Book Review: Simcha Raz’s “Tales of the Righteous” 5*

Tales of the Righteous, by Simcha Raz and Rabbi Dov Peretz Elkins, Foreword by Elie Wiesel, Gefen Publishers, 2012, Jerusalem, ISBN 978-965-229-540-8. $24.95.

I enjoyed reading a translation of Simcha Raz’s latest new book, Tales of the Righteous. This book reminded me much of Louis Newman’s classical digest of Hassidic teachings, “Hassidic Anthology.” As a young teenager, Newman’s book inspired me great spiritual strength that pushed me toward the rabbinate. I believe “Tales of the Righteous,” will inspire people who are struggling to find meaning in an age of great upheaval such as ours.

Simcha Raz is no stranger for many of us who loved reading his biography, A Tsadik in Our Time, which tells the remarkable story of one Haredi Judaism’s greatest saints of the 20th century, Rabbi Aryeh Levin. Unlike today’s Haredi leaders, who act as if Zionism is a great sin, Rabbi Levin became famous for his support of the Jewish prisoners that the British held in the time of the Mandate. This man used to memorize thousands of messages each week, since the British did not allow families to contact their loved ones in jail. Every aspect of this man’s life endeared him to every segment of Israeli society.

Simcha Raz reminds all of us that there are truly righteous people among us, whose teachings inspire us to live a life dedicated to personal integrity and compassion.

In the introduction to his new book, Simcha Raz writes a lovely introduction and explains why these stories are spiritually relevant for all of us living today:

• This wide range of stories and tales, with their unique characterization, are laid out in their varied forms in this book. They embrace the entirety of existence, whispering of this world and the World to Come, of the life of matter and of spirit, of the experience of the individual and that of the collective. It is my hope that by reading these stories and tales readers will uncover new landscapes which will deepen their consciousness and bathe them with grace and kindness (p. ix).

The old proverb says it best, “The proof of the pudding is in the eating.” Keeping this thought in mind, here are some choice examples I think our readers will enjoy perusing. The first story I will quote was one of my favorites. Simcha Raz tells us about the great 19th century teacher of the mussar movement, Rabbi Yisrael Salanter (who happens to be one of my ancestors, related on my mother’s side of the family):

  • · Rabbi Yisrael Salanter, father of the Mussar movement, was standing in the marketplace one day engaging in small talk with one of the passersby Rabbi Yisrael continued the conversation with words of humor and wit, causing the listener to laugh at his jokes. People standing by were astonished. Rabbi Yisrael, who was constantly studying Torah, and whose heart was always concerned with issues of import, was just standing around in the marketplace? One of those nearby turned to Rabbi Yisrael and inquired about the reason of his behavior. “What you see is what it is,” responded Rabbi Yisrael. This gentleman is filled with sadness, and a dark bitterness fills his soul. Whoever can make him laugh is doing a great act of kindness (p. 80).

This anecdote reminded of the Talmudic passage, which in all likelihood probably inspired Rabbi Yisrael’s willingness to leave his normal habitat to bring joy to another human being. The Talmud reads:

  • · As Rabbi Joshua and the spirit of Elijah were conversing, two men passed by and Elijah remarked, “These two have a share in the World to Come.” R. Beroka then approached and asked them, “What do you do for a living? They replied, “We are comics; when we see men depressed we cheer them up; furthermore when we see two people quarrelling we strive hard to make peace between them. (BT Ta’anit 22a).

Unlike Newman’s Hassidic Anthology, Raz’s Tales of the Righteous includes numerous stories about non-Hassidic teachers, whose wisdom and wit matches their Hassidic counterparts. The topics vary and each section includes anecdotes that should get in touch with our inner-Hasid or inner-Mitnaged (“Opponents of the Hasidim” who followed in the footsteps of the 18th century rabbinical savant, “The Vilna Gaon). The author selects teaching covering a span of about 240 years.

