Would Menasseh Ben Israel qualify as a geopolitical mastermind on par with the Zionist Henry Kissinger?
In June 1654, Queen Christina of Sweden, aged 27 and unmarried, relinquished her throne. On Christmas Eve in Brussels, then the capital of the Spanish Netherlands, she covertly embraced Catholicism. This revelation sparked outrage within Lutheran circles. Conversely, the Vatican welcomed her with great ceremony in 1655, viewing her as a significant asset for their propaganda efforts.
A notable study of this unconventional queen’s life is Christina of Sweden and Her Circle by Susanna Åkerman. Rather than merely focusing on Christina’s immediate associates, this work illuminates the intellectual climate of the 17th century, revealing a period dominated by fervent messianism and occult obsession, especially within Jewish and Calvinist communities, but also reaching Catholic spheres—particularly among Jesuits and Germans influenced by the superstitious Emperor Rudolf II. During 1664 and 1665, two comets bolstered occultists’ belief in imminent apocalypse, while in 1666 Sabbatai Zevi claimed messiahship, inspiring Jewish communities worldwide.
Christina’s story reflects these cultural currents. With a cousin poised to inherit her throne if she bore no heirs, she clandestinely employed an astrologer to convince her she was infertile. After her abdication, her cousin ascended the throne, hailed by Eastern European Protestants as the Lion of the North, destined to free them from Catholic domination. This expectation was fueled by the prophecies of the Polish Calvinist Kristina Poniatowska.
It would be misleading to label Christina as merely superstitious. While she believed in alchemy and astrology and trusted practitioners in these fields, this formed part of her identity as Christina Minerva and her ambition to turn Stockholm into a beacon of intellectual freedom, inviting people of diverse faiths—including Jews and Muslims—though excluding Unitarians due to previous conflicts in Sweden (not directly linked to Christina herself—interestingly, she later supported the Polish Unitarian exile agitator Lubieniecki).
The most distinguished philosopher Christina encountered was René Descartes, who came to Sweden as her instructor. However, she did not hold him in high regard and soon after his passing invited his Epicurean opponent Gassendi. Following her conversion, Christina caused some controversy by declaring to her peers that her faith was “that of the philosophers,” a vague characterization best captured by Lucretius’s De rerum natura, a groundbreaking work interpreting religion as born from ignorance and fear.
Though raised Lutheran and later Catholic, Christina is best described as a heretical free thinker, equally credulous as the rationalists who sought in Kabbalah and occult practices an ancient truth suppressed by the Catholic Church (a theme explored earlier in our discussion on Francis Bacon). Given this profile, why did she convert and relinquish a crown? Åkerman proposes in Christina of Sweden and her Circle that Christina pursued a theological-political strategy aligned with contemporary credulity. Ambitious for power, she never abandoned her quest for a throne—even contemplating the Swedish crown again after her cousin’s death and when her southern ambitions were blocked.
While in Sweden, Christina conducted secret negotiations with Spain via Jesuits. Not surprisingly, her conversion occurred on Spanish soil. Initially, she hoped to rule either Flanders or Naples, both under Spanish control. When Spain refused to grant her regency—instead wanting her to remain in Sweden and marry a Catholic—she clandestinely shifted allegiances to France and encouraged French invasion of Naples, aiming for its crown. In essence, she embraced Catholicism because her aspirations exceeded what Protestantism could offer. She harbored universalist goals curtailed by Lutheranism. To understand these ambitions, one must examine Marrano messianism—the messianic hopes among partly Christianized Portuguese Jews.
Upon abdicating, Christina moved into a rabbi’s home in Antwerp, then part of the Spanish Netherlands, entrusting her wealth to Jewish bankers to grow. Why would the Jewish community have an interest in a queen without power? Given her intellectual background, “if indeed Christina’s intent was to rise up as a liberal, Catholic regent in Flanders, or failing that, Naples, then the hopes of Jews and intellectuals for a new realm of freethought in Europe (akin to that in Amsterdam) were no longer just a dream” (Åkerman, 223-4). Christina envisioned a Catholic Amsterdam transplanted to Naples alongside Jewish allies. Considering occultists’ manipulation of politicians through prophecy, it is plausible that this orphaned and mentally fragile queen was being influenced even before her abdication.
After stepping down, three messianic figures notably interacted with Christina: La Peyrère, Menasseh Ben Israel, and Antonio Vieira. La Peyrère, a French New Christian raised Calvinist, likely of Portuguese descent (his surname is a French form of Pereira), served as secretary to Prince Condé, who aspired to the French throne. In 1654, La Peyrère took residence next to Christina’s. His notable work Prae-Adamitae, published in 1655 with funding from the newly Catholic queen, argues that Adam was exclusively the ancestor of Jews; Mosaic law applied solely to them; and that Gentiles descended from pre-Adamite men. The book angered Catholics and Protestants alike, and in 1656 La Peyrère, purportedly penitent, followed Christina’s path and converted to Catholicism.
