Rabbi Michael Leo Samuel

•  The just man knows the soul of his beast, but the heart of the wicked is merciless.                                            

—Proverbs 12:10

The author of Proverbs stresses an important ethical lesson: a humane person considers the needs of his animals and acts kindly towards them.^[1] The world of Creation is full of sentient beings, which also experience many of the joys and blessings that people commonly enjoy: like humankind, these creatures also experience pain. Suffering is a common language that links humanity with other species of animal life. Therefore, Jewish ethics take sharp issue with French philosopher Rene Descartes (ca. 1596–1650), who compares animals to machines that service people, stating that their suffering “means nothing more than the creaking of a wheel.”[2] In physiological terms, according to Descartes, what human beings and animals share is that their bodies function by the laws of mechanics. One might respond: How then do human beings differ from animals? Descartes argues that the Creator endows human beings with a divine soul and a moral conscience—qualities that are lacking in animals. In addition, unlike animals, human beings possess the ability to conceptualize and verbalize ideas. Most importantly, only human beings are capable of conscious and rational thought since they are uniquely endowed with the ability to be self-reflective. Only a human being is capable of exclaiming, “Cogito ergo sum.”

Philo of Alexandria explains that the Mosaic proscription prohibiting the boiling of a kid in its mother’s milk aims to teach Israel that mercy and self-restraint should govern people’s relations with animals no less than with each other.[3] According to biblical law, a person may not satisfy his or her appetite disregarding the feelings of animals, especially where mothers and their young are concerned. A worshipper in ancient times, for example, is barred from sacrificing a newborn animal until it is at least eight days old (Exod. 22:28–29; Lev 22:27). “Nothing could be more brutal,” writes Philo, “than to add to the mother’s birth pangs the pain of being separated from her young immediately after giving birth, for it is at this time that her maternal instincts are strongest.” In other respects, too, the Law calls for self-restraint. Thus, it would be an act of unnatural excess, Philo argues, to cook a young animal in the very substance with which nature intended it to be sustained. In a similar vein, the Law prohibits one from sacrificing an animal together with its young (Lev 22:28), since this would again involve an unnatural combination of that which gives life and that which receives it.[4]

Pursuing a similar approach found in Philo, Maimonides comments on a number of biblical precepts dealing with preventing cruelty towards animals in his Guide:

• It is also prohibited to kill an animal with its young on the same day (Lev. 22:28), the reason being, is so that people should be restrained and prevented from killing the two together in such a manner that the young is slain in plain sight of the mother; the pain of the animals under such circumstances is very great. There can be no difference in this case between the pain of man and the pain of other sentient beings, since the love and tenderness of the mother for her young ones is not produced by reasoning, but is a matter determined by instinct and this faculty exists not only in man but in most living beings. This law applies only to ox and lamb, because of the domestic animals used as food these alone are permitted to us, and in these cases the mother recognizes her young. . . . If the Torah provides that such grief should not be caused to cattle or birds, how much more careful must we be that we should not cause grief to our fellow human beings![5]

According to Maimonides, an animal’s ability to feel emotional pain gives it moral standing; it is for this reason that the Torah prohibits these acts. Not all Jewish thinkers concur with Maimonides. Ramban claims that the prohibitions against cruelty to animals are not so much for the animal’s benefit, but for the sole moral development of humankind. Cruelty towards animals is desensitizing (commenting on Deuteronomy 22:6 and Leviticus 22:28), which will eventually produce brutality and insensitivity to the pain and suffering of others.

• The ruling on the mother bird is not predicated upon the Almighty’s “pity” for the animal. Otherwise, God would have forbidden their slaughter altogether! The reason, however, for the prohibition is to instill within us compassion and the avoidance of cruelty; butchers and slaughterers often become insensitive to the suffering on account of their occupation. Therefore, to avoid engendering these negative traits, the Torah proscribed precepts that a person should not slaughter the mother and its young on the same day (Lev. 22:28) and sending away the mother bird (Deut. 22:6). Such laws are not inspired by feelings of consideration for their suffering but are decrees to inculcate humanity in us. [6]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Back to the Present

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

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

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

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

The great 12th century Jewish philosopher Maimonides noted that although Job is described in the beginning as being a very upright and decent individual, the one characteristic he lacked was the quality of insight![1] In the beginning, Job feared God and did not act out of love. Despite Job’s devoted religious behavior, he did not have a personal religious experience. Maimonides suggests that much of Job’s own suffering was due to wrongful notions and beliefs he had regarding the ways of Providence. Much (but certainly not all) of human suffering is often attributed to the dysfunctional images people have inherited concerning God. Ignorance conditioned Job into thinking that he was a separate entity, apart from God pitted against a hostile world. Job’s ordeal represents the painful journey of all sufferers; for this reason Job’s transformation is most instructive.