On the subject of anger, Raz tells another profound anecdote:

  •  A woman once brought her case before a court headed by Rabbi Hayyim Halevy Soloveitchik, only to have the court rule against her. The man became arrogant an angry to the point that she scorned the dignity of Rabbi Hayyim, and one of the judges became angry with her. “Shut up your mouth, you arrogant woman!” he shouted. Rabbi Hayyim silenced the judge, saying, “Why is she subject to your anger? This is a fine Jewish woman, but she is worried about her finances, and her soul is embittered since she believes that she had justice on her side. Therefore she is screaming and furious. Let her yell and ridicule me until she settles down.” (p. 1).

Since we seem to live in a time where people express anger about the Other, here are some choice Hassidic teachings that all of us could certainly take to heart:

  • · We get up in the morning, and immediately get angry. And we look for any excuse to cast our anger and fury on someone—Rabbi Gershon Henokh of Radzin.
  • · Never wear a garment whose top is made of pride, and whose bottom part is made from anger, and is sewn with threads of dark gull.
  •  · The study of Torah is good when combined with a worldly occupation [derech eretz—literally, the way of the earth]” (Pirke Avot 2:2). This counsels us to learn from the earth: The ground gives life to every living thing, and from it all existence emerges. Yet, even though everyone treads on it, it does not get angry or annoyed—Rabbi Avraham “the Angel” (p. 3).
  • · The world is of the opinion that humans have a great virtue in that they are born with the ability to speak. But I think an even greater virtue is that humans are endowed with the ability to listen—Rabbi Naftali of Ropshitz (p. 178).

Raz will often begin a section with some anecdotes and conclude with some pithy remarks and teachings. I enjoyed reading the aphorisms, which for the most part, were quite nice and inspirational. It is a pity he did not add these comments to every topical section, as one might have expected.

On fasting, Raz adds another great aphorism, “It is better to teach the heart, than to teach the stomach to fast” —Rabbi Menahem Mendel of Kotzk.

What kind of audience could Tales of the Righteous appeal to? Well, any synagogue or Havrua might want to use this book in conjunction with the study of Pirke Avoth, which takes place between Passover and Shavuoth.

Each anecdote and aphorism ought to create some lively discussions.

Unfortunately, I did not see any Sephardic teachings in the book . Perhaps in a future edition, the author may want to include some wonderful stories about the Sephardic rabbis whose wisdom touched so many lives. It is also a pity the author did not include any stories or teachings from Rabbi Abraham Isaac Kook, or, Rabbi Aryeh Levin. If nothing else, the words of these two sages would present an alternative view of how Haredi Judaism that is life-affirming and healing for our times. Continue Reading

Better than a thousand hollow words, is one word that brings peace

A congregant shared with me a wonderful story about his little nephew who lived in the State of Illinois. One day, his uncle was trying to teach him some Hebrew blessings.  After he taught him the blessings, he went home. A week later, he asked his nephew, “Do you remember the bracha (blessing) over bread? It goes, ‘Baruch Atah Adonai …’ Do you remember how to say the blessing?”

The little boy said, “Sure, Uncle. Here’s how it goes: I broke my toy in Illinois . . .

It’s one thing when a child makes an error, but it’s quite another matter when diplomats or leaders choose the wrong word in expressing an important communication with another government. A single gaffe can lead to a war!  Human language can be awkward at times. The terms we use to express a specific thought can alter the way others perceive our intentions.   Continue Reading

Rabbi Samuel offers wide-ranging religious discussion in ‘Birth and Rebirth Through Genesis’

Rabbi Samuel offers wide-ranging religious discussion in ‘Birth and Rebirth Through Genesis’


Birth and Rebirth Through Genesis: A Timeless Theological Conversation, Vol. 1: Genesis 1-3 by Rabbi Michael L. Samuel, CreateSpace, ISBN-13: 978-1456301712; ©2011 p. 495, including excursuses, bibliography, and index.

