Northern Italy or Southern Germany (?)
Wedding Ring in the Form of a Synagogue, ca. 1700
Silver, 1 ¾ x 1 x 9/16 in.
Gift of Frederick Stafford, Eskenazi Museum of Art, Indiana University, 59.54
Photo: Eskenazi Museum of Art / Kevin Montague
Like the vast majority of American art museums, the one where I have spent my curatorial career has not historically collected Judaica (Jewish ritual objects). The Eskenazi Museum of Art’s sole piece of Judaica—featured on our blog’s homepage—came to us as a donation in 1959. The unknown date, origin, and provenance of this ceremonial wedding ring make it one of the most intriguing and mysterious objects in the collection, as does its aesthetically unusual character.
Ceremonial wedding rings featuring an architectural form—usually symbolizing the Jerusalem Temple—were used in Europe from the early Middle Ages into the eighteenth century. Particularly fine examples, featuring gold granulation and filigree work, were produced in northern Italy and elsewhere in central Europe. The Metropolitan Museum of Art’s Cloisters branch featured such a ring in its 2019-20 exhibition The Colmar Treasure: A Medieval Jewish Legacy. That ring was part of a cache of jewelry and coins discovered in Colmar, France, in 1863; it had presumably been hidden during anti-Jewish persecutions of the mid-fourteenth century. The Colmar ring resembles a dome supported by rounded arches, and features Hebrew letters spelling “Mazel Tov” (מזל טוב), or “Good luck,” appropriate to the ring’s use in wedding ceremonies.
The unique qualities of Jewish ceremonial wedding rings attracted the attention of collectors by the nineteenth century, possibly resulting in the production of particularly ornate examples specifically for the market. This is discussed in the curatorial notes for a ring now in the collection of the The British Museum. Is the unprovenanced ring at the Eskenazi Museum of Art authentic, that is, was it manufactured for actual ceremonial use? While we can’t say for sure, its style and medium are notably different from the ornate examples housed at the British Museum or Oxford University’s Ashmolean Museum.
The Eskenazi’s ring is fabricated from silver, a valuable but far less expensive medium than gold. And the workmanship, although intricate, lacks a certain finesse. Most intriguingly, two Hebrew letters—a hey (ה) and a khaf (כ)—have been incised on the band of the ring. The amateur appearance of the script and incising suggests that they postdate the ring’s manufacture. But what do they mean? I asked several rabbis if they had any thoughts about these letters’ possible signification. They were all stumped. Are they the initials of the ring’s owner or of a married couple? Hebrew letters double as numbers, also raising the possibility that this is a date. We may never answer these questions, but this ring’s lower quality workmanship and less expensive medium suggest it may have been fabricated for a family or community of average means, thus offering us insight into everyday Jewish life in pre-modern Europe.
The ring’s other remarkable feature also speaks volumes about the complexities—and often dangers—of Jewish identity, especially in the pre-modern world. The ring’s form is typical of northern European architecture, with a steep gabled roof, dormer windows, and a chimney. Were it not for the imposing entryway and oversize windows, one might easily mistake this representation of the Jerusalem Temple for a house. Of course, in the context of marriage, the domestic connotation was also intentional. But when we take a look inside the tiny structure, we see a nine-branched candelabra! Although the nine branches suggest that this is specifically a hanukkiah, the type of small candelabra used during the eight nights of Hanukkah, it might also represent the ancient Temple’s Menorah, described in detail in Exodus 25:31-39. The miniature menorah enclosed within the house-like form is the ring’s most obvious Jewish identifier. But unlike the Colmar ring, marked with prominent Hebrew letters, our ring’s Jewish identity is carefully concealed. Even the two Hebrew letters incised on the band are easy to miss, for they lack the distinctive calligraphic style that even non-Hebrew readers recognize.
The ring reminds us that most pre-modern synagogues in Europe concealed their true identity. Non-descript façades were often mandated by the Christian authorities, but sometimes were intentionally chosen by Jewish communities who worried about making their synagogues targets of violence. But while exteriors may have been generic, the interiors of the synagogues constructed between the Middle Ages and the eighteenth century could be visually stunning. Sometimes they were covered with murals, as in the case of the reconstructed Gwozdziec Synagogue in Warsaw’s POLIN Museum.
These synagogues, with their dual identities, recall how Jews themselves often struggled with the visibility of Jewish identity. In pre-modern Europe, of course, Jews were often required to wear identifying clothing or live in ghettos. The halakhic needs and distinctive customs of Jewish communal life necessitated that Jews live near one another in any case. In the post-emancipation world, however, Jews have often had more choices about visibly presenting their identity. This ring, despite its probable pre-modern origins, nevertheless speaks to the challenges and questions that continue to surround Jewish identity today—challenges we will continue to explore through this blog.
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