Rabbi Michael Leo Samuel

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

For many years, I have found the study of atheism and skepticism rather fascinating. Whether it is Christopher Hitchen’s intriguing polemic, “God Is NOT Great,” or Sam Harris’ “The End of Faith,” or Richard Dawkin’s attacks on traditional theism, I have always found the questions they pose to be relevant for discussion.

Freud himself often said that the greatest skeptics of religion are not necessarily the atheists, but rather it is the true believer who feels the compulsion to prove the Existence of God. One can easily invert Freud’s position as well: Skeptics, who kvetch about the non-existence of God, are probably closet theists!

I love my atheistic friends; they often speak about God as much as the theists do! This morning, I came across a remarkable story about a new illustrated Bible that was pulled off the shelves of Sam’s Club and Wal-Mart—”The Brick Bible: A New Spin on the Old Testament by Brendan Powell Smith” (http://www.bricktestament.com).

Smith makes no pretense about his atheism and sardonic wit when it comes to interpreting biblical narratives. Smith uses LEGOs to depict pretty explicit images stressing the more violent and vulgar parts of the biblical narratives. Even if you don’t like Smith’s message, you admit his artwork is irreverently funny. But is his violent depictions of God’s wrath that much different from the great French artist, Gustav Dore (1832 –1883) depiction of the Flood? Actually, Smith’s portrayal is tame by comparison.

In fairness to Smith’s book, the biblical commentators, along with Christian and Jewish clergy tend to ignore the more ethically challenging passages of the Bible that deal with violence. Smith’s theological grasp of the Bible is extremely childish. He illustrates the problem of adults who never outgrow their childish images of God and religion.

Is this the kind of book that you would want to buy for your children as a Christmas or a Bar Mitzvah present? Hardly. Personally, I would not spend a nickle on it. His website pretty much says it all. The book is meant to generate disrespect for the Bible and especially its believers. I think he’s trying to say that the Bible is much too graphic and violent for young people. Is Smith being sarcastic? You betcha!

Whenever I read a book—whether it is written by a theologian or a skeptic—I generally ask myself: what is the scholar or writer trying to say? What kind of world-view is s/he coming from? If I came from a similar cultural background, how would I see or experience the world? I suspect that Smith would probably agree with this statement: Religious people don’t have much of a sense of humor. Guess what? Smith is probably more correct than not. The inability to laugh at some of the more problematic passages of the Bible suggests a seriousness that many of the biblical writers themselves did not share!

Picture God’s revelation to Abraham and Sarah, where God sends three angels to announce that a 99 year old man and a 90 year old mother are going to have a child named, “Isaac,” a name that is associated with wild laughter! God is portrayed by the biblical narrator as a trickster, someone who introduces paradox into the rather incredulous lives of Abraham and Isaac. Granted this kind of humor might not make Saturday Night Live, but the Bible often makes puns to introduce the element of surprise into a narrative. One could almost interpret the binding of Isaac much the same way.

In fact, Woody Allen did exactly that in one of his most profound biblical reflections. After going through the traditional story, Woody Allen’s conclusion is especially worth mentioning:

• And so he took Isaac to a certain place and prepared to sacrifice him but at the last minute the Lord stayed Abraham’s hand and said, “How could thou doest such a thing?”And Abraham said, “But thou said —” “Never mind what I said,” the Lord spake. “Doth thou listen to every crazy idea that comes thy way?” And Abraham grew ashamed. “Er – not really … no.”

• “I jokingly suggest thou sacrifice Isaac and thou immediately runs out to do it.” And Abraham fell to his knees, “See, I never know when you’re kidding.” And the Lord thundered, “No sense of humor. I can’t believe it.”“But doth this not prove I love thee, that I was willing to donate mine only son on thy whim?” And the Lord said, “It proves that some men will follow any order no matter how asinine as long as it comes from a resonant, well-modulated voice.” And with that, the Lord bid Abraham get some rest and check with him tomorrow.