In classical Maimonidean theology, the journey to God requires a purging of our preconceived images, sensory perceptions, and affective attachments—all that is not God. As we enter the “Dark Night of the Soul,” we are emptied of all preconceived “graven” images of faith we have held fast of. In the Dark Night, we experience loneliness and separateness. Darkness fills our intellects because our hearts yearn for something infinitely more satisfying than reason alone—God’s love. Amidst our pain, we yearn for friendship and companionship. As the days go by without so much as a Divine response, we feel restless, spiritually impotent, tired and discouraged. We feel as if our souls are caught within a maze that we will never escape. Worst still, we experience the bitterness and pain of feeling utterly abandoned by God and from humanity. From the depths of our being, we cry out that God should illumine our life with the radiance of the Shekhinah (Psa. 146:2).

Yet, we must not let despair or hopelessness have the final word; from out of these sufferings, we must choose to grow and develop a new response to faith based on our innate capacity to experience hope and love. Granted, this journey is certainly not something we willfully embark; rather God throws us into the darkness. In Kabbalistic terms, we enter into the mysterious realm of “Ayin” of Nothingness, to be reborn as a new creation (yesh m’ayin).[2] Job’s journey through the Dark Night changed him and his relationship with God, his family, and his community forever. Using today’s terms, we could say that Job had a profound religious experience. By the end of the story, Job exclaims:

I had heard of you by the

hearing of the ear,

but now my eye sees you;

Job 42:5

What did Job discover? According to Rashi, Job received a revelation of God’s Shekhinah (Divine immanence). The Shekhinah represents the maternal nurturing Presence of God. Yet the Shekhinah’s appearance is not an unconditional thing. Human behavior determines to what degree God’s feminine Presence is revealed in the world. Every action of compassion and justice reveals God’s immanence in the world.  All of Job’s friends consistently portrayed God in solely masculine terms (and dysfunctional masculinity at best!). After he experiences God’s immanence, Job feels his heart filled with love; he became reconciled with his human mortality. Whereas others spoke about God, Job in the end experienced God’s majestic Presence. He came to see that all God-talk pales before the actual experience of God’s Shekhinah. Job discovered an interconnectedness that weaves all aspects of creation together. It is the Shekhinah’s love that keeps the world intact despite itself. Job came to the realization that at the core of human suffering is the delusion that one is separate from God. It is humanity’s grandest illusion that situates God against His Creation.

One of the important questions raised by Rashi (1040–1105) in the beginning of his famous commentary is this: “Why did the Torah begin with the Book of Genesis and not with the first commandment found in the book of Exodus—the precept of sanctifying the New Moon?” For Rashi, who lived during the period of the Crusades, the creation story stresses how God is the Owner and Proprietor of the universe and, therefore, God alone has every right to give the Land of Canaan to whomever He pleases; in this case, He bequeaths it to the nation of Israel. As God’s people, Israel has a bond with the land that is eternal and irrevocable.[1] Rashi’s opening salvo was quite a remarkable comment to make at a time when Christians and Muslims were fighting for control of the Holy Land. What began long ago as an ideological struggle during the age of the Crusades continues to haunt present-day reality in the Middle East.

Ramban[2] (1194–1270), as well other Judaic commentators, finds Rashi’s answer to be inadequate.[3] The importance of Genesis goes beyond the primacy of the Land of Israel as Rashi envisages. In fact, the purpose of the creation narrative is to teach the importance of creatio ex nihilo—nothing would exist were it not for the creative power of God. Every creature and entity could not exist were it not due to the conscious act of the Divine bringing each being into existence at every moment.

