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

Philosopher George Santayana is perhaps best known for saying, “He who forgets the past, is condemned to repeat it.” This attitude finds profound expression in much of the rabbinic literature regarding the period of time that is better known as, “The Three Weeks,” which culminates with the holiday of Tisha B’Av—the Ninth of Av. June 29th marks the 17th of Tammuz–the beginning of the Three Weeks.

During the Three Weeks, we reflect upon the events that led to the loss of Jewish independence. We remember how the death of two million Jews marked the largest number of Jews killed (according to Josephus) prior to the Holocaust. As Jews, memory is never something that is passive; it must be active, dynamic, and—hopefully—transforming.

Unlike most Jewish holidays, Tisha B’Av recalls the time when the Babylonians destroyed the Temple of Jerusalem in the year 586 B.C.E. Jewish tradition also teaches that the Second Temple was also destroyed on this day, but this time it was by the Romans in the year 70 C.E.

THE QUESTION

Thus far, I did not tell you anything you probably did not already know. However, anyone familiar with the biblical chronology of the Temple’s destruction will see an obvious problem with this rabbinic tradition. Historically, the Tanakh teaches us that the Temple was really destroyed on the 10^th of Av (cf. Jer. 52:12-14).

You are probably asking yourselves, “Wait a minute! Something’s wrong with this picture. Jews do not fast on the 10^th of Av, but on the 9^th of Av!”

 Ok, we can now ask the most important Jewish question of the day: Why did the Sages designate the 9^th of Av as the fast day commemorating the Temple’s destruction? One reason suggested is that the Babylonians originally torched the Temple on the 9^th; and from this perspective, the beginning of a tragedy is believed to be greater than its ending. However, this explanation seems to fall short of the mark for according to 2 Kings 25:8-10 plainly states the destruction began on the 7^th of Av and ended on the 10^th!

 To understand the Bible, you must learn to read in between the lines; this same principle applies no less to reading rabbinic texts as well. 

 I suspect the symbolism has more what to do with the Jewish attitude of hope, for the number nine corresponds to the period of pregnancy; our Sages thus teach that the Messiah was born on the 9^th of Av! This would indicate that the seeds of renewal and hope lay in the ashes of the past; despair must not have the final word. The theme of redemption in Jewish history reminds us that each of us plays a pivotal role in the healing of the world that must begin first with healing our own wounded spirit.

 A SHORT TALMUDIC LESSON

 A famous Talmudic story illustrates my point quite nicely.

 About 25 years after the Temple was destroyed by the Romans, four rabbis had a most remarkable discussion when they visited Rome. As Rabban Gamaliel, R. Eleazar b. ‘Azariah, R. Joshua and R. Akiba were walking on the road, they heard the noisy crowds that had just arrived from the Italian port city of Puteoli . . . The Sages began to weep, but R. Akiba was buoyant.

 Shocked by their colleague’s demeanor, they asked him, “Akiba, why are you so happy?” Akiba answered the rabbinic question the same way all rabbis answer a question—with another question! Akiba retorted, “Why are you weeping?” They replied, “Look at these good for nothing pagans, who worship graven images and burn incense to their deities. Why should they be entitled to live in safety and ease? Our Temple, the ‘Footstool’ of our God, has been destroyed by fire—how can we not weep?!”

 Akiba’s answer reflected an optimistic attitude the Sages did not consider. He replied, “That is precisely why I am merry! Look, if this is the fare of those who offend God, how much better will the fare be of those who truly worship their Maker!” Had the Rabbis seen the Vandals’ sack of Rome in 455, they probably would have felt vindicated.

 Scene Two:

As the Sages eventually made their way back to Jerusalem, they arrived at Mount Scopus they saw a fox emerging from the place that used to be the Holy of Holies. Once again, the Sages began to weep, while Rabbi Akiba looked happy.

 They asked him, “Why are you so happy?” He replied, “Why are you so sad?” The Sages replied that the sacred place that proscribed death to anyone else who was the High Priest had now become a haunt for foxes, “How can we not weep at the sight of this tragedy?” But Akiba replied that there were two prophetic predictions about the destruction of Jerusalem.

