Rabbi Michael Leo Samuel

Coming downstairs one morning, Lord Congelton heard the cook exclaim, “Oh, if I only had five pounds, wouldn’t I be content!” Thinking the matter over, and anxious to see the woman satisfied, he shortly after handed her a five-pound note, then worth about twenty-five dollars. She thanked him profusely.

He paused outside the door to hear if she would express her satisfaction and thank God. As soon as his shadow was invisible, she cried out, “Why didn’t I say ten?”

Rabbinic wisdom teaches us that he who has $100, wants $200. It is the nature to want more than what we have. When I think of this story, the wisdom of Eric Fromm comes to mind. Fromm survived the camps and published a fascinating book, “To Be or to Have?”  In his study, he raises one of the most important questions of our age: How do we find contentment in our modern contemporary society?

Fromm insists that there are two modes of existence struggling fiercely for the soul of humankind: the “Having mode” vs. the “Being mode.” The Having mode is dedicated to the accumulation of wealth, material possessions, and property. People dedicated to the acquisition of gelt generally tend to be aggressive. Indeed, the reality of war is a grim reminder that people who define their existence by materialistic values will stop at nothing to achieve their values—the recent BP oil disaster is an excellent case in point. Driven by the love of money, principles, ethics often get sacrificed for the bottom line—but always at a cost.

The Being mode represents more of a spiritual attitude. It is not the man who has much who is much; rather, it is the man who is much who has much. Such an attitude focuses one inward development, love, compassion, a kinship with nature, and spiritual evolution as the only values worth perpetuating.

In a prosperous society such as ours, it is not hard to see why there is so much crime and violence. Too often we teach our children that money is the only value that counts. In God we trust, all others pay cash! The advertising industry spends billions to enslave our souls and minds.

Sex is frequently used in commercials to make a product tantalizing; yet, despite the prosperity of our society, record numbers of people committing suicide are on the rise. The wealthy and the powerful are not immune to the same problems we all face.

Without a spiritual orientation, we are indeed, a generation that is lost in space.

What wisdom can we draw from the wellspring of our tradition and parsha? Consider the following thought—consider the lesson of the manna.

Remarkably, rabbinic tradition attributes many wonderful qualities to the manna, which was purported to taste like anything you wanted it to taste like. Hamburger, cheeseburger, you name it—it could taste like your favorite food. Yet, no one person could hoard it all. Each family had exactly what it needed—not more, not less.

The sacred biblical author attributes the following wisdom to Moses:

What  was the purpose of the manna ?  Here the Torah conveys a timeless truth: “Man  does not live on bread alone, but on the emanations that proceed from the mouth of God” ( Deut. 8:3 ).

The  important  lesson  of  the manna was  to  realize  that all sustenance we receive comes from a Higher Source. It makes little difference whether you’re eating a crust of bread, or for that matter expensive caviar. It is all the same. Rav Nachman in own of his famous stories, deals with the  motif of contentment in a story called ” The Simple Man And the Sage.” In Nachman’s writings, the Sage is the sophisticate who is never content with what he has; but the Tam (“simpleton”) recognizes that all of life is a gift from God. To him, a stale crust of bread taste like the manna from Heaven.  As you can see, it is all a matter of perspective. Nachman extols the virtues of the Tam—and for good reason.

Some Jewish mystics, like R. Isaac Luria (16th century)  explains in his commentary that a human being does not live solely on the vitamins and nutrients of bread alone, but on the spiritual energy that gives bread its existence. Man is not just a material   being living in a material world;  we are spiritual beings having a physical experience. Even Madonna, the “material girl” studies and teaches Kabbalah! Continue Reading

Norman Lamm, the Chancellor of Yeshiva University, expresses an interesting but mystical thought that resonates with Heschel’s insight regarding the nature of Divine love, which Christians commonly refer to as “agape.”