Like Ramban, Rashbam[4] (ca. 1085-1158) also  supports the doctrine of creatio ex nihilo, while adding, “Do not imagine that this world you now see and experience had existed forever, for everything in the universe had an absolute beginning—that is why the Torah states from the onset: “At the beginning of the creation of the heaven and the earth . . .” (1:1). Furthermore, reasons Rashbam, the purpose of the creation narrative is to explain why the Sabbath is the cornerstone of all the Jewish holidays—a point that is emphatically stressed in the Decalogue: “Remember to keep holy the Sabbath day. . . . In six days the LORD made the heavens and the earth, the sea and all that is in them; but on the seventh day he rested. That is why the LORD has blessed the Sabbath day and made it holy” (Exod. 20:8-10). By observing the Sabbath, Israel bears witness to the world that God is the sole Creator of the universe.

Among the patristic fathers, Theodoret of Cyprus (393-457) explains that after centuries of oppression and assimilation, the Israelites became religiously indistinguishable from their Egyptian masters who believed solely in a visible creation. Consequently, the Israelites had forgotten about the one and true God of their ancestors, who created the heavens and the earth. “The statement that heaven and earth and the other parts of the universe were created and the revelation that the God of the universe was their Creator provided a true doctrine of God sufficient for people of that time.”[5] Theodoret’s point is significant. From the very outset of their freedom, Moses begins re-educating his people by teaching them about the creation story. The purpose of the Sabbath thus serves to teach the people of Israel about the nature of true faith and belief in God. Maimonides later expresses a similar point. According to him, each biblical precept—in one manner or another—aims to raise humankind, as theologian David Hartman notes, “from an anthropocentric to a theocentric concept of religious life.”[6]

Karaite exegete and theologian Aharon ben Eliahu (1260-1320), sharing a somewhat similar opinion to that of Rashbam, points out that the principles of Providence and prophecy would be inconceivable were it not for the belief that God created the world. “Moses,” argues Aharon, “wished to impress upon his people that they look only to God as the Ultimate Cause of their existence.” Like Rashbam, Aharon explains that the purpose of the Creation narrative also serves to theologically reinforce the celebration of the Sabbath.

[Hello again, I hope you liked reading the article. Better still, I would greatly appreciate if you would purchase my book, “Birth and Rebirth through Genesis: A Timeless Theological Conversation Genesis 1-3, which is available at:

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

Notes:

[1] Rashi’s subtle insight captures one of the most important themes of Genesis: the concept of land. In the Abraham pericope, God promises the Holy Land as a gift to Abraham and his descendants. “Land” has a rich and sacred dimension that is inextricably connected to Israel’s possession of it. Israel’s capacity to believe in the divine promise that God made to Abraham is the key that enables future generations to take physical possession of it; this same faith is also what defines Israel’s stewardship of the Land. Although the patriarchs and their children (with the exception of Isaac) experienced life outside of God’s Promised Land, their invisible and sacred bond remained eternally intact.  The theme of land is what ties all the books of the Pentateuch together. The God who created the heavens and the earth is also the God who guided His people to their Promised Land through the prophet Moses and his successor, Joshua, thus fulfilling the biblical promise given to the patriarchs. From Rashi’s comment, God’s designation as “Creator” is historically and inextricably bound up with the success of Israel as His people. To achieve their ultimate purpose, Israel requires the Promised Land to fully realize their mission in the world. For this reason, the Creation narratives form an essential basis for the biblical legislation that follows in the other books of the Pentateuch as noted in Mizrahi’s supra-commentary on Rashi.

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One critic of Augustine refused to accept such a pessimistic view of humankind. The Christian monk Pelagius taught his followers that Adam’s Fall did not directly affect his posterity at all, nor did the behavior of Adam and Eve spiritually transmit a disease to the human race. The primal parents’ sins affected only themselves. Every child born into the world is as Adam was at Creation: entirely innocent; each human being is born with the freedom to choose his or her own path in life.[1] Pelagius contends that Augustine’s doctrine of “sovereign grace” went against the biblical belief that God endowed humanity with natural goodness and free will. Even before the advent of Jesus, there were sinless and righteous human beings, “gospel men before the gospel,” such as Noah, Melchizedek, Abraham, and Job.[2] We owe much of the information we have about Pelagius to his critic Augustine, who preserved the words of his adversary:

