National Scholar Updates

(Jeremy Rosen is a graduate of Cambridge University in philosophy and studied at and received semikha from Mir Yeshiva in Jerusalem. He has worked in the Orthodox rabbinate, Jewish education, and academia, and currently is the rabbi of the Persian Jewish community of Manhattan.)

The Torah is quite clear in its condemnation of magic and superstition. So, too, is the Talmud and most certainly and explicitly, Maimonides. Magic, spells, and superstitions are universal and have been since the earliest record of human cultural activity. They are to be found throughout Jewish history and sources. In many respects, our present Jewish world seems to have regressed to the Middle Ages in its embrace of the paranormal. Sometimes I wonder if there is any room in the world of Torah for rationalism anymore.

Biblical Terminology

The Torah uses a lot of different words for what we subsume under the general term “magic.” Laban uses the word leNahesh, which in modern Hebrew means something like “I took a risk in employing you.” But the Chaldeans of whom he was one, were well known for their interest in the supernatural and that was probably Laban's world. He will have consulted some kind of magic or oracle. There is even a Midrash that says that the rabbis agreed with Chaldean methods.[1] The same word, leNahesh is used of Joseph telling them that he is able to guess, or to divine the real truth about the brothers. Its root suggests lahash, to whisper or talk or even nahash, meaning a snake, with its hissing and slyness. This is the word favored by Balaam when he was invited to curse the Children of Israel. When he realized that he could not countermand God he no longer returned to consult his nahashim. Balaam declared that “There is no witchcraft [nahash] in Jacob and no magic [kessem] in Israel.” Kessem seems to be more a description of objects used in magic rather than a system. When the elders of Moab come to Balaam, they bring kessamim, carrying charms. Someone who uses charms is called a kossem. The word kessem also means a stick—possibly the art of casting down sticks or wooden dice and reading their signs.

 In Egypt, Pharaoh had disturbing dreams and called upon his hartumim, commonly translated as magicians, to interpret them. Most scholars take the origin of the word to come from heret a stylus or engraver and so the hartumim could be those who interpreted texts, perhaps the scientists of those days. It is used in Egypt together with wise men and so must have been one of their sciences: “And Pharaoh called to his wise men and his magicians, mekhashefim,” in which case it could be a synonym for hartumim.

When Moses met God at the burning bush, God used a variety of methods to persuade Moses to take on the assignment of going down to Egypt to get the Children of Israel out. There was a burning bush that did not burn up, a staff that turned into a snake, and an arm that turned leprous. We might have put all these down as miracles performed by God were it not for the fact that the Egyptian hartumim could, initially at any rate, imitate many of Moses's miracles, including the snake trick.

Another word that is used in connection with nahash is onen which might mean telling the future by reading the clouds (since the word for cloud is identical), or it could come from another similar word ana for answering, replying with words to requests for information. Onen is used later in respect of the dead as well. Then there is the word now commonly used for magic, kishuf, which indicates the ability to reveal secrets.

There is another category that involves making something, either an effigy or raising up an image of someone. The words are ov and yidoni, and the Torah talks about not turning toward them (for answers). “Do not turn to the ovs and the yidonis. Do not ask things of them.” There the text adds the prohibition against “asking of the dead.” So it would appear that these elements were part of a procedure of calling up the spirits of the departed. An ov might be an image, figurine, or effigy, and a yidoni might be a spirit or a less material form having some special knowledge (given that yidoni has the same root (y-d-a) as the word for knowledge).

Deuteronomy adds another category, that of the “hover haver.” Literally this means befriending a friend. One can only assume it is a confidant or a private consultant on the affairs of the occult. It could also mean someone who has a special relationship with spirits or is on a higher level, like the honorific term later given to scholars haver.

These are a series of very different categories in the Torah that are forbidden under the general rubric of turning to forces, oracles, symbols, or objects to guide one in one’s actions and decisions. This looks like a very clear objection to magic, witchcraft, astrology, and the various pseudo-sciences that are just as prevalent today as they were 3,000 years ago.

In those days they were associated with idolatry. When it comes to the specific laws of the Torah, there are laws that deal with the penalties for magic and its allied areas. In Exodus there is a specific command to get rid of witches: “A witch (mekhashefa) should not be allowed to live.” Why only a witch and not the others mentioned above? The death penalty as prescribed in the Bible was reserved only for the most serious and existential of threats and even so, rarely exercised. And although the word is most commonly used of a female, it is also used of a male wizard.