Lamm explains this concept in light of the Shema prayer:

“The LORD is one” implies that God is, as it were, a lonely God. This loneliness and sadness are reflected in the divine image, humans, of whom He said, “It is not good that man should be alone” (Gen. 2:18). Both God and human beings deserve rachmones, pity—we, for our failure and pain and suffering, and God, for being abandoned by this creature created in God’s very own image and endowed with the gift of free will that we misuse and abuse. And so each waits and longs for the other. The way to bridge the brooding cosmic loneliness, to find our way to each other, is through love.

It is this sense of mutual sympathy that gives rise to love. God reaches out for us with love—as affirmed in the blessing immediately preceding the Shema: “Blessed are You, O LORD, who chooses His people Israel in love”—and we, recognizing that “the LORD is One,” [Deut. 6:4] that the Creator is lonely, yearning for our companionship, respond with love immediately after proclaiming God’s utter oneness: “You shall love the LORD your God with all your heart . . .” [Deut. 6:5]. Those thinkers whose interpretations of the Love of God we discussed in chapters 10 to 14 all worked on the premise that God is transcendent and perfect: we need God, but God does not need anyone or anything. He is utterly self-sufficient. But here we are speaking of God in a different way. Conceived of in poetic and psychologically human terms, the divine-human relationship takes on a different dimension, best understood through distinction between two types of love usually referred to in theological writings by their Greek names, eros and agape. Agape is the love that a protective parent feels for his or her child. It is a selfless love: the parent asks nothing in return, not even to be loved by the child. Eros, in contrast, is romantic love, such as that felt by husband and wife for each other. Such love is expected to be not only reciprocal, but also mutually pleasurable. The love we feel for and from God is agape, not eros.[1] Continue Reading

Rabbi Zusya of Annapol was one of the most remarkable figures of Hassidic history. R. Zusya was one of the most God-intoxicated mystics of the 19th century.

He lived in a world where God is everywhere; every incident or happening contains a spiritual lesson that can infuse the soul with a message that is eternally relevant.

According to him, “You can learn three things from a child and seven from a thief. ‘From a child you can learn (1) always to be happy; (2) never to sit idle; and (3) to cry for everything one wants.

He argued that even a thief can serve as a spiritual guide–despite himself.  Zusya explains:

From a thief you should learn:

(1) to work at night;

(2) if he cannot gain what he wants in one night, he will try again the next night;

(3) to love one’s coworkers just as thieves love each other;

(4) to be willing to risk one’s life even for a little thing;

(5) not to attach too much value to things even though one has risked one’s life for them — just as a thief will resell a stolen article for a fraction of its real value

(6) to withstand all kinds of beatings and tortures but to remain what you are; and

(7) to believe that your work is worthwhile and not be willing to change it.

If we wish to embrace a God-filled life, learning to see the world as a spiritual metaphor may help lead us to discovering higher truths that often escape notice because we tend to live in a mindlessly driven world. Continue Reading

In the Jobian prologue, Satan always operated on the cynical assumption that whatever human beings did or wished to do originated from motives of self-interest. This theme appears in numerous midrashic legends about Abraham’s moment of decision regarding the Akedah, but we will examine this topic at another time. In this famous biblical masterpiece, Satan is depicted not as a devil but as one of the principal angels of God, for God is equally the creator of good and evil. From the Jungian perspective, Satan reflects the dark side of YHWH Himself, and it would appear that the Zohar partially agrees with this assessment!

One of the most succinct descriptions of the purpose of the Satan that reflects the Jewish attitude is  found in the writings of Goethe, who wrote in his classic “Faust”

Of all the spirits of negation
The rogue is least of burdens to be borne.
Man’s efforts sink below his proper level,
And since he seeks for unconditioned ease,
I send this fellow, who must goad and tease And to serve creation, through a devil.[1]

Similar to our citation of Goethe is a passage from the Zohar, which speaks of a parable concerning the role of Satan that should  clarify the purpose and role of Satan in Jewish tradition–as understood by the rabbis of antiquity.

Let us assume for a moment that the rabbis and the allegorical school are correct in identifying the serpent as a metaphor for the evil inclination. But why did God create the impulse for evil? Would humankind have been better off not having to deal with such an urge? The Zohar raises this question, and offers the reader a most intriguing thought-provoking response with respect to the phenomena of moral evil.