By Fred Reiss, Ed.D.

fred reiss Rabbi Samuel offers wide ranging religious discussion in Birth and Rebirth Through GenesisFred Reiss, Ed.D

WINCHESTER, California – The biblical narrator of the first three chapters of Genesis, whoever he may be: Moses at God’s direction, a divinely inspired priest, or even a scribe recording the most ancient mythology of the Hebrew people, begins with a simple, yet profound sentence, “In the beginning, God created the heavens and the earth.” But, what does this sentence imply and what does it mean? The implication is that there is a creator, whose name is God, and who worked alone to fashion all that there is. And, when was the beginning? What did God use to build the heavens and earth? Were the heavens and earth created from the same thing? Explanations about the allusions and applications of the Torah, the Five Books of Moses, if the Talmudic sages are to be believed, go back to Mt. Sinai in the form of a God-given oral law. Written comments about the Torah’s meaning began about the time of Philo, in the latter part of the first century BCE. Since then hundreds of thousands of pages have been written to explain what the Torah “really” means.

Birth and Rebirth Through Genesis written by Rabbi Michael L. Samuel, a pulpit Rabbi who is descended from a long line of distinguished Rabbis and a graduate of an Orthodox seminary, is not another commentary on the Torah, but rather a meta-analysis of commentaries that offer comprehension and insight on the first three chapters of the Book of Genesis, which cover from creation through the Expulsion from the Garden of Eden.

Judging from Rabbi Samuel’s background, one would expect to read a series of explanations only from main-line orthodoxy, but this is not the case. In Birth and Rebirth Through Genesis’ lengthy introduction, Rabbi Samuel examines the Genesis stories as myth, comparing them to other similar stories found in the Middle East and explores and analyzes the Genesis stories from the perspective of the four-level of interpretation suggested by the rabbinic sages by presenting a wide spectrum of Jewish and non-Jewish sources, covering the earliest interpretations through the modern and post-modern critical approaches of Torah criticism. In the middle section, which examines the passages of Genesis 1-3, Rabbi Samuel draws from his extensive knowledge of biblical commentaries to provide the reader with extensive and comprehensive understandings about these passages. The reader is just as likely to find an interpretation by a Hasidic master as a quote from a Hindu text or a quote from the Zohar or Friedrich Nietzsche. In the final section, an appendix, which he calls, Excursus, Rabbi Samuel provides the reader with additional thought-provoking material, which sometimes offers more interpretations and sometimes asks deep and fundamental questions about the biblical text.

Readers of Birth and Rebirth Through Genesis are treated to a superb variety of interpretations, perspectives, and analyses, all of which shows why the Bible is still the most widely-read, yet among the least comprehended books.

**

Dr. Fred Reiss is a retired public and Hebrew school teacher and administrator. He is the author of The Standard Guide to the Jewish and Civil CalendarsAncient Secrets of Creation: Sepher Yetzira, the Book that Started Kabbalah, Revealed; and Reclaiming the Messiah.  He may be contacted at fred.reiss@sdjewishworld.com

Book Review — Very Near to You: Human Readings of the Torah

Avraham Burg is an interesting personality. He challenges the religious and sensibilities of the Orthodox and Jewish world. Burg is also a leader in the Israeli peace movement. He served two terms in the Israeli Knesset. Over the years, he has emerged as one of Israel’s most articulate advocates for religious pluralism, women’s rights, ecological issues—not to mention—Israeli and Palestinian peace. At times, Avraham Burg almost sounds like a modern day biblical prophet.

His newest book, “Very Near To You: Human Readings of the Torah,” (Jerusalem: Gefen, 2012) captures many of his seminal ideas on the weekly Torah portion. Burg calls it the way he sees it. His philosophical insights expose a part of the text that towers above his competition. Whereas many of today’s rabbinical scholars extol the virtues of midrashic expositions, Burg challenges the reader to question everything—including the sacred text itself. He does not slavishly accept traditional sources simply because they are canonized as “traditional.”

You will not find Rabbi Joseph B. Soloveitchik or Nechama Leibowitz engage in the type of postmodern deconstructions of the biblical text that Burg does in “Very Near To You.” Burg’s honesty is refreshing. He is not afraid to say that certain biblical stories strike today’s readers as morally problematic for a contemporary sensibility.