 Simply put, as far as Akiba was concerned, the prophecy of gloom and doom pertained to the destruction of the first Temple and the Second Temple, but Akiba believed that there would come a future time when the streets of Jerusalem would once again be inhabited by the sound of music and young people. Listen to the prophecy of Zechariah:

 Thus says the LORD of hosts: Old men and old women, each with staff in hand because of old age, shall again sit in the streets of Jerusalem. The city shall be filled with boys and girls playing in her streets.  Thus says the LORD of hosts: Even if this should seem impossible in the eyes of the remnant of this people, shall it in those days be impossible in my eyes also, says the LORD of hosts?  Thus says the LORD of hosts: Lo, I will rescue my people from the land of the rising sun, and from the land of the setting sun. I will bring them back to dwell within Jerusalem. They shall be my people, and I will be their God, with faithfulness and justice. Thus says the LORD of hosts: Let your hands be strong, you who in these days hear these words spoken by the prophets on the day when the foundation of the house of the LORD of hosts was laid for the building of the temple (Zech. 4-9). Continue Reading

Q. I am doing my PhD. in the field of Jewish Studies. In this connection I am interested in the history of Jews in Masonic lodges. According to my knowledge, there is at least in the higher degrees of the Scottish Rite quite a lot of Christian symbolism, I wonder, if there is any halachic ruling concerning the membership of Jews in Masonic lodges. Could you help me here?

A. Good question. Until now, I never really researched the significance of Freemasonry, but I must confess that my father was a Mason and so were many of his Jewish friends. Even more remarkable is the existence of an Orthodox Synagogue in Winchester named Rosh Pina, whose membership consists of Jewish masons. Masonic lodges tended to help support the local businesses, and this was probably one of the main reasons these fraternities were so popular.  The name Rosh Pina is based on the biblical verse, “The stone the builders rejected has become the cornerstone” (Psalms 118:22).

Despite the popularity of this international fraternity, there is no official or formal definition regarding what is a Freemason. Much of its history is shrouded in legend and ambiguity. Many of its members trace back its symbolism to the original builders of the Egyptian pyramids or for that matter, Solomon’s Temple. According to Masonic legend, King Hiram I of the Phoenician city of Tyre (980-947 B.C.E.) the master-builder of Solomon’s Temple, was murdered because he would not reveal the secrets of his Masonic group. Needless to say, there is no historicity supporting this folk story, but it does reveal something about the medieval groups that kept their own traditions secretive. According to historians, the Freemasonry lodge did not begin in ancient Judea, or in Egypt, but in England sometime in the 14^th century! [1]

At any rate, Masonic traditions are pretty benign. The working tools of the Masons became a system of symbols for personal morality and initiation.

Most folks know the Masons are a charitable organization which has secret rites and symbols. In religious terms, their behavior and traditions strikes one as an American civil religion. The fraternity believes in rendering homage to the Creator, which they regard as the duty of each of its members. Although Freemasonry only began as an institution in the seventeenth century, it has generated a mythology, or legendary history, according to which its followers claims dates back to  the biblical reign of Solomon and the building of the Temple.

Many of this country’s founding fathers were Masons. In this country and in Europe,  Freemasonry was linked to various programs of political and religious reform, programs that emphasized freedom of thought, worship, association, and the press and contributed considerably to the French and American revolutions.

Some Masonic lodges found it hard to give up their old prejudices with respect to the Jews. In Germany and Austria, Masonic lodges barred Jews from belonging. There is also another dark history to masonry. In the 19^th century, American Freemasons, along with others of like mind, created the Know‑Nothing party in the 1850s, the Ku Klux Klan after the Civil War and again from 1915 onward, and the American Protective Association in the latter 1880s and early 1890s. All were even more anti‑Catholic than they were antiblack or xenophobic, in addition to being anti-Semitic. In defense of the Masonic movement, these splinter groups did not reflect the values of the Masonic philosophy.