It would seem that Woody Allen is the first Jewish interpreter to add a humorous hermeneutic to the story that probably escaped the watchful eye of the early rabbis and Church Fathers. But here’s the real question readers ought to ask themselves: Can the biblical text tolerate a humorous hermeneutic? Consider the following statement: “The Torah speaks in the language of humanity.”[1] What is language without humor and tonality? I would argue that to read a biblical text with a stoic perspective seems to miss the whole point of human language, which is full of paradoxical nuances, inflections–and humor!

Woody Allen is not the only comedian to utilize biblical motifs in a humorous fashion. Bill Cosby did one of the most brilliant parodies on the lives of our Edenic ancestors I have ever seen:

Years ago, comedian Bill Cosby offered a brilliant interpretation explaining the straightforward meaning of the text in a way that is clearer  than most rabbinic and non-rabbinic commentaries:

• Whenever your kids are out of control, you can take comfort from the thought that even God’s omnipotence did not extend to God’s kids. After creating heaven and earth, God created Adam and Eve. And the first thing he said was, “Don’t.” “Don’t what?” Adam replied. “Don’t eat the forbidden fruit,” God said.  “Forbidden fruit?  We got forbidden fruit? Hey, Eve…we got forbidden fruit!” “No way!” “Don’t eat that fruit!” said God. “Why?” “Because I am your Father and I said so!” said God (wondering why he hadn’t stopped after making the elephants). A few minutes later God saw his kids having an apple break and was angry. “Didn’t I tell you not to eat the fruit?” God asked. “Uh huh,” Adam replied. “Then why did you?” “I dunno” Eve answered. “She started it!” Adam said. “Did not!” “Did too!”At least he didn’t say, “No problem.” At least he didn’t say, “No problem.” All right then, “Get out of here! Go forth and be fruitful and multiply.”Having had it with the two of them, God’s punishment was that Adam and Eve should have children of their own.  [2]

With respect to many of Smith’s depictions, I frankly found many of them comical. Some of the more sexual passages like Smith’s interpretation of bestiality depicts a man trying to hump a bear—which is pretty stupid and dangerous! The sexual depictions should have been left out by Smith, because they are really unsuitable for children, teenagers, young adults, older adults, etc . . . but I suspect he wanted to say that there are a lot of R rated stories in the Bible. Well, in an age where religious communities censor literature because of its sexual content, perhaps all of us would be wise to remember that the Bible contains not only R rated material, but some X rated sections as well (cf. Song of Songs). As one pundit wrote, “The Good Book has never been particularly prudish about sex, covering rape, marital relations, incest, prostitution and endless begetting. However, Smith may be the only one who has illustrated them with LEGOs.” Say what you want about Smith–he knows how to sell books!!

More to the point, would Smith’s book be so outrageously sacrilegious when we compare it to comedians on prime time television (especially in Israel) doing biblical skits with irreverent humor? No, I don’t think so. Sometimes religious people really lack a sense of humor. Perhaps our tendency towards being overly serious could well be one of the reasons why so many people become skeptics in the first place. Continue Reading

Thanks to the Kabbalah Center, the study of Kabbalah has become very well-known throughout much of the Americana landscape. Kabbalah represents the esoteric part of Judaism that tries to understand and articulate the great chain of being (to quote Arthur Lovejoy).

Please don’t get me wrong. I think the Kabbalah Center’s marketing is brilliant; I also think Rabbi Berg and his sons have done a fine job distilling Kabbalah to a general audience—up to a point. On the other hand, the Kabbalah center is run like a business, and its leaders know how to schnorer money—large sums in fact—from its glassy eyed followers.

To the Kabbalah Center’s credit, they have done a masterful job in drawing some of the largest crowds in all of Los Angeles to their weekly services—certainly no small feat. Surprisingly, they stream their services for a live broadcast for people all over the world who are interested in participating in the weekly services. A good friend of mine, is one of many who participate at this electronic minyan.

