Rabbi Michael Leo Samuel

As we give pause to the memory of Martin Luther King and his profound ethical message concerning the evils of racial intolerance, it behooves us to ask ourselves: Have we, as a religious community, fully embraced the principles that cost this great man his life? Most American Jews have taken valuable steps in combating racism in our great country. However, some of us have yet to take a meaningful first step.

The Lubavitcher Rebbe spent many years preaching about the importance of ahavat Yisrael—on how, “we should love our fellow Jews.” However, the Rebbe and his Hasidic followers were careful never to admit that this great commandment does not apply to Ethiopian Jews. Since the famous rescue of the Ethiopian Jews (Beta Israel) in the 1980s, Chabad schools have adopted a policy that openly discriminates against Ethiopian Jews—despite the fact they have undergone Orthodox conversions in Israel and have been accepted in many Haredi yeshivas!!

Ethiopian parents often hear from Chabad principals, “We don’t take in Ethiopian children. We don’t think you match our lifestyle and we’re not sure about your Jewishness either.” This is exactly what five young girls of Ethiopian descent heard when they arrived with their parents at the “Or Chaya” school in Petah Tikva. By the way, Or Chaya is a Chabad school. Moshe Ashgara, the father of another girl, experienced the same treatment. “My daughter is a diligent student. Why won’t they take her?” That is a good question and the Principal of Or Chaya was unavailable for questioning.

The answer is simple: Chabad endorses racial discrimination against people it does not feel are “real Jews.” The late Lubavitcher Rebbe expressed doubts over the Jewish origins of Ethiopian immigrants to Israel and instructed that they be excluded from Chabad institutions—regardless whether they went through the most rigorous conversions.

Mind you, they have no problem accepting Jews from Ashkenazi and Sephardi backgrounds, not to mention, Jewish immigrants from the former Soviet Union. But not a single Ethiopian Jew is enrolled in the educational network. This policy applies not only to the Israeli secondary schools—it applies to every Chabad Heder and yeshiva all over the world.

Menachem Brod, spokesman for Chabad, confirms that Ethiopian children are not accepted in the Hasidic movement’s institutions. “This is an instruction from the Lubavitcher Rebbe and also a ruling by our rabbis,” he said. He also reiterated that the “Ethiopians are not being singled out, since Chabad policy applies to anyone whose Jewishness is in question.”[1]

When the Ethiopian Jews began their immigration from Ethiopia, the Chief Rabbinate obliged all immigrants to undergo giyur lehumra (pro forma conversion) because of doubts raised about their Jewishness by Ashkenazi ultra-Orthodox rabbis. However, in 1984 the rabbinate adopted as its official policy the well-known halakhic ruling that Rabbi Ovadia Yosef – the spiritual leader of Shas – issued a decade earlier, which held that there was no doubt about the Jewishness of the Falasha, the Beta Israel (Ethiopian Jews ). From this point on, instead of the demand to undergo conversion, members of Beta Israel wishing to marry had to undergo a “clarification of Jewishness.”

Rabbi Moshe Feinstein wrote to his son-in-law, Rabbi Moshe Tendler concerning the Ethiopian Jews:

• As you mentioned, they should not be brought to the Land of Israel, unless they have undergone a conversion, in order to not increase the concern for assimilation [i.e., intermarriage with Jews who do not have a doubt regarding their Jewish status and also a weakening of the faith of Ethiopian Jews themselves]. But if they have legally converted, and as I have heard they are doing, we shall consider them like all Jews, and one must assist them and support them for all needs of livelihood, both physically and spiritually. And I suffered great anguish because I have heard there are those in Israel who are not drawing them close in spiritual matters and are causing, G-d forbid, that they might be lost from Judaism. And it seems to me these people are behaving so only because the color of the Falashas’ skin is black. It is obvious that one must draw them close, not only because they are no worse than the rest of the Jews – and because there is no distinction in practical application of the law because they are black – but also because one can say perhaps they are gerim [converts], and are therefore included in the mitzva “and you shall love the convert.”[2]

For the record, the Lubavitcher Rebbe never endorsed the rescue of Ethiopian Jews in their most critical time of their history.  Every other major Halachic scholar accepted the Ethiopian Jews as Jews, but many did insist upon a pro-forma conversion in the event of marriage.[3] This is all the more amazing when one considers that the Lubavitcher Rebbe always stressed the importance of saving lives superseded even the laws of the Shabbat!

Last week,  Channel 2 in Jerusalem exposed an agreement signed by residents of an apartment complex in Kiryat Malachi that forbade the sale or rental of apartments to Ethiopian Jews – even if the potential renter was an exemplary Israeli citizen, and their decision was extensively backed by a Chabad neighbor who wrote an essay defending the racism. Such behavior embarrasses Jews everywhere, and our enemies use these stories to tarnish Israel’s reputation to the world.

If the Haredim in Israel are willing to accept the Ethiopian Jews, one must wonder: Why won’t the Chabad also accept the Beta Israel? Why should the Chabad institutions receive a free pass to continue their racial discrimination? In fairness to the Chabad public, it is doubtful whether most of their supporters are even aware of this problem. However, the organization leaders may want to rethink the Rebbe’s position because it goes against the vast majority of Haredi rabbis, who have for the most part, openly embraced the Ethiopians in Israel. Clearly, Rabbi Schnersohn has been overruled by the vast majority of Torah scholars of his time, and it is foolish to continue a policy that is so morally offensive, not to mention—contrary to Halacha.

About 2,000 people gathered on Tuesday to demonstrate against racism in Kiryat Malakhi, after members of the Ethiopian immigrant community there said that local homeowners’ committees refuse to rent them apartments. They were joined by hundreds of people who came from around the country to support them.

What a shanda!

A pig with lipstick is still a pig, and racism–even–with a smiley face is still racism.

