The notion of a woman serving as pontifex maximus, the bishop of Rome, sovereign of papal states, and the visible head of the Catholic Church seems incongruous. Yet a legend first recorded in the 13th century identifies just such a figure: Pope Joan.
According to the account, Joan was a talented and learned woman who posed as a man and rose through the church ranks until she was elected as pope. During her reign as supreme pontiff, she became pregnant, but that seemed to go unnoticed.
At a public event, a procession in Rome, or while delivering a sermon in St. Peter’s Square, she gave birth. That was the end of her papacy. She either died in childbirth, was stoned by the mob, or was deposed and exiled as penance.
Until the 17th century, chroniclers and artists assumed that indeed there had been a female pope. Later, the tale’s historicity was questioned. Proof of Joan’s existence is indeed lacking.
Why do no contemporary sources mention her? Was she active in the 9th century or perhaps the early 12th century? Was she a historical figure with details of her life scrubbed from the official record? Perhaps the tale emerged as a satire of effeminate popes. Or maybe the story is a fable designed to discredit the church.
Whether or not the Pope Joan legend has historical roots, the tale could reflect justification or subversion. Versions that highlight Joan’s dishonesty and immorality can be seen as explanations for the patriarchy. Narratives that emphasize her upstanding character and acumen could be read as challenges to the all-male environment of Catholic leadership.
Indeed, the place of women in religious communities is a contemporary dilemma that confronts many traditional societies. Vatican City – the world’s smallest independent state – is the only state where women do not have the right to vote for the head of state (most men in Vatican City do not have that right, either).
In October 2023, the late Pope Francis allowed women to vote at the Synod of Bishops for the first time. Notwithstanding, at the recent conclave, only men voted to elect Pope Leo XIV.
POPE JOAN’S cross-dressing was a means to gain access to spiritual and educational opportunities. This is reminiscent of the short story “Yentl the Yeshiva Boy” by Nobel laureate Isaac Bashevis Singer. This tale was adapted for the stage and served as the basis for the 1983 romantic musical Yentl, directed by Barbra Streisand, who starred as the eponymous character. However, apart from overlapping themes, it would seem that the Pope Joan legend is unconnected to Jewish lore.
It is therefore surprising to find a version of the story in Knesset Yisrael, a 1906 collection of hassidic tales, featuring Rabbi Yisrael Friedman of Ruzhyn.
The legend of Pope Joan and the power of Jewish mystical healing rites
Two hassidic masters – the Maggid of Chernobyl, Rabbi Motl Twersky, and Rabbi Yisrael of Ruzhyn – were together when a man arrived and asked for spiritual assistance for his wife, who was in labor. Each hassidic master deferred to his colleague to perform a mystical rite to help the woman. Despite the impasse, Rabbi Yisrael of Ruzhyn began to relate a story.
The tale was a faithful version of the Pope Joan legend. As soon as Rabbi Yisrael finished the account, he declared: “Mazal tov! Mazal tov!” He then turned to the husband and said: “Go home because your wife has given birth to a boy.”
As the new father left, the Maggid of Chernobyl said to his younger colleague: “I am astounded to see a pidyon, a mystical rite of salvation, performed by telling a story.” The Holy Ruzhyner responded by asking Rabbi Motl what method he would have used to help the woman.
Rabbi Motl outlined his course: “You know that there are 600,000 letters in the Torah corresponding to the 600,000 souls of Israel. If, heaven forefend, a person sins, he mystically deforms the letter in the Torah that corresponds to his soul.
“Thus, when such a case [of painful childbirth] comes before me, I seek the letter that corresponds to the soul, I see how the flaw has come about, and I pray to God and repair the soul. And through this, the person is saved.”
RABBI YISRAEL of Ruzhyn was unimpressed with this mystical rite: “But in the meantime, before the painful labor is remedied, how is there strength to bear the suffering of a Jewish person?”
It is unclear who was being questioned: Was the Holy Ruzhyner referring to the woman writhing in pain, her husband who was scurrying about to obtain mystical assistance, or perhaps he was wondering how his colleague could embark on this meditative process while another person was in anguish.
“And with this story that I recounted,” continued the Holy Ruzhyner, “even if recounted by a simple person, it will effect salvation.”
Rabbi Motl was unconvinced: “Where did you get this idea that salvation can be achieved through storytelling?”
“From the holy Torah!” declared Rabbi Yisrael of Ruzhyn before explaining that his source was the biblical account where Eliezer, the servant of Abraham, did not eat the food offered by Bethuel (Genesis 24).
According to rabbinic tradition, Eliezer sensed that something was amiss. Indeed, the food had been poisoned. Instead of eating, Eliezer recounted that he was a messenger of Abraham. By dint of this mystical act of storytelling, an angel swapped Eliezer’s plate, and he was saved.
The Holy Ruzhyner concluded: This is what the sages mean when they say that the tales of the forefathers’ servants are more beloved than the Torah of the children (Rashi, Genesis 24:42); mystical salvation by storytelling is more beloved than salvation through learned mystical rites.
The Pope Joan legend had appeared in an earlier Jewish source: the traditional history textbook, Seder Hadorot (Karlsruhe 1769) by the rabbi of Minsk, Rabbi Yehiel Halperin. The storyteller presumably saw the story there. However, there is no evidence of the tale’s mystical valence, not in Seder Hadorot nor in Christianity.
The Holy Ruzhyner was renowned for using storytelling as a theurgic practice. Thus, the encounter matches the Holy Ruzhyner’s persona and legacy. Nevertheless, it is surprising that the mystically potent story is taken from Christian lore. The spiritual energy of storytelling in the hassidic tradition is not just when we recount the stories of our people.
The Knesset Yisrael’s publisher, Reuven Zak, added a further layer of interpretation. Before recounting the tale in print, a short subhead presented in a different font declares: “We have a tradition to recount this tale to someone who is having difficulty in childbirth.”
Thus, telling the story of the story is itself mystically potent. If the Pope Joan narrative is mystically powerful, and telling the tale of that narrative is also potent, then perhaps recounting the story of the tale of the narrative might alleviate the pain of those in distress.
The writer is a senior faculty member at the Pardes Institute of Jewish Studies, a senior lecturer at Bar-Ilan University’s Faculty of Law, and a rabbi in Tzur Hadassah.
