Rabbi Michael Leo Samuel

The imagery of sin “lurking at the door,” (Genesis 4:7) has puzzled commentaries since ancient times. Modern biblical scholarship approaches the text differently from traditional exegetes, but no less Midrashically. The Hebrew word for “crouching,” רֹבֵץ (röbëtz), is the same as an ancient Babylonian word referring to an evil demon named Rabisu, which awaits its prey along the roadside or at the door of a building (ANET 103c).[1] Sin may thus be pictured here as a demon, waiting to devour Cain like a wild animal attacking its prey; it desires to have him. The older JPS version of Genesis translated the verse much the same way: “Sin is the demon at the door.” E. Fox similarly renders this passage as: “at the entrance is sin, a crouching-demon toward you his lust—but you can rule over him.”^[2]

If it is true that the verb רֹבֵץ  is indeed related to the Akkadian mythical demon named rabisu, then the following neo-Midrashic interpretation may apply: Cain failed to grasp God’s words properly. God referred to “the demon within him,” who was his real enemy, but Cain instead perceived that his brother was the real “demon” standing at the door waiting to trip him up. Thus, getting rid of his brother would finally vanquish his personal demon. One of the perennial messages of the Cain and Abel story now becomes clear: When a man demonizes his own brother, he ceases to be brother and becomes the “Other”—an enemy who must be vanquished at all costs.

Another extrapolation is possible. Resentment and anger remain embedded in the individual’s psyche until these negative emotions are consciously confronted, released and discarded. The Torah thus teaches us that every person must recognize the inner conflicts that rage within one’s soul; these unconscious forces are capable of becoming demonic influences. In Jungian terms, the Shadow can be a potent ally once its presence is confronted in an honest and straightforward way. However, if a person denies this presence, these dark emotions (psychologically characterized as one’s “inner demons”) may surface unexpectedly and may powerfully overwhelm one’s judgement.

R. Hirsch takes issue with the idea that sin is “lurking” as though it wishes to pounce upon its innocent prey. Quite the contrary! The verb רֹבֵץ   invariably connotes “the most peaceful, undisturbed resting, with no incitement to attack or molest. . . . Therefore, “Aptly, is חַטָּאת ‘sin,’ appeal to the senses, here given the masculine gender רֹבֵץ  .[3] Its power is not to be underestimated. It has the power to master you, but it remains quietly behind your door.”[4]

Hirsch’s insight is theologically and sound and it has a strong basis in numerous rabbinic texts concerning free will. Sinfulness (or perhaps more specifically— human evil and malevolence) has a power and a presence only if we invite it into our lives.  Sinfulness becomes a personal reality whenever we give in to the path of least resistance. When this occurs, the feeling of guilt gradually becomes non-existent. Although its negative influence is incremental and steady, giving in to evil’s temptation produces a state of psychological and spiritual enslavement in its unwitting victims. One Sage likened the evil inclination to a spider-web: if a person continues to yield to temptation, that “spider-thread” becomes like cart ropes; as it is said “Woe to those who tug at guilt with cords of vanity, and at sin as if it were with a cart rope!” (Isa. 5:18).[5]

Another rabbinic source likened the overall process of sin to a slow seduction, which ultimately enslaves its master: “The evil prompting is at first like a wayfarer who comes to the door of a house and, finding that there is no one to stop him goes into the house and becomes a guest. Finding that there is still no one to stop it; the unwanted presence of evil takes liberties and acts as if it were the master.”[6] The more aware we are of it, the more we become conscious of our guilt. On the other hand, the more oblivious we are of our evil, the more unconscious we are of its effects. This same theological point will become even more obvious in the story of Pharaoh and his famous “heart condition”; after misusing his freedom, he loses his capacity to be an autonomous person. In the end Pharaoh becomes like an addict, a slave of his compulsion.

Notes: Continue Reading

With rare theological insight, Sigmund Freud (1856–1939) was among the first of modern thinkers to suggest that infancy, in a sense, represents a re-dramatization of the Fall from the Paradise story. At the infant’s earliest stage of psychological development, the infant experiences an “oceanic oneness.” As the baby nurses from its mother’s breast, it does not distinguish between itself and the world, but rather the world is an extension of itself, “in which the infantile ego is sufficient unto itself.”^[1] The infant’s world, however, is only temporary. All parents—sooner or later—will impose restrictions, eventually severing the infant’s continuous pursuit of carefree indulgence and desire toward pleasure. As the child matures, s/he develops a sense of self-identity. Soon, the child realizes the impossibility of its former existence. For all practical purposes, paradise has been lost.

C. G. Jung and Erich Neumann add that the Paradise parable points to a preconscious stage of infancy in which the ego’s center of human consciousness has not yet been activated.^[2]  Neumann refers to the bond of mother and child as “existence in unitary reality” that embraces both mother and child. Neumann believes that at this stage of the child’s evolving consciousness, the image of the mother is not perceived as a separate and independent entity. The mother is seen as an extension of the child’s body and consciousness. There is no subject, object, ego, or self; the infant has no individual experience or perceptions, except for the one experience with the mother—one of total connectedness.^[3]

While the child is within the womb, the unborn enjoys the bliss and serenity that may be compared to Paradise. According to Neumann, Adam was like an infant in the womb waiting to be psychologically born. Had he not “sinned,” Adam would never have experienced pain or pleasure as we know these experiences; one would be the same as the other. He would have existed in a neutral state, a condition without desire, and a state of being that would embrace the opposites. It could, indeed, be called a state of Paradise or what Joseph Campbell (1904–87) referred to as “bliss.” In speaking of the birth trauma as an archetype of transformation, Campbell states:

• In the imagery of mythology and religion this birth (or more often rebirth) theme is extremely prominent; in fact, every threshold passage—not only this from the darkness of the womb to the light of the sun, but also those from childhood to adult life and from the light of the world to whatever mystery of darkness may lie beyond the portal of death—is comparable to a birth and has been ritually represented, practically everywhere, through an imagery of re-entry into the womb.[4]

The “re-entry into the womb” is what may be identified as a psychological return to the function of intuition, whether it is immediately after birth or in any later experience of transformation. It is a way of returning to the mother while in the world, rather than in the womb, which was the original experience. This particular experience is one of the recurring themes of Genesis as is evident in the Akedah of Isaac, and the individuation of Jacob and Joseph. Each crisis they experience becomes a crucible for change and spiritual transformation.

• Mircea Eliade’s View of the Fall: The Emerging Contours of Profane Existence

Mircea Eliade also expands the Paradise story in a way that goes far beyond anything Freud, Jung, and Neumann propose. He asserts that it would be wrong to assume that “religious man” existed only in an infantile state of being; Adam was created with intelligence to manage and take care of the Garden. Archaic man believed he contributed to the maintenance of the cosmos. All his interactions with the inanimate, vegetative, and animal worlds made a cosmic difference. The secular man, who lives in a purely profane mode of existence, lives only for himself and society. “For him, the cosmos does not properly constitute a cosmos—that is, a living and articulated unity.”^[5]

Eliade asserts that the Paradise story characterizes a reality in which Heaven and Earth exist in perfect harmony; it is a place where man could communicate with all of nature. Primordial man lived with a closeness that was full of spontaneity and freedom. He did not see himself as distinct from nature; within his being he embraced all the forces of nature of which he considered himself to be a part. However, as a result of the Fall, primordial man’s super-consciousness receded into a state of unconsciousness. Adam becomes more of a terrestrial being than a spiritual being—out of touch with his ultimate sense of reality, alienated from God, nature, his wife, and finally, himself.