That being said, one of disturbing things about the popularization of the Kabbalah in general (without casting stones at any one organization), is the tendency for many pseudo-scholars of Kabbalah to merchandize the Kabbalah for personal profit and fame. One Israeli Kabbalist, Rabbi Yosef Pinto charged the basketball star Lebron James a six-figure sum for his Kabbalistic advice. Give me a break. James may be a fantastic basketball player, but he is getting ripped off by one of many Kabbalistic shysters who have perpetuated this myth that they are privy to a secret esoteric wisdom that all the other poor demented fools of the world are not privy to.

As a congregational rabbi, I have seen these types of phonies come and go; they love to pontificate about the wonders of Kabbalah—or should I say, “McMysticism.” For those of you unfamiliar with my term, here is a short definition:  You would never confuse the fast-food world of McDonalds with a real restaurant or bistro known for its fine dining.

The same can and ought to be said about the Kabbalah.

Most of the Kabbalah handbooks and guides written about the Kabbalah by people who do not even know how to read an original Kabbalistic text, much less know how to translate it properly into lucid English prose.  Or take for example, Rabbi David Batzri: Here’s a tech-savvy exorcist who recently attempted the world’s first exorcism via Skype.  [See my earlier piece on this telephonic Kabbalist) His father, R. Yitzchak Batzri and his host of other rabbis, decided to fly over Israel and say some prayers designed to prevent the spread of swine Flu from spreading in Israel.

On the other hand, there are some Kabbalists like Abraham Isaac Kook, whose words are so beautiful and lyrical; one can easily see that Jewish mysticism can be uplifting and personally transforming.  The same may be said of the 20^th century Jewish moralist, R. Eliyahu Dessler, who often makes use of Kabbalistic motifs that have practical significance.  Martin Buber’s genius can be seen in how he simplifies the Hassidic message in a way that is both  transpersonal and inspiring.

How can you tell a real Kabbalist from a pretender?

• For one thing, a true Kabbalist will not perpetuate the myth that he is a Jewish guru and that you are nothing more than one of his mindless drones.

• A real Kabbalist will help you get in touch with your own inner truth through the imagery of Jewish mysticism.

• A real Kabbalist does not live for the photo-op, nor does he perpetuate infomercials about his methodology in the name of God and capitalism.
• A real Kabbalist could care less about the celebrities he hangs out with.

In sum, Kabbalistic wisdom  is a lot like Mother Goose’s nursery rhyme about “The Girl with the Curl.”

There was a little girl who had a little curl

Right in the middle of her forehead;

When she was good, she was very, very good,

And when she was bad she was horrid.

The same can be said about the Kabbalah: Continue Reading

One of Erich Fromm’s most penetrating insights pertains to his distinction between authoritarian vs. humanistic religion.  Fromm’s “You Shall Be as Gods: A Radical Interpretation of the Old Testament and Its Tradition” is one of the most remarkable books I have ever read on the early chapters of Genesis. This book is a personal favorite. Although Fromm wrote this book back in 1966, much of the book has great applications for today’s troubled times.

In the first stage of human development, Fromm contends that the primitive origins of religion in the Bible began with a rudimentary understanding of the gods. Ancient biblical writers conceived of God as an authoritarian power. In the early chapters of Genesis, God (upon a whim)—decides to terminate His own Creation! (See Gen. 6:7; 8:21).

However, as humankind evolves, the early biblical theology of God undergoes a metamorphic change. After the Flood, God promises humankind that He will no longer act like an authoritarian dictator, decreeing death upon everyone and everything. Human courts now must bear the onus of carrying out God’s justice (Gen 8:16; 9:5-6; Exod. 21-23ff.).

Fromm argues that the covenant represents one of the most important developments in the history of Judaism—and religion. God now becomes a constitutional monarch who respects human freedom, and partakes in a freedom that God Himself actually shares. Both parties must treat life with respect and honor sentience. As God’s co-partner, Abraham holds God morally accountable; Abraham demands that even the wretched Sodomites receive a fair hearing and acts as their defense attorney!  No longer are human beings at the mercy of a capricious God, fearful of God’s penchant for random acts of violence. Even the most awful citizen is entitled to a trial and has a presumption of innocence until the court arrives at its decision.