The Israeli government is outraged about this shabby treatment of Israel’s beloved Ethiopian Jewish community and promises to strike hard at the racist policies that are harming the Jewish people of Israel. President Shimon Peres expressed our sentiments with eloquence, “The racists should be ashamed of their actions and their words,” Peres said on Thursday. “When we established the state, our dream was that Ethiopian Jews would immigrate to Israel, along with Libyan Jews, Russian Jews and Jews from all over the world.”

Notes:

[1] “Chabad School Refuses to Accept Ethiopian Students,” Chabad News on September 08 2011, http://www.crownheights.info/index.php?itemid=37556.

[2] Cited in Igrot Moshe Vol. 9 (I have personally ordered the book, and I promise to cite the response when I receive it in the mail.

[3] R. Eliezer Yehudah Waldenberg, Ziz [i.e, Tzitz] Eli’ezer, 10:25,ch. 3, sec. 10; Tzitz Eli’ezer, X, no,. 25, chap. 3, sec. 19.

One of the most colorful figures of the 18^th century, who almost single-handedly raised the moral of the Jewish people, was a man named R. Yisrael ben Eliezer, a.k.a., the famous “Baal Shem Tov,” (literally, the “Master of the Good Name.” When one looks back in history, the Baal Shem Tov taught a very important message that many of his movement’s descendents have seemed to forgotten.

• Ahavat HaShem—a love for God; in the theology of the Baal Shem Tov, the bond between a Jew and God Almighty is grounded in the heart of the Divine. More than that, the precept of love is the basis of the entire Torah.
• Harmony and peace with one’s neighbors is essential for having a healthy relationship with God.
• Worship God with a joyfulness of heart enables one to achieve of mystical state of bliss with God called “devukut” (cleaving).
• There is no room for asceticism in  the spiritual life of a Jew.

Baal Shem Tov felt very strongly, “A small hole in the body, constituted a large hole in the soul.” The care of the soul must never come at the expense of the body, since it too is a manifestation of God, and must not be considered as hostile or oppositional to Him.

Naturally, many of his ideas did not endear himself to the more austere Kabbalistic or Talmudic schools, which felt that the study of Torah was the greatest pursuit for the average Jew. Not so for the Baal Shem Tov—the inner life of the person was just as important, but the inner life of the individual could not ignore the welfare of his fellow human beings.

Following an old tradition going back to R. Isaac Luria, one of the most famous Kabbalists of the late medieval period, all prayer must begin with the precept, “Behold, I am taking upon myself the precept to fulfill: ‘You shall love your neighbor as yourself.” Baal Shem Tov made this Lurianic prescription the foundation of Jewish prayer. Prayer has minimal meaning unless one takes into consideration the personal needs of his fellow Jew.

The early followers realized the importance of these lessons and for the most part, did whatever they could do to buoy the spirits of their depressed brethren. Teachers like Levi Yitzchak of Berditchev (1740-1810), always acted like a mighty advocate for the Jewish people. There are many stories attributed to him, where he always gave the most defiant Jewish sinner, the benefit of the doubt. A typical story that is often told relates how he once noticed a wagon driver who was greasing his wheels while reciting his morning prayers, Rabbi Levi Yitzchak lifted his eyes to Heaven and cried: “Master of the Universe! Behold the piety of Your children! Even as they go about their daily affairs, they do not cease to pray to You!”

However, that was then . . .

Today’s Hassidic factions[1] that make up a large portion of Israel’s Haredi movement and their religious leaders have evolved into something radically different from what the movement’s founders once envisioned.

Their animus toward the non-Haredi world is disturbing—even shocking—to say the least. When hooligans refer to a Modern Orthodox seven year old girl a “harlot,” we have a problem of epic proportions.

They spat on poor little Naama Margolis because she was not dressed “modestly” enough in their eyes.  Proudly and boldly, this brave little girl said, “I am no longer afraid. My mother is more afraid than I am. I just want the fanatics to leave Beit Shemesh  . . .” Her mother added, “The exclusion of women from the public sphere makes my blood boil. They (Haredim) are trying to take us back to dark eras; this is a grave injustice.” By the way, the Haredim get equally upset if a girl is happens to be three years old.

Ditto!

I wonder: What would the Baal Shem Tov and Levi Yitzchak of Berditchev say, if they were alive today? The answer ought to be pretty obvious . . .

Many years ago, when I studied in Israel, I had some Haredi acquaintances who used to throw rocks at cars driving through Me’ah She’arim in Israel, but today the situation is far worse. We are witnessing virulent misogyny that has no parallel in Jewish history.

Who would imagine that Jews would ever subject Jewish children to such abuse? One must wonder: Why aren’t the Hassidic, Lithuanian, and Sephardic leaders condemning their followers’ violent behavior?

As Israel prepares itself against the greatest existential threat it has yet faced, the explosion of Haredi violence in Israel may do more damage than even a nuclear explosion in Tel Aviv. As we celebrate the holiday of Hanukkah, let us pray that the forces of light will triumph over the forces of religious intolerance and bigotry that are eroding the spirit of the Jewish people in Israel and abroad.

* I decided to completely rewrite and update an earlier post I had composed a couple of years ago.– Enjoy!

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Today’s article begins with a personal message I received from a Chabad acquaintance. The actual letter was a copy of a communiqué that originated from the Lubavitch Headquarters; the letter reminds the Hasidim how they ought to conduct themselves on Christmas Eve.

• December 25th is universally celebrated by non-Jews as the birthday of that person[1] upon whom a dominant non-Jewish religion was founded and who had the Halachic status as a Jew who lures other Jews to idol-worship. A spirit of impurity therefore prevails on that day. (Additionally, there was a period when members of that religion used to celebrate this eve by attacking Jews, which led to an enactment against keeping the Yeshivas open during the eve of Dec 25th).

