Rabbi Michael Leo Samuel

I could not help but read the Chabad reaction to Shmuley Boteach’s new book, Kosher Jesus. Most of us, who have no inner access to the Chabad inner circle, might be surprised by the ferocity of the Lubavitchers’ reactions.

Rabbi Yitzchok Wolf, Dean of SJ Abrams Cheder Lubavitch Hebrew Day School in Chicago, wrote a scathing attack on Boteach’s book, even though he did not bother reading it. Wolf writes, “With utter contempt I have read the title of Shmuely Boteach’s new book ‘Kosher [Yoshke].’” Note that “Yoshke” is the contemptuous name Hasidic Jews give to Jesus.

Wolf goes on to say, “This book is telling the Jews to reclaim J…, the authentic J…, the historical J…, the Jewish J….” and to be inspired by his “beautiful” teachings, as this author and TV show host told Ha’aretz this week in Jerusalem. This book poses great danger to thousands of unsuspecting Jews who are approached daily by Jews for J with the sole purpose of getting them to embrace Christianity. To Jews for J this book will now become the Jewish Rabbinical textbook urging embracing Yoshke as an authentic Jew, urging us to be inspired by him, G-d forbid.”

My old Professor Lewis Rambo (no relation to Sylvester Stallone) once explained how closed societies build a force field around their communities; contact with undesirable people or thinkers are in a manner of speaking, quarantined. Since Boteach’s days at the Chabad House of Oxford, G.B., Chabad has always viewed Boteach with suspicion. After all, what kind of Chabadnik writes articles for Playboy Magazine, or associates with people like Michael Jackson?

The other reactions from the Lubavitcher community are laced with criticism. “Thank you for saying what nobody seems to have the courage to say…” Another person writes, “Thank you Rabbi Wolf, it is refreshing to see a Shliach [Lubavitcher emissary] who is not afraid of what others will think, and not afraid to say the truth… The silence is deafening . . . we should be hearing an outcry”

Reacting to Wolf’s condemnation of Kosher Jesus, one man writes, “This is quite possibly the most judgmental, disparaging, close minded statement EVER made on this site. It’s obscene and unheard of to not only “judge’ but condemn a book by its cover.”

Then again, the critic cites Wolf, “There is absolutely no need to read the actual content of the book; the title will do more harm than imaginable, Heaven forbid!!

The condemnations get even more interesting:

• I  just read the Ha’aretz article and comments—what Boteach has done is a complete Chillul HaShem. He has no Rav, no Mashpia and clearly suffers from delusions of grandeur and messianic complex. I used to like Shmuely until I was in Israel and turned on the television in my hotel room to discover him on his show with a women who had been recently widowed and he COULDN’T STOP HUGGING HER. He decided that shomer nagiah no longer applies to him. To me, that was the beginning of the end. We cannot trust anything he says or does. Will the frum world put him in Cherem? We must take action to stop this ego maniacal monster. He is rewriting our holy Torah.

Another reader argues that public condemnations of Boteach’s book are actually helping Boteach sell more books! He writes:

• Rabbi Wolf, how much did Shmuely pay you to make this most horrendous statement? Nothing sells books like controversy. You noticed the title (don’t judge a book by its cover) and what was written second hand. Had you a least gone to Amazon and read the table of contents, you would have seen a major section of the book is “WHY JEWS CAN’T BELIEVE IN J.”Seems you have been duped.

One person makes an observation that I completely endorse.

• Rabbi Boteach’s book shows that Yushke wanted people to keep Halacha completely and shows that Yushke did not think he was a god, and that the Christians rewrote his life story and lied about him. There are 100,000 Jews who have converted to Christianity in America and no one is successfully doing anything to reach out to them and bring them back to torah. This book could help them return to Yiddishkeit. This book {shows}Christianity is a lie and is a very good tool in anti missionary work.

This particular respondent hits the nail on its head. Boteach has taken a bold step in trying to reach out to the Messianic Jewish community, in an effort to raise some cognitive dissonance among its ranks.