There are specific commands against individuals to try doing these things. “Do not try to make charms or tell the future” and “Do not turn (for answers) to an image or a spirit, and do not contaminate yourselves with them, for I am God.” Here we go a step further in specifying that this approach is a form of contamination that goes against God directly. The implication is that one should accept God's instructions and no one else's. The same text goes on “Do not eat over blood, do not make charms or tell the future.” Eating blood was strictly forbidden in the Torah. It was a very important part of idolatrous rites in Canaan and has continued to play a role in magic rites supposedly passing on the qualities of the previous “owner” of the blood. We have a clear indication that these practices were rooted in idolatry and the opposition is to the context as well as the act itself.

The clearest evidence of the idolatrous context of these practices comes toward the end of the Torah:

When you come into the land which the Lord your God gives you, do not learn to do the abominations of those nations. There should not be amongst you anyone who passes his son or daughter through fire, a charmer of charms, a reader of clouds, a fortune teller or a magician. A friendly fortune teller or someone who asks of an image or a spirit or asks of the dead. Because God despises anyone who does these things and it is because of these abominations that the Lord your God is driving them out before you. You should be straight with the Lord your God. For these nations that you will displace, they listen to fortune tellers and charmers, but you should not do so.

Then the Torah goes on to talk about the prophet as the prototype of spiritual leadership and spiritual direction. He is the one the Israelites were instructed to turn to for advice and for help in dealing with the unknown, the frightening and the uncertainty of the future. And that was because he or she functioned within the constraints of Torah.

Oracles

Oracles were very much part of the ancient world, in Greece and Rome, using humans, animals, and inanimate objects. The Bible approved of the oracle of the Urim and Tumim that were part of the breastplate of the High Priest. They were occasionally consulted before and during the First Temple period. Interestingly they were also called the ephod, which was as well the name for the basic priestly garment that was also used to describe idolatry objects. However, the Torah ordained that Urim and Tumim were a way of consulting God through the medium of the priest, rather than other forces.

And this was what differentiated them from other pagan forms of oracles. If the message comes from the One God, the vehicle of revelation may vary. This after all is the message of Balaam, a renowned and successful magician, but unable to do anything without God’s approval.

A striking story involves King Saul. Desperate for guidance after the prophet Samuel died, he asked his servants to find him a ba’alat ov, a woman who could produce and communicate with images of the dead. The spirit of Samuel does indeed appear to rise. This seems to indicate that magic in one form or another can achieve results. Yet it was clearly regarded as forbidden.

The very name of Purim is based on what one assumes was a Persian word for the magic lots that Haman cast to determine the appropriate time to destroy the Jews. Haman is portrayed as trying to use this “magic” for his own ends. In contrast, divine influence, even though hidden, is not obvious. Esther's name means “hidden,” and perhaps that is also why God's name is not mentioned directly in the story of Esther. Forces at work behind the scenes are referred to by Haman's wife and his wise men (a parallel with the wise men and magicians of Pharaoh) when they tell him, “If you have begun to fall before him (Mordecai) you will not be able to overcome him.” This is an obvious contrast to the Jewish historical experience, which often has included a decline before rising. This was an assertion of the superiority of the Jewish way of responding to challenges over the pagan way of feeling determined how to act and therefore more passive in the face of adversity.

The Torah, interestingly, does not say that magic is baseless, empty, or primitive. Its instructions are simply not to get involved in it in any way that might have some influence or power over a person. But clearly these practices were so ingrained and popular that they were all but impossible to wipe out as the history of both Israelite Kingdoms illustrate. King Hezekiah had to destroy the serpent from the time of Moses because it was being abused[2] as well as censoring a “Book of Cures.”

The Talmudic Era

By the time of the Talmud, the serious debate centered more on astrology and mazal. There is a difference of opinion as to whether these skills count as part of idolatrous practices and therefore are banned under the general prohibition of anything to do with idolatrous practices, Darkei HaEmori, Emorite, or pagan practices,[3] or whether they count as wisdom: “The men of the east know about mazalot and astrology.” Non-Jewish wisdom that had no heretical connotations was not prohibited, and, on the contrary, was something to be appreciated (there is even a blessing to be said over wise men of all races).[4]

There is also a major difference of opinion as to the extent to which the constellations or various forms of mazalot did or did not influence human behavior. It was at the time a universally accepted idea that there were 12 signs of the Zodiac that were an integral part of the way God's universe was made up and influenced the natural and supernatural world. It was not until modernity that such an idea transitioned from science to superstition.