Memory of the Fall exists in myths of all peoples around the world. Every civilization and culture has regarded the human condition as if it were under a spell of unnatural limitations and separateness. All religions try to correct this through   dreams of Utopia and Messianism. Even secular humans yearn to reconnect with the world as their ancestors did. Retreats into the country and mountains away from the urban jungles reflect the deeply rooted yearning of moderns to rediscover the cosmic unity that pervades human existence, albeit unrealistic if not impossible to achieve. With respect to the modern secular consciousness, Eliade writes that a new type of “Fall” has occurred in our world—one where human beings are even more disconnected from the depths of their own beings than ever before:

• From the Christian point of view, it could also be said that nonreligion is equivalent to a new “Fall” of man—in other words, that nonreligious man has lost the capacity to live religion consciously, and hence to understand and assume it; but that, in his deepest being, he still retains a memory of it, as, after the “Fall,” his ancestor, the primordial man, retained intelligence enough to enable him to rediscover the traces of God that are still visible in the world. After the first “Fall,” the religious sense descended to the level of the “divided consciousness;” now, after the second, it has fallen even further, into the depths of the unconscious, it has been “forgotten.” ^[6]

Continue Reading

• Lilith as an Archetype of the “Terrible Mother”

  The following article comes from my new Neo-Jungian commentary on Genesis, “Birth and Rebirth Through Genesis: A Timeless Theological Conversation (Genesis 1-3).” In this selection, we shall explore other aspects of the Lilith archetype based on the insights of the Jungian psychologist Erich Neumann.

Afterwards we shall look at other portraits of Lilith found in a variety of different literary resources, such as: the Talmud and Zohar, archaeological discoveries—and lastly—from the literature of Jewish feminism, which has transformed Lilith into a modern folk-heroine for women. While these portrayals introduce a definite recasting of the Lilith story, one fascinating feature remains: Lilith is a resilient figure of ancient mythology; over time Lilith continues to receive a new facelift to disguise her personality to a new generation of readers—from rabbis who fantasized about her sexual availability, to feminists who find Lilith’s desire for freedom most compelling.  (Note that * are used for paragraph indentations because of the limitations of Word Press word processing)

Jungian psychologist Erich Neumann argues in his psychological study, The Great Mother (2d ed., New York, 1963), that Lilith personifies the archetype of the “Terrible Mother,” while also analogous to the Greek Gorgon and harpies. These mythic figures personify the archetypal image of negativity—that of destroyer—latent in the feminine psyche; as such. Horrified by what they saw, the ancients retold this tragedy in the language of myth. Lilith represents the sinister side of femininity. Neumann shows how this pattern develops cross-culturally:

• And the dark side of the Terrible Female is a symbol for the unconscious. And the dark side of the Terrible Mother takes the form of monsters, whether in Egypt of India, Mexico or Etruria, Bali or Rome. In the myths and tales of all peoples, ages, and countries—and even in the nightmares of our own nights—witches and vampires, ghouls and specters, assail us, all terrifyingly alike. . . . Thus the womb of the earth becomes the deadly devouring maw of the underworld, and beside the fecundated womb and the protecting cave of earth and mountain gapes the abyss of hell, the dark note of the depths, the devouring womb of the grave and of death, of darkness without light, of nothingness. For this woman who generates life and all living things on earth is the same who takes them back into herself, who pursues her victims and captures them with snare and net. Disease, hunger, hardship, ware above all, are her helpers, and among all peoples the goddesses of war and the hunt express man’s experience of life as a exacting blood.

• [1] It is in India that the experience of the Terrible Mother has been given its most grandiose form as Kali, “dark, devouring time, the bone-wreathed Lady of the place of skulls . . .[2] But all this—and it should not be forgotten—is an image not only of the Feminine but particularly and specifically of the Maternal. For in a profound way life and birth are always bound up with death and destruction. That is why this Terrible Mother is ‘Great,’ and this name is also given to Ta-urt, the gravid monster, which is hippopotamus and crocodile, lioness and woman, in one. She too is deadly and protective. There is a frightening likeness to Hathor, the good cow goddess . . .”[3]

Talmudic and Kabbalistic Depictions of Lilith

The Talmud makes ample mention of Lilith’s activities. Lilith is described as a female night-demon whose erotic nature evokes a desire for illicit sexual relationships (succubus). Lilith’s physical attributes are also described in detail; she is depicted as having long hair and wings[4] and the rabbis warn all men not to sleep alone in a house lest Lilith come and seduce them in their dreams (T. B. Shabbat 151b).[5] Lilith is especially popular in the Zohar where she appears as the seductress supreme.[6] In all likelihood the rabbinic stories about Lilith were, in part, intended to prevent young rabbinic scholars from the sins of masturbation and illicit sexual relations which the Zohar equates to the crime of murder. The scholar, Rabbi Joshua Trachtenberg explains:

• As a result of the legend of Adam’s relations with Lilit [sic], although this function was by no means exclusively theirs, the Lilits were most frequently singled out as the demons who embrace sleeping men and cause them to have nocturnal emissions which are the seed of a hybrid progeny. . . . As the demons whose special prey is lying-in women, it was found necessary to adopt an extensive series of protective measures against her. . . . We seem to have here a union of the night demon with the spirit that presides over pregnancy, influenced no doubt by the character of the Babylonian Lamassu, and the lamiae and striga of Greek and Roman folklore.[7]

Trachtenberg’s insight is obviously accurate. According to the Zohar, a man who masturbates in this world will be treated in the next life like one who is worse than a murderer—since he has, in effect, murdered his own seed; in God’s eyes he is considered the most reprehensible kind of human being.[8] In a strange way, the Zohar sees Lilith as the guardian of family purity. Any couple failing to observe the laws governing sexual abstention risks incurring her wrath. Even making love by candle light can result in Lilith causing children to become epileptic and risk being pursued and killed by Lilith.[9] One may deduce from the Zohar’s condemnation that the fate of young men or children dying is a talionic punishment for having spilled seed. The proof text for this is the story of Er and Onan, who died rather than give their seed to Tamar (Gen. 38:1-10).[10]

Archaeology has discovered special incantation bowls that were used to help a person seek protection from “demons, demonesses, lilis, liliths, plagues, evil satanic beings and all evil tormentors that appear.”