At any rate, Jews found the Masonic lodges to be open in a time when discrimination was rampant in Western society. The Masonic constitution held that any good or honest person, regardless of his denomination or persuasion, was admitted. The constitution obliged the member only to hold “to that religion in which all men agree, leaving their particular opinions to themselves,” a declaration of religious tolerance based on the current Deist trend, which postulated a Supreme Being who could be conceived of by any rational being. It remains a mystery whether Jews may have influenced the wording of the Masonic constitution, but its liberal doctrines made it easy for Jews to belong.  A Jewish lodge, the Lodge of Israel, was established in London in 1793, and the Knights of Aphesis to this day, is a Jewish lodge in the Masonic movement. Indeed, I am told that there are many Jewish Masonic lodges all around the world. One gets the impression that the religious ideation of the lodge will vary from community to community.

Concerning Masonic lodges in the land of Israel had as many as 64 lodges with over 3500 active members consisting of  Jews, Muslims, Christians, and Druze. The activities of the Grand Lodge and its several lodges include: a mutual insurance fund; the Masonic old age home at Nahariyyah; Masonic temples all over the country; and a museum and library (Encyclopedia Judaica) . Israeli Masonic Lodges show the kind of healing power Freemasonry can produce in a society that is religiously divided.

With respect to the rest of your questions, I would like to briefly examine some of the Masonic  teachings and rituals.

Curiously, many of its rituals and symbolism draw its roots from the Kabbalah.  In the Kabbalah, the interest in a knowledge of sounds, written letters, and words was intensified. Each sign was given a magical value that had a religious meaning and a numerical relationship. For example, the Hebrew letter alef became the symbol of mankind and the abstract principle of material objects.

Most importantly, Freemasonry taught that  they are building a spiritual temple in heaven. Each member regardless of his religion must fashion himself into a perfect living stone to fit into the spiritual temple of God. Indeed, this idea bears considerable similarity to the Tikkun Olam “Repairing the world” which the Kabbalists stress, is every human being’s duty. This concept is referred to as the “Common Gavel.” The common gavel serves as a metaphor for the breaking off the rough and superfluous parts of the stone, so as to be fit for the Supreme Architect’s use.  Accepted Masons, are taught to make use of it for the more noble and glorious purpose of divesting their hearts and consciences of all the vices and superfluities of life: thereby fitting the Mason’s  minds as living stones for that spiritual building. The Mason thus, makes himself fit for heaven by bettering himself through eliminating unwanted qualities. This spiritual lesson holds true for any Mason, regardless of his god or religious persuasion. The Kabbalists also refer to this same process as “etcafiyah” – bending the material impulses to the service of the Divine.

Another one of the building instruments Masons use involves a trowel, which they use to spread cement. Here too, the symbolism represents spreading  the cement of brotherly love and affection; that cement which unites people into one sacred band or society of friends and brothers, among whom no contention should exist, so that all people may work and exist in perfect harmony. Continue Reading

According to rabbinic legend, God granted to lessen the punishment by allowing Cain to rest from his wanderings, and protecting him by a “mark,” a letter or a name on his forehead or arm.[1]

But wouldn’t such a mark make Cain an easy target for descendants wishing to exact vengeance upon him? Some scholars think that it is possible that the “mark of Cain” was really intended to protect Cain from the wrath of Abel’s ghost. Therefore, after having been “marked” by God, Cain’s spirit felt at ease, believing that the ghost of his murdered brother would no longer recognize and trouble him

The anthropologist Sir James Frazer cites an interesting parallel to Cain’s expulsion from the writings of Plato. ^[2] Plato relates that according to an ancient Greek belief, the ghost of a man who had just been killed was angry with his slayer. The spirit felt enraged at the sight of his murderer walking freely about with impunity at all his old familiar haunts and wanted justice. To avoid retribution, the murderer left his country for a year, until the ghost’s wrath had cooled down, but he could not return before performing the appropriate ablutions and necessary sacrifices. If the victim happened to be a foreigner, the slayer had to avoid the slain victim’s native land as well as his own. After he went into banishment, the slayer cautiously traveled along familiar and safer roads and kept a safe distance from an angry spirit who might be at his heels.[3] Indeed, there are many such parallels throughout the ancient and primal world.