Should it be asked, “How can a man love Him with the evil inclination? Is not the evil inclination the seducer, preventing man from approaching the Blessed Holy One to serve him? How, then, can man use the evil inclination as an instrument of love for God?” The answer lies in this, that there can be no greater service done to the Holy One than to bring into subjection the “evil inclination” by the power of love to the Holy One, blessed be He. For, when it is subdued and its power broken by man in this way, then he becomes a true lover of the Holy One, since he has learned how to make the “evil inclination” itself serve the Holy One. Here is a mystery entrusted to the masters of esoteric lore. All that the Holy One has made, both above and below, is for the purpose of manifesting His Glory and to make all things serve Him. Now, would a master permit his servant to work against him, and to continually lay plans to counteract his will? It is the will of the Holy One that men should worship Him and walk in the way of truth that they may be rewarded with many benefits. How, then, can an evil servant come and counteract the will of his Master by tempting man to walk in an evil way, seducing him from the good way and causing him to disobey the will of his Lord? But, indeed, the “evil inclination” also does through this the will of its Lord.

It is as if a king had an only son whom he dearly loved, and just for that cause he warned him not to be enticed by bad women, saying that anyone defiled might not enter his palace. The son promised his father to do his will in love. Outside the palace, however, there lived a beautiful harlot. After a while the King thought: “I will see how far my son is devoted to me.” So he sent to the woman and commanded her, saying: “Entice my son, for I wish to test his obedience to my will.” So she used every trick in her book to lure him into her embraces. But the son, being good, obeyed the commandment of his father. He refused her allurements and thrust her from him. Then did the father rejoice exceedingly, and, bringing him in to the innermost chamber of the palace, bestowed upon him gifts from his best treasures, and showed him every honor. And who was the cause of all this joy? The harlot! Is she to be praised or blamed for it? To be praised, surely, on all accounts, for on the one hand she fulfilled the king’s command and carried out his plans for him, and on the other hand she caused the son to receive all the good gifts and deepened the king’s love to his son. [2]

The Zoharic passage illustrates a remarkable concept that exists in many of the primal religions of the world, the notion of the coincidentia oppositorum, also known as “the reunion of opposites.” As Eliade has already noted, the lost memory of this unitive existence with reality emanates from a part of humanity that yearns to overcome the duality and opposites we now experience in a post-Fallen world. He adds that “on the level of presystematic thought, the mystery of totality embodies man’s endeavor to reach a perspective in which the contraries are abolished, the Spirit of Evil reveals itself as a stimulant for the Good . . .” [3]

Sheneir Zalman of Liadi writes in his Tanya, “The answer lies in this, that there can be no greater service done to the Blessed Holy One than to bring into subjection the “evil inclination by the power of love to the Holy One, blessed be He. For, when it is subdued and its power broken by man in this way, then he becomes a true lover of the Holy One, since he has learns how to make the “evil inclination” itself serve the Blessed Holy One.[4]

Hassidic tradition looks at Satan as a force of good. Indeed, to some, Satan even provides lessons in piety. According to Hassidic tradition, Satan is never lazy in carrying out his responsibilities; the Satan is always out there testing our moral resolve — even when we are performing good deeds! Here is a Hassidic anecdote to illustrate:

Once Levi Yitzchak of Berditchev (18th century) was once asked to lead the congregation in prayer on Simchat Torah. As he ascended the pulpit, he stood in silence for a moment, and then he returned to his seat without reciting a word. His father-in-law wanted to know the reason for such a peculiar action. Levi Yitzchak of Berditchev explained:

When I was ready to begin my prayers, I suddenly felt the Evil Impulse, the Satan, wished to recite them with me. Therefore I asked him: ‘Who are you to dare recite these important prayers before the whole congregation?” ‘And who are you?” was his reply. ‘I am a man learned in the Torah, I answered. So am I, and when you studied, I kept you company,’ answered Satan. But I am also a Hasid of the Mezeritzcher Maggid,’ I rejoined. ‘So am I; I kept you company then as well,’ he said. ‘Since this is so,’ I replied, ‘if you are both a ‘scholar’ and a ‘Hasid,’ go and say the prayers yourself.’ And I descended from the Bimah.”