The term mazal, initially meant no more than the constellations. At some stage, the role changed into one of determining the future in ways bound up with magic and other non-rational esoteric practices. “What did they do wrong? They consulted the stars (signs of the Zodiac), magicians who look at birds and those expert in reading signs. “Tayar,” say some commentators, are the auspices of Roman tradition, the innards of birds, others suggest symbols, the origin of Tarot).”[5]

In the creation process described in Genesis, there is no mention of mazalot. The Torah talks about the sun, the moon, and the stars. But by the Second Book of Kings there is one passage where mazalot replace the stars.[6] The fact that the mazalot are not mentioned in the Torah leads one to argue that the idea of mazalot came later into Israelite life because they were significant in Egyptian and Mesopotamian culture and then in Roman and Christian societies. This may be why Balaam thought they had no impact on the Israelites. But the Talmud is happy associating Abraham with astrology. “Abraham said to God I can see the future in my mazal, that I will only have one son. God took him outside and showed him the heavens and said to him 'Ignore your astrology; mazal has no power over Israel.’”[7]

            The main discussion on mazal in the Talmud above, has R. Yohanan, Rav, R. Yehuda, R. Nahman Bar Yitzhak, R. Akiva, and Shemuel all agree with different sources that mazal has no power over Jews. On the other hand, R. Hanina says there that both wisdom and wealth are influenced by mazal and that every hour of the day has its mazal exercising control over it.[8] The most famous passage from the Talmud that supports the influence of mazal is that “Life (how long a person lives), children (how many or how they turn out), and income do not depend on a person’s deserts but on mazal.”[9] And “There is not a blade of grass that does not have a mazal in the heavens.”[10] “Mazal affects people” seem to assert that something extraterrestrial has an influence, whether it is the constellations or the power of God working through various processes before it reaches humankind. If a person suddenly feels frightened, it may be because although he hasn't seen anything dangerous, his mazal has. But the Talmud responds by saying that the answer is to say the Shema. In other words, having a direct connection to God is a protection against any sub-divine powers or influences. The compromise position is that mazalot exist and have influence. But God controls everything. “There are 12 mazalot God created in the heavens,”[11] or “God controls the mazal.”[12]

            The ayin hara, the evil eye, as well as the fear of curses, played and still plays an enormous part in many people’s lives. Initially a bad eye meant only an attitude, a way of looking at the world negatively. “A bad eye (outlook) and a bad inclination can destroy a person’s world.”[13] The rabbis give different meanings to this: feelings envy, hatred, or negativity. The Hebrew Beli Ayin Hara and the Yiddish expression kenayinhora, may there be no evil eye, are widespread among some Jews…as if just looking at another person really can do harm.

Despite the illogicality of it, the Talmud refers a great deal to its negative effects. For example, there is reference to Joseph protecting one from the evil eye based on a verse in the Bible[14] that Joseph is pleasing to the eye which can be mistranslated as overcoming the (evil) eye. The very concept that a random look or putting a hex on someone can affect a person defies logic. But then logic and superstition are opposite poles. People who feel they are cursed can find it turning into is a self-fulfilling source of anxiety. The pure halakhic response is that if one behaves according to the Torah one should have nothing to fear.

Spirts and Demons[15]

The Talmud continued the biblical polemic against witchcraft. R. Shimon Ben Shetah is reported to have executed 80 women when he waged a campaign against witches. The Talmud records that their families paid him back by framing his son. Yet the Talmud is full of stories of magicians, spells, demons, spirits, and the whole paraphernalia of the ancient and medieval world.

The spirit Ketev Meriri is covered with scales and anyone who sees him cannot survive.[16] If one wants to see the spirits around, he should “get the placenta of a black cat the offspring of another black cat, the firstborn of a firstborn, roast it and grind the ashes, and put them on his eyes and he will see them. Then put the left over into an iron sealed container so that they do not steal it and keep his mouth closed throughout.[17]

Cures

Lists of fanciful cures abound. Here is one example amongst many. “If one has a fever, one should take seven thorns from seven palms, seven chips from seven logs, seven pegs from seven bridges, seven ashes from seven ovens, seven amounts of earth from seven sockets, seven samples of pitch from seven ships, seven pinches of cumin, seven hairs from an old dog, and tie them together to the garment of the sick person with a white thread.”[18] One wonders if in the time it takes to gather all this, the fever might have passed. Perhaps the effort in itself was therapeutic.

So is the prevalence of the ancient idea of charms or in talmudic language, a kameya. The Talmud discusses being able to carry a kameya around one’s neck on Shabbat. It distinguishes between a kameya that “works” and one that has not proven its effectiveness.

Medieval mysticism drew heavily on the non-Jewish world of magic, astrology, and alchemy. Once one leaves rationality or philosophy behind, the gates of superstition are thrown wide open. For them, this was still a world of evil spirits, devils as well as angels; and given the absence of universal health systems it is not surprising that any tool would be used when faced with a crisis of health or wealth.