Personally, I have engaged a number of “Jews for Jesus” in discussion with the sole purpose of showing them how and why the Jesus of Christianity is the creation of Paul and the Early Church Fathers. Historically, Jesus’s brother James, felt nothing but contempt for Paul. In his view, Paul transformed Jesus into something that was totally alien to Jesus’s overall message. Once I have demonstrated James’ negative opinion of Paul the Apostle, a fair number of the Jews for Jesus have abandoned their cult, and I have helped many of them return to Judaism. In the controversial 1988 film, The Last Temptation of Jesus Christ, producer Martin Scorsese (a Catholic), took quite a bit of heat from the Christian world when he portrayed Jesus as a sensuous man, who marries Mary Magdalene, raises a huge family and lives a full life.

True to my contrarian nature, I argued that the real heresy is when Jesus in a vision (produced by Satan himself), hears Paul the Apostle preaching about the miracle of Jesus’ resurrection; Jesus discovers that his mother was a virgin, while he is  “son of God.” Jesus confronts Paul, and asks him, “Did you ever see this ‘Jesus of Nazareth?’  Paul sheepishly admits, all he saw was the blinding white light on his way to Damascus.

Jesus then reveals his identity to Paul. Bluntly, Jesus asks, “Why are you promoting this nonsense about me ‘rising from the dead’ ?  . . . I live a normal and happy life for the first time . . .” and he threatened to expose Paul for the fraud he was.  Paul basically admits that he made up the story because people need someone to believe in and that he was willing to make up just about anything so that people would believe in something that would give purpose to their lives.  Striking is Paul’s comment, “I will crucify you and resurrect you if I have to. . .  The Jesus Christ I believe in is greater than you . . .”

It is a pity Shmuely does not refer to the Last Temptation. It’s a greater pity Shmuely didn’t write an entire chapter about James, Jesus’s brother. Unlike Paul, who believes a man is saved by faith alone, James differs; he is concerned about the primacy of deeds; behavior reflects one’s true values and faith more so than all the platitudes about faith. No man can be “saved” by faith alone—as Paul taught, but each man can gain Eternity through living an ethical life that includes integrity and compassion. When reading the book of James, we can better understand Jesus’s real message. It is a pity the Early Church did not name itself, “Paulanity,” instead of “Christianity.” Paul alienated the Jewish community from Jesus more than anyone else. Boteach seems to share this position as well. It is a pity that Lubavitchers are not looking at the total picture here.

Lubavitchers do not want to know anything about Jesus. For them, Jesus is the reason why so many Jews have died throughout for almost 2000 years. The Rebbe and his followers would rather hold on to a medieval mindset and ignore the facts that contradict rabbinic opinions found in the Talmud and Maimonides.

Modern NT scholars have shown that the historical Jesus is not the same as the Jesus of Paul and the Early Church. The Jesus Seminar scholars have done a fabulous job showing the evolution of the NT and how the New Testament assumed its present form.

If Jesus were to appear today, he would scarcely recognize the religion that has arisen in his name. In all likelihood, he would attend a synagogue for Shabbat services and conduct himself like a religious Jew—and not a Christian. Continue Reading

It’s a pity many Hasidic Jews do not study or take to heart the Ba’al Shem Tov’s ethical message about loving one’s neighbor as oneself. It’s also a pity when outstanding Lithuanian scholars don’t live by the ethical imperatives found in the Talmud and Midrashic literature.

The ancient Sages of Israel often debated about the ethical hierarchy of precepts. Such debates existed even in the first century. In the NT, a Pharisee asks Jesus:

• “Teacher, which commandment in the law is the greatest?” He said to him, “‘You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your mind.’ This is the greatest and first commandment. And a second is like it: ‘You shall love your neighbor as yourself.’ On these two commandments hang all the law and the prophets.”[1]

In the Halachic midrashim of the second century, the early Sages also occupied themselves with similar questions.  They asked: What is the most fundamental ethical principle of the Torah? Rabbi Akiba derives his ethos from the verse, “Love your neighbor as yourself” (Lev. 19:18). Ben Azzai differs: “Do not say, ‘Since I have already been put to shame, it does not matter to me, whether somebody shamed my neighbor!’ “Not so,” says Ben Azai, “Shaming is wrong, for God has made every person in his likeness.”