• Sin is carried on only by imitation, committed by the will, denounced by reason, manifested by the law, punished by justice. . . . If sin is natural, it is not voluntary; if it is voluntary, it is not inborn. These two definitions are as mutually contrary as are necessity and free will. Adam was created mortal and would have died whether he sinned or not sinned; the sin of Adam injured only him, not the human race; the law leads to the kingdom of Heaven, just as the gospel does; even before the coming of Christ there were men without sin; newborn infants are in the same state which Adam was before his transgression; the whole human race does not die with the death and transgression of Adam, nor does it rise again through the resurrection of Christ. . . . One can be neither praised nor blamed, neither rewarded nor condemned, except for one’s own acts and self-acquired character, which must be within the compass of one’s ability. What is innate, inherent, or infused is clearly not within the power of the will, and therefore cannot have any moral character.[3]

For Pelagius, it was wrong to convict the entire human race because of one man’s sin. On numerous occasions, Augustine felt that Pelagius’s “Judaic”[4] ideas[5] threatened to undermine the authority of the Church and the Church’s claim that it alone could liberate man from the chains of Original Sin.[6] However, Pelagius countered that the Bible teaches that nature is good, as God created it to be, and that humankind is morally free to chart its own spiritual destiny, because human beings are fashioned in the likeness of the Divine image.

Since every human being derives his or her own essential goodness from God, therefore, no newborn infant deserves to be damned because of Adam’s sin. Moral goodness or evil are potentialities that each person can choose to realize. If we act righteously, we become righteous; if wickedly, we become wicked. Numerous Scriptural injunctions   make it perfectly clear that “Parents shall not be put to death for their children, nor shall children be put to death for their parents; only for their own crimes may persons be put to death” (Deut. 24:16). This principle precludes the possibility of innate, hereditary depravity such as Original Sin.

The severity of Adam’s sin ought to be viewed in terms of the deed’s pedagogic effect. In effect, Adam becomes a poor role model for subsequent generations. Human corruption is due to the habit of evil that if left uncorrected, spreads like a contagion. Humans are born without virtue or vice, but have the capacity for either type of behavior.

Pelagius’s moral strictness is as exacting as it is demanding; his view of human nature is sober and grounded in reality. According to him, the onus of personal responsibility for all sins, both large and small, is upon each of us as individuals; hence there can be no excuse—not even for the most minor or venial of sins. It behooves everyone to know that sin involves a conscious and preventable defiance of God’s will; sin is, in the final analysis, an act of deliberate rebellion against God’s sovereignty and wisdom. Pelagius believes that even the smallest infraction—since it could be avoided—carries with it the possibility of eternal punishment.[7]

For Pelagius, God would never impose duties and responsibilities upon people that they could never possibly hope to fulfill. Without freedom of will, humankind is no better than moral idiots. The obligation to live a moral life is in accordance with individual ability. Deny a person of his freedom and capacity to act rationally, and one might just as well give license to all those who—much like the pre-converted youthful Augustine—behave with reckless abandon. After all, couldn’t he just as soon wait to “be saved” from Above after enjoying all of the tasty forbidden pleasures of this world? Why, asks Pelagius, should we bother avoiding the sins of this world if, in the final analysis, moral behavior doesn’t really matter—so long as one makes a declaration of faith in Christ? Conversely, Augustine counters that Pelagianism made the saving work of Christ unnecessary, that it undermined the central drama of the New Testament. Pelagius had made men independent of God in the sense that their salvation was entirely in their own hands.

Although historically Augustine’s view became normative theology for the next millennium and longer, still and all, Thomas Aquinas did not fully accept Augustine’s dim view of human nature. While it is true that human sinfulness weakens our innate capacity to live virtuously—sin, argues Aquinas, cannot eradicate the fact we are, in the final analysis, rational beings. Our human goodness cannot be fully extinguished. In the case of Adam, Original Sin causes him to lose the special gifts that enable him to sublimate and control his lower bodily functions.