In the biblical consciousness, the Bible refines the idea of the covenant, and eventually God makes a covenant with Israel to embody the principles of justice and equity that now characterize ethical monotheism. Israel’s task is to model and bear witness to this radical new message of faith to a cynical world. The ethos of the Exodus and its vision of liberation must pertain to all of society’s indignant and marginalized people. [1]

The biblical drama is replete with stories where mere mortals contend with God, challenging the limits of divine forgiveness and tolerance.  There is a reason why Abraham or Moses and numerous other biblical heroes and prophets challenge God’s tendency to relapse and assume authoritarian power once again.[3]

After everything has been said and done, ancient Israel gradually came to a new understanding of Divine power, one that is ethically engaged with the welfare of Creation. Thus, the second stage of human evolution is the notion of the covenant, which binds God and humans alike to a moral code.

Of course this has important social implications for human beings.  For one thing, no authority—human or Divine—can break the power and purity of human conscience. Although YHWH makes a wager with Satan to test the moral strength of Job, Job forces God to stand trial. Not even God can escape the moral arena of justice. Although Fromm does not refer to the binding of Isaac, Fromm would undoubtedly have viewed the narrative in Kantian terms, where God expects Abraham to simply say “No . . .” to the Divine behest ordering him to offer his son as a sacrifice. More importantly, Fromm asserts the entire ethos of biblical and rabbinical literature[3]weighs decidedly against God’s occasional use of autocratic power.

Fromm then develops what he calls, the third stage of religious evolution—the notion of a Nameless God, Who is man’s eternal dialogical partner. The Bible’s war against idolatry is predicated on the belief that man cannot merely talk about God, but must talk to God. Human constructs of God, as Maimonides writes in his Guide to the Perplexed, end up in creating an idolatrous image of God—and cognitive images of God’s Reality are potentially more damaging than the graven kind, and much harder to eradicate because they reify the Divine! The God image of the Bible evolves as people come to understand the moral implications of ethical monotheism. From this perspective, the God-human relationship is no longer confrontational; rather, each party is bound to the eternal principles of truth and justice. God is no longer viewed as an extrinsic force to human history, but instead moves within history—not as a coercive force, but as a persuasive force commanding humanity to honor the moral voice of conscience. Up to a point Fromm agrees with Maimonides, but he goes somewhat beyond Maimonides and asserts that humanity’s spiritual evolution depends upon letting go of its pagan concepts of a capricious and authoritarian God.

The early 20^th century Jewish mystic and scholar Abraham Isaac Kook offers words that fit well with the sentiment expressed in Maimonides and Fromm:

• The greatest impediment to the human spirit, upon reaching maturity, results from the fact that the conception of God is crystallized among people in a particular form, which goes back to childish habit and imagination. This is an aspect of making a “graven image” or a “likeness of God,” against which we must always beware, particularly in an epoch of greater intellectual enlightenment.[4]

Kook is correct. Sometimes people never outgrow the childish perceptions they have of God. Faith demands wrestling with our beliefs, testing them, and purifying them from their conceptual dross.  Kook adds further:

• All the ideological arguments among people and all the inner conflicts that every individual suffers in his own world outlook are caused by a confused conception of God . . . .One must always cleanse one’s thoughts about God to make sure they are free of the dross of deceptive fantasies, of groundless fear, of evil inclinations, of wants and inadequacies. Faith in God must enhance human happiness . . . . When the duty to honor God is conceived of in an enlightened manner, it raises human worth and the worth of all creatures, filling them with largeness of spirit, combined with genuine humility. But a crude conception of God tends toward the idolatrous, and degrades the dignity of man and of other beings  . . . [5]

Historically, every Western religion has at different times of its history, embraced attitudes toward the Other that may justifiably be called “anti-life.” It behooves the children of all the Abrahamic faiths to find a way to spiritually sublimate the texts of terror. The true “holy war” is the war against one’s own darker impulses; recognizing the human penchant for violence and taking steps to control these urges is the only way to ensure the survival of the human species. Humanistic religion, as understood and developed by Fromm and Kook, offer a powerful path to transform the darkness of today’s religious societies into communities that honor life with reverence and respect.

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).

===============

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.