• As one scholar notes, “The liliths were but one class of an elaborate taxonomy of malevolent spiritual beings. The sexually aggressive character of the lilis and liliths accounts for the fact that exorcistic texts are often expressed in formal divorce terminology, such as this text (No. 35, Isbell): ‘Again, bound and seized are you, evil spirit and powerful lilith. . . . But depart from their presence and take your divorce and your separation and your letter of dismissal. [I have written against] you as demons write divorces for their wives and furthermore, they do not return [to them].’”[11]

• Recasting Lilith—A Bad Girl Becomes Good—Judith Plaskow’s New Midrash

With the advent of women’s liberation movements, Lilith has undergone a dramatic make-over; now, Lilith is widely regarded by many women as a heroine who is the first woman to insist on having an egalitarian relationship with her mate. Judith Plaskow blames Adam for the expulsion of Lilith from her home, which gave rise to men’s subjugation of women as we have witnessed throughout history. Different from the story recounted earlier from The Alphabet of Ben Sira, Plaskow weaves a short neo-midrashic story about Lilith’s moral rehabilitation, entitled “Applesource”:

• In the beginning, the Lord God formed Adam and Lilith from the dust of the ground and breathed into their nostrils the breath of life. Created from the same source, both having been formed from the ground, they were equal in all ways. Adam, being a man, didn’t like this situation, and he looked for ways to change it. He said, “I’ll have my figs now, Lilith,” ordering her to wait on him, and he tried to leave her the daily tasks of life in the garden. But Lilith wasn’t one to take any nonsense; she picked herself up, uttered God’s holy name, and flew away. “Well, now, Lord,” complained Adam, that uppity woman you sent me has gone and deserted me.” The Lord, inclined to be sympathetic, sent His messengers after Lilith, telling her to shape up and return to Adam or face dire punishment. She, however, preferring anything to living with Adam, decided to stay where she was. And so God, after more careful consideration this time, caused a deep sleep to fall on Adam and out of one of his ribs created for him a second companion, Eve  . . . Meanwhile Lilith, all alone, attempted from time to time to rejoin the human community in the garden. After her first fruitless attempt to breach its walls, Adam worked hard to build them stronger, even getting Eve to help him. He told her fearsome stories of the demon Lilith who threatens women in childbirth and steals children from their cradles in the middle of the night. The second time Lilith came, she stormed the garden’s main gate, and a great battle ensued between her and Adam in which she was finally defeated. This time, however, before Lilith got away, Eve got a glimpse of her and saw she was a woman like herself  . . . One day, after many months of strange and disturbing thoughts, Eve, wandering around the edge of the garden, noticed a young apple tree she and Adam had planted, and saw that one of its branches stretched over the garden wall. Spontaneously, she tried to climb it, and struggling to the top, swung herself over the wall.

• She did not wander long on the other side before she met the one she had come to find, for Lilith was waiting. At first sight of her, Eve remembered the tales of Adam and was frightened, but Lilith understood and greeted her kindly. “Who are you?” they asked each other, “What is your story?” And they sat and spoke together, of the past and then of the future. They talked for many hours, not once, but many times. They taught each other many things, and told each other stories, and laughed together, and cried, over and over, till the bond of sisterhood grew between them. Meanwhile, back in the garden, Adam was puzzled by Eve’s comings and goings, and disturbed by what he sensed to be her new attitude toward him. He talked to God about it, and God, having His own problems with Adam and a somewhat broader perspective, was able to help out a little—but He was confused, too. Something had failed to go according to plan. As in the days of Abraham, He needed counsel from His children. “I am who I am,” thought God, “But I must become who I will become.”[12] Continue Reading

The belief in the Evil Eye (in Hebrew, it is known as the Ayin Hara) has existed since time immemorial in cultures all around the world. Ancients believed that the world was suffused with invisible powers that could be utilized as a supernatural weapon against one’s foes. In magic, the squinting of the eye as well as its gaze, could magically affect the image “captured” by the eye and it is for this reason, the belief in the Evil Eye in all primal societies is linked to witchcraft or demonology. Before there was Madison Avenue, ancients developed a unique appreciation for the power of the image. They believed that if you could control the image, you could enslave your foe, or perhaps even entrance someone you wish to attract! (Strange as it may sound, many of our modern perceptions of the image have not changed that much!)

To understand the meaning of the Evil Eye, a brief word about magic is important. Freud in his “Totem and Taboo” wrote that the attitude that is fundamental to all magic is that the belief that thought is omnipotent. Such beliefs are found in many of the primal religions of humanity. He adds that even the cannibals believe that eating their enemies enables them to absorb their strengths and abilities.[1]

Jung, in contrast, took issue with Freud and believed that thought somehow mysteriously participates in an unseen order in the world. Jung’s concept of synchronicity, or “purposeful coincidence,” is based upon the assumption that there exists a psychical connection between a physical event and the psychic condition that appears in juxtaposition with it. Freud, of course, regarded Jung’s concept of synchronicity as an example of animistic thinking.

Yet, even Freud would admit that the power of belief in magic and superstition can affect the behavior of its believers. Maimonides himself was not overly critical of Jews  utilizing amulets whenever someone was dangerously ill. As a physician, Maimonides understood the importance of placebo in helping people recover from illness—but he cautioned: amulets have no efficacy whatsoever.[2]

One would think that human civilization would have abandoned its infantile beliefs in the Evil Eye and amulets centuries ago. Yet, beneath the veneer of civility, there exist certain strata of our psyche that has not evolved much over the millennia. This part of the psyche continues to manifest itself in a variety of seemingly “civilized,” ways.

For example: Have you ever been in a New York or LA traffic jam? Have you ever observed how people behave when it’s the middle of rush hour, or when somebody cuts ahead of you? How do they react? It is usually accompanied with certain finger gestures and verbal incantations designed to wreck havoc upon the life of the other driver. Though we normally don’t think of this type of reaction as being particularly superstitious, it is. Verbal curses and hand movements galore are part of the tradition associated with the Evil Eye. If you have ever engaged in such discourteous behavior, you have participated in primal religion!

Given the nature of medieval life and the constant dangers people experienced from day to day, it was only natural folks would develop preventive and curative measures and gestures (e.g., hand signs), as well as spoken formulas to ward off the Evil Eye. Among Yiddish speaking Jews, for example, we often hear of the famous expression Kennahora ‑‑ an abbreviation for the Hebrew “let there be no Evil Eye.”], fumigations, the use of fire, salt, horn, metal, the wearing of amulets (often hand‑shaped e.g, the Hamsan), tattoo marks, jewels (e.g., commonly seen by ladies who wear the “Chai”], the application of blue color, the symbols of the number five, and so forth.

Despite the rational faith we have inherited from Maimonides and other Jewish rationalists, Jewish customs and laws have long been influenced by its neighboring folk religious traditions. Many of the Talmudic beliefs regarding the ubiquitous presence of demons and magical beings that are contained in the Talmud specifically derive from ancient Babylonian religion! By the way, Kabbalists–medieval and modern–treat these teachings quite seriously.

The Talmud, for an example, suggests that if one wishes to immunize himself against the Evil Eye, he should hold his right thumb in his left hand and take his left thumb and place it in his right hand, and say, “I, so‑and‑so, am a descendant of Joseph, over whom the Evil Eye has no power over.”  If he is afraid of his own Evil Eye, he should look at the side of his left nostril.”[3] The custom of spitting three times when mentioning something good about a person was believed to chase away the Evil Eye.  The practice actually goes back to ancient Greece, where the Greeks use to spit three times in the fold of their garments to avoid the Evil Eye. In ancient Rome, spitting on one’s children was believed to magically ward off the influence of the Evil Eye. Since the earliest stages of human history, spitting was believed to contain magical powers—capable of creating life itself (see my blog articles on spitting).

The Talmud provides numerous anecdotes about the power of the Evil Eye. In one passage, some rabbis of Late Antiquity claimed that for every 100 people who die, 99 people die because of the Evil Eye. Some sages had the power to reduce to human beings into heaps of bones just with the power of their gaze. This ancient teaching would explain where we get the famous English expression, “If looks could kill . . .” Isn’t amazing how modern society has unconsciously passed down many of these ancient folk beliefs?  Ancient historians of Babylonian religion acknowledge a huge debt of gratitude to the rabbis of the Talmud, who—more than anyone else—preserved the superstitious beliefs and rituals of the ancient Babylonians.[4]

Back to the Present

I am certain the roots of superstition and magic were wedded to capitalism long ago. One can only imagine the ancient business of selling talismans (not to be confused with the tallis) and amulets. It was probably a profitable business—perhaps, even a family business!