Maimonides in his Guide to the Perplexed argued that Satan is only a metaphor for the evil inclination (yetzser hara) and is not a supernatural being. This has some basis in the Talmud (cf. BT Bava Batra 16a) but many of the Talmudic rabbis did regard Satan as a supernatural being who serves God by testing humanity’s moral character. If nothing else, the Satanic archetype is a grim reminder that we are not necessarily as righteous as we would like to imagine ourselves to be; beneath the exterior of our conscious minds is the awareness that we are indeed, petty little beings–hardly even worthy of a Creator’s attention. Satan, thus serves to purge us of our hubris and sense of accomplishment. The simple truth is, we have a long way yet to go in matters of spiritual growth and honesty.

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Notes:

[1] Faust, Part 1‎ – page 42.

[2] Zohar 2:162b–163a (Soncino translation)

[3] Mircea Eliade, The Two and the One (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1965), 123.

[4] Tanya, chapter 27; cf. Zohar 2:128.

There is nothing in the Torah, or in the Talmud and Midrash, or Kabbalah that would suggest that there is a supremely evil being that is determined to make war against God.

As a verb, שָׂטַן (śāṭan), means to “be hostile,” or “accuse,” deriving from the root śṭn, whose basic meaning can be rendered “to be hostile to, oppose.” Generally, it implies someone who verbally accuses another. [1] Only in Job 1-2; Zechariah 3:2; and 1 Chronicles 21:1 the same term is translated as a proper name and designates the angel that acts as the  “Public Prosecutor.”  It is interesting to note that the passage in 1 Chronicles 21:1  is based upon the parallel story in 2 Samuel 24:1, but it is God who entices David to count his people and not Satan! The Satanic angel who serves as Public Prosecutor is not an apostate nor is it a fallen being, an idea that is nowhere suggested in the Hebrew Bible.

On the other hand, early Judaic writings in the apocryphal books of the Bible and the Dead Sea Scrolls describes  Satan  as Beliyal (“the Baseless One”), i.e., the preeminent Adversary of God. [2] It is plain and clear that the apocryphal literature later influenced the early Christian Bible.  In John (16:1) for instance, Satan appears with a capital “S.” Matthew, Mark, and Luke clearly accept and teach a doctrine of a personal Satan and called the Satanic agents “fallen angels” or “demons” (Mark 3:22).  Sometimes referred to as Lucifer, Christian legends teach that Satan vaingloriously sought to overturn the regime in heaven and waged war against God’s loyalists.

Defeated by the Archangel Michael, the angel who had ambition to be God was cast into his inferno, to brood in the darkness, “hatching vain empires.” Satan did not go unescorted, along with him went about a third of the heavenly host, a horde of fallen angels. According to Christian doctrine, angels were created separately and were given free will, just as humans were. Their fallenness had to do with a denial and distortion of angelic life just as human fallenness has to do with the denial and distortion of goodness and truth.

In contrast, Judaism teaches that only humanity was  endowed with freedom of choice. Angles are often described as omdim (beings who occupy a stationary position cf. Isaiah 6:2, Eze. 1:21-25, 10:3-6) while human beings are described as mehalchim (movers) for only human beings are capable of transcending their baser natures. Angels are sometimes compared to animals (cf. Eze.1:5) because the character of angels is instinctive much like an animals’ instinct. Angels cannot help but be what God intended for them to be.

For poets like John Milton, Satan was the archetypal antihero, the rebel waging  eternal guerrilla warfare against his Creator. He is best known for his statement, “ “To reign is worth  ambition though in hell: “Better to reign in hell than serve in heav’n” (Paradise Lost, Book 1:263).

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Notes:

[1] This is especially the case with respect to the Psalms, cf. Psa. 38:21; 71:13; 109:4, 20, 29.

