on Genesis

"And they delivered into Jacob's hand all the idols of the people which were in their hands, which they had taken from the temple of Shekem, and the jewels that had been in the ears of the inhabitants of the city of Shekem, in which was portrayed the likeness of their images; and Jacob hid them under the terebinth that was near to the city of Shekem." Targum Pseudo-Jonathan (Genesis 35:4) preserves a striking image: the idols and the idolatrous earrings were buried, not destroyed.

Why bury and not burn?

The rabbis noticed the distinction. Later Torah law would demand that idols be ground to dust and scattered (Deuteronomy 12:3). But Jacob only buried them. Why?

One answer: this was before the giving of Torah. The full protocol for destroying idols had not yet been revealed. Jacob did what he could, he got them out of the household, he got them out of the visible world, he put them under the earth where they could no longer tempt anyone.

Another answer: burial is itself a kind of refusal. You do not grant idols the dignity of the bonfire. You do not spectacle their ending. You quietly put them into the ground, under a tree that had probably been a pagan shrine itself, and you walk away. The silence of the burial is a theological statement: these things do not deserve the drama of fire.

The takeaway: sometimes the holiest response to something false is to bury it without ceremony and keep walking.

Full source
Exempla of the Rabbis, No. 182Exempla of the Rabbis (Gaster, 1924)

Rabbi Ishmael ben Jose was making his way to Jerusalem on a pilgrimage when a Samaritan stopped him on the road. The Samaritans, who lived on and around Mount Gerizim and claimed to worship the same God as the Jews, frequently challenged Jewish travelers about the legitimacy of worshipping in Jerusalem rather than on their own sacred mountain.

This Samaritan was no different. He blocked the road and demanded to know why Rabbi Ishmael insisted on going to Jerusalem when Mount Gerizim was the true holy site.

Rabbi Ishmael looked at him and delivered a devastating reply. "You Samaritans have never truly abandoned the idols," he said. "When Jacob our father fled from Laban and returned to the land of Canaan, he buried the foreign gods and idolatrous images at the foot of Mount Shechem" (Genesis 35:4). "Your mountain sits atop that burial ground. You are still hankering after those same idols that Jacob buried beneath your feet."

The accusation cut deep. Rabbi Ishmael was not simply arguing about geography or the correct location for a temple. He was claiming that the entire Samaritan attachment to Mount Gerizim was unconsciously rooted in the buried idolatry of the patriarchal era, that the ground itself was tainted, and the Samaritans, whether they knew it or not, were drawn to the place where foreign gods lay hidden.

The Jerusalem Talmud in Avodah Zarah (5:4) and Genesis Rabbah (81:3) preserve this exchange as a sharp example of the theological rivalry between Jews and Samaritans that lasted for centuries.

Full source
Legends of the Jews 6:257Legends of the Jews

One story tells us that among the idols Jacob destroyed, there was one shaped like a dove. And wouldn’t you know it, the Samaritans later dug it up and started worshiping it again! It just goes to show you how hard it can be to truly break with the past.

After reaching Beth-el (the House of God), he built an altar to the Lord. And he took the very stone he'd used as a pillow during that fateful night on his way to Haran, the night he dreamed of the ladder reaching up to heaven. And set it up as a pillar. A powerful reminder of divine presence.

Then, Jacob wanted his parents, Isaac and Rebecca, to join him in offering a sacrifice. He wanted to share this moment with them, to bring them into this renewed connection with God. But Isaac sent back a message, a deeply poignant one: "O my son Jacob, that I might see thee before I die." Can you feel the longing in those words?

Jacob, understanding his father's heart, immediately hastened to his parents, bringing Levi and Judah, two of his sons, with him. Now, here's where the story takes a truly beautiful turn.

As his grandsons, Levi and Judah, stepped before Isaac, who had been shrouded in darkness, the darkness simply. vanished. The Zohar tells us of the power of righteous souls to bring light into the world, and this feels like a perfect example. Isaac, seeing them clearly, exclaimed, "My son, are these thy children, for they resemble thee?"

And then, the spirit of prophecy entered Isaac. It’s like a divine download, an awakening. He grasped Levi with his right hand and Judah with his left, preparing to bless them. The blessings he bestows are remarkable.

