The Deception of Nehemiah Hayun

In the year 1710, Rabbi Yosef Irgas, the rabbi of Livorno in Tuscany, Italy, enjoyed a brief moment of satisfaction. That morning, his students told him of a new arrival at the port, a learned Jewish scholar who had come not with merchandise, but with crates filled only with books. This man soon appeared at the rabbi’s home, proudly presenting a new work on Kabbalah.

Rabbi Yosef Irgas was himself a well-known Kabbalist (a master of Jewish mysticism) and the head of a yeshiva. He was admired for his famous book Shomer Emunim (“Guardian of Faith”), which was later called the “Older Shomer Emunim” to distinguish it from another work written years afterward with the same title. Meeting a fellow Kabbalist from the Land of Israel, especially one carrying letters of recommendation, seemed like an exciting opportunity.

Rabbi Yosef welcomed the visitor warmly and examined the new book. At first glance, it appeared impressive. He admired its presentation and thought about the greatness of the sages of the Land of Israel. But within minutes, his sharp eyes noticed something troubling. Hidden among the mystical discussions were dangerous passages such as ideas supporting the false messiah Shabtai Tzvi. These were not original teachings at all, but passages lifted from the writings of Abraham Cardozo, a known Sabbatean.

The followers of Shabtai Tzvi believed him to be the long-awaited messiah. Even after his shocking conversion to Islam, they continued to justify his actions with twisted mystical explanations. They tried to disguise serious sins under the cover of “Kabbalistic secrets,” just as Shabtai Tzvi himself had done.

Realizing the danger, Rabbi Yosef immediately gathered the other rabbis of Livorno. Together they excommunicated the guest whose name was Nehemiah Hayun and expelled him from the city. By that very day, Hayun was forced to board a ship and leave.

Nehemiah Hayun was no ordinary deceiver. He was like a poisonous snake, always looking for new ways to trick and mislead. In fact, his very name resembled the Aramaic word for snake, chivya. Rabbi Yosef, who clearly recognized the danger this man posed, later wrote a book called Tzad Nachash (“The Trap for the Snake”), in which he detailed Hayun’s deceptions.

Hayun, however, was not finished. He traveled on, printing a pamphlet against Rabbi Yosef in Amsterdam. But Rabbi Yosef was not afraid and responded with yet another book exposing him.

Since there were no newspapers and little communication between Jewish communities in those days, Hayun was able to continue his travels, presenting himself again and again as a great scholar from the Land of Israel. In each city, he showed forged or misleading letters of support and dazzled the local rabbis. In Prague, for example, he hid his Sabbatean teachings from the book he presented. Rabbis David Oppenheim and Naftali Katz, who did not detect the danger, gave him their approval, which he later used for other books they had never even seen.

When they realized they had been tricked, Rabbis Oppenheim and Katz demanded that he return their endorsements. But Hayun only mocked them and continued on to Berlin, where he used their signatures to gain further recognition. This dangerous pattern continued, until the rabbis published a special book called War for Hashem and Sword for Hashem, making their opposition public.

Hayun kept traveling, collecting donations from those who believed in him. But when he reached Amsterdam, the Jewish community was already prepared. Rabbi Avraham Yitzchaki, a sage from Jerusalem, had sent a warning letter about this so-called “jewel” from the Land of Israel. When Hayun arrived, the Ashkenazi rabbi of Amsterdam, the famous Rabbi Tzvi Ashkenazi known as the Chacham Tzvi was ready to confront him. Rabbi Moshe Hagiz from the Land of Israel, who was well-informed about the case, was also present. In fact, Chacham Tzvi had even known Hayun personally years before, when they both lived in Sarajevo.

At first, Hayun denied everything. When Chacham Tzvi mentioned their past acquaintance, Hayun boldly replied, “What do you mean? I was never in Sarajevo. That must have been another Nehemiah Hayun.” He even hid his incriminating book, showing instead a harmless one. For a short while, it looked like fortune was on his side, especially when Rabbi Moshe Hagiz had to leave town.

But within days, Chacham Tzvi investigated thoroughly and excommunicated Hayun for his heretical Sabbatean views. The Sephardi rabbis of Amsterdam, however, did not agree, saying the ruling did not apply to their community. Refusing to accept this division, Chacham Tzvi left Amsterdam, and Hayun managed to hold some influence for a short time.

Soon, though, rabbis across Europe rose against him, publishing writings that revealed his fraud to the Jewish world. Yet his supporters continued to argue that he had been unfairly treated. Hayun even traveled to Constantinople, where he complained to the authorities that he had been excommunicated without a fair hearing. Shockingly, the officials believed him and forced the Jews to cancel the ruling.

But by then, his reputation was already destroyed. His true identity was well known, and he was chased out of every community he entered. He spent the rest of his life wandering under false names. In 1730, he died during his travels in Africa. His son abandoned Judaism and converted to Christianity, cutting off the memory of this dangerous deceiver whose tricks had shaken the Jewish world.