The letter also quoted some comments expressed by the Friediker (Previous) Rebbe of Lubavitch, R. Yosef Yitzchak Schnersohn and his son-in-law, R. Menachem Mendel Schnersohn:

• The Previous Lubavitcher Rebbe adds, “It is our custom to refrain from studying Torah on Nitel Nacht until midnight. The reason, as the Previous Rebbe heard from his father, the Rebbe RaShaB (Rabbi Shalom Dov Baer Schnersohn, a.k.a., the 5th Lubavitcher Rebbe), is so that one will not add spiritual vitality to that person [Jesus], and those who presently follow his views [i.e., Christians everywhere]. The Previous Lubavitcher Rebbe (i.e., Rabbi Yosef Yitzchak Schnersohn, the 6th Rebbe) quotes his father in the popular Hayom Yom (Teves 17), ‘I am not fond of those students who begrudge these eight hours and cannot tear themselves away from Torah study!’”[2]

Many Jews and Christians probably find this custom interesting but very strange–and for good reason!! Actually, even many Haredi Jews find the custom dubious and weird; for them, time is of the essence, and nobody should squander what precious time one has in this world pursuing trivial matters, when one ought to be studying God’s Torah instead! For them, “Nitel” is “bitul,” (a pure waste of time).

• The Origins of Nitel Nacht

The origin of Nitel Nacht in modern rabbinic literature is one of the more fascinating chapters of Jewish history and folklore. To begin with, this is a custom that exists only among Hasidim. Most Haredi communities, like the Lithuanian and Sephardic communities, generally disregard this custom; for them, the study of Torah is of primary importance.[3] R. Moshe Sternbuch correctly observes that the custom was unknown in Lithuania and it is only a custom among the Hasidim. One of the greatest Lithuanian luminaries of the 20^th century, R. Avraham Yeshaya Karelitz, (1878-1953) a.k.a., “Chazon Ish” did not discontinue his practice of studying Torah  “Nitel Nacht,” and said that it was forbidden to waste time from learning on this night and he criticized those who did not learn on that night.[4] Some Hassidic Jews, likewise won’t not study Torah on New Year’s Eve either for the same reason. Some of my old Litvak friends in the Litvisher yeshivas used to tell me that Hasidim will do just about anything not to study Torah! Behind every criticism is often a grain of truth . . . Oy, I think I have the soul of a Litvak!

Of course, the time of Nitel Nacht will vary depending whether one is a Greek Orthodox Christian or not, for they celebrate the holiday on January 6^th.

The earliest references to Nitel Nacht go back to the 17^th century; it was first mentioned by the Moravian scholar, R. Yair Chaim Bachrach (1638-1702).[5] Some scholars think that the famous Maharsha (R. Samuel Eides observed the day by the late 16th century.[6]

• The Meaning of “Nitel”

The etymology of the actual name, “Nitel,” actually comes from the Latin, “Natalis,” or, “Nativity Night.” It is truly ironic that 99% of all the Hassidic Jews follow this observance, haven’t the foggiest idea that Nitel Nacht means “Nativity Night.” It is also possible that Nitel Nacht may be a corruption of the Latin dies natalis, “birthday,” i.e., the “birthday” of Jesus.[7]

• Should Nitel Nacht be observed today?

On the one hand, the custom serves to remind us of an era when Jewish and Christian relations were strained and hostile. I once had a congregant who lived to be 95; she survived the Russian Revolution by hiding under a house, where the sewage was stored. With the sound of demonic  laughter, a Cossack crushed her  baby brother’s skull with his boot, while drinking his vodka. She remained traumatized by her experience–throughout her life. I imagine that the Schnersohn family also witnessed similar events in their lives as well and suffered from the lingering effects of these traumatic memories. No wonder the Jews of Lubavitch felt so nervous around Christmas season! Who could blame them? Remember “Fiddler on the Roof”? Sholom Aleichem merely hinted about this awful social reality. Undoubtedly, the world that created Nitel Nacht was filled with violence, hatred, and intolerance.

But that was then . . .

Fortunately, this is not the case anymore the case for Jews who live in Western countries. It’s time to leave the ghetto behind us; it’s time to exorcize the hurtred (pardon the neologism) and bitterness we have carried for a long time.

As a rabbi, whenever I see Jews show intolerance and bigotry toward non-Jews–whoever they may be–I get religiously offended. No religion is immune to the dangers of promoting religious prejudice; or as they say, “A pig with lipstick is still a pig.” Prejudice and intolerance should not be quietly accepted as if it is normal–because it’s not!

Yet, today, the religious intolerance seems to emanate more from Haredi Jews!? Aside from their intolerance toward other branches of Judaism and their endorsement of sexism, in Jerusalem, Haredi Jews often spit on the Greek Orthodox clergy of Jerusalem; in addition, a number of Hassidic Jews have the custom of spitting whenever walking by a church. Were this just an isolated case, one individual’s brazen act of spitting would hardly make the news, but it is a daily occurrence that has brought considerable embarrassment to Israel and to Jews all over the world. Others, still, will not even shake hands with a member of the Christian clergy. I actually saw this happen in Rock Island, when the Habad rabbi refused to shake hands with the local Monsignor, who was attending a Yom HaShoah community observance. To the Hassidic  rabbi’s credit,  he did eventually apologize—a year later.

On the other hand, Rabbi Shmuel Boteach of Chabad has just recently written a brand new book, “Kosher Jesus,” where he actually praises Jesus as a 1^st century Jewish teacher! I doubt the late Rebbe would have approved of his followers extolling the greatness of Jesus as a Jewish sage, but some people are attempting to change some of the old world attitudes. If anything, Hassidic followers of Chabad, Satmar, Bratzlav and others must be saying a collective, ‘Oy vei!” as his work goes to print next month. Kudos go to Rabbi Boteach! I doubt the Rebbe would have approved of such a book.

“The Jewish Annotated New Testament” was just released.  This volume is a study edition of the NSRV translation of the New Testament with commentary and essays by Jewish Biblical scholars (including Jewish New Testament scholars) such as Marc Zvi Brettler, Amy-Jill Levine, Daniel Boyarin, and Mark Nanos. The scholars attempt to understand the NT from a respectful Jewish perspective. Such a work would hardly have been possible a few centuries ago. Fortunately, countless numbers of Christian scholars are now studying Talmud and other Judaic texts to better understand the life of Jesus as a Jew.