Put in more contemporary terms: Self-respect begins with realizing the unique image of God that each human being possesses. Recognizing this ethical reality holds the key to recognizing this quality in others. Even when someone shames you, such disparaging treatment does not entitle you to reciprocate in kind—even in the face of provocation. All forms of human degradation harm the divine image, while denying the essential brotherhood and sisterhood of humankind. Affirming the Divine image is by far the most comprehensive principle of the entire Torah—it is the essence of all biblical morality.[2]

For R. Akiba, love is the highest value for interpersonal relationships. However, for Ben Azzai, human society depends upon respecting the divine image in oneself and others. Without this principle, how will the human community survive? Elsewhere, Ben Azzai extols the uniqueness of the human individual, “Do not despise any human being and do not consider anything as improbable—for there is not a man who does not have his hour, and there is not a thing which does not have its place.”[3]  There is no human being in this world that does not have the capacity for excellence and spiritual growth.

Going one step further, there is a rabbinic poignant story which deepens this point of Ben Azzai:

• Rabbi Shimon ben Elazar had returned from a trip in Migdal Eder, from his teacher’s house. As he was riding on his horse, he met a certain man who was exceedingly ugly. Rabbi Shimon said to him, “Raka (simpleton), how ugly are the children of Abraham our father.” The other man replied, “There is nothing I can do about this! Why do you not complain to the Craftsman who made me?” Rabbi Shimon immediately alighted from his horse and bowed before the man saying, “I apologize to you, please forgive me.” He replies to him, “I will not forgive you until you go to the Craftsman Who made me and say, “How ugly is the vessel which You have made.” Rabbi Shimon walks behind him for three miles. When the townspeople heard of Rabbi Shimon’s arrival, they came out and met him; they greeted him with the words, “Peace be unto you, rabbi.” The other man says to them, “Who are you calling rabbi?” They reply, “The man who is walking behind you.” He then exclaims, “If this man is a ‘rabbi,’ I sure hope he is the last of his kind in Israel!” He told the people the whole story, and the townspeople begged him to forgive the rabbi, and he agrees, only on one condition—he must never act in this manner toward anyone again.[4]

As is the case with so many of the rabbinic anecdotes dealing with ethics and human nature, this story is a good example of how the Jewish community understood the image of God in practical and ethical terms. According to R. Abraham Isaac Kook, the love of humankind and God are insuperably related. One cannot love God and hate His creation.  According to Kook, the love of humankind must transcend the narrow confines of tribal loyalty; it is all-inclusive of every religious and ethnic grouping. In Kook’s description, one sees the complete synthesis of Ben Azzai and R. Akiba:

• Love for humankind must be alive in one’s heart and soul—love for each individual separately, and love for all nations, [together with] desire for their advancement and for their spiritual and material progress—… an inner love from the depths of one’s heart and soul, to be beneficent to all nations, to add to their material wealth, and to increase their happiness.…The highest form of love for all creatures is love for human beings, and it must include all people . . .For only when one is infused with love for God’s creatures and all humankind can one elevate love of country to its most noble level, both spiritually and materially. Narrow-mindedness, which results in seeing everything outside the boundaries of one’s own country—even if that country is Israel—as repulsive and unclean, is extremely contemptible; it leads to wide destruction of every valuable spiritual resource to which every decent person looks for enlightenment. [5]

Notes:

[1] NT. Matthew 22:36-40.

[2] Sifra, Kedoshim 4:12. In Genesis Rabba 24:7, the order is reversed, but there can be little doubt that the Sifra represents the older of the two traditions.

[3] Mishnah Aboth 4:3.

[4]  Tractate Derech Eretz  (Chapter 4).

[5] Cited from M. Elon, Jewish Law: History, Sources,Principles = Ha-mishpat ha-Ivri (Philadelphia: Jewish Publication Society, 1994), Vol. 3, 1852.

Biblical commentators love to portray Noah as a man who truly loved God for saving his family, even though the rest of the world perished. However, one could argue that Noah is not motivated by love, but by fear—and for good reason.

8:20 וַיִּבֶן נֹחַ מִזְבֵּחַ  – Then Noah built an altar — Without delay, Noah immediately builds an altar after reaching dry-land. The Torah did not disclose what may have been the motivation behind Noah’s sacrifice.