Yesterday, I came across an amazing advertisement that suggests the ancient craft of selling amulets has not disappeared altogether from history.

Perhaps in honor of Black Friday and Cyber Monday, rabbis in Brooklyn made the following advertisement:

• Evil Eye Removal $50, Credit Cards Accepted Continue Reading

The theme of birth and rebirth is not found only throughout Genesis, but is present in the other books of the Tanakh as well (see the pericopes[1] of Moses and Jonah). No human being is born perfect. In this sense, every saint has a past—every sinner has a future. Jewish folk-wisdom has always understood this great life-affirming spiritual intuition. Jungian psychology has much to say about the darker forces that lurk within the human soul yearning for conscious expression. As defined by Jung, the archetype of the “shadow” represents the hidden or unconscious aspects of oneself—both good and bad—which the ego either represses or never recognizes, as he notes: “The shadow is the thing a person has no wish to be.”[2] The more unaware we are about this darker and amoral side, the less likely we will mindfully confront and change our inner nature.[3] To become self-aware, it is imperative that each of us find a way to integrate our “shadow” nature. This spiritual and psychological task is not without its challenges and difficulties, as Jung explains further:

• The shadow is a moral problem that challenges the whole ego-personality, for no one can become conscious of the shadow without considerable moral effort. To become conscious of it involves recognizing the darker aspects of the personality as present and real. This act is the real existential condition for any kind of self-knowledge, and therefore, as a rule, meets with considerable resistance.[4]

Awareness of these internal psychological forces can enable a person to be deliberate in thought, word, and deed, while unawareness of the shadow can often lead to the scapegoating of others. Shadow projections are among some of the most pernicious attitudes evident in many social and racial biases. Misogyny, for example, is due to a man’s refusal to recognize his own inner feminine nature that yearns for a conscious expression. The same dynamic is present in any kind of social prejudice.

Conversely, it would be a mistake to identify the shadow with forces of evil; the shadow reflects the underdeveloped good that has yet to become fully realized and conscious. There is another element of the shadow that represents the repressed goodness each of us has which yearns to emerge into consciousness.[5] Jung refers to this presence of the psyche as the “Golden Shadow.” This manifestation of the psyche is always present in the heroes and heroines of the Genesis story. God refuses to give up on His chosen ones; Divine creativity turns inward, the human spirit is a work in progress. Jung explains further: “The shadow is not, however, only the dark underside of the personality. It also consists of instincts, abilities, and positive moral qualities that have either long been buried or have never been conscious. The shadow is merely somewhat inferior, primitive, unadapted, and awkward; not wholly bad. It even contains childish or primitive qualities which would in a way vitalize and embellish human existence, but—convention forbids!”[6]

Admitting that the shadow exists is a crucial step in breaking its compulsive hold on the individual. One of the best illustrations of this in the book of Genesis is the story of Jacob, a man who is in every sense a creature fashioned from the forces of Creation itself—light and darkness commingled as one. As a young man, Jacob feels spiritual yearnings within his heart, but acts ruthlessly in achieving his goals. Jacob’s transformation occurs once he becomes consciously aware of what he has been, and chooses to become something altogether different. By developing an awareness of his spiritual center, Jacob finally learns to shed the fears that commandeer his soul and discovers an inner center of peace. He discovers that blessings can only be obtained through just and honest means—without fanfare or manipulation (see Excursus 26 for more detail of the shadow archetype and its relation to the Fall).

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If you like this sampling, you may want to consider purchasing my new commentary on Genesis entitled, “Birth and Rebirth through Genesis: A Timeless Theological Conversation Genesis 1-3, which is available at:

http://www.amazon.com/Birth-Rebirth-through-Genesis-Conversation/dp/1456301713/ref=sr_1_2?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1309652244&sr=1-2.

Notes:

[1] The term pericope refers to an extract or selection from a book, especially a reading from Scripture.

[2]Carl Gustav Jung, “Aion: Researches into the Phenomenology of the Self” The Collective Works of C.G. Jung, Vol. 9 Part II [Princeton, NJ: Bollingen, 1959), 14.

[3] An extreme example of shadow archetype can be seen in Robert Louis Stevenson’s story of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. In this classic narrative, Dr. Jekyll, considers himself to be a kind, loving, and accepting doctor; yet he remains dishonest in facing himself as he really is. Little does he realize that there are two men who inhabit the same body and personality. At first, he changes in order to indulge in all the forbidden pleasures that were off-limits to Dr. Jekyll, but as his evil side progressively grows stronger, it is Hyde who dominates, until he is totally transformed into the Hyde persona. Had Jekyll been aware of the contradictions in his inner self, he might have been more capable of domesticating his inner savage.

[4] Carl G. Jung, Aion: Researches into the Phenomenology of the Self, op. cit., par.14.

[5] Talmudic wisdom teaches that sometimes a good person will dream of doing bad deeds, while a bad person will occasionally dream of doing good deeds—depending on the thoughts each one has in the course of a day (BT Berakhot 55b).

[6]  C. G. Jung, “The Shadow,” The Collective Works of C.G. Jung, 9 Vol. II, (Princeton, NJ: Bollingen, 1959), par.14.

One of the strange customs observed by many Orthodox on Erev Yom Kippur, involves the ritual of taking a rooster on the Eve of Yom Kippur. Here are the instructions: Men must take a rooster, while women must take a hen. Take a rooster in the right hand and afterwards say:  “This is my exchange, this is my salvation, and this is my atonement. This rooster shall go to its death, while I will enter and proceed to a good long life, and to peace.”

Then revolve the chicken around your head swinging it over your head. Some authorities argue that this should be done three times others say once is sufficient. If you are an expecting mother, it is customary to use two chickens for atonement, one for the mother and one for the unborn child.

The custom of Kapparot has some peculiar similarities to the ancient pagan and black magic rituals. The 16^th century scholar R. Joseph Karo, author of the Shulchan Aruch, condemned it as a pagan superstition. Today, several leading Haredi rabbis have complained for the first time about the problems with animal cruelty, and have now banned it. Some scholars thought it was better to give food gifts or money to the poorer.

Yet, despite rabbinic reservations, folk religion often follows customs because of tradition. I would imagine that being able to transfer our collective and individual sins unto the poor chicken, must be a real exhilarating experience.

I mention this odd piece of Jewish folk religion because in some ways it highlights man’s eternal desire to seek some symbolic way of banishing our sins. Despite the fact we no longer have a Temple to perform these ancient rites, we nevertheless yearn for rituals of personal purification.

The origin of the scapegoat derives from the Yom Kippur rituals where the sins of the community were transferred unto a goat which was sent to die in the wilderness. As primitive as this rite is, bear in mind that the Torah improved on the concept of the scapegoat. Note that it is only the goat that is singled out for destruction–and not human beings. (One possible exception: Job, but Job is truly the one person who refused to be his society’s scapegoat; however, this is discussion for another time . . . )

THE SCAPEGOAT IN ANTIQUITY

Sir James Frazer illustrates in his famous work, the Golden Bough, shows how the ancient Greeks and Romans utilized the scapegoat. On every March 14^th in the calendar year, the  ancient Romans used to send a man clad in skins through the streets of Rome, beating him with long white rods until they drove him out of the city.  The ancient Greek historian and philosopher Plutarch records how the ancient Greeks utilized the scapegoat in their society. Bear in mind Plutarch was considered pious and quite friendly—well, to most people!

