A few summers ago, on our family’s return trip from Israel, we stopped for a few days in Italy. What a contrast. Just a day earlier we were in Jerusalem standing at the Western Wall, where below Robinson’s Arch we saw the enormous pile of stones left behind by the Romans upon desecrating and razing our Second Temple. 

Now we were in Rome, the dreaded destination of so many of those Jewish exiles two millennia ago. As we meandered through the city, my eyes were fixated on the city’s centerpiece, the massive Colosseum. I couldn’t help but imagine how many Jews saw their end in this notorious amphitheater. In that moment, I felt the weight of the suffering of my People.

The sense of tragedy and personal loss was compounded when we walked across the way and stepped into the Roman Forum. There before us — in all its brazen glory — stood the Arch of Titus. The imposing structure, which was completed after Titus’ death, exists as a tribute to the merciless Roman emperor who destroyed the city of Jerusalem and our holy Temple in approximately 70 CE.                                                                       

On the arch, we could vividly see the Temple’s sacred Menorah, Chatzotzrot and Shulchan; precious spoils taken from our beloved Jerusalem. I overheard a nearby tour guide explain that the individuals depicted on the arch are Roman soldiers — not Jews — proudly taking the booty from Jerusalem’s holy Temple.

There is a fundamental difference between the way gentiles and Jews experience these tourist attractions. For most people, the sites in Rome, the towering doorways, grandiose buildings and ancient statues attest to the city’s historic might, power and greatness. For Jews however, ours is an entirely different experience. As we traverse Rome’s cobblestone streets, we are reminded of the degradation and humiliation of our People.

The Midrash in Parshat Acharei Mot (Vayikra Rabbah 23:3) elaborates how Titus prided himself in having “defeated” the King in his own palace. The Gemara in Gittin 56b details the great sin Titus committed in the Holy of Holies at the time of his entering the Temple in Jerusalem. Afterward, the mighty emperor plunged a sword into the Parochet, set fire to the holy edifice, and hauled off his newly acquired prizes, taking them with him to Rome. 

Titus arrived at his capital as a hero. He was accorded great honor. Josephus, who had a personal relationship with the emperor, describes in detail the scene of the flamboyant dictator’s arrival in Rome.

Upon analyzing this most difficult chapter in our people’s history, my teacher, Rabbi Dr. Jacob J. Schacter, who provided many of the sources below, noted that historians over the past two millennia have debated whether or not the Menorah on the Arch of Titus is the actual Menorah from the Temple in Jerusalem. Is this the very Menorah that played such a central role in the Chanukah story?

 It would seem that if this monument was built shortly after Titus returned to Rome, then there is a good chance that the image on the archway is actually how the Temple Menorah appeared. The problem is that if we take a closer look at the etching inside the archway, we find that the “base” of the Menorah is not how we know it to be.

Rashi in Parshat Terumah (25:31) says that the base of the Menorah had three legs. The Rambam, in Hilchot Beit HaBechirah 3:2, also says that it had three legs. Ancient drawings in Jericho and Beit She’arim all confirm that the Menorah in the Beit HaMikdash stood on three legs. So how do we explain this discrepancy?

 A 1950’s historian named W. Wirgin suggests that yes, the Temple Menorah had three legs. However, the Menorah image appearing on the Arch of Titus had its legs covered up by an ornate base. For practical transport purposes, the Menorah was covered with a solid octagon-shaped base.

 What makes things so interesting is that the emblem of the State of Israel depicts exactly the same Menorah that appears on the Arch of Titus. When looking closely at the Semel Yisrael we can clearly see that it too has a solid base at the foot of the Menorah. How did this come to be?

An important meeting took place on July 15, 1948, two months after the founding of the State of Israel. This was the date of the tenth session of the provisional government of Israel. At this meeting government leaders focused on the design of the emblem of Israel and the flag of Israel.

One hundred and sixty-four participants submitted proposals for how they felt the emblem and flag should appear. Of course, the emblem and flag should represent the values of the State of Israel. 

Rav Yitzchak Isaac HaLevi Herzog was the first Chief Rabbi at the time. Years later, in 1956 (in Sefer Zichron L’Shlomo S. Meir), he reflected on that meeting. He wrote an article about the Menorah and in his writings he concluded that, of course, the emblem of the State of Israel should depict the Menorah. The Menorah is an appropriate symbol of the Jewish People, embodying our role as a light unto the world. It reminds us of the holiness, purity and even the stature of the Beit HaMikdash.

But “it’s wrong,” he writes, for the State of Israel “to copy the Menorah appearing on the Arch of Titus, since we know that the Temple Menorah had three legs.” Rav Herzog felt that the arch Menorah was not the correct choice to place onto the Semel Yisrael. 

Responding to Rav Herzog was an Israeli historian named Gershom Scholem (in Magen David: Toldotav Shel Semel), who argued to the contrary. Scholem noted that there was a similar debate about the flag of Israel. Many did not want the Magen David (Star of David) on the flag of the State of Israel. For many Holocaust survivors in Israel, these discussions were being had just a few years after the war, and that Star of David brought back vivid memories of the yellow stars of the Nazis. That star was a reminder of our hashpalah and yisurin — the lowering, shaming and disgrace of our People. 

But Gershom Scholem felt otherwise. He noted that ultimately, the newly formed Jewish government decided to davka put the Magen David onto the Israeli flag because this star now symbolizes that we have risen from the ashes. Scholem said, let’s take that very star which we wore into the gas chambers and put it in the face of the world. Let’s show the world koach Yisrael. Now we fly F-15 fighter planes over Auschwitz with the Star of David emblazoned on their fuselage. We have turned this star from being a siman mavet — a symbol of death — into a siman chaim — a symbol of life.

Similarly, says Gershon Scholem, let’s specifically use the Menorah from the Arch of Titus to appear on the emblem of the State of Israel. Let that be the representation that stands right in front of the Knesset in Jerusalem. Precisely the Menorah that was hauled off by the Romans from Jerusalem; look at it now. See the Menorah in all its glory as it stands proudly, with the Grace of God, to protect the Jews of the world. 

Titus, you mocked us with that Menorah, placing it on the arch that carries your name? See where this very Menorah stands today; tall and proud in the heart of a resurrected, vibrant and flourishing Jerusalem.

Two thousand years later, Rome feels like a dark and depressed city. It represents a civilization that is long past its peak. The Roman Forum is falling apart. Contrast Rome with Jerusalem. The City of Gold is glorious! It’s a light on a hill. Expansive. Reborn. Stunning! Cranes and construction in every direction. After two thousand years, Israel and the Jewish People have risen again!

How we ought to be inspired by the words of the Prophet Isaiah (60:1):

קוּמִי אוֹרִי כִּי בָא אוֹרֵךְ וּכְבוֹד ה' עָלַיִךְ זָרָח.

Arise! Shine! For your light has arrived and the Glory of Hashem has shined upon you.