Noah does not offer a sin offering, nor does he sacrifice a thanksgiving offering as one might expect. At this point, let us ask a relevant question: What is the psychology that prompts the desire to offer a sacrifice? The giving of a gift, even between human beings, is not a purely external transaction; at the same time it establishes a personal relationship between giver and recipient.  Giving a gift creates a bond of friendship, which on some psychological level bounds the person receiving the gift to the giver.

Gift giving may be based on a desire to “buy” the affection of another. Anthropology teaches that archaic man often offered sacrifices as a bribe to the gods for personal enrichment or to placate the gods so they would not harm the worshiper.

While Noah may have felt compelled to offer thanksgiving for his miraculous deliverance from danger, it is also possible that Noah chose to “bribe” God because of his anxiety. Would God someday unleash another disaster to destroy the world and his future descendants?

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Birth and Rebirth Through Genesis: A Timeless Theological Conversation — Vol. 2 Genesis 4-11.

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As we have pointed out in other postings, a strong case can be made that one of the most serious  “deadly sins” of history is the sin of misogyny. Every faith grapples with this problem in one form or another. In Judaism, there is a well known blessing men say every day upon getting up in the morning:

“Blessed are you, Lord, our God, ruler the universe who has not created me a woman.”

The Original Rabbinical Source of the Blessing

The origin of this prayer is found in the Tosefta to Berakhot 6:16 that reads:

R. Judah says: “A man is bound to say the following three blessings daily: (1) ‘[Blessed are You . . .] Who has not made me a heathen’, ‘. . . . (2) Who has not made me a woman’; and  (3) ‘ . . . who has not made me an uncouth person.’”

The Tosefta then explains its rational:  (1)    “. . . a heathen,” because it is written: ^‘Before him all the nations are as nought, as nothing and void he accounts them,’” (Isa. 40:17). (2)   “. . . an uncouth person,” because it is said, “an uncouth person cannot be pious” (Avot 2:5). (3)   “. . . a woman,” for women are not legally required to observe all the precepts.

To what is this matter (i.e., gentile, uncouth people, women who perform the precepts) analogous to? A mortal king once said to his servant, ‘Go cook a meal for me.’ However, unbeknownst to the king, the servant had never cooked a meal in his life! After cooking a meal, the king got upset with him. Another analogy: A king once asked his servant to hem a garment for him, but having never hemmed a garment before, the servant ruined the garment, thus angering the king. [The moral of the story: Let those who are unfamiliar with the observance of the commandments be exempt from observing them, lest they be an affront to their Maker.]

It is interesting to note that unlike the canned apologetic responses seen in subsequent rabbinic literature, which purports that women are essentially exempt from the performance of certain time-bound precepts because of her family obligations, the Tosefta dismisses such a perspective. Her legal exemption from the commandments is because of incompetence and not because of the lack of opportunity.

Re-interpreting the Tosefta

The Talmud discusses part of the Tosefta in BT Menachot 43b:

A learned discussion began: “ R. Judah [1] used to say, ‘A man is bound to say the following three blessings daily: ‘[Blessed are You . . .] who has not made me a heathen’, ‘. . . . who hast not made me a woman’; and ‘ . . . who hast not made me a brutish man.’

One of the Sages, R. Aha b. Jacob, once overhead his son saying ‘[Blessed are You. . .] who has not made me a brutish man’, when he immediately said to him, ‘Isn’t this blessing a tad bit presumptuous?’ (Who says the rabbis didn’t have a wry sense of humor?) His son retorted, ‘OK, what would you have me say instead?’ Surely it is better to say, ‘. . . Who has not made me a slave.’ Once again his son retorted, “ How is this blessing different from that of a woman (seeing that neither one is fully obligated to carry out the precepts of the Torah; in fact they are on equal footing in terms of their obligations)?  His father rejoined, “A slave is more contemptible” (since his character is generally prone to licentious behavior, which is not the case with women). 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

• 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

Jewish folklore has always tantalized the imagination of young Jewish children for ages. One of the most memorable books I remember reading was Nathan Ausbell’s brilliant, “Treasury of Jewish Folklore,” which I loved reading when I was about eleven years old. The stories of the Golem, and other tales of the Jewish supernatural were almost as good as reading comic-books!