[2] See Helmer Ringgren, The Faith of Qumram — Theology of the Dead Sea Scrolls (Fortress Press, N.Y., 1963, later reprinted by Crossroad in 1995).

Our English word “inspire” is from the Latin word inspirare which means “to breathe upon,” i.e., infusing something with life. In religious terms, inspiration denotes the spiritual affect that occurs spontaneously enables a person to think, speak, and act in ways that transcend beyond one’s ordinary capabilities. The idea of inspiration clearly points to a spiritual reality that has a profound impact upon us and the world around us. In Hebraic terms, the metaphor that best conveys this process is the word ruach, which was  later redefined in ancient rabbinical writings as ruach hakodesh, or ‘Holy Inspiration.”

It is interesting to contrast the word inspiration with the word “revelation,” which comes from the Latin revelation, signifying “to removing the veil.” The experience of revelation heightens our capacity to embrace life with greater self-awareness, passion, freedom and integration. Yet as Heschel notes in his writings, revelation is never merely a personal affair of a mystical kind; it aims to transform the societal world into an ethical domain where the rights of all are respected.

When defined from this perspective, revelation and inspiration are two sides of the same coin. In the classic biblical sense of the word, revelation opens our imagination to endless new possibilities of meaning. Indicative of this is the blessing we recite every day: “Blessed are You Adonoy, the Giver of the Torah.” Rabbinic wisdom conveys a timeless truth about revelation—Sinai wasn’t a onetime event; the spirit of Sinai continues to unfold newer meanings and insights that expands and transforms human consciousness even in our present era.

Inspiration has the power to produce a revelatory experience. To a listener, or to a reader of a sacred text, inspiration can bring about a profound life change that summons the person to a embrace a radical new understanding of the Self and God,  which affects the way s/he relates to the world. The Mishnah reflects such an understanding:

“Turn it over and over because everything is in it and reflect upon it and grow old and worn in it and do not leave it, for you have no better lot than that” (Avot 5:22). Barry Levy further points out that there are other variant readings that have a direct bearing on Ben Bag-bag’s statement:הפוך בה והפוך בה דכולה בה דכולך בה  (hafok bah we-happek bah de-kola bah wekolak bah), “ . . . because everything is in it, and all of you is in it . . .” This reading suggests, every personal life experience and situation finds expression in the words of Scripture. Yes, the Tanakh has the ability to awaken the psyche and transform the soul–provided one is spiritually awake and receptive. Continue Reading

The book is inching closer toward publication. We are hoping for a late April date.

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Birth and Rebirth Through Genesis. . . adroitly moderates a virtual conversation between traditions and thinkers. This book is a wondrous springboard into a rewarding dialogue between  biblical scholarship and the philosophical perspective.

Micah D. Halpern, author of THUGS, The Micah Report, and Jewish Legal Writings by Women

“A fascinating, learned, and wide-ranging commentary that creatively blends the  insights of ancients, medievals, moderns, and post-moderns. . .Readers will enjoy this book.”

Prof. Warren Zev Harvey, [Chair, Department of Jewish Thought], The Hebrew University of Jerusalem ,

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I believe that all who carefully read this book are in for a deeply rewarding experience. A study of the text and commentary of Birth and Rebirth through Genesis: The Timeless Theological Commentary will contribute greatly to an understanding of the rich and diverse fabric of biblical narrative and provide an appreciation for its creative application to the problems of the modern world . . . Birth and Rebirth through Genesis is a book for Jews and Christians.

Prof. Marvin R. Wilson, Author of Our Father Abraham: Jewish Roots of the Christian Faith

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The book is a profound exploration of the important metaphors, symbols and archetypal structures of Genesis. . . Most remarkable about this stunning array of insights is that it leaves space for personal discovery, and time to hear the beat of heart-thoughts behind the words.