Yes, the world is changing.

Should Nitel Nacht be observed today? Not unless you wish to offend your Christian neighbors. While there are number of customs that originated during the most depraved times of medieval history, it behooves us to let go of our medieval attitudes.

As modern Jews, it behooves us to cultivate a relationship with our Christian neighbors and friends based on the principle of mutual respect. Jewish leaders often insist that Christianity purge itself of its anti-Semitic attitudes, and this is necessary for the sake of all our sanity. As Jews, we have to do our part in getting rid of our own dysfunctional attitudes. Would it not be wonderful to see Haredi and Hassidic Jews seize the initiative and greet the Christian clergy of Jerusalem with a heartfelt, “Good morning, Fr. So-and-so . . .” A simple greeting would go a long way in bettering our relations. Spitting, on the other hand, will only create more anti-Semitism.

Certain customs really should have been discarded long ago in the dustbin of history. Fortunately, most Jews today have long historically embraced this change in attitude–except for a handful of Hassidic Jews in Brooklyn and in Israel who are still desperately clinging on to the ghosts of Christmas past. Unfortunately, many fundamentalists and radicals of all the Western faiths are still holding on to the negative and hateful caricatures of the Other that continue to be drummed into the minds of young impressionable children at home, church, synagogues, mosques, and schools.

Today, when we have a holiday celebration like Christmas and New Years, people generally have a family get-together, watch some football and enjoy their dinners, exchanging gifts. However, several centuries ago, people used to look for a different kind of entertainment; they would attack Jews on Christmas or Easter. The world was a very different kind of place.  Let us do our part and make sure our children never have to grow up in a religiously intolerant community again. Continue Reading

You must have heard this story about a child named Haim, who attended Heder (religious school). After coming home from class, his Zeyde (grandpa) asks him, “So nu, what did you learn today at Heder?” The child answers, “Well,  the Rebbe told us a story about Moses and all those people crossing the Red Sea that was really great! … So Moses got on his Ipad 2, texted some messages to the Israeli Air Force, the jets soon flew over and bombed the Egyptian army to smithereens!” The Zeyde can hardly believe his ears, “So, is that what they are teaching you in Heder?!”  Haim replies, “Zeyde, if I told you what the Rebbe really taught us, you’d never believe it!”

Jewish historical events often reflect the spin of the narrator. This does not necessarily mean that a story is a fiction. We simply need to understand the context by how a story is narrated. Hanukkah is one of those holidays, much like Passover. Even myth often has a basis in fact, which is often embellished by tradition. The task of a modern scholar is to solve the mystery of how the story came to assume its present form. In this sense, the scholar must be a little bit like Sherlock Holmes (see the new movie, it rocks!!)

The children of the original Hasmoneans who fought the Greeks proved to be a disappointment; most of them became as corrupt as the people their grandparents revolted against. Perhaps the marriage of priestly and political power proved to be too incongruous to balance—much like we see in Israel today. Politics and religion are a lot like meat and milk; each by itself is permitted, but when cooked, they form a forbidden substance.

Several centuries later, around the time of the Talmud’s redaction (ca. 400 C.E.), the Talmud nonchalantly asks:

• What is the origin of Hanukkah? Our Rabbis taught: On the twenty-fifth of Kislev begins the days of Hanukkah, which are eight, and on which mourning and fasting are forbidden. For when the Greeks entered the Temple, they defiled all the oils therein, and when the Hasmoneans [i.e., the Maccabees] defeated them, they searched and found only one cruse of oil with the seal of the High Priest,  but which contained enough [oil] for one day’s lighting only; yet a miracle happened and they lit [the menorah from that single cruse of oil and it lasted for] for eight days. The following year these [days] were made a Festival including the recitation of the Hallel and thanksgiving.[1]

The rabbis make no reference to the actual book of Maccabees, which the Christian church preserved. It is significant that the narrator of 2 Mac 10:5 does not mention anything about the miracle of the candles burning for eight consecutive nights. Here is what it does say:

• On the anniversary of the day on which the temple had been profaned by the Gentiles, that is, the twenty-fifth of the same month Chislev, the purification of the temple took place. The Jews celebrated joyfully for eight days as on the feast of Booths, remembering how, a little while before, they had spent the feast of Booths living like wild animals in caves on the mountains. Carrying rods entwined with leaves, green branches and palms, they sang hymns of grateful praise to him who had brought about the purification of his own Place. By public edict and decree they prescribed that the whole Jewish nation should celebrate these days every year.  Such was the end of Antiochus surnamed “Epiphanes.”[2]

Another ancient text dating back toward the beginning of the 1^st century, the Megillat Ta’anit, explains a different reason why Hanukkah lasted for eight days:

• Why did the rabbis make Chanukah eight days? Because … the Hasmoneans  entered the Temple and erected the altar and whitewashed it and repaired all of the ritual utensils. They were kept busy for eight days. And why do we light candles? When the Hasmoneans entered the Temple there were eight iron spears in their hands, which they covered with wood and drove into the ground, lighting oil in each and using them as lamps.[3]

According to this version, it ought to be obvious why the Rabbis purposely left the real story out. A single canister of undefiled oil would have become instantly defiled once it was used on the spears, which were ritually contaminated from war.

A second midrashic source, the Pesikta Rabbati, composed around 845 CE, relates the following:

• “Why do we kindle lights on Chanukah? Because when the Hasmoneans sons, the High Priest, defeated the Hellenists, they entered the Temple and found there eight iron spears. They stuck candles on them and lit them . . .”[4]

The story gets much more interesting when we read the Mishnah 10:1 of tractate Sanhedrin:

• Rabbi Akiva says, Even one who reads external books – Kehati explains, “there are the books by heretics, who interpreted the Torah, Prophets, and Writings according to their own opinion, and did not rely on the expositions of the Sages (R. Yitzhak Alfasi).”