One story that is among the most famous stories concerns a 1^st century rabbi, named Simeon ben Shetach, who single-handedly killed eighty witches in the town of Ashkelon.

Here is the story:

• After R. Simeon ben Shetah was designated head of the Sanhedrin, some people came and told him, “There are eighty witches in a cave in Ashkelon, bent on destroying the world.” On that day there was a heavy rainstorm. Still R. Simeon ben Shetah arose at once, gathered eighty young men of tall stature, and took them with him. He gave each one a new jug with a cloak folded up in it, and they placed the jugs upside down on their heads. Then R. Simeon said to them, “When I chirp the first time, put on your cloaks. When I chirp a second time, all of you enter the cave together. After you enter, each of you is to take one of the witches into his arms and lift her off the ground.” For such is the way of a witch–once you lift her off the ground, she can do nothing at all. Then R. Simeon went and stationed himself at the entrance to the cave and called to the witches, “Oyim, oyim, open for me, for I am one of you.” They asked, “How did you manage to come here bone-dry at such a rainy hour?” He replied, “I walked between the raindrops.” They: “What did you come to do here?” He: “To study and to teach, and to have each of you do what she knows.” So one intoned whatever [incantation] she intoned and produced a loaf of bread; another intoned something else and produced a cut of meat; a third produced a cooked dish; and a fourth produced wine. Then they asked him, “And you, what can you do?” He said, “I can chirp twice and produce for you eighty young men wearing dry cloaks. They will find joy in you and give joy to you.” He chirped once, and the young men put on their cloaks. He chirped a second time, and all of them entered the cave together. R. Simeon said, “Let each select his mate.” They picked them up, went out, and hanged them.

• The kinsmen of the eighty women were thereby provoked to anger. Two of them came and bore witness to a charge against R. Simeon ben Shetah’s son, which made him liable to the death penalty, and he was sentenced to be put to death. On his way to be stoned, he said, “If I am guilty of this iniquity, let not my death be my expiation; but if I am not guilty, may my death be expiation for all my iniquitous deeds and may the collar [of perjury] encircle the necks of the witnesses.”When the witnesses heard what he had said, they retracted and confessed, “We are false witnesses.” The father wished to bring his son back [from the place where he was to be stoned]. But the son said, “If you really wish to bring deliverance during your regime, regard me as though I were not your son [and let the Sanhedrin decide my fate]. [From  William G. Braude's trans. of N. Bialik's Sefer Aggadah s.v. witches.]

The story is interesting, largely because R. Simeon ben Shetach ignored what is commonly referred today as, “due process.” In the early posting that I cited concerning Simeon’s observation of a murder crime, which he did not actually see, the alleged assailant was ultimately killed by a poisonous serpent. Although there was no actual due process, the assailant met his fate by the hand of God.

Simeon ben Shetach’s behavior is surprising. Why did he take it upon himself to rid the inhabitants of their alleged witches?   Why did he violate the rabbinic law that no court is allowed to execute more than two people a day? From the sound of the Talmudic narrative, it seems that Simeon acted as judge, witness, jury, and executioner—all in one. How could he flagrantly violate the due process law of Jewish tradition?

I came across a fascinating study by Meir Bar-Ilan, who writes extensively about the nature of witchcraft in the ancient Judaic world. Many of his observations may offer (with some tweaking on my part), a possible answer to our questions. According to Prof. Meir Bar-Ilan [1], women in the Talmudic era were not the only ones who engaged in witchcraft, indeed, many men—especially rabbis—frequently participated in witchcraft, yet nobody thought to hold them accountable.[2] He explains the reason why they were singled out for oppression and not the menfolk!