Is there any contextual support for Frazer’s Macbeth-like or dybbuk-esque theory? One might argue that nowhere does the peshat suggest he feared his brother’s spirit, but the ambiguity of the text allows for a variety of different possible readings—especially when we Continue Reading

Why wasn’t Ham cursed instead, as it was clearly his sin (Gen. 9:25) ? R. David Tzvi Hoffman (1843-1921) suggests that Ham was the youngest son of Noah, and he sinned against his father, therefore he was punished measure for measure by having a curse placed on his youngest son. However, Noah’s cursing of Canaan simply because he happened to be the youngest son of Ham is an assumption Hoffman never proves.

It is far more likely that Canaan was singled out because of all Noah’s grandchildren, only Canaan reveled in his grandfather’s humiliation. Perhaps Ham and Canaan were together when they saw the elderly patriarch drunk and naked. It is also possible that it was Canaan who first brought this matter to his father’s attention, but instead of correcting his disrespectful son, Ham also took pleasure in his father’s ridicule and joked about it to his other two brothers (Ephrem the Syrian).

Apparently, Ham thought his brothers would also find the incident humorous, but they didn’t.  Alternatively, perhaps Noah curses Ham’s son because he fill feel personal grief and responsibility at causing his son to suffer. Unfortunately, it does not occur to Noah that he is cursing his grandson as well! Continue Reading

Shortly after the flood, or perhaps years later, the biblical narrator depicts Noah–not as a virtuous person–but as a man who is trying to make sense of his life. He alone, was the sole survivor, and his experiences made him wonder, “Why me?” At any rate, Noah engages in what appears to be one of his former life’s favorite hobbies–planting vineyards. Was he the first to plant the vineyard? Hardly, but many years had transpired since he last made vintage wine.

This time, he makes his favorite wine and he gets drunk. But why did he get drunk? It may have been an act of innocence, or perhaps it was because of self-indulgence. In any event, the biblical narrator does not criticize him for drinking. As we mentioned before in other postings, biblical stories leave the reader asking many questions about its heroes. The absence of detail is never happenstance–it is didactically purposeful. Without you and me interpreting the story, the biblical story might just as well sleep in the tomb of history. From this perspective, we are just as important as the biblical characters themselves.

In eisegetic terms, Noah may have felt like he needed an escape from everything he had experienced since the beginning of the Flood. Assuming that this was the case, wine for Noah may have deadened his awareness of the painful anxiety and guilt he carried because he survived while the rest of his world perished. Elie Wiesel has written extensively about the anxiety survivors often experience. Often the survivor feels torn between feelings of anger and gratitude:

[Noah] chose gratitude. For being spared? Yes. As a survivor…he or she knows that every moment means grace, for he or she could have been in another’s place, another who is gone. And yet, many survivors are haunted, if not plagued, by unjust guilt feelings at one time or another. At one point Noah must have wondered, “Why me?” Surely he did not think he was chosen because he was a better person. [1]

Wiesel’s explanation could well explain why Noah felt the compulsion to drink, but ultimately, the reason of his drinking is all a matter of speculation and belongs to the realm of the Midrashic imagination.

Wine has a remarkable history in the Tanakh–both positive and negative.

One of my favorite Midrashic teachings presents a sobering view about wine that every wine-lover should remember before drinking at a party or dinner.

On the very day Noah planted his vineyard, it bore fruit, he put it in the wine-press, drew off the juice, drank it, became drunken, and was dishonored—all on one day. His assistant in the work of cultivating the vine was Satan, who had happened along at the very moment when he was engaged in planting the slip he had found. Satan asked him: ‘What is it you are planting here?’   Noah: ‘A vineyard.’ Continue Reading

Byline: March 12, 5:00 PM

In our past article about the Kabbalist and Haredi rabbi story that we mentioned in a previous posting (cf. “Trolls are Not Welcome”), we touched on the magical thinking of a certain rabbi, who believes his words have incantational power over the lives of others. In our previous story, nobody at the party wanted to press charges against the rabbi. One cannot help but wonder whether they feared that the trollish rabbi’s curses might come to fruition. The entire incident reminded me of an old Stephen King book, “Thinner,” where a man named Billy Hallack (who happens to be an arrogant and obese attorney) accidentally kills an old gypsy woman with his car; the gypsy woman’s father, who is 106 years old, curses Billy by touching him and saying, “Thinner.” The curse causes the protagonist to be stricken with an incurable flesh-wasting disease and he must undergo a nightmarish journey as  he confronts the forces of death.