In one Talmudic discussion found on page 100b, the “Sifre Minim” is referred to by some of the Amoraim, e.g., R. Yosef, who notes that the forbidden books refer to the writings of Ben Sira, but concludes that certain passages may be read so long as they do not offend the religious sensibilities of the community. Ben Sira’s book is interesting because he appears to reject the belief in the afterlife—a point which would most certainly have earned his book being excluded from the biblical canon, e.g., “When a man dies, he inherits corruption; worms, gnats and maggots” (Ben Sira 10:11).

Some scholars propose, it is also possible that the entire Apocrypha was included among the other “forbidden books,” because the book of Maccabees glorifies the triumph of the Hasmoneans.[5] I would only add that the glorification of the Hasmoneans’s descendants ( the Sadducees) was an anathema to the young Pharisee movement, as personified by R. Akiba and his colleagues. In addition, the absence of the miracle of oil burning eight nights would have undermined rabbinical authority and its “official” version of the Hanukkah story. Besides, much of the Apocrypha extolls Greek wisdom and represents one of the first major attempts to graft the philosophical values of Jerusalem and Athens together–a process that would later get jump-started by Philo of Alexandria, Saadia, Maimonides, Gersonides and other Jewish thinkers in the medieval era.

Simply put, the real story had to be suppressed because of political reasons.

Now, outside of the Talmud, there are some other narratives that explain why the holiday of Hanukka was originally called “lights,” which reads:

• Now Judas celebrated the festival of the restoration of the sacrifices of the temple for eight days; and omitted no sort of pleasures thereon: but he feasted them upon very rich and splendid sacrifices; and he honored God, and delighted them, by hymns and psalms. Nay, they were so very glad at the revival of their customs, when after a long time of intermission, they unexpectedly had regained the freedom of their worship, that they made it a law for their posterity, that they should keep a festival, on account of the restoration of their temple worship, for eight days. And from that time to this we celebrate this festival, and call it Lights. I suppose the reason was, because this liberty beyond our hopes appeared to us; and that thence was the name given to that festival . . .[6]

Note that Josephus actually provides much more than a scant and reluctant mentioning of the holiday’s origins especially when contrasted to the Babylonian Talmud’s version. The theme of light plays an important role as a symbol of perfection, enlightenment, clarity, and perfect being. Interestingly enough, just as Aaron and his sons lit the menorah in the Temple, so too did their descendants—the Hasmoneans (as noted by Ramban, in his commentary on Numbers 8:1-4). In addition, the 25^th word of the Torah is “or,” (light), and its synchronicity helped reinforce the triumph of light over the forces of darkness and hopelessness.

Lastly, there is some conjecture that the suggests the victorious Jews may have witnessed either a large meteorite shower or possibly saw the appearance of a comet at the time the Temple was being cleansed of its ritual impurities, hence the name, “Lights,” which incidentally is also mentioned in the NT John 10:22, where it is explicitly identified as the “Feast of Dedication.”

Incidentally, the Feast of Dedication, i.e., Hanukkah, was also known as the “Tabernacles of the month of Kislev” (2 Macc 1.9).

Notes:

[1] BT Talmud 21b.

[2] Cf. 1 Macc 4:36–59; 2 Macc 1:18–2:19; 10:1–8 for a fuller account of what happened.

[3] Megilat Ta’anit ch. 9.

[4] Pesikta Rabbati ch. 2. Continue Reading

I often get asked the questions, “What is the symbolism of the dreidel? What exactly is its origin?” The dreidel is a four cornered top that was popular in the medieval era and originally used for gambling. Jewish folklore purports that when the Syrians prohibited the study of Torah, the Jews insurrectionists would take a top to gamble with, so that the soldiers would let them play their game in peace. The name, “dreidel,” is a Yiddish word that derives from the German verb, “drehen,” (“to turn”).

Historically, the origin of the dreidel is not quite so apocryphal. During the medieval era, gambling dice often had four letters inscribed, N,G, H, and S, representing “nichts,” (nothing), “ganz” (i.e., winner takes “all”), and “shtell arein” (“put in”).  Jews subsequently transformed the dice into a top and added four Hebrew letters, נ (N), ג (G), ה (H), and שׁ (S)—signifying, נֵס גָדוֹל הָיָה ֹשָם  “nes gadol hayah sham” (“A great miracle happened there”).

The symbolism gets more interesting when we take into consideration the numerological patterns the Kabbalists cleverly add when redesigning the dreidel during the medieval era.  The value of the four letters equals 358, the same numerology (gematria) as Moshiach (Messiah)! This could suggest several things:

(1)   The wandering of the Jews (drehen) is not purposeless, though it may seem that way at times. Israel’s wandering serves to bring the world that much closer to its final redemptive stage of human history—the Messianic era.

(2)  As the dreidel spins, it represents the pulsating movement of the Divine; we who observe it, cannot see how its final stage will unfold until it actually occurs. Such a concept has its antecedents in the Talmud’s famous statement, “Three come unawares: Messiah, a found article and a scorpion” (T.B. Sanhedrin 97a). I have always liked this passage, for in its simplicity, the Sages teach us that it is not for mortal men–or women–regardless how pious or learned they happen to be, to engage in the mindless pursuit of messianic prognostications. The Messiah will appear when we least expect him to arrive.

(3)  Our fortunes in life are much like the chaotic turnings of the dreidel; those of us, who lost our fortunes with the Stock Market, know this all too well. Political surprises like the recent death of North Korean dictator, Kim Jong-il, the cyber-hijacking of an American stealth drone,  know the wisdom of this teaching only all too well … the world—even on its quantum level is full of paradox and unpredictability.

In short, although our existence is unpredictable, faith is the compass that provides us with the wisdom and radar to navigate through even the most difficult of times, like today.

December 8th happened to be the anniversary of John Lennon’s untimely death. Most of us who have grown up in the sixties remember John Lennon’s most famous song, “Imagine.” Chant along with me!