• Linking women to witchcraft can serve as a lesson in suppressing a lower social class, but also in how the stronger class can strengthen its political status. One should also note another aspect of the sexual division in the issue at hand. In reality, all the sources which deplore women for their witchcraft are “male” sources. All the books quoted above were written, to the best of our knowledge, by men, and R. Yose and R. Simeon bar Yohai, who deplored women because of witchcraft, were also men. Indeed, one should note that the same R. Simeon bar Yohai who deplored women for their witchcraft was himself involved in witchcraft. After all, we are told that he removed a spirit which had entered into the body of the emperor’s daughter (Me’ilah 17b), i.e., he was engaged in exorcism. It was R. Simeon bar Yohai who looked at his opponent and turned him into a heap of bones (JT Shevi’it 9:1, 38d), or, in other words, by the use of the “Evil Eye”. So too are other miraculous deeds attributed to him.[3]

He further argues that in a male dominated culture like that of the Pharisees and their rabbinic successors, women did not enjoy equal political power like the men (he neglects to mention that Queen Alexandra Salome was the exception to the rule). As one might expect, men often blamed women for all the ills of their society—hence, executing witches was seen as something good for the social order—even though the rabbis violated rabbinical and Scriptural laws to do so. Bar-Ilan further points out that some of the Sages were of the opinion that most Jewish women participated in witchcraft! Because of their powerlessness in a male-dominated society, women sometimes resorted to witchcraft as a way of empowering themselves in an oppressive world.

There may be yet another factor to consider. According to the JT in Sanhedrin, it appears as though the leaders of Jerusalem were somewhat divided upon who should be the head of the Sanhedrin. There may have been a political motivation that would secure his position as the leader of the Sanhedrin instead of R. Yehuda ben Tabbai, who appears to have been a possible competitor.[4] R. Simeon ben Shetach’s political promises probably appealed to the arch-conservatives of his time who simply hated women. Bar-Ilan is correct in also pointing out that misogyny was very rampant in much of the early rabbinical world, and a number of rabbis had no qualms speaking disparaging comments about the nature of women in general.[5]

The death of R. Simeon ben Shetach’s son may be more the result of tallionic justice than a mere happenstance. In the rabbinical imagination, there is a principle of divine justice that always operates in the world—whether people are aware of it or not. The false charges levied upon R. Simeon ben Shetach’s son, his subsequent execution indicates that here is an example of a son suffering because of the sins of the father. Because of Simeon’s disregard for due process, and his failure to interrogate witnesses properly—he paid a tragic price. Heaven decreed against him, because his actions violated the ethics of the Torah regarding capital punishment.

This personal tragedy may also explain the sobering advice attributed to R. Simeon ben Shetach in Pirke Avoth, “Do much in examining the witnesses; and be careful in thy words; perchance by means of them they may learn to lie.”[6] This teaching would suggest that there is always a punishment from God whenever people try to manipulate the legal system to arrive at a foregone conclusion. Indeed, who would know better than R. Simeon ben Shetach? Continue Reading

One of my favorite stories about the holiday of Sukkoth comes from the 18^th century.

The Duke of Manheim asked R’ Zvi of Berlin: “Why do children ask the ‘Four Questions’ on Passover and not on Sukkot? It would appear that Sukkot brings more changes to their lives than Passover does! For example: during Sukkoth, everyone eats their meals outside in the Sukkah, such a tradition does not exist with Passover  . . .”

R’ Zvi answered the Duke’s question with sardonic wit, “During the Passover Seder, the child sees everyone sitting around the table, at ease like free men, and not like a wandering people in exile. This brute fact arouses the child’s curiosity and he asks the obvious question: ‘Why is this night different?’ On Sukkot, however, the child sees Jews exiled from their homes and without a true roof over their heads. That does not surprise him at all; Jews have always lived that way, ever since they first went into exile.”

Freedom for the Jew living in Europe seemed more like a dream, rather than a reality.

As I pondered this story, I decided to double-check the historical records of various different expulsions of Jewish history—if only to satisfy my curiosity.

Here is a cursory glance at many of the wanderings our people have experienced over the last 2000 years.

250 — – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – Carthage

415 — – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – Alexandria

554 — – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – Diocèse of Clermont (France)

561 — – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – Diocèse of Uzès (France)

612 — – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – Visigoth Spain

642 — – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – Visigoth Empire

A member of the western Goths that invaded the Roman Empire in the fourth century settled in France and Spain, and established a monarchy that lasted until the early eighth century. The Arian Visigoths were also tolerant of Jews. However, the Visigothic persecution of Jews began after Visigothic King Reccared converted to Catholicism. Shortly after the King was elected,  the bishops urged him to declare that all Jews must be baptized or expelled. Sound familiar? Now let’s look at some other dates of Jewish history where this same pattern reoccurred:

855 — – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – Italy

876 — – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – Sens

1012   — – - – - – - – - – - – —-Mainz

Note: 1012  – Emperor Henry II of Germany expels Jews from Mainz; this marked the beginning of persecutions against Jews in Germany.  As you can see, by the time Martin Luther had come around, anti-Semitism had several centuries to gestate in Germany.