Whenever the Greek colony of Marseilles, one was ravaged by a plague, a man of the poorer classes used to offer himself as a scapegoat. For a whole year he was maintained at the public expense, being fed on choice and pure food. At the end of the year he was dressed in sacred garments, decked with holy branches, and led through the whole city, while prayers were uttered that all the evils of the people might fall on his head. He was then cast out of the city or stoned to death by the people outside of the walls.  (I believe this type of story probably inspired several Stephen King horror novels.)

Frazer also describes how primitive societies throughout the world have relied on scapegoats and other ritual purification ceremonies, usually performed annually and seasonally, to purge their communities of evil and epidemics, demons and natural disasters. “To effect,” Frazer writes, “a total clearance of all the ills that have been infesting a people.”

THE SCAPEGOAT IN MODERN TERMS

Yes, our forbearers were not terribly sophisticated; their world was steeped in magic and superstition. The scapegoat reflected their need to purify themselves as a society—but often it came at the expense of an innocent victim—quite often the poorest and most vulnerable elements of society.

Modern society is much more subtle about its use of scapegoats. Psychologists Alice Miller and Robert Coles explain  that  scapegoats are targets that “absorb our pain, our feelings of hopelessness.” I would add: we crave scapegoats to absorb our hypocrisy and moral duplicity. The scapegoat is also often applied to individuals and groups who are accused of causing misfortune; they are identified with evil, blamed and then cast out of the family or community so that the remaining members are left with a feeling of guiltlessness.

The political arena tends to promote class warfare, pitting the rich vs. the poor, when the real problem is the lack of accountability when it comes to how government monies are being spent. Rather than exposing the crooked and dishonest politicians, we often see our political leaders create scapegoats, so that nobody will notice the real source of our problems—namely, our own leaders’ moral corruption.

People who see themselves as life’s victims tend to see somebody else to blame. The phenomena of frivolous lawsuits are empirical evidence of how ordinary people sue large companies no matter how silly the claim might be. Personal responsibility is seldom ever taught as a virtue worth cultivating in schools.

A thought from Ayn Rand really gets to the heart of our reticence to accept personal responsibility: “We can evade reality, but we cannot evade the consequences of evading reality . . .” If we act in ways that are so totally and obviously self-destructive, we have nobody else to blame but ourselves for failing to think and act responsibly–which I might add, is the hallmark of  spiritual adulthood. It is also the key to unlocking our human potential and actualizing our life purpose in this temporal world.

Freud understood this human problem and observed, “Most people do not really want freedom, because freedom involves responsibility, and most people are frightened of responsibility.” Is it any wonder why people seek to blame others for life’s injustices?

THE JEW AS SCAPEGOAT

Since the days of Late Antiquity, the Jews have become the perennial scapegoat for Western Civilization (“What a concept!”—Gandhi)  we have long been the scapegoat for everything that is wrong. The resurgence of anti-Semitism is not just in Muslim countries, it has spiked up even in the Western countries. The world is always looking to blame Israel—her crime: she exists!

Yet despite all the tragedies that have befallen the Palestinians, their greatest blunder in a history was failing to realize the opportunities that came their way.  As Abba Eben once said, The Palestinians have never missed an opportunity to miss an opportunity.

Paradoxically, Arab leaders needs Israel, for without Israel, who else would they blame for their societal problems. With the development of the “Arab Spring” this past year, for the first time Arab population centers are beginning to recognize that Israel is not to blame, but their own leaders are corrupt!

IN SUMMARY . . .

As primitive as the scapegoat ritual is, its inclusion in the Yom Kippur liturgy is a painful reminder of what is wrong in our lives and society.  Rather than looking for somebody else to bear the stigma of our pain, Yom Kippur teaches us that we need to take responsibility for our own behavior.

An interesting human behavior is pointing out everyone else’s faults and sins rather than looking at your own. It can be summed up in the following conversation between Linus and Lucy.

Linus asks Lucy, “Why are you always so anxious to criticize me?”

Lucy responds, “I just think I have a knack for seeing other people’s faults.”

“What about your own faults?”

“I have a knack for overlooking them.” Continue Reading

When reading about the tales of sexism that is so prevalent in much of the religious worlds of Judaism, Christianity, and Islam, we tend to think of this development as a modern phenomenon. Actually, it is not.

Two thousand years ago, the Jewish community had an entire class of people who delighted in such feats of piety.

The Jerusalem Talmud writes, “Who is a man of piety that is a fool? “He, for example, who, if a woman is drowning, says, ‘It is unseemly for me to look at her, and therefore, I cannot rescue her. . . . Who is the pious fool? He who sees a child struggling in the water, and says, ‘When I have taken off my phylacteries, I will go and save him.’ By the time he arrives to rescue him, the child has already expired. Who is the crafty scoundrel? R. Huna says, ‘He is the man who behaves leniently toward himself, while teaching others only the strictest rules.’”[1]

“Our Rabbis have taught: There are seven types of Pharisees: the ostentatious Pharisee[2], the Pharisee who knocks his feet together and walks with exaggerated humility[3], the Pharisee is one who knocks his face against the wall rather than gaze at a woman[4] The Pharisee who feigns religious piety while constantly exclaiming, ‘What is my duty that I may perform it?’”[5]

Actually, these rabbinic passages support Jesus’ criticism of the Pharisees for their ostentatious show of religious piety (cf.  Mat. 6:1-4). Of course, not all the Pharisees behaved in such a weird and strange way, but a number of them did! In every generation there are people who are genuinely pious; and then we have the imitators . . . like we see today.

The foolish Pharisees inspired their Christian cousins too. Will Durant explains in his Story of Civilization, in his volume on “The Age of Faith” writes about the ascetics of the 4^th century, who did their best to escape temptation; they used to punish their bodies and live a hermetic life. The extremes to which they went in their attempts to deny gratification of “physical lusts” are by modern standards, quite incredible.

For example, St. Ascepsimas wore so many chains that he had to crawl around on hands and knees. A monk named “Besarion,” would not even give in to his body’s desire for restful sleep—for forty years he would not lie down while sleeping.

Macarius the Younger sat naked in a swamp for six months until mosquito bites made him look like a victim of leprosy.

St. Marion spent eleven years living in a hollowed-out tree trunk. Others lived in caves, dens of beasts, dry wells—even tombs.

Is cleanliness the closet thing to godliness? Well, this attitude was not always historically the case. Durant points out that the early Christian saints suffered the discomfort of filth, stench, worms, and maggots were considered to be spiritually beneficial and a sign of victory over the body . . .

Some of the most celebrated saints of this era were Simeon the Stylite of Syria and Daniel the Stylite of Constantinople. Simeon spent 37 years on different pillars, each one loftier and narrower than the last. The last pillar was 66 feet high. He died in 460, aged 72.[6] Frankly, I am amazed he managed to live such a long life and not get struck by lightning.

Not to be outdone, Daniel lived 33 years on a pillar, and was not infrequently nearly blown off by the storms from Thrace. He died in 494. I am unsure how long he lived; he might not have been as luck as his colleague, Simeon.

Alfred Tennyson wrote a poem on Simeon Stylites, “Simeon of the Pillar” by surname–Stylites among men—”was the watcher of the column till the end.”

Closed religious societies often create greater social barriers to keep their followers from discovering the outside world.