Prior to his sin, Adam’s rational faculties were perfect. That being said, it is possible that this gift can be restored to us by supernatural grace alone for our human efforts to obtain salvation would always fall short of the divine benchmark. Naturally, reasons Aquinas, this infusion of special grace could never happen without the assistance of the Catholic Church and its rich sacramental system. Aquinas understands the implications of his doctrine, and how he virtually hedges on Pelagian teaching. Without the assistance of the Church, its capacity to function as an intermediary agency would have been undermined; its ecclesiastical ability would not have been able to function.[8]

Jewish thinkers concur with Pelagius’s position that no human being is tainted by the sins of Adam—but only by his own sinful deeds. Human nature was not at all corrupted, nor did a human being become an inherently immoral, “evil” creature, outside the realm of “grace” by merely being born. Each of us, through acts of will, freely decides our moral and spiritual destinies. Even when a person has sinned, that breach in his relationship with God is repairable through sincere penitence. Rather than pointing to human depravity, the rabbis sought to encourage their followers to adopt an optimistic approach, thus awakening the capacity for human goodness. The human instinct for pleasure and power becomes a problem only when it runs amok. There is no inherited predisposition that prevents us from becoming virtuous and pious. Only the quality of our behavior can determine whether the light of the Divine image will ever find its reflection in us.

===========

Hello again,

I hope you liked reading the article. Better still, I encourage you to consider purchasing my book,  “Birth and Rebirth through Genesis: A Timeless Theological Conversation Genesis 1-3, which is available at:

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

===========

Notes:

[1] Notes: Like Pelagius before him, Immanuel Kant attacked the old Augustinian and Protestant view of Adam’s fall from grace, and said that the belief that sinfulness is passed on to a person’s posterity was nothing more than a superstition.

[2] See Augustine’s work The Merits and Forgiveness of Sins 1:30, 58; On the Baptism of Sins 4:24.31; 51.129.

[3] Translated by Jaroslav Jan Pelikan, The Christian Tradition: A History of the Development of Doctrine, Vol. 1 The Emergence of the Catholic Tradition (100-600) (Chicago: Chicago University Press, 1971), 315. Cf. Anti-Pelagian Writings 11:23 published in Vol. V of the Early Church Fathers Nicene–Post/Nicene Part I (New York: T. & T. Clark, 1887).

[4] Aside from some of the other Early Church Fathers, Pelagius’s views may have also been shaped by his encounters with rabbinic teachers from the Jewish community as he travelled through the Holy Land before settling in Rome. Jerome, who was also a contemporary of Pelagius, learned Hebrew from a rabbi in Palestine. It would seem that despite the polemically-charged era both faiths lived in, Jewish and Christian scholars exchanged theological views of the Bible in the spirit of fellowship and open-mindedness—millennia before the advent of modern Jewish-Christian interfaith relations.

[5]Augustine, ECF 2.5.0.0.3.3.

[6] Luther and Calvin understood original sin as “a hereditary depravity and corruption of our nature” See John Calvin, Institutes of the Christian Religion, trans. Henry Beveridge, (Edinburgh 1865, II .i.8). Unlike Augustine, Calvin relates Original Sin not so much to heredity, as to an ordinance of God, a heavenly decree from God passed on all humankind.

[7] With the exception of the Qumran Jewish community, Saadia Gaon and possibly Ramban, no other major Jewish theologian subscribed to the doctrine of “eternal damnation” or more precisely, “the soul that sins shall be cut off from its people” (Num. 15:30). See Ramban’s commentary on Leviticus 18:29.

[8] Thomas Aquinas, The Basic Writings of St Thomas Aquinas, ed. A. C. Pegis, 2 vols. ii. (New York: Random House, 1945); Summa Theologica, Part 1 Q. 81, Art. 1; Q. 85 Art. 2; Q. 85 Art. 3. See also F. C. Copleston, Aquinas (New York: Harmondsworth: Penguin Books, 1982), 156-98.

While rabbis across the world may wonder, “Who Is a Jew?”—on this night of Halloween, I am going to pose the question: “Who Is a Zombie?” Are zombies “human,” or are they something “Other” than human? The question has profound implications not just in the sphere of science-fiction, philosophy, religion—but also in the area of medical ethics.

The 17^th century philosopher Rene Descartes viewed animals as machine-like creatures, bereft of a soul. Every aspect of the animal could be explained in terms of its physical “mechanical” movements. Descartes even entertained the idea of a mechanical person what we could call today, a robotic being. How would one differentiate such a creature from the “real deal”? For one thing, the machine would never be able to spontaneously formulate sentences; its non-verbal behavior would also be limited. (Bear in mind that the rabbis arrived at a similar conclusion regarding the artificial being known as the “golem,” for it too was incapable of human speech.)