There are many such charms used in the past and today, written in Hebrew, Aramaic, and local languages, often combining Hebrew letters, quotations from Psalms, kabbalist combinations of letters, not to mention blood, plants, and bones. Of course, in days before modern scientific health provision, people turned to magic for cures, and still do in many parts of the world.

The rabbis completely reject the idea of using sources from religions outside Judaism to bring about cures.[19] Yet if the same methods are used by rabbis acting in the name of God, they become legitimate. Nevertheless, it seems they understood and condoned the placebo effect.

Why Is It Not Acceptable?

Idolatry requires obedience to corrupt practices and symbols that damaged the fabric of a moral, caring society. It delivered people into the random and unpredictable power of priests and magicians who had control over life and death. This conflicts with the Jewish concept of a clear commitment to a known constitution that preserves rights and protects the weak.

The important principle lying behind opposition to magic was the issue of responsibility of a person to decide how to act. The opposition to these practices is because a person is handing over the decision-making process either to another or is subjecting the decisions to random or unknown criteria. This is not the same as asking for advice or seeking out expertise because there, one still has responsibility for the final decision. In Judaism, the expert advice of a great rabbi is still based on clear set of assumptions and criteria. It is handing oneself over to unknown powers that conflicts with the Jewish principle of obedience to God and Torah.

Despite these very definite prohibitions, it is hardly surprising that many Jews around the world still do pay a great deal of attention to good luck charms, things that protect from harm, evil spirits, and demons. And they can point to talmudic and medieval sources to justify their beliefs. Superstition is deeply imbedded in all societies. Sometimes it is associated with and part of the local religion. And even where officially the religion may deny the role of superstition, people often treat the religion in a superstitious way.

Why Does It Continue?

To this day, many people pay attention to astrological charts and go to see miracle workers to discover the appropriate times for business deals and betrothals. It seems that almost everything Maimonides specifies as being wrong and prohibited is popular in many Jewish circles. And what of those who regard the mezuzah as a charm to protect homes? What is more, many people have had experiences with mind readers, palm readers, or psychics that are remarkably correct both about the past and the future. Besides, the Torah does not say these things are all nonsense, just that we should avoid them. And if the Bible can record Samuel's body returning doesn't this prove that there is something to it?

Just because people do things, this does not make them right. The mezuzah is not a charm. It simply reminds us of the principles and the commandments that each home should be dedicated to. The word on the exterior is the name of God. It is God who protects us, not the mezuzah. Yes, we have all heard of “wonders” that happen when we check a mezuzah and find a letter missing, but like all “miracles” there are other ways of seeing what actually happened. We hear about the coincidences and the wonders but not of the cases where nothing happens at all. People are very gullible. That is precisely why so much of the Torah is devoted to attacking these sorts of practices.

The current nostalgic return to the past has led to a roaring trade in our times in wonder rabbis and others offering cures (for money usually). Checking texts for errors, a mezuzah or a ketubah, to explain why things went wrong for a household or a couple. Combining names, all the tricks of astrologers, mind readers, and card sharps are all part of the game. The lines between religion and magic and superstition can be very blurred.

Science and technology have made life so much easier in so many ways. And yet, societies have become so materialist, so stressful, so soulless, and so devoid of human interaction that more and more people look for comfort, solutions, and answers. The human need for a placebo is so strong that this is an area where religion, tacitly if not officially, has capitulated.

The Torah is clear that one can intercede directly with God and that the best protection one can have is to behave according to the commandments. An ability to cope with pressures, to be positive and strong are the only honest answers. But if superstitious beliefs and actions give people hope, it is difficult to wean people from them.

There is room to study these phenomena, to try to understand what is going on and to better understand the universe we are part of. However, the guiding principle is “Be straight with the Lord Your God.”[20]

We have the possibility of a direct and personal relationship with God, and this is the route we should aspire to follow. It is, to give an analogy, the difference between having direct access to the President, instead having to make appointments with his secretaries and assistants. We have no need of intermediaries.

There are practices and some beliefs in Judaism that most people today would define as superstitions. My aim here is to investigate some of these in order to see to what extent these practices or beliefs are coeval with what was considered science at the time of our Sages.