Despite Weird Al Yankovic’s musical parody, “Amish Paradise,” the Amish actually have a much more enlightened approach for dealing with the threats posed by the outside world. They allow their young people to go out and explore the outside world; more often than not, after seeing the outside world of modernity, they usually return and resume their roles as Amish believers. The Square Hasidim would never adopt a policy like that because the degree of social dysfunction is so malignant, they know full and well that their followers would never return.  It takes a brave soul to leave the Hassidic cults of New York and Israel.

With the Internet and telecommunications, it is inevitable that these communities will do anything within their power to micro-manage the lives of their followers. Many years ago, at the Lubavitcher Yeshiva in Israel, I recall how issues of Time Magazine were confiscated because it had pictures of  women in bathing suits. In the Haredi and Hassidic communities, all pictures of women are expunged or defaced. Recently, a scandal occurred when the Hasidim erased Secretary of State Hillary Clinton’s face from appearing in the newspaper.

If you think that Ultra-Orthodoxy suffers from OCD (Obsessive Compulsive Disorder), you would most certainly be correct. I am certain that if Maimonides and the Vilna Gaon were living today, they would declare the Square Rebbe and his foolish Hasidim as certifiably “meshuga” (nuts!).

And now you know the rest of the story . . .

Notes

[1] JT Sotah 3:4, f. 19a, line 13.

[2] He behaves like Shechem, who circumcised himself for an unworthy purpose (Gen. 34) The J. Talmud explains: anyone who carries his religious duties upon his shoulder (shekem), i.e., ostentatiously (BT Ber. 14b).

[3] He walks with exaggerated humility. According to the Jerusalem Talmud: He says: Spare me a moment that I may perform a commandment.

[4] The Jerusalem Talmud explains: a calculating Pharisee, i.e., he performs a good deed and then a bad deed, setting one off against the other.

[5] He behaves as if he has fulfilled every religious obligation.

[6] Will Durant, “The age of faith: a history of Medieval Civilization -Christian, Islamic, and Judaic – from Constantine to Dante: A.D. 325-1300″ (New York: Simon and Schuster, 1950), 204.

With Purim coming up sooner than most of us can imagine, I thought I would post an article I wrote on the significance of “Purim Torah.”

Purim Torah is a remarkable genre of Jewish literature. It is rabbinic satire at its best that centers around the festivities of Purim. Those individuals writing Purim Torah display remarkable wit in weaving Talmudic logic in fabricating conclusions that border the absurd and sublime.

Earlier this week, I received a delightful section of a fabricated Talmud–replete with all the Aramaic expressions one would expect to find in a Talmudic debate. The selection contains a discussion involving President Obama, Al Gore, and the debate about global warming.  Even the commentaries of Rashi and Tosfot that explained the make-believe text looked pretty authentic. The name of the tractate is Mesechect Obama Metzia (a pun on Bava Metzia).

Here is another example of “Purim Torah” that almost sounds like a Rod Serling story from the Twilight Zone.

The story is well-known. Haman’s plot to destroy the Jews of the Persian Empire ended in disaster for Haman and his family. Queen Esther and Ahashverus have a conversation (Esther 9:12-14).

And the king said to Esther the queen: The Jews have slain and destroyed five hundred men in Shushan the capital, and the ten sons of Haman…Now whatever your petition, it shall be granted; whatever your request further, it shall be done.

Then said Esther: If it please the king, let it be granted to the Jews that are in Shushan to do tomorrow also as this day, and let Haman’s ten sons be hanged upon the gallows.

One might ask: Esther’s request seems somewhat strange. The ten sons of Haman had already been killed, why bother to hang them? The simple approach suggests she made this request so that everyone would know the consequences that would befall them, should anyone attempt to harm the Jews.

Rabbinic commentaries have a different spin. Commenting on the word “tomorrow,” in Esther’s request, the Sages comment:

“There is a tomorrow that is now, and a tomorrow which is later.” (Tanchuma Bo 13 and Rashi on Exodus 13:14).

From this interpretation, 20th century rabbis extrapolate that Esther was asking that the hanging of Haman’s ten sons not remain an isolated episode in history… But wait! What other “tomorrow” could Esther have been alluding to? Inquiring minds want to know!

And now you are going to hear–the rest of the story …

Rabbi Moshe Katz writes about one of the most remarkable “Torah Codes” of all time. In general, I have never subscribed to the belief in a hidden computerized message that is embedded within a biblical text. This particular interpretation is too striking  to ignore. If nothing else, it is an incredible synchronicity. He writes:

During World War II, the Nazis in Germany tried to wipe the Jewish race from the face of the earth. Six million Jews were killed by the Germans. After the end of the war, the surviving Nazi leaders were tried at Nuremburg for this and other war crimes. These trials began on November 20, 1945, for 22 German Nazi leaders.

On October 1, 1946, twelve of the German defendants were sentenced to death by hanging for their part in the atrocities committed against the Jews and others. One of those convicted was Martin Bormann, who was sentenced in absentia. A second was Hermann Goering, who committed suicide in his cell just hours before the executions by taking cyanide poison. The remaining ten Germans were hanged to death on October 16, 1946.

These hangings took place on October 16, 1946. On the Jewish calendar, October 16, 1946, corresponded to 21 Tishri, 5707. This date was the seventh day of the Jewish feast of Sukkot, the day called Hoshana Rabba. The Jews believe that this day represents the coming time when God’s verdicts of judgment will be sealed.

In the very passage of Scripture where Esther’s prophetic request is recorded, we can find the future execution date of these descendants of Haman, both in the surface text and encoded within it. First, let’s look at how the date can be found in the surface text.

Jewish sages have long believed and taught that every variation of the surface text, whether it be the size of the letters themselves or a variant spelling of a word, has specific meaning. In some cases, that meaning remains a mystery. But in the case of Esther’s prophecy regarding the hanging of Haman’s ten sons, history has finally unveiled what was plainly there to see for 2,300 years.

As you can see, the names appear one above the other in the text. About this strange formatting, the Soncino Commentary states:

7-9. The Massorah prescribes that the names of the ten sons of Haman be written in a perpendicular column on the right-hand side of the page, with the vav, i.e., and, on the left-hand side. This is probably derived from the tradition that the ten sons were hanged on a tall gallows, one above the other. . . . (The Five Megilloth, p. 179)

However, there may be another reason why these names are listed one above the other. As you can see by looking at the list of names, four letters (the tav in the first name, the shin and tav in the seventh name, and the zayin in the tenth name) appear smaller than the other letters.

Starting at the top of the passage, I’ve highlighted three of these four small letters in red. In the Hebrew language, letters can also represent numbers. Tav has a numerical value of 400, shin a numerical value of 300, and zayin a numerical value of 7. The tav, shin, and zayin, totaled from top to bottom, represent the number 707.

In Esther 9:7-9, we find a list of the ten sons of Haman who were killed by the Jews. Below is the Hebrew text of these verses as it appears in the Tanakh. Remember, Hebrew reads from right to left.

The three letters together form taf-shin-zayin, the Jewish year 5707 (1946 C.E.), the year that the ten Nazi criminals were executed.

Of the 23 Nazi war criminals on trial in Nuremberg, 11 were in fact sentenced to execution by hanging. Two hours before the sentence was due to be carried out, Goering committed suicide–so that only 10 descendents of Amalek were hung, thus fulfilling the request of Esther:

“let Haman’s ten sons be hanged.”