Despite our modernity, as you can see, many of us still consciously inhabit a superstitious world.

Our prehistorical ancestors believed in the infinite power of thought, which gave rise to magical thinking. The Dutch religious thinker Gerardus van der Leeuw (1890-1950), proposed that the ancient magician believed that he can control the external world by the use of words and spells. In the field of psychology,  Sigmund Freud (1856-1939), whose notion of the omnipotence of thought (die Allmacht des Gedankens) was basic to his argument. Primitive magical rites and words correspond to the obsessional actions and spell-like speech of neurotics, who believe that they can affect reality by their own thoughts and wishes. Freud writes in his in “Totem and Taboo” (1912-13a):

“The fact that it has been possible to construct a system of contagious magic on associations of contiguity shows that the importance attached to wishes and to the will has been extended from them on to all those psychical acts which are subject to the will. A general overvaluation has thus come about of all mental processes–an attitude towards the world, that is, which, in view of our knowledge of the relation between reality and thought, cannot fail to strike us as an overvaluation of the latter.

Things become less important than ideas of things: whatever is done to the latter will inevitably also occur to the former. Relations which hold between the ideas of things are assumed to hold equally between the things themselves. Since distance is of no importance in thinking — since what lies furthest apart both in time and space can without difficulty be comprehended in a single act of consciousness–so, too, the world of magic has a telepathic disregard for special distance and treats past situations as though they were present. In the animistic epoch the reflection of the internal world is bound to blot out the other picture of the world–the one which we seem to perceive.” [1]

Here is another passage where Freud expands on some of his earlier themes; as with the first selection, Freud’s diagnosis is no less apropos today than it was when he originally penned his words. Freud is deservedly, the first psychologist to truly understand the nature of religious pathology that has afflicted our particular age with a vengeance.

“These last examples of the uncanny are to be referred to the principle which I have called ‘omnipotence of thoughts’, taking the name from an expression used by one of my patients. And now we find ourselves on familiar ground. Our analysis of instances of the uncanny has led us back to the old, animistic conception of the universe. This was characterized by the idea that the world was peopled with the spirits of human beings; by the subject’s narcissistic overvaluation of his own mental processes [cf. lines 24-26]; by the belief in the omnipotence of thoughts and the technique of magic based on that belief; by the attribution to various outside persons and things of carefully graded magical powers, or ‘mana’; as well as by all the other creations with the help of which man, in the unrestricted narcissism of that stage of development, strove to fend off the manifest prohibitions of reality. It seems as if each one of us has been through a phase of individual development corresponding to this animistic stage in primitive men, that none of us has passed through it without preserving certain residues and traces of it which are still capable of manifesting themselves [cf. lines 17-23], and that everything which now strikes us as ‘uncanny’ fulfills the condition of touching those residues of animistic mental activity within us and bringing them to expression.” [2]

Freud basically accepted Sr. James Frazer’s evolutionist schema of religion and applied it to the psychological development of the individual. It is the child’s experience of utter helplessness in a cruel and unpredictable world that  gives rise to magical thought both in the child and in early man: magic is wish fulfillment. Freud was never able to substantiate his novel concept from ethnographic data supplied by anthropologists, but his theory does partially explain a little bit of the magical kind of thinking we see in neurotic individuals like the Kabbalist of our original story. Continue Reading

Contrary to popular opinion, the prohibition against the pig as a food animal for Jews is probably rooted in religious prohibitions against animals sacred to other peoples. The modern fear of a trichinosis infection, a parasitic and often lethal disease transmitted to humans by consumption of insufficiently cooked pork, is valid but unlikely to be the original reason for regarding swine as ritually impure (Isa. 65:4; 66:3).