Imagine there’s no heaven

It’s easy if you try

No hell below us

Above us only sky

Imagine all the people living for today…

Imagine there’s no countries

It isn’t hard to do

Nothing to kill or die for

And no religion too

Imagine all the people living life in peace….

Like any great artist, Lennon’s song makes you think about his message. Is all religion necessarily bad? Or was he referring only to “organized religion,” because of its role in fostering hatred in the world? When one examines the hundreds of millions of people over the course of recorded history who were wiped because they refused to accept a religious dogma or faith, I have to admit: a world without this kind of religion would probably be a very good thing.

On the other hand, as Paul Tillich has often said, “religion is man’s ultimate concern for the ultimate.”  Any kind of passion or obsession can become a religion—whether it’s organized or not.

Religion can become a good thing if it’s used properly. If we didn’t abuse religion, chances are we would misuse some of our other creative talents. It’s more a problem of human nature itself; we are a violent species and we probably would never have survived were it not for our ancestor’s realization that we cannot survive without adopting a more civilized approach to the alternative of continuous warfare. One might argue that religion even helped to rein in some of these (but not all!) violent impulses. Animal sacrifice took the place of human sacrifice, but religion still has plenty of dark aspects that make it less civilized; if religion is used for evil, it is because the heart that promotes violence in the name of religion is evil.  The Romans used to say, Homo homini lupus—“man is wolf to man”—and this is the problem I believe John Lennon did not understand. We seemed to be hardwired to act barbarically–an obvious inheritance from our prehistorical genetic history.

From a different perspective, John Lennon’s denial of the afterlife is not without precedent in Jewish tradition. Over 2200 years ago, there was a brilliant Jewish philosopher named Jesus ben Sirach, commonly quoted in the Talmud as “Ben Sira.” He lived in the beginning of the second century B.C.E. and taught in Jerusalem (Ben Sira 50:27; cf. 51:23ff.). Given his disbelief or ambivalence regarding the afterlife, it is quite likely he was a practicing Sadducean. The work is believed to shortly after the famous Maccabean Revolt, probably around 180 B.C.E.

When a man dies, he inherits corruption; worms, gnats and maggots. — Ben Sira 10:11

•  For it is easy with the LORD on the day of death to repay man according to his deeds. A moment’s affliction brings. A forgetfulness of past delights; when a man dies, his life is revealed. Don’t call a man “happy” before his death; but only how his life ends, is a man known. — Ben Sira 11:26-28  

• The dead can no more give praise than those who have never lived; they glorify the LORD who are alive and well.[1] —Ben Sira 17:23

• Do not forget, there is no coming back; you do the dead no good, and you injure yourself. — Ben Sira 38:21

• All that is of earth returns to earth, and what is from above returns above.[2] —Ben Sira 40:11

Actually, Ben Sira’s attitude about the afterlife is not without precedent in the Tanakh itself. Consider the following passages:

• The heavens belong to LORD, but the earth He has given to the children of Adam. The dead cannot praise the LORD, nor do any that go down into silence. But we will bless the LORD from this time on and forevermore. Praise the LORD! —Psalms 115:16-18
  

• For the living know that they are to die, but the dead no longer know anything. There is no further recompense for them, because all memory of them is lost—Ecclesiastes 9:5

Then again, there are some rabbinical teachings that derive also from Sadducean influence (despite the protestations of the Orthodox, who claim these men were Pharisees, but that is another discussion for a different posting). Consider Antigonos of Socho who used to say:

“Don’t be like slaves who serve the master with a view to receiving a present; but be like slaves who serve the master not with a view to receiving a present: and let the awe of Heaven be upon you.”(Avoth 1:3) [3] This teaching is consistent with the classical Sadducean attitude about the afterlife.

Antigonos’s perspective also resonates with Ben Sira’s perspective. Don’t worship God because you expect to be “saved” in the afterlife. If you act that way, you are not serving God; you are only serving yourself—your ego. In the final analysis, “Let virtue be your own reward.”

There is another rabbinical source that speaks about the immortality of memory, which is similar to Ben Sira’s concept:

R. Johanan said: Jacob our patriarch is not dead.

R. Nahman objected: Was it then all for naught, that he was bewailed and embalmed and buried?!

R. Yochanan said: I derive this from a Scriptural verse, as it is said: “But as for you, have no fear, my servant Jacob, says the Lord, and do not be dismayed, O Israel; for I am going to save you from far away, and your offspring from the land of their captivity” (Jer. 30:10). The verse likens Jacob to his progeny Israel—just as his progeny will then be alive, in a sense so shall he too will be alive. [4]

In summary, Ben Sira seems to have felt that heaven is what you make in this world; and the same applies to hell. One is reminded of an old classical parable told in the Hassidic traditions, but versions of the story is told in other faith traditions as well.

• A tsadik (righteous man) once received a visitation from Elijah the Prophet one day and said, “Master, I would like to know what Heaven and Hell are like.”Elijah led the tsadik to two doors. He opened one of the doors and the tsadik looked in. In the middle of the room was a large round table. In the middle of the table was a large pot of stew, which smelled delicious and made the tsadik’s mouth water. The people sitting around the table were thin and sickly. They appeared to be famished. They were holding spoons with very long handles that were strapped to their arms and each found it possible to reach into the pot of stew and take a spoonful. But because the handle was longer than their arms, they could not get the spoons back into their mouths. The tsadik shuddered at the sight of their misery and suffering. Elijah said, “You have seen Hell.”They went to the next room and opened the door. It was exactly the same as the first one.  There was the large round table with the large pot of stew which made the tsadik’s mouth water. The people were equipped with the same long-handled spoons, but here the people were well fed and plump, laughing and schmoozing. The tsadik said, ‘I don’t get it .  .  .’ ‘It is simple,’ said Elijah, “It requires but one skill. You see they have learned to feed each other, while the greedy think only of themselves.”  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

• “No philosophers so thoroughly comprehend us as dogs and horses”–Herman Melville

Father always used to say, “Never say anything or do anything in private that you would be ashamed to do in public.” Dad always was a wise man; a philosopher who was much in the mold of an Eric Hoffer, one of San Francisco’s great heroes. President Obama’s decision to permit domestic consumption of horse meat is alarming to say the least. Many of these animals are old retired race horses, who over the span of their brief lives have developed a profound sentient relationship with their owners. The fact that President Obama did not go public with this announcement is indicative that he knew such a decision would not be appreciated by over 70% of all Americans who oppose using horses for their meat. On the other hand, countries like Japan, Belgium, and France view horse meat as a delicacy and look forward to the exportation of American horse meat. Maybe  dog meat is next for consideration.