• In 1290, King Edward I issued an edict expelling all Jews from England. Lasting for the rest of the Middle Ages, it would be over 350 years until it was formally overturned in 1656, thanks to the efforts of Oliver Cromwell and Rabbi Manasseh ben Israel, the famous Jewish leader of Amsterdam. The edict was not an isolated incident, but the culmination of over 200 years of conflict on the matters of usury.

Note: 1306  The Expulsion from France. Jewish wealth was more often than not the main motivation in the Jews’ expulsion from these countries. The Catholic Church coveted Jewish money, and their local leaders frequently used religion as an excuse to rid their countries of the Jews.

Historically, the Jews had settled in France for well over a thousand years, but this quickly changed when Philip Augustus came to power in 1179. Augustus decided to rid the country of his Jewish citizens so he could confiscate their wealth and also solidify his power as King. He used the infamous blood libel canard as his excuse.

I will not go into further detail about the other expulsions; I just wanted to provide some simple illustrations why the Rabbi Tvi of Berlin was more correct than many people might realize.

The various expulsions of the Jews illustrates the morally bankrupt polices that governed the Christian world all the way up to the modern period. The Holocaust would never have been possible had the Christian world not already prepared the ascent of Hitler by promoting the Jew in the most disparaging light.  It is a pity that Christianity has rarely ever practiced the precept of forgiving one’s enemies, as Jesus instructed in his Sermon on the Mount and in other NT narratives (cf. Matt. 5:43-44; Luke 17:2-4, passim). Jews have been unforgiven–even though 2000 years separate their 1st century ancestors. I often wonder what Jesus himself would say to his followers, “Ladies and gentlemen, I think you got it all wrong . . .”

Most modern Jews tend to think that anti-Semitism is not especially virulent in the United States. However, in troubled times such as ours, it could very easily become a spiritual airborne virus. Today, with the Occupy Wall Street crowd, once again we are hearing many of the same type of canards against “Jewish money” that we have heard long ago.

Sukkoth reminds us that anti-Semitism is a disease that transcends geographical boundaries. More importantly, Sukkot teaches all human beings the importance of creating shelter for the homeless and the vagabonds, who more often than not, become the scapegoats for a troubled society.

Remarkably, much of the Sukkot holiday focuses on the importance of hospitality. Despite the countless expulsions of our people, Jews celebrated Sukkoth by creating shelter for all those who found themselves on the ragged edge of life. I, for one, am very proud of how Israel has welcomed so many refugees who have been rejected by their original country of origin.  Since her inception as a nation, Israel absorbed over a million Jews, who were kicked out of the Arab countries in 1948.  Thousands of Druze also found sanctuary in Israel, as well as the Bahai, whose Temple was rebuilt in Haifa.

Israel is the only country that protects the rights of its Arab citizens as well. I would also add that when people suffer from natural or man-made catastrophes anywhere around the world, Israel is always there to offer a helping hand—creating shelter wherever possible. In the early 1970s, Israel welcomed the famous Vietnamese boat people, and later Christian Ethiopians, Sudanese refugees, and numerous other ethnic groups.

Much of historical memory is rooted in the biblical injunctions, “You shall not wrong a stranger or oppress him, for you were strangers in the land of Egypt” (Exod. 22:20). “You shall not oppress a stranger, for you know the soul of the stranger, having yourselves been strangers in the land of Egypt” (Exod. 23:9). Think about it. There are thirty-six warnings against exploiting the resident alien, who frequently was at the mercy of the host country. Sound familiar?

With 36 warnings against unsuitable behavior toward a stranger, no other commandment is referred to as frequently as much as this particular biblical proscription. Our tradition teaches us over and over again: “You shall love the stranger…The resident stranger that dwells with you shall be unto you as the home-born among you, and you shall love him as yourself, for you were strangers in the land of Egypt” (Lev. 19:34).