Paul Pines, author of My Brother’s Madness. Continue Reading

One of the fundamental differences Judaism has with classical Christianity pertains to its on the view and purpose of life. Christianity for the most part has traditionally been a very salvation oriented kind of religion. Life is of ultimate consequences, the stakes of life are very high. The Swiss theologian Hans Kung once explained why Christianity rejects a belief in reincarnation. Simply put, you get only one chance to make it to life immortal and there is only one way and one choice a person can make to be saved; Kung’s exposition is the classical formulation of the Christian doctrine of salvation as articulated by the Catholic Church.

According to a new Newsweek poll, 94% of Americans believe in the existence of God; Among the believers 3 out of 4 rate their chances as either good or excellent that they will make it to Heaven. Most believers are of the view that Heaven is like a Majestic city, adorned with gates made out of gold and pearls.

A good Christian friend of mine in Upstate New York once  told me that while he was attending a funeral for a relative of his, the minister told everyone that out there in the galaxy is a planet called Heaven! About 56% of the respondents believe that there is a place called Hell; 6% rate their chances as either good or excellent that they’re going to get there. In a similar poll conducted in a Missouri city, 85% believe that their neighbors are going to go to Hell! American psychologist William James wrote that there are not a lot of differences separating one faith from another, but the few differences that do exist are all it takes to define one faith from the other.

One of my students recently asked me, “Why are so many Jews generally unconcerned with whether there is an afterlife or not? Don’t they care what is going to happen to their souls when they die?” I answered him that in general, the Torah  doesn’t  appear to want us to preoccupy ourselves with questions pertaining to the existence of an afterlife. Perhaps the best biblical attitude can be summed up by the words, “The secret things belong to the LORD our God, but the revealed things belong to us and to our children forever to observe all the words of this Torah” (Deut. 29:25).

Here is a personal caveat to illustrate. When I was a young teenager, I was once working on a mobile Sukkah with one of my late Hassidic teachers, Rabbi Avraymo Levitanski (who recently died a few years ago). It was a hot day in L.A.,  and before we knew it, a group of Christian missionaries came up to us and engaged the short and jolly rabbi in a spirited religious discussion.

The leader asked, “Rabbi, what if an atom-bomb were to destroy the city of Los Angeles, do you know where your soul would be?” The Rabbi stopped working for a minute and replied,“I don’t know and I could care less!” Puzzled and disturbed, the missionary persisted, “How could a religious man like you be so indifferent to your soul’s status in the next life?”

His answer proved to be as amusing as it was surprising. Replying in a Talmudic melody, he said, “I worry about what God wants me to do in this world. What happens to my soul in the next world is not my concern–that’s God’s problem to worry about!” I was quite impressed with my teacher’s wisdom, for it probably is a good summary of how Jews have thought about this subject for a long time. Jews generally worry about realizing God’s kingdom in this world, what will happen to us in the next world, is not something anyone can frivolously speculate about. Continue Reading

Students of the Bible often wonder about the mysterious identity of the three “men,” who visited Abraham (Gen 18ff.).

The identity of the angelic beings has stirred many controversies among scholars over for over two millennium. The 12th century rabbinic savant, Abraham Ibn Ezra, explains that these three men were in fact, human beings who were sent by God to bring a message to Sarah, while the other two later went to Sodom.

A similar thought is found in the theological writings of Maimonides and the 14th century Karaite scholar Aharon ben Eliyahu, both who maintain that prophets are occasionally referred to as “angels” as it says “but they kept mocking the messengers of God, despising his words, and scoffing at his prophets, until the wrath of the LORD against his people became so great that there was no remedy” (2 Chron. 36:16). There were other individuals who were blessed with a spiritual sense of God’s Presence besides Abraham (cf. Gen. 25:22-23).

The 14th century rationalist  and astronomer Levi ben Gersonides develops this insight a bit further while adding that this interpretation is harmonious with the verse “He looked up and saw three men standing near him.”

As to the obvious question, “Why did the Torah later describe these men as “angels” in the narrative of Lot (19:1)?” Gersonides replies, that a prophet is sometimes referred to as an angel. These prophets didn’t come for the sake of Abraham, who was also a prophet, but their purpose was to inform Sarah about the prospect of her pregnancy. As we have mentioned earlier, Gersonides accepts the view that angels can be human beings empowered by God.