Menasseh Ben Israel, born Manoel Dias Soeiro, was a Portuguese rabbi living in Amsterdam, renowned for negotiating with Oliver Cromwell to permit Jewish settlements in England—believing that dispersing Jews worldwide would hasten the Messiah’s arrival. He also sought to proselytize Christianity with Jewish teachings, translating the Talmud into Spanish (possibly omitting segments offensive to Jesus) and authoring El Conciliador, which “compiles 210 Hebrew and 54 Greek, Latin, Spanish, and Portuguese sources to show that alleged biblical inconsistencies can be resolved through proper interpretation. Authorities such as Euripides and Vergil, Plato and Aristotle, Augustine, Albertus Magnus, and Duns Scotus appear alongside the Zohar, the Midrash, Maimonides, Leon Hebreo, Gabirol, Nachmanides, Paul de Burgos, Nicholaus de Lyra, Isaac Luria, and Moses Cordovero. The extensive list of Greek and Jewish philosophers, poets, and Kabbalists signals a massive effort to integrate Christian and Jewish philosophical thought into biblical exegesis. Rooted in Jewish tradition, the text also introduces Kabbalist techniques and apocalyptic visions” (Åkerman, p. 185). Those familiar with neo-Pentecostals’ Judaizing prophecies should recognize Menasseh Ben Israel as a key biblical authority, especially among Calvinists seeking non-Catholic sources in Amsterdam. It would be worthwhile to explore how much Scofield Bible theology derives from this 1632 work.
Antonio Vieira, the celebrated Jesuit highlighted by Ronaldo Vainfas in Antônio Vieira, probably had Jewish maternal ancestry. Although he lacked a widely known political role in Christina’s life, his position as her confessor in Rome was a prestigious sign, given his status as the era’s favored orator among elites.
Among the three, La Peyrère wielded the most direct influence. Another provocative work of his, Du rappel des juifs (1643), advocated establishing a universal monarchy centered in the Holy Land. According to his vision, Prince Condé would become King of France, defeat the Turks, restore the Jews to their homeland, and govern the world from there. This notion was influenced by Guillaume Postel’s Le Thresor des propheties de l’univers (1547), by a Christian Kabbalist who posited two Messiahs: Christ as the universal savior, and a French king’s descendant as the political messiah expected by Jews. Postel’s work circulated in Antwerp, where Christina and Menasseh Ben Israel likely encountered La Peyrère.
Turning to Vieira, the genius of Portuguese rhetoric, a valuable reference is A. J. Saraiva’s article “Antonio Veira, Menasseh Ben Israel et le Cinquième Empire.” Vieira repeatedly clashed with the Inquisition and was known for his eccentricity. For instance, after writing to Japan’s bishop claiming that John IV of Portugal would rise from the dead, he faced prosecution. Rather than recanting his views—common practice—Vieira tried to prove the Church wrong and himself right. His survival underscores his considerable political influence.
Due to his audacity, Vieira’s heterodox ideas are well documented. Saraiva suggests he echoed Menasseh Ben Israel’s views, whom Vieira acknowledged as a dialogue partner during his Inquisition trial, and echoed the messianic scheme in Rappel des juifs. Two key points taken from Menasseh Ben Israel were the existence of the lost tribes and the Messiah’s nature. Jews believed the lost tribes were concealed, and in 1644, the rabbi revealed the “discovery” that Indigenous peoples of South America were actually lost Jews—a point Vieira vigorously defended. Their emergence signified the Millennium’s approach. Vieira repeated the fabricated tale of the Sabatic River, invented by the rabbi. Regarding the Messiah, the term denotes two concepts: the Christian Jesus as a universal, spiritual figure, and the Jewish Messiah as a worldly, particular leader destined to liberate Jews and return them to the Holy Land. If King John IV were to resurrect, defeat the Turks, and lead Jews home, he would be the Jewish Messiah, inaugurating the Millennium. This era would birth a new religion surpassing the Church, just as the Church superseded the Synagogue—a universal faith for a new universal kingdom.
To avoid excessive detail, I will postpone a full exploration of Vieira’s beliefs. The key takeaway is that Christian Zionism as currently understood has evident 17th-century roots with Menasseh Ben Israel as a pivotal figure. There were efforts to found a Catholic Amsterdam in the Mediterranean and, through Vieira, to maintain or revive a Calvinist Amsterdam in Brazil’s northeast—both initiatives opposing the Spanish Empire amid the Thirty Years’ War and the Restoration War following the Iberian Union’s collapse.
Could Menasseh Ben Israel be considered a geopolitical strategist of Henry Kissinger’s stature? Moving beyond the 20th-century habit of reducing global dynamics to material causes, we must explore the intellectual and spiritual foundations of a militant messianic ideology active and influential since at least the 1600s.
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