As we noted in another posting,  part of the misunderstanding lies in the translation of the Hebrew word “tame” which really means “impure,” but is translated as “unclean” which implies that hygiene is at the heart of the observance. This doesn’t mean that hygiene is not important, for if one observes the kosher laws, it will enhance personal hygiene  but this is a residual effect and not the primary motivation behind the kosher laws. In the medieval age during the height of the Black Plague, Jews were frequently attacked because their hygiene was superior,  for the Jews always washed their hands. On the other hand, the Hebrew word shketz (which is used to describe non-kosher fish) definitely has a pejorative connotation denoting filth or anything that is disgusting (cf. Nah. 3:6, Eze. 5:11).

Among the various reasons that have been given for these laws. The traditional and most obvious reason is the religious or spiritual, “You shall be men consecrated to me”  (Exod. 22:31). A holy people needs to distinguish between the sacred and the profane. The celebrated “Letter of Aristeas,” a Judaic philosophical work that was originally written in Greek (100 B.C.E.), contains some of the oldest explanations found anywhere regarding the dietary laws. In his letter, Aristeas taught that the purpose of the kosher laws served as a hedge differentiating the Jewish people from other nations. He also stated that these laws were given to the Jews to inculcate in them the spirit of justice, to awaken pious reflections, and, by their means, to help form the character of the individual. To prove his contention, he pointed to the fact that in kashrut, birds of prey are forbidden as food so the Jew might recall the first principle of social justice:  one must never prey on others. Continue Reading

You probably heard the story before a hundred times before.

A Catholic scholar, devoted to the Church and its doctrines throughout his life, died and went to Heaven, where he was greeted by St. Peter. For his heavenly reward, the scholar asked to see the heavenly archives where he could examine the original manuscripts of the New Testament. Hours later, St. Peter discovers that the scholar is distraught by what his eyes had discovered. One of the main tenets of the manuscript that was believed to state that all members, “…should stay celibate in all matters of sex…” has been found to be in error. The new translation has found the phrase to more accurately read that members, “…should stay, and celebrate in all matters of sex…” In other words, “Celebrate,” not “Celibate!”

The Church and sex . . . it sort of reminds me of the biblical prohibition against mixing meat and milk together–well, guess what? They don’t mix!

Well recently at my Introduction to Judaism class, one of my conversion students asked me the following two questions: “After reading the Da Vinci Codes, I began to wonder: Was Jesus actually married? Was a rabbi of that era supposed to be married? Secondly, what did you think of the movie’s overall premise?”

Let me say from the outset, that in ancient times, there was no official office of the rabbinate in the first century; generally speaking the epithet “rabbi” was an honorific title. Oftentimes, a wise person was called a “Chacham” (a Sage), or “Abba” since a spiritual teacher was considered to be like one who had given birth to a child or a disciple. Let us now examine the issues this person raised.

Now with respect to the old question, “Was Jesus ever mary-ied?” (great pun on “Mary”) The Talmud records an interesting question about Rav Huna (216-296) of Babylon. He is recorded as saying to one of his student, “‘See to it that you do not appear before me again before you are married,’ said he.” The Talmudic redactor observes, that R. Huna felt that “A man who has reached twenty years of age and still has not married, he will spend all his days in sin. ‘In sin’ — can you really think so? — But say, spends all his days in sinful thoughts.”

Another teacher, Rava (Abba ben Joseph bar Ḥama, ca. 280-350) adds, “The Academy of R. Ishmael also taught until the age of twenty, the Holy One, blessed be He, sits and waits. When will he take a wife? As soon as one attains twenty and has not married, he exclaims, ‘Blasted be his bones!’”  In the discussion that immediately follows, the Talmud cites a view from R. Hisda, who got married at a much younger age than 20. He recalls, “The reason that I am superior to my colleagues is that I married at sixteen. And had I married at fourteen, I would have said to Satan, ‘An arrow in your eye.’” [1]

It would be fairly safe to say that many Jews in the first century generally got married at a fairly young age so that they could fulfill the precept of raising a family. One rabbinic aphorism attributed to Ben Azzai (ca. 2nd century) reads: “Whosoever abstains from the precept of procreation is considered as if he shed blood” (T.B. Yebamoth 63b). Despite Ben Azzai’s endorsement of marriage, Ben Azzai remained a bachelor for all of his life, although some rabbinic traditions claim that he was married for a short period of time and got divorced. When accused of not practicing what he preached, he answered: “What shall I do if my soul yearns for Torah? The world can be performed by others” (Ibid.).