Furthermore, since the trial was conducted by a military tribunal, the sentence handed down should have been death by firing squad, or by electric chair as practiced in the U.S.A. However, the court specifically prescribed hanging, exactly as in Esther’s original request:

“let Haman’s ten sons be hanged.”

Though doubts may linger about the connection between the Book of Esther and the Nazi war criminals, the condemned Julius Streicher certainly had none….[as The New York Herald Tribune of October 16, 1946 reported after he ascended to the gallows] “With burning hatred in his eyes, Streicher looked down at the witnesses and shouted: “Purim Fest 1946!”…

If these “coincidences” are not enough, examine the calendar for that month. The date of the execution (October 16, 1946) fell on the Jewish festival of “Hoshana Rabba” (21 Tishrei), which is the day G-d’s verdicts are sealed.

This was the very day they were hanged, As we have said, all is hinted at in the Torah! (Dr. Moshe Katz, CompuTorah, pp. 99-107). Continue Reading

Dreams have  fascinated nearly  every  culture  throughout    history. The ancient peoples treated their dreams with the utmost of seriousness.  During the Golden Age of Greece ca. 300 B.C.E.,  the  ancient  Greek  physician Asclepius, whose cult rivaled the growth of the Early Christian Church, created a following that endeared his teachings to millions of devotees. His followers had built more than 300 temples, where supplicants would travel long distances to these temples and undergo a series  of  sacred rituals in order to  receive  a useful dream in an effort to find psychological and spiritual healing.

In the  Orient,  dream incubation centers  were  typically constructed  in serene places in order to positively affect one’s dreams.  Native American Indian tribes also regarded dreams as a source for godlike inspiration. For primal peoples, the dream world was considered more ontologically “real” than the phenomenal world we consciously inhabit.

Recently some congregants started discussing the significance of their dreams and wanted to know what Judaism had to say about such an interesting topic. Enclosed are some old thoughts I had written on this subject, written over 18 years ago.  I plan to revise the material at a later date.

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In scientific terms, dreams up to the time of Freud were not treated very seriously. For centuries not a single scientist of note wrote anything significant on the subject. When Freud came out with his famous work, “The Interpretation of Dreams,” which he wrote in 1901, scholars heaped generous portions of scorn and criticism upon him, much in the same way scholars treated Darwin’s famous theories over a century before him in his classic, “The Origin of the Species.” Why are people so reluctant to entertain new ideas? Freud’s greatest disciple and prodigal son, C.G. Jung, calls this unreasoning fear and hatred of new ideas,  “misoneism” fear of the unknown. Prior to the 20th century, rationalistic and scientific minds treated the existence of the unconscious and its epiphanies with great skepticism.

Psychologist Eric Fromm describes dreams as the one truly universal language which the human race has developed. Decades before Fromm, Jung too makes a similar point and illustrates how certain archetypal patterns reoccur throughout all cultures and ages. Images of the hero, the Shadow, or the mother, and numerous other images are indeed universal motifs found in dreams.

In dreams, time and are not the ruling categories that they are in outer life. Dreams are pictorial and symbolic.  Jung argues that modern  man tends to divide  the rational Self from its  instinctual side. Jung further observed that the instinctual dimension of man is capable of producing great havoc in the psyche until its shadowy reality is recognized by the individual. Paradoxically, despite his lack of modernity, primal man was much more in touch with his instinctual.

Freud, Jung, and Fromm’s observations still hold true today for the unconscious continues to remain a terra incognita. Jung describes a conversation he had  with  a theologian about Ezekiel’s famous visions in the beginning of Ezekiel 1-2. The theologian believed those images were nothing more than morbid symptoms,  and that,  when Moses and  the  other  prophets  heard similar voices speaking to  them, they  suffering from hallucinations.  You can imagine the panic he experienced when  something  of  this kind “spontaneously” happened to him! (C.G. Jung and Anelia Jaffe, “Memories, Dreams and Reflections,” 45).

Freud, was the  first  to scientifically pioneer the  unconscious background  of consciousness. Freud and Jung worked on the general assumption that  dreams are  not  a matter of chance, but are associated with  conscious thoughts  and  problems. The dreams serves as a mirror of the conscious thoughts and problems we have during the course of the day. It has only been recent that various different scholars have been turning to the different religious systems of the world to  find out  what  the  great faiths have to say on this  very  important topic.

There is an abundance of literature on the significance of dreams  and   how  to  determine their  interpretation  in  the   Jewish tradition.  Biblical literature is replete with dream imagery; such examples include the narratives of Jacob, Joseph,  Pharaoh,  Daniel,   and  Nebuchadnezzar.

One  might ask:  What  precisely  is  the  Talmud’s viewpoint  regarding dreams?  Does a Talmudic approach come closer  to a  Freudian or a Jungian viewpoint?  Needless to say, there is no uniform Talmudic view; like any great work of literature, there are a myriad of perspectives that one needs to take into consideration. However, with that point in mind, there are three basic views found with respect to the characteristics of dreams according to the rabbis.

1) That dreams are meaningless.

2) Even normal dreams have a certain amount of “prophecy” that is always relevant to achieving a better self-understanding.

3) That dreams sometimes contain a profound lesson, but sometimes they can be  meaningless. This viewpoint represents a middle ground.

Rabbi Meir assumes that  dreams really are neither positive or negative. The second point of view is that of R. Hannina b.  Issac who would for instance treat the incident  of  being excommunicated in a dream with the utmost  of seriousness.  The last viewpoint can be expressed by Rabbi Shimon Bar Yochai (ca. 3rd century) who said “there is no dream, which doesn’t have a certain amount of meaningless matter.” As a proof text, R. Shimon cites from the biblical story of Joseph. Joseph dreams that he sees that the sun, the moon and the 11 stars will all bow down to him.  The symbolism of  the  sun and stars are obvious references to Jacob and his  sons. But what does the moon symbolize?  Joseph thought it must be his mother,  but  his mother already died!  From this  the  statement  that there  is  no  dream that doesn’t have a certain  amount  of  meaningless matter aroused (see Rashi’s commentary).

The  concept  of “meaningless matter” need  not  be  interpreted literally.  It could very well allude to the ambiguous nature of dreams that may not be obvious at the time a dreamer experiences his unconscious imagery. In fact, Rashi notes that the  symbolism  of Joseph’s initial dream about the sun and moon bowing down to him, did not pertain at all to Rachel, but to Bilhah—Joseph’s  stepmother–who raised him like a mother after Rachel died! Yes, the Talmud argues that dreams contain 1/60th  of    prophecy.

The  Talmud  would agree partially with Freud’s  concept  of  the dream as an example of wish fulfillment. For instance: a good person may sometimes experience  bad dreams; a “bad” person, may experience “good dreams.” The  dream  reflexes the suppressed desires and wishes of the individual.  In psychoanalytical terms, a good person thus suppresses his dark side and experiences a subconsciously a desire to actualize a forbidden action or desire. The reverse is also true: sometimes a bad person may envision himself performing a noble and good deed, thus reflecting uplifting behavior he yearns to fulfill but suppresses.

Talmudists of the early medieval era would certainly agree with  the Jungian notion that  to  maintain  a  proper  balance between the conscious and the  unconscious, one must  pay attention to dreams–as a type of diagnostic tool for better understanding the soul. Similarly the Talmud says,  “That anyone who sleeps one week without dreaming are called, “evil.” This too could easily be  simply another way of speaking about a person’s state of dysfunction or repressed thoughts.