“So what is it that defines our humanity?” asks Descartes—it is the presence of the immaterial mind, the soul, which interacts between the brain and the other organs of the body.

But this raises an important question regarding the nature of “personhood,” (to use the more modern terminology). At what point does a human being, cease being “human”? If we apply Cartesian philosophy to our question, it might very well be when our brain ceases to function adequately.

Could this apply to zombies as well? (Not that they care very much about our deep philosophical deliberations!)

Of course this begs the question: Do zombies really exist? Or, are they merely mythical creatures created out from Hollywood?

In general, many mythic stories of primitive peoples have some sort of basis in fact. This principle would apply to zombies as well.

Ever since I watched that great movie, “The Serpent and the Rainbow,” I have been fascinated with this question. Harvard botanist, E. Wade Davis and Dr. Lamarque Douyon, Canadian-trained head of the Psychiatric Center in Port-au-Prince, have been trying to establish the basis for zombies, and according to them—they do exist![2] By the way, the book is much better than the film!

Haiti is a remarkable country; much of the contemporary folklore concerning zombies originates in Haiti—but there are legends about zombies that really go back to ancient history. Davis narrates the following story:

On a brilliant day in the spring of 1980, a stranger arrived at L’Estère marketplace in Haiti’s fertile Artibonite Valley. The man’s gait was heavy, his eyes vacant. The peasants watched fearfully as he approached a local woman named Angelina Narcisse. She listened as he introduced himself, then screamed in horror—and recognition. The man had given the boyhood nickname of her deceased brother Clairvius Narcisse, a name that was known only to family members and had not been used since his funeral in 1962. This incident was witnessed by more than 200 people!!

Well, it looks like the zombie can speak—and respond to human questions!!

You might wonder, “What could possibly turn a person into a zombie?” I have other questions as well, like—where did this man eat for the past 18 years, McDonald’s take out?

Well, in both the movie and in real life, there is a coma-inducing toxin that comes from the voodoo priest (known as “bocors”), which slows the human metabolism. The sources for this toxin “textrodotoxin,” come from: New World Toad (Bufo marinus), and the Japanese “Puffer Fish,” which is considered to be a delicacy in Japan—after the toxin has been removed.  The chemicals of  these ingredients can affect both the heart and the nervous system. In Japan, thousands of miles from Haiti, those people who have accidentally consumed the puffer fish toxin behave—well, a lot like zombies—Japanese zombies, I might add.

Godzilla, move over!!

Experiments on rats have proven that the drug can induce a trancelike state as well. So, what does this all mean?

For one thing, zombies do not have an appetite for eating human brains. But there is some scientific evidence that certain drugs can induce the famous zombie-like state. So, would a person be guilty if he killed a zombie, according to Jewish law? Based upon the evidence these two scientists have shown, a “zombie” still remains within the category of a human being.

BEYOND THE QUESTION ABOUT ZOMBIES . . .

However, there is one lingering question regarding the nature of a “person” that is still a difficult to ascertain. Would a person  still  be considered “human,” even if s/he is in a chronic vegetative state? The case of Terry Schiavo is an excellent example of someone whom the State declared as “clinically dead,” while the family who loved her claimed that she was still “alive,” and even allegedly, “responsive.”

About six months after her life-support was turned off, and while she was also starved by order of the court, Discover Magazine produced a  fascinating article that made special mention about people like Terry Schiavo, who suffer from the chronic vegetative condition.

Here is one part of the Discover Magazine article that I thought was especially interesting.

• In the 1970s, when intensive care dramatically improved the survival of brain-injured patients, doctors found that if the body can be kept alive, the brain usually shakes off a coma—a totally unresponsive, eyes-closed state—within two to four weeks. At that point some people simply wake up, although they may be delirious and impaired. Others graduate to an in-between zone that New York Hospital–Cornell Medical Center neurologist Fred Plum labeled the “persistent vegetative state” in 1972. At the time, among these patients, it seemed as if only “vegetative” brain functions like breathing, waking, and blinking were working. The higher functions commonly associated with consciousness seemed to be lost.