So, in the interest of brevity, let us examine one well-known biblical story Burg examines that characterizes his original thought: The story of Noah. Burg admits in the beginning, that he really didn’t care that much for Noah. Rabbinical wisdom teaches that Noah pales in comparison to other biblical personalities who, “spoke to God, fought with him, complemented Him…compared to them, Noah would not have been ‘considered at all’” (p. 12). However, Burg comes up with a wonderful novelty, “Noah is neither a lawgiver or a prophetical voice. Noah belongs among people who build and do. Noah is a pioneer, not an intellectual a manual worker rather than a noted philosopher…”

Ditto. Noah’s greatness is precisely because of his humanity. The Torah describes Noah as a “righteous man,” which happens to be an awful translation. The Hebrew term ish tsadik really means, “a man of integrity,”  or simply, “a just man.” Since the time of Webster’s  Dictionary,  the term “righteous” implies piety, but it really connotes someone who acts with total and complete integrity. Hassidic and Haredi tend to focus on Noah’s religious piety, and overlook the significance of Noah as a “a man of integrity.” As Jewish ethical literature teaches, the acquisition of personal integrity must come before one attains piety.[1] When you consider the violent and unjust times Noah lived in, his moral achievement was no small accomplishment. To use a modern example of Noahide integrity, imagine a Palestinian standing up for Israel in the streets of Gaza–that’s the kind of moral fortitude Noah possesses. He may not be a prophet, but his dignity and personal integrity stand out in a crowd.

Noah’s realism and love for the earth enables him to save it from destruction. “Without Noah,” contends Burg, “there can be no Abraham.” Burg cites the well-known Mishnah, ‘If there is no flour, there can be no Torah—that is, learning and culture cannot survive without the bare essentials of life. By this measure, Noah was the flour; only in his wake could Abraham come with his Torah, his message of revealed truth” (p. 14).

The best part of Burg’s exposition of Noah is how he compares the Flood narrative to the Holocaust. Personally, I have always found this part of the narrative most disturbing. Let’s be honest: Noah probably thought God was a mass-murderer! How can anyone relate to a Deity, Who is deeply out of control with His emotions? Burg is certainly aware of the moral problems posed by the ancient biblical text. As to be expected,  Burg totally rejects any effort to view the Flood story as historical truth. For him, it is all about metaphor that depicts God’s relationship with Creation. Burg makes a stunning observation and claims that God behaves “childishly” by creating man to be an automaton, who obediently responds to God’s every command:

  • When man deviated from his assigned path, God became enraged and banished him. He took the ball back and didn’t want to play anymore, so to speak. In this week’s portion that process repeats itself on a global scale. The creator rebukes himself, regrets the creation and, saddened to his core, lashes out murderously: I will blot out man whom I have created from the face of the earth’ (Gen. 6:7). Only much later does God mature, change, relax, and become the God who is patient with his world and his faithful. At this stage every solution that occurs to him is violent, homicidal, and vengeful: the expulsion from the Garden of Eden, the Flood, the destruction of Sodom and Gomorrah, the killing of the firstborn sons, and so on.”

Burg goes on to mention how some (actually many!) rabbinical scholars liken the Holocaust to the Flood. However, Burg contends that the scholars are mistaken for, “In the Flood, humankind had nothing to say because God wasn’t listening. By contrast, the Holocaust was not an act of God, but a destructive act of man who did not hear a thing. How is the God who once utterly destroyed the world by flood different from the God who didn’t intervene in Hitler’s flood?”

The questions he raises are wonderful. In my new volume on Genesis 4-11, I raise similar questions. There is a theological message that might have made Burg’s exposition of the Flood narrative that much more compelling. Simply put, “The Torah speaks in the language of humankind.” Why is this relevant? When the Torah says, “And the LORD was sorry that he had made humankind on the earth,” this is an example of how the human mind imagines the workings of the Divine Mind. The biblical statement really says more about our flawed image of God.

The 18th century Italian commentator and thinker, Shmuel David Luzzato offers a remarkable perspective that deals with Burg’s straightforward questions. Luzzato contends that when the prophet wrote this narrative down, he spoke in an idiom that the people of his generation could understand.” This is a bold statement, for Maimonides, Ibn Ezra, and Philo of Alexandria arrived at the same conclusion. Moses evokes the imagery of curses and calamity because he wants the Israelites to walk the straight and narrow path.