Obama’s behavior is all the more perplexing —especially since in 2008, Obama pledged, “Federal policy towards animals should respect the dignity of animals and their rightful place as cohabitants of our environment. We should strive to protect animals and their habitats and prevent animal cruelty, exploitation and neglect…. (Excellent! -MLS)  I have consistently been a champion of animal-friendly legislation and policy and would continue to be so once elected.” During the campaign Obama co-signed a bill banning horse slaughter in the US and was asked, “Will you support legislation …to institute a permanent ban on horse slaughter and exports of horses for human consumption“? He answered in the affirmative.

This article is not meant to be political in nature, but this writer feels that the President is making a very poor ethical decision—one which he ought to seriously reconsider before the Congressional bill becomes law. As someone who is politically independent, I would be upset regardless who signed the bill!

Jewish tradition has much to say about humanity’s profound relationships with the animal world. In the ancient Perek Shirah, which is a tract dedicated to exploring the spiritual song of Creation which reports that after King David  finished writing  the book of Psalms, he felt boastful, saying to “The Holy Blessed One and  Master of the Universe: Is there any [other] creature You created in Your world that utters more songs and paeans of praise than I? In that instant a frog happened to meet him and said: David, don’t be so boastful. I utter more songs and paeans of praise than you.” This ancient tract seems to imply that animals have some conscious awareness of their Maker.

Our relationships with horses in particular is attested in Jewish texts going back to the first century Jewish philosopher—Philo of Alexandria, who writes:

• As, therefore, when the charioteer has his horses under command and guides the animals with the rein—the chariot is guided wherever he pleases; but if they become stiff, and get the better of the charioteer, he is often dragged out of his road, and sometimes it even happens that the beasts themselves are borne by the impetuosity of their course into a pit, and everything is carried away in a ruinous manner.[1]

According to Philo, there is a remarkable union of consciousness when the skilled charioteer and the mind of his horses merge as it were, into a single being. This is a distinction that is probably more unique with horses than other animals.

Most people who are familiar with Martin Buber’s seminal concept of the “I and Thou” are undoubtedly aware of how God is triangulated in every human relationship. Buber stresses that each person must come to see the Divine Presence that is manifest in all interpersonal relationships.

But can a person have an “I and Thou” relationship with something Other than human? Although ecology as a philosophical discipline was in its infancy for most of Buber’s life, Buber had a great love of nature; for him the “I and Thou” had a profound ecological dimension as well. Ecological themes appear throughout much of Buber’s writings. In his famous, “I and Thou,” Buber tells us a story that most pet owners can easily relate to:

• The eyes of an animal have the capacity of a great language. Independent, without any need of the assistance of sounds and gestures, most eloquent when they rest entirely in their glance; they express the mystery in its natural captivity, that is, in the anxiety of becoming.  This state of the mystery is known only to the animal, which alone can open it up to us – for this state can only be opened up and not revealed.”[2]

Cats in particular are interesting. Buber admits that the I and Thou relationship can quickly turn into an I and It relationship rather quickly–a fact that never ceases to amaze cat owners. Cats almost at times seem indifferent to our presence; other times, they seem to peer into the depths of our souls. But one could even have an I and Thou relationship with a tree.

• I can look on (a tree) as a picture: stiff column in a shock of light, or splash of green shot with the delicate blue and silver of the background. I can perceive it as movement: flowing veins on clinging, pressing pith, suck of the roots, breathing of the leaves, ceaseless commerce with earth and air – and the obscure growth itself. I can classify it in a species and study it as a type in its structure and mode of life. I can subdue its actual presence and form so sternly that I recognize it only as an expression of law… I can dissipate it and perpetuate it in number… In all this the tree remains my object, occupies space and time, and has its nature and constitution. It can, however, also come about, if I have both will and grace, that in considering the tree I become bound up in relation to it. The tree is no longer It. I have been seized by the power of exclusiveness.

Buber discovered within the Hasidic tradition a great spirituality that nature can teach us, provided we are attentive. In one of his favorite anecdotes, Buber tells a lovely story about the great Maggid, Dov Baer of Metzitch, who had just died. The students gathered around to talk about the greatness of their master. He writes:

• After the Maggid’s death, his disciples came together and talked about the things he had done. When it was Rabbi Schneur Zalman’s turn, he asked them: “Do you know why our master went to the pond every day at dawn and stayed there for a while before coming home again?” They did not know why. Rabbi Zalman continued: “He was learning the song with which the frogs praise God. It takes a very long time to learn that song.”[4]

Yes, the eyes of an animal express unconditional love—an experience that dog and horse owners can easily attest to. As sentient and intelligent beings, their face commands that we act ethically toward them—as much as is humanly possible. As we have mentioned in other blog postings, animals are not mere automatons as Aristotle, Descartes and modern-day vivisectionists tend to believe. When we name our animals, we enter into a moral relationship. Moral relationships are bilateral in nature. We cannot treat them as though they are mere commodities; their eyes speak volumes about their love and trust of their owners. Buber’s love of horses helped provide him with the profound insights that would later from expression in his ethical theology of the “I and Thou.”

• When I was eleven years of age, spending the summer on my grandparents’ estate, I used, as often as I could do it unobserved, to steal into the stable and gently stroke the neck of my darling, a broad dapplegray horse. It was not a casual delight but a great, certainly friendly, but also deeply stirring happening. If I am to explain it now, beginning from the still very fresh memory of my hand, I must say that what I experienced in touch with the animal was the Other, the immense otherness of the Other, which, however, did not remain strange like the otherness of the ox and the ram, but rather let me draw near and touch it.