• The first vegetative patient Schiff saw, the victim of a stroke, had no sign of consciousness. But when he ran into her three years later at a rehab center, he was shocked to find her awake and capable of talking to him.

• The patients, doctors found, usually had widespread brain damage, but two injured areas were especially noteworthy: the thin outer rind, called the cortex, and the thalamus, a pair of walnut-size lumps in the brain’s central core, along with the neural fibers that connect these regions. The two areas are normally in constant cross talk, filtering and analyzing sensory data and making continual adjustments to attention and alertness. Lacking this chatter, someone in a vegetative state seems to be awake but not aware. They might moan and shift around, but they do not look toward a loud hand clap or pull away from a pinch. Given a feeding tube and basic medical care, someone might stay in this condition from days to decades, potentially until death. [3]

Well, as science progresses, it is only a matter of time before it can finally resolve this ethical question regarding the chronic vegetative state that we have heard so much about. Questions regarding the quality of life–even if such person should be revived from the chronic vegetative state–needs to be ethically weighed and considered by the family.  If the patient has no quality of life, it is possible that reviving such a person may only cause indefinite suffering. Would this be something desirable? There is a season for everything under the heavens . . . sometimes we need to let go of the people we love. The dignity of the patient is something we must also take into consideration.

Obviously, the border separating consciousness from death are questions worthy of a Solomon to answer. In one of the symposiums I organized and participated in, I argued that ultimately—we may know a lot about the human body, but we still know very little about the nature of consciousness–where it begins and where it truly ends. 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

The recent news about the prisoner exchange between Hamas and Israel has created some very interesting debates about whether or not, releasing over fourteen mass-murderers might be too high of a price to pay, for the release of Gilad Shalit, the Israeli soldier who has been languishing in a Hamas prison for the last five years.  Such questions are hardly modern; as early as the 4^th century, the Mishnah dealt specifically with this ethical question about negotiating with kidnappers (which would certainly include today’s terrorists). The Mishnah[1] rules, “Captives must not be ransomed for more than their value for the good of the public welfare.”[2]

Historically, one of the most famous medieval cases involving pidyon shevuyim (“the redemption of captives”) was the famous ransoming  of the great 13^th German scholar, Rabbi Meir of Rothenburg (also known as the MaHaRam). Looking to raise some money for his kingdom, German Emperor King Rudolf I demanded 23,000 pounds of silver for the rabbi’s freedom. Remarkably, Rabbi Meir instructed the Jewish communities not to acquiesce to the rogue leader’s ransom demands, despite the fact that leading rabbinical leaders like R. Asher ben Yechiel (1250 or 1259 – 1327), managed to raise the funds. He was imprisoned for seven years and died at age 78. A wealthy man named Alexander ben Salomon Wimpfen paid the ransom; his only request: he wanted to be subsequently buried next to the saintly rabbi.

In light of today’s reality of terrorism, the objections against releasing the Hamas terrorists are certainly on the surface, quite compelling and differ considerably from the types of ransoms we have seen in earlier Jewish history.

• Releasing 1000 terrorists will certainly inspire the rogue terrorist state of Hamas to kidnap more Israeli soldiers or other Israeli citizens and they will demand even higher ransoms.

• Every terrorist released is a potential mass murderer and after gaining a heroic status in their society, they will look to continue perpetuating more random acts of violence against Israel.

• Evidence has shown time and time again how formerly captured terrorists continue to rain death upon Israelis whenever possible.

• Negotiating with Hamas serves to enhance their image to the international community, and paradoxically undermines the Palestinian Authority in the West Bank; worst case scenario: Hamas strengthens its ability to eventually seize control of the West Bank, thus endangering millions of Israelis living near the West Bank.

• Some of the terrorists do not have blood on their hands from murder, despite having enabled others to do their dirty work.

The arguments for negotiating with Hamas are also significant.

• Bringing Shalit home raises the moral of Israeli soldiers who know that the government will go to extreme measures to bring them back home.
• Shalit’s return represents an important morale booster for the entire nation. Continue Reading

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

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

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

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

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

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

THE SCAPEGOAT IN ANTIQUITY

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

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

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

THE SCAPEGOAT IN MODERN TERMS

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

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

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

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

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

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

THE JEW AS SCAPEGOAT

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

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

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

IN SUMMARY . . .

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

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

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

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

“What about your own faults?”

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

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