Remember: our ancestors were not philosophers, nor were they theologians. The carrot and the stick theology  found in Deuteronomy’s list of  biblical curses were written for an unsophisticated generation. When you hear religious leaders evoke the “wrath of God” theology when speaking about the Holocaust, Katrina, the Tsunami, or whatever–you get the impression we have not evolved very much since the days of Noah and Moses.

As people evolve, so too does the concept of God also evolve. As the Sages say, “The Torah speaks in the language of man.” Language is never static; it is dynamic, communicative, alive and capable of eternal expression.

Abraham Isaac Kook’s insight about the nature of God language says much about the evolutionary direction that differentiates the God of the Flood vis-à-vis the God of Psalm 23, who is described as a shepherd and companion. Kook notes, “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  . . .” [2]

Does this mean that the God of the Flood is hopelessly incompatible with the God of Psalm 23, Abraham Isaac Kook, or for that matter Maimonides and the mystics? Well, sort of . . . As Burg intimates, the story of the Flood is really a parable. Although Burg does not always make it crystal clear what the parable represents, this ancient story really says a lot the human conception of God. and how it has evolved. By the end of the story (Gen. 9), God rescinds much of his authority to accommodate human freedom.

Erich Fromm has often said, the story of Noah reveals how an impetuous God becomes a constitutional monarch, who learns to rule by law. In his pericope on the Flood, Burg mentions nothing about the covenant God makes with Noah after the Flood. This is an unfortunate omission on Burg’s part. God enters into a covenant with humankind that obligates both parties to work out their differences. Human responsibility represents the new standard for justice. Human beings– from this point forward–are and will forever be responsible for human generated evil that exists in the world—and not God.

Burg’s concluding remarks presents a vision that I wholeheartedly endorse; he writes,

  • The new Torahs that emerge from the Holocaust must point the way toward the shaping of a better humanity, toward teachings that do not give rise to victimizers like the Nazis nor permit victims to be destroyed as were—as the Gypsies, gays who were there with us, as the Armenians before us and the slaughtered of Rwanda and Cambodia after us. The new theology, particularly, the Jewish one, must break through the boundaries of the old faith . . . The time has come for the faith of Noah and his commitment to repairing the world; the time of beliefs in destruction, whether divine or human, is over (p. 17).

Burg’s treatment of the Akedah (“Binding of Isaac,” see Gen. 22) is also interesting; he names that sub-chapter, “Abraham’s Great Failure.” This section did not reveal anything new that I did not hear before. Burg accuses Abraham of failing the test, and he uses an old but familiar approach championed by Kant, the Sefat Emet, Emil Fackenheim, and more recently—Rabbi Shlomo Riskin. Like the others, Burg claims that after the Akedah, God never spoke to Abraham again. I often wonder: How can modern scholars claim to understand the mind of a biblical narrator, or for that matter–God? The Torah only contains a partial disclosure of Abraham and God’s relationship–and nothing more.

As one who has also written extensively on this topic, I believe there is much more to the story of the Akedah than what the postmodernists are willing to admit. Unfortunately, due to time constraints, we will have to tackle this topic at some future date.

Many of Burg’s expositions are wonderful and the way he engages the biblical stories will challenge and renew your spirit. There is a great prophetic and ethical message he brings to the sacred text. What more could you possibly want from such an outstanding book?

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Dancing with Wolves: Shmuely Boteach and His Lubavitcher Critics

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

Defining “The Great Commandment” — An Ancient Debate

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.

Noah’s Reflections: Living with an unpredictable God . . .

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.

The material of all my articles are copyrighted and send me an email if you wish to print any of the material.

What inspired the Rabbis to say, “Thank God for not making me a woman!”? (Part 2 of 3)

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

Deconstructing the Hanukkah Story . . .

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 1st 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 25th 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

A Demoness Scorned: Lilith–Adam’s “First Wife” (Part 2) — The Sequel without Equal!

  • 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