Thus, when the Torah tells us that three “men” visited Abraham, the Torah means exactly what it says —these  three “men” were exactly that–men!

As we will soon see, it is not the personality that defines what an angel is, it is the role that the angel plays. When we look at it from this perspective, it is as Gersonides and other have noted, unimportant whether the “men” who visited with Abraham were truly human or supernatural beings merely appearing as “men” since God could have chosen either one for carrying out His purpose.

From a grammatical perspective, the term מַלְאָך (mal˒āk) may mean a message bearer (Gen. 32:2), or personal representatives (2 Sam. 11:4), or political emissaries (Josh. 11:12-14; 2 Sam. 5:11). However, in some of the apocalyptic prophecies, angels appear to truly be supernatural beings on a mission (much like the Blues Brothers) from God (cf. Zech 1:9; 5:5; 2 Sam. 24:17; Gen 19:12-17). As mentioned earlier, with respect to angels, the message is far more important than the individual messenger. Continue Reading

At one of my classes, some student asked a pretty interesting question: In Orthodox Judaism, can a woman perform brit milah (ritual circumcision)?

A Talmudic Discussion

There is a controversy in the Talmud  regarding this very issue between Daru bar Papa who cites in the name of Rav, and Rabbi Yochanan, who differs with Rav. Here is the substance of the argument. Daru b. Papa held that only someone who is obligated to observe the precept of circumcision can act as mohel (the one who performs the circumcision) for others, whereas R. Yochanan felt that a woman can act as a mohelet as indicated in the story of Tziporah (see Exod. 4:24‑26 for details). [1]

In practical terms, R. Yosef Caro, the Halacha follows R. Yochanan and a woman may act as mohelet [2] but Maimonides adds one stipulation: this only applies in the event that a male Mohel is not available, however, she is certainly permitted to do so as a religious duty.[3] However, Rema cites authorities who differ on this matter, and discourages a woman from doing acting in this capacity. In fact, the same passage in the halacha states there is no legal obligation on the part of the mother to even circumcise her child, for the duty falls upon the father.

To the best of my knowledge, there is not a single Haredi or Hasidic scholar living today who would literally endorse such a scandalous halachic position. Were such an opinion like this considered halachically normative, many young Jewish men would choose never to get circumcised.

By the way, some rabbinic commentaries assert that Tziporah merely started the act of circumcision on her son, but it was really Moses who completed it.

Adding a Psychological Perspective

From a psychological perspective, the reluctance to utilize a female mohelet may have something to do with Freud’s theory of the “castration complex.” Freud theorized that castration anxiety is based on a deep‑seated fear or anxiety in boys and men said to originate during the genital stage of sexual development; Freud asserts that a boy, when seeing a girl’s genitalia, falsely presumes that the girl had her penis removed probably as punishment for some misbehavior. The young boy then becomes anxious lest the same happen to him.[4]

It is worth noting that in some cultures, notably 19th century Europe, it was not unheard of for parents to threaten their children with castration, or to otherwise threaten their genitals, a phenomenon Freud documents several times.

Freud’s Castration Complex in Patriarchal Religious Societies

Freud’s controversial theory may also help clarify why some Halachic authorities are reluctant to go along with a female mohelet. Freud’s controversial theory may even help explain why male dominated societies like the Muslim and Haredi fundamentalists fear women’s liberation.

The fear that the patriarchal conceptions of masculinity being broken, may explain in part why there exists such an animus directed toward women in these closed societies. Basically, male dominated cultures are fearful of appearing “impotent,” and will do almost anything to promote the image of strength and virility–the trademark of mullahs and Haredi Gedolim (“Giants” ) alike (obviously, another example of Freudian wish-fulfillment, or the Nietzschean “will to power”).

The unraveling of the patriarchal order frightens men, perhaps on a very primordial level. Some scholars suggest that the ascendancy of the patriarchal religions of antiquity was because of their unconscious fear of the goddess religions. Whether this theory is correct or not, remains to be seen. However, it does fit a Freudian castration theory quite well. Continue Reading