Among medieval Jewish thinkers,  Maimonides and Gersonides (like the 1st century Jewish philosopher, Philo of Alexandria before them) viewed Jacob’s wrestling with the angel as a drama that occurred in Jacob’s psyche through the vehicle of the dream. Moreover, all three thinkers insist that biblical dreams are prophetic in nature; furthermore—God speaks to people primarily through their dreams (Guide 2:41 45).

Continue Reading

Every year, I peer into my soul and await a revelation on what to speak about for the Jewish New Year known as Rosh HaShanah. Images and ideas create a pathway that I follow. Before being able to speak before a large community, I try to first speak to myself. Every drasha is in a sense, an autobiography of the writer. Here are some ruminations that some of you might be able to relate to, for the road that we have yet to travel.

Rosh HaShanah celebrates the birthday of one person.

Talmudic and Midrashic wisdom teaches us about the worth of a single person; he who saves one human being, saves an entire world.” The impact of one person, though arithmetically small, is capable of moving and changing human history. Rosh Hashanah celebrates the birth of one man, who justifies the existence of an entire cosmos—Adam.

Maimonides wrote in his Hilchot Teshuva, a most remarkable idea that underscores this significant point.

 Each person should regard himself throughout the year as though he were half-innocent and half-guilty and should regard the rest of humankind as half-innocent and half-guilty. If one sins, he endangers the fate of the entire world; if he acts virtuously, he brings salvation and deliverance to the entire planet. One person can save a world.

 We have often heard how powerless one person is to shape and direct the course of human history. Today many of us look at the events around the world and feel utterly helpless. Many of us ask the questions: What difference can I make? What can I do to make a difference? Perhaps more precisely: does our existence in this world really matter at all? Could Shakespeare be correct when uses Macbeth to express:

 Out, out, brief candle!

Life’s but a walking shadow, a poor player,

That struts and frets his hour upon the stage,

And then is heard no more. It is a tale

Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,

Signifying nothing.

 Macbeth Act 5, scene 5, 19–28

 The feeling of powerlessness and futility is often seen around election time.  The real reason why thousands of people never bother to vote is because they resign themselves to the belief that their vote will never make a difference. Most of us can recall how in one presidential election, Bush, as we know, lost the popular election, only to win the Electoral College by just a handful of votes. If Gore wins the election, there is no Iraqi War; history certainly would have followed a different trajectory.

 Maimonides adds a flip side to his equation. Just as one person can save the world, so too can one person threaten to destroy it. Was Maimonides simply using hyperbole to illustrate his point? I believe he was being quite literal—in ways that he could scarcely imagine.

 On November 8, 1923, the leaders of the insignificant Nazi party met in a Munich tavern and elected Adolf Hitler as their leader by a margin of one vote. What disastrous world war might have been averted if that group had elected a different man!

 Human history has often been determined by individuals who used their power either constructively, or destructively. When the Mongolian army of Genghis Khan went through all of Asia and Russia, no army could hope to stand up to the vastly superior Mongolian armies, who fought a modern-style war in a medieval age. The Russians, Poles, Hungarians all fell before the Mongolian hoards; Genghis Khan slaughtered every inhabitant he encountered.

 If Genghis Khan enters Rome, the Roman Catholic Church would have been destroyed; if he enters Paris, the intellectual capital of Europe would have been completely decimated; had Rome fallen to the Mongols, the artistic and classical legacies to the ancient past would have disappeared forever. Without the classical artworks of the past to inspire them, would Dante, Michelangelo, or Leonardo have done? A Mongolian destruction would have prevented the age of the Renaissance; human civilization would have come to a dramatic end as we now know it; nor would there have been a Reformation or Scientific Revolution.

 Yet, none of these probable scenarios ever came to past. Why? You see, as the Mongolians were about to pass through the heart of Western civilization in Vienna, the death of Genghis Khan’s father had suddenly died. Mongolian custom demanded that all Mongolians return to the homeland and choose a new khan (leader). Fortunately for the West, the Mongolians remained where they were and intermingled with the Chinese and disappeared from history.

 One man’s death changes history. From this example, we can see just how great the power of one person can irrevocably alter human history.

 BUT CAN WE REALLY CHANGE HISTORY?

 You could argue: That’s fine and good if you happen to be the head of a State; but what about the ordinary person? What difference can the man in the street possibly make?

 Actually, it’s all about the power of belief. If you believe you are important and significant, if you believe that your existence is not some cosmic accident, if you believe that you have a purpose and a destiny, then you can indeed make that decision to not only better yourself, but also the community around you. 

 HILLEL’S ANTIDOTE TO THE “GRASSHOPPER COMPLEX”

About 2000 years ago, Hillel’s stressed that each person makes a difference in the entire world. Hillel’s famous dictum, “If I am not for myself, then who will be for me?” “If I am only for myself, then what am I? And if not now, when?” stresses this eternal truth. We exist in the here and now, and God calls upon us to make a positive contribution in bettering ourselves and our communities.

 A good illustration from the Torah captures this timeless truth. In the Book of Numbers, when Moses sent the spies to inspect the land of Israel, they spoke of their inability to conquer the land. They felt powerless against the inhabitants and wished to go back to Egypt where they would spend the rest of their lives as slaves.

The people we saw there were of enormous size. We saw giants there too ( . . . We felt like grasshoppers, and so we seemed to in their eyes.”

There is a metaphor that best describes the spies attitude is known as akridosis.  In modern English, that is the grasshopper syndrome, and the term stems from the Greek akris (grasshopper or locust). It is a classic Yiddishe disease. If you see yourself as a grasshopper, why shouldn’t others see you the same also?

In biblical times, the prophet Isaiah refers to the pagan King Cyrus of Persia, as “My Messiah,” for he would restore the Jewish people back to their ancestral homeland, after the Babylonians had expelled them over a century earlier. We may deduce that if a pagan monarch can serve as a Messiah, in terms of his redemptive role, we can all play a similar “messianic role” in bettering our families and communities.

Really, when you think about it, the entire Bible is about singular individuals who believed they could make a difference in the world around them. Whether it be a Abraham, an Isaac, or Jacob, or Joseph, or a Miriam and Moses, each of these individuals made a commitment, never realizing that a single soul would ever be aware of what they were doing or how they would be remembered by posterity.

 This is not just true of biblical personalities; it is no less with modern heroes and heroines of the human spirit, e.g., those pious Christians like Oscar Schindler, who made the moral choice to save Jewish lives during the Holocaust—even if it meant certain death for defying Nazi orders.

 The same may be said of another man’s vision—Theodore Herzl inspires a new generation of Jews to realize a dream that Jews for centuries had long given up—a return to their ancestral homeland. When we stand together as a community, united and strong—there was nothing they couldn’t achieve. The founding fathers and mothers of Israel demonstrated how a united people could indeed triumph over the Many. The ability to see themselves as powerful and capable is precisely what enabled the State of Israel to out-survive all the negative prognosticators, who believed that the fledgling state would never survive its first year.

Israelis survived because they understood the Power of One.

Our own community may yet serve as another example; although we are a small congregation, as I mentioned this past Shabbat, the greatness of a person is never in its physical size, but in its heart and soul. Earlier we mentioned how Maimonides pointed out earlier, every person is capable of bettering the world; but the process of change must really begin first with ourselves. Rosh Hashanah affords us the opportunity to recalibrate our souls. .  .

 Before we start tackling the real problems of our world, during this season we need to focus more inwardly instead. In what is perhaps his most famous aphorism, Rabbi Salanter wrote about the challenges of change: Continue Reading