After Ben Azzai died, people used to say, “With the passing of Ben Azzai, diligent scholars passed from the earth” (Sot. 9:15). His intellectual pursuits were intensely passionate; he never wanted to be distracted from his Torah studies.

Perhaps Jesus had a similar attitude; and for that reason, he never married. On the other hand, perhaps he did get married; in all likelihood we cannot  know for sure. New Testament scholars readily admit that we know practically nothing about Jesus’ formative years.  This question is of little importance to Jews per se, but is obviously important to Catholics who have long rejected the idea of marriage as a biblical ideal for all of its spiritual leaders, which would explain why celibacy is so important in the Catholic faith.

Now, with respect to the Da Vinci Codes, Brown seems to take the goddess imagery a bit too far.  The protagonist Professor Langdon, observes, “The Grail,” Langdon said, “is symbolic of the lost goddess. When Christianity came along, the old pagan religions did not die easily. Legends of chivalric quests for the Holy Grail were in fact stories of forbidden quests to find the lost sacred feminine. Knights who claimed to be “searching for the chalice” were speaking in code as a way to protect themselves from a Church that had subjugated women, banished the Goddess, burned non-believers, and forbidden the pagan reverence for the sacred feminine.” [2] Continue Reading

Childhood Memories

As a child, I used to love reading the golem stories attributed to Rabbi Judah Loew, a.k.a., the famous “Maharal of Prague” (1525-1609).  Since my father came from Czechoslovakia, I grew up hearing many family tales about the golem. These stories were especially delightful since my father was a naturally talented storyteller.  The golem was something like a medieval super-hero who protected the Jewish community from pogroms in its time.  It is interesting to note, that despite the numerous tracts Maharal wrote on various philosophical, talmudic, and mystical themes, never once does he ever refer to the golem that is associated with his name.

What is a Golem?

The term gōlem is a “shapeless mass” (Ps. 139:16), but according to Jewish folklore, a golem is a creature that is made from clay, and is animated by magical and mystical means. One of the more apocryphal stories of the Talmud relates how a 4th century scholar named Rava, magically created a man through the Sefer Yetzirah and sent him to Rabbi Zera. The latter tried speaking to him, but the poor golem could not speak. When there was no response, he declared: ‘You must be a  product of our colleague. Return to your dust!’ and so he died (BT Sanhedrin 65b).

Ironically, it is with no precedent in the Bible, except for the creation of Adam–except, now, it is man who is attempting to act as a mini-creator. How could such hubris not fail?

Indeed, in nearly all the golem legends, it appears that anytime mortals attempt to create human life, it is an activity that is fraught with danger. It seems that our ancestors felt suspicious about the full extent of man’s creative powers. In many of the stories, the golem goes out of control, destroying everything in sight.

Adaptations of the Golem in Western Literature and Cinema

The Frankenstein story is a European re-adaptation of the golem legends. In J. R. Tolkien’s The Hobbit, Hobbit Gollum devolves into a treacherous shape-shifter under the malign influence of the Ring, it seems obvious that the author had these legends in mind.

In Star Trek: The Next Generation, the character Data personifies  the golem legend. When attempting to integrate the emotional chip, he becomes capable of erratic behavior–even violence. Countless sci-fi films have developed this theme in numerous tales about humanoid-like robots turning against their masters, i.e., like the Terminator series. Even the X-Files had an interesting episode of a betrothed woman who turns her murdered husband into a golem, in order to avenge his death.

According to some medieval tales, the golem is indestructible; if the golem had been created by writing the Hebrew word “אמת” (emet; “truth”) on its forehead, it could be destroyed by erasing the first letter to produce the word “מת” (met; “dead”). If one had created a golem by placing the name of God in its mouth, all that was needed was to remove the parchment. Continue Reading