Henri Nouwen, the distinguished Catholic theologian writes about the basic essential qualities of hospitality shortly before he died:

• In a world full of strangers, estranged from their own past, culture, and country, from their neighbors, friends, and family, from their deepest self and their God, we witness a painful search for a hospitable place where life can be lived without fear…That is our vocation, to convert the hostis into hospes, the enemy into a guest and to create the free and fearless space where brotherhood and sisterhood can be formed and fully expressed. Continue Reading

There is nothing in the Torah, or in the Talmud and Midrash, or Kabbala that would suggest that there is a supremely evil being that is determined to wage war against God. The noun “Satan” in the Tanakh simply means “adversary” or, “to oppose.” The Hebrew term appears in Numbers 22:22,32; 1 Samuel 29:4; 2 Samuel 19:22; 1 Kings 5:4; 11:14,23,25; Psalm 109:6, normally translated in English as adversary or accuser. In Job 1-2; Zechariah 3:2; and 1 Chronicles 21:1 the same term is translated as a proper name and designates the angel that acts as the “Public Prosecutor.”

The passage in 1 Chronicles 21:1 is based upon the parallel story in 2 Samuel 24:1, but it is God who entices David to count his people and not Satan! The Satanic angel who serves as Public Prosecutor is not an apostate nor is it some fallen being, an idea that is nowhere suggested in the Hebrew Bible. However, it is in the apocryphal books of the Bible and the Dead Sea Scrolls we find that Satan who is more commonly referred to as “Bliyal” (“the baseless one”), is portrayed as the “Adversary of God.”

Apocryphal literature later influenced the early Christian Bible. In the Book of John (16:11) for instance, Satan appears with a capital “S.” Matthew, Mark, and Luke clearly accept and teach a doctrine of a personal Satan and called the Satanic agents, “fallen angels” or “demons” (Mark 3:22). Sometimes referred to as Lucifer, Christian legends teach that Satan vaingloriously sought to overturn the regime in heaven and waged war against God’s loyalists. Defeated by the Archangel Michael, the angel who would be God was cast into his inferno, to brood in the darkness, “hatching vain empires.” Satan did not go unescorted, along with him went about a third of the heavenly host, a horde of fallen angels.

According to Christian doctrine, angels were created separately and were given free will, just as humans were. Their “fallenness” had to do with a denial and distortion of angelic life just as human fallenness has to do with the denial and distortion of goodness and truth. In contrast, normative Judaic faith teaches that only humanity was endowed with freedom of choices; angels are often described as “omdim” (beings who occupy a stationary position cf. Isaiah 6:2, Eze. 1:21-25, 10:3-6) while human beings are described as “mehalchim” (movers) for only human beings are capable of transcending their baser natures. Angels are often compared to animals (cf. Eze.1:5) because the character of angels is instinctive much like an animals’ instinct. Angels cannot help but be what God intended for them to be. Their being and personality are defined by their nature.

This may also explain why they are sometimes referred to as seraphim (“fiery ones”) as in Isaiah 6:2, because it is the nature of fire to ascend and so it is the angelic nature to also “ascend” to God much in the same manner. Other times angels are called, “hayoth” (= “animals”) as in Eze 1:5, 13, 32.

For poets like Milton, Satan is the archetypal antihero, the rebel who wages eternal guerrilla warfare against his Creator. One famous passage, contains the psychological animus that motivates Satan’s behavior: “ Better to reign is worth ambition though in hell: Better to reign in hell than serve in heav’n . . .”

Maimonides and rabbinic tradition took a much more sober view of Satan. Frequently Maimonides in his “Guide to the Perplexed” argues that Satan is only a metaphor for the evil inclination (Yetzser Hara) and is not a supernatural being. This has some basis in the Talmud (Cf. Bava Batra 16a) but many of the Talmudic rabbis did regard Satan as a supernatural being who serves God by testing humanity’s moral character. Rabbinic tradition even says that Satan’s intent is to serve Heaven, not itself!  R. Levi said, “Both Satan and Peninah both acted with pious intent.”[1] Continue Reading