• When I stroked the mighty mane, sometimes marvelously smooth-combed, at other times just as astonishingly wild, and felt the life beneath my hand, it was as though the element of vitality itself bordered on my skin, something that was not I, was certainly not akin to me, palpably the other, not just another, really the Other itself; and yet it let me approach, confided itself to me, placed itself elementally in the relation of Thou and Thou with me. The horse, even when I had not begun by pouring oats for him into the manger, very gently raised his massive head, ears flicking, then snorted quietly, as a conspirator gives a signal meant to be recognizable only by his fellow-conspirator; and I was approved. But once—I do not know what came over the child, at any rate it was childlike enough—it struck me about the stroking, what fun it gave me, and suddenly I became conscious of my hand. The game went on as before, but something changed, it was no longer the same thing. And the next day, after giving him a rich feed, when I stroked my friend’s head he did not raise his head. A few years later, when I thought back to the incident, I no longer supposed that the animal had noticed my defection. But at the time I considered myself judged.[5]

In short, each of us has a responsibility to act with compassion toward all animals, but especially the higher animals that have long enjoyed the companionship of human beings. Continue Reading

Recently, I have joined a new website (for me anyway!) Jewish Values Online. Here is a question somebody asked me earlier today: God warns us explicitly not to follow in the ways of the other nations. How does this apply to our custom to give gifts on Hanukkah which seems to have been taken from the very not Jewish tradition of giving gifts on Christmas?

Answer:

The verse, “Do not conform, therefore, to the customs of the nations whom I am driving out of your way, because all these things that they have done have filled me with disgust for them” (Lev 20:23) specifically pertains to not emulating pagan religious traditions. Most Halachic authorities do not consider Christianity as a “pagan religion.” At worse, Christianity is an amalgamation of Judaic and pagan elements; Jews should not regard Christianity as “idolatry.”

Still and all, the original question is valid for other reasons: Is it appropriate for Judaism to integrate practices that derive from non-Judaic sources? Historians believe the custom of gift-giving in early Christianity originated with the Roman celebration of Saturnalia, which also occurs late December.

Many traditional rabbis would certainly concur with the view that sees gift-giving on Hanukkah as a concession to popular Christian culture—plain and simple. To some degree, these rabbis make a valid point. In Southern California, there was a well-known rabbi of a prominent Reform synagogue who used dress up as “Chanu Claus” every year in a blue and white outfit, while wearing a prosthetic white beard. This type of religious capitulation to Christmas is painfully obvious—Oy, oy, oy! This is obviously the wrong message we wish to instill this time of the year about Hanukkah.

From a historical perspective, the question becomes a bit more nuanced and complex. Prof. Eliezer Segal thinks Hanukkah Gelt began at a time when Jewish teachers were an impoverished class. Hanukkah was the time when parents would give their children monies to give to their teachers. It was only natural for the children to receive a little financial incentive for carrying out the good deed. This practice eventually led to other older children asking that their parents give some money to them too.

This writer believes Segal’s explanation falls just a little bit short of the mark.

Life for the Jew in medieval and modern times was often filled with despair and uncertainty. As a persecuted minority, something had to be done to buoy the spirits of children, who frankly, felt jealous of the local Christian children celebrating Christmas with the usual pomp and festivities. This is the principle reason (in my opinion) why the giving of Hanukkah Gelt began, which later morphed into gift-giving.

While it is true, one could say this custom mimics Christian tradition, there is another way of looking at this relatively new Jewish custom. For one thing, no religion lives in a spiritual biosphere. Where different religions peacefully co-exist, a cultural commingling of values is inevitable.[1]

The commingling of Jewish and Christian values is not without complete precedent. One interesting example comes to mind:  the 16^th century Halachic scholar, R. Yoel Sirkes (better known as the “Bach”) had no problem using Christian melodies in the synagogue provided these melodies had widespread and universal appeal.[2]

In all candor Judaism has since rabbinic times borrowed numerous religious beliefs and practices from its Semitic neighbors, e.g., the belief in demonology (e.g., Lilith) is clearly Babylonian in nature. Many superstitions we have regarding the Evil Eye also derive from pagan sources.[3] In addition, many of the rabbis participated in what we would now identify as occult practices.[4]

Oftentimes we reason backwards in our attempt to find an explanation for a contemporary practice. It’s a little bit like trying to hit a bull’s eye by first painting the target around the arrow after it has already hit its target. Halachic drash (interpretation) often employs this particular method in its exposition of traditions.

One explanation I remember reading in a number of Hassidic texts dealing with Hanukkah explains that there exists a linguistic connection between the words חֲנֻכָּה (ḥănūkkâ) dedication and  חֲנֹךְ  (ḥānı̂k) which means, “to train,” or “educate,” as in  חֲנֹךְ לַנַּעַר עַל־פִּי דַרְכּוֹ  “train the child according to his way” (Prov. 22:6). The nexus between these two meanings is obvious: providing a Jewish education for a child is like dedicating him/her to God.

With respect to education, it was customary in Jewish communities to give the child a gift upon entering school for the first time. Maimonides was not at all averse to “bribing a child” in order to get the child accustomed to study. [5] So, it is argued (based upon linguistic sources) that giving a child a gift during Hanukkah is not without some antecedent.

This writer would further argue that gift-giving is specifically mentioned in Numbers 7, which delineates all the sundry sacrifices and financial gifts each tribe gave in honor of the Temple’s dedication.  Incidentally, this same theme of gift-giving reappears in the First Book of Maccabees where Judas and his brothers, along with the people, rededicate the Temple by giving gifts to refurbish the Temple.[6]

So, is gift giving such a bad practice during Hanukkah? Traditionalist will definitely prefer giving Hanukkah Gelt; but personally, I see no problem with it so long as we do not include the other Christian traditions of Santa Claus with the celebration. 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