To Levi, he says: "May the Lord bring thee and thy seed nigh unto Him before all flesh, that ye serve in His sanctuary like the Angel of the Face and the Holy Angels. Princes, judges, and rulers shall they be unto all the seed of the children of Jacob. The word of God they will proclaim in righteousness, and all His judgments they will execute in justice, and they will make manifest His ways unto the children of Jacob, and unto Israel His paths." He's foretelling the priestly role of the Levites, their dedication to serving God and guiding the people.

And to Judah, he speaks these words: "Be ye princes, thou and one of thy sons, over the sons of Jacob. In thee shall be the help of Jacob, and the salvation of Israel shall be found in thee. And when thou sittest upon the throne of the glory of thy justice, perfect peace shall reign over all the seed of the children of my beloved Abraham." This, of course, foreshadows the Davidic line, the kingship that would emerge from the tribe of Judah, bringing leadership and ultimately, the hope of redemption.

These blessings, these pronouncements, they aren't just words. They're seeds planted in the soil of destiny, seeds that would blossom into the future of the Jewish people. Isaac's vision pierces through time, connecting the present to the generations yet to come. It’s a reminder that our actions, our choices, have ripple effects that extend far beyond our own lives. What kind of legacy are we building? What seeds are we planting for the future?

Full source
Exempla of the Rabbis, No. 182Exempla of the Rabbis (Gaster, 1924)

Rabbi Ishmael ben Yose was making his pilgrimage to Jerusalem, one of the three annual journeys that every Jewish man was commanded to undertake. Along the way, he passed through Samaritan territory, and a Samaritan man stopped him on the road.

"Where are you going?" the Samaritan demanded. "To Jerusalem, to worship at the Temple," Rabbi Ishmael replied. The Samaritan sneered. "Why do you worship at that mountain? Would it not be better to worship at our holy mountain, Mount Gerizim, which is the true place of worship?"

The dispute between Jews and Samaritans over the proper site of worship was ancient and bitter. The Samaritans believed God had chosen Mount Gerizim, near Shechem, as the site of His Temple. The Jews insisted on Jerusalem. Neither side would yield.

Rabbi Ishmael did not argue theology. Instead, he struck at the root of the Samaritan claim. "You are still hankering after the idols that Jacob buried at the foot of Mount Shechem," he said. The Torah records that when Jacob returned to the Land of Israel, he commanded his household to put away their foreign gods, and he buried them under an oak near Shechem (Genesis 35:4).

The implication was devastating: the Samaritans' attachment to Shechem and its mountain was not devotion to the true God, it was a lingering attraction to the very idols that Jacob had discarded there. Their holy place was, in Rabbi Ishmael's telling, a graveyard of false gods. The Samaritan had no answer. Rabbi Ishmael continued on his way to Jerusalem.

Full source
Gaster, The Exempla of the Rabbis (1924), no. 182The Exempla of the Rabbis (1924)

Rabbi Yishmael ben Yose, the son of the great Galilean sage Rabbi Yose, was walking on pilgrimage toward Jerusalem when a Samaritan stopped him on the road near Mount Gerizim. The Samaritan tried to persuade him that Mount Gerizim, not Jerusalem, was the true holy mountain of Israel.

Rabbi Yishmael did not argue theology. He went straight for the history. "You are still hankering," he told the Samaritan, "after the idols that Jacob buried at the foot of Mount Shechem."

The reference was devastating. When Jacob returned to the land of Canaan after twenty years with Laban, the Torah records that he commanded his household to get rid of every foreign god they had brought with them. And Jacob said to his household and to all who were with him: Put away the foreign gods that are among you, and purify yourselves, and change your garments (Genesis 35:2). They gathered up every idol, every amulet, every pagan earring. And they gave to Jacob all the foreign gods that were in their hand and the rings that were in their ears, and Jacob hid them under the terebinth which was by Shechem (Genesis 35:4).

Rabbi Yishmael's point was unmistakable. The Samaritans had built their temple and their entire tradition on the very mountain where Jacob had buried the garbage of idolatry. Their sacred ground, in the Rabbi's reading, was contaminated not by accident but by geography, the foreign gods were literally under their feet. Jerusalem, by contrast, had been chosen precisely because David purified its threshing floor. The two mountains were not competing holy sites. One had been made holy by burial of truth; the other, by burial of falsehood.

The exchange, preserved as exemplum no. 182 in Moses Gaster's 1924 The Exempla of the Rabbis, captures the confidence of the early Rabbis about the singular status of Yerushalayim. Their argument was never mystical. It was textual. They read Torah like archaeologists: point by point, pile by pile, until the question of where the real holy ground lay answered itself.

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