            A source that suggests that the Sages were interested in what may be described as the science of their time appears in bPesahim 94b. The source also indicates that there was interest in the science of the non-Jewish world, though the Sages were not always in agreement with its findings:

Our Rabbis taught: The sages of Israel say, “The orbit (of the constellations) is fixed, but the constellations shift.” But the sages of the nations say, “The orbit (of the constellations) moves, but the constellations are fixed.” Rabbi said, “There is a response to their words: We have never seen Ursa Major in the South and Scorpio in the North….” The sages of Israel say, “During the day the sun travels beneath the firmament (and therefore is visible), and at night it travels above the firmament (and therefore cannot be seen).” But the sages of the nations say, “During the day the sun travels below the firmament, and at night it travels beneath the earth. Rabbi said, “Their words appear more logical than ours. For during the day springs (deep in the earth) are cold, and at night they are hot (relative to the external temperature).”

As it turns out, modern science would invalidate all of these theories since our perception of the movement of the sun through the zodiacal constellations is just that: perception, but not reality. What is moving is the earth. But the ancients, just like us, did not feel the earth turning and therefore assumed it was stationary. What they could see was what appeared to be the movement of the sun, sometimes through the constellations, sometimes during its daily “risings” and “settings.”

More important than the accuracy of what we might call ancient science, this talmudic source points to interest in the nature of the universe in the ancient world as a matter of human curiosity. Jews and non-Jews engaged in what they considered scientific observation, and there was a Jewish willingness to accept a logical explanation of a phenomenon from whatever source it came.

This willingness to accept what was believed to be scientific truth in antiquity led, as so many scientific findings do, to actions based on these beliefs. Just as the record of astronomy preserved in Pesahim is now known to be incorrect, so, too, are other “scientific” ideas in the Talmud that are derived from Greco-Roman and Persian sources. Nevertheless, these ideas affected Jewish law, behaviors, and belief in their time and sometimes beyond. Some of these practices and beliefs still are observed in the observant Jewish community, while others have fallen by the wayside, often with the aid of significant halakhic authorities and Jewish thinkers. We will inspect some instances of what the Sages in antiquity would have considered scientific truth but today would be dismissed as superstition.

A Fatal Application of Numerology

            A host of societies believed in the power of specific numbers. In those societies, numerology was considered a science. In our case, the Greeks, like so many other peoples including our own, assumed seven to be a particularly powerful number. In a Hippocratic work called Peri Sarkon, in English “Of Flesh,” the writer states:

The seventh month child is born according to logic and lives. It has reason and invariable counting in regard to numbers divisible by seven; but the eighth month’s child never lives. The child of nine months and ten days also lives; it has invariable counting in regard to numbers divisible by seven” (Hippocrates, Peri Eptamenou (On the Seventh Month Embryo) and Peri Oktamenou (On the Eight-Month Embryo) 

            It seems this notion entered into rabbinic thinking as well and is expressed in a halakha that the overwhelming majority of present-day Jews and others would consider not only the result of ignorant superstition, but a cruel and heartless ruling.

            The halakha begins with a Mishnaic rule: “One does not violate Shabbat for a child whose birth date is in doubt nor for an androgyne… (mShabbat 19:3).

            This rule is stated in the context of activities one may do on Shabbat related to healing a circumcision wound. In some cases, these activities are permitted because the circumcision itself would be permitted on Shabbat, and these activities prevent dangerous side effects generated by that act.

            According to the Mishnah, circumcision on Shabbat is prohibited in two cases: When a child’s birth date is in doubt, and when a child is an androgyne, that is, a child exhibits both male and female characteristics.

            There are several possible ways of understanding what the Mishnah meant when it spoke of the case of the child whose birth date is in doubt. One way, perhaps the simplest one, is to say we are not sure whether the child was born on Shabbat. If so, the next Shabbat would be his circumcision day. If, however, the child was born on Sunday, his circumcision would not override Shabbat. In such a case, rather than potentially violating Shabbat by circumcising the child earlier than the eighth day of his birth, we defer the circumcision by one day.

            This, however, is not the Talmud’s understanding of the Mishnah. Rather, it states:

“Nor does (the circumcision) a child of a doubtful birth date allow for the overriding of Shabbat”—What does this include? It includes that which our Rabbis taught, “A child born in the seventh month of gestation, we violate Shabbat on his behalf. A child born in the eight month of gestation, we do not violate Shabbat on his behalf. We do not violate Shabbat for a child about whom we are in doubt as to whether he was born in the seventh month of gestation or in the eighth month. (This is because) a child born in the eighth month of gestation is like a stone. It is prohibited to move it on Sabbath. Its mother, however, may bend over and suckle it because of the danger (to her)” (bShabbat 135a).

            It is interesting that the Talmud chooses to understand the notion of “a child whose birth date is in doubt” as related to months of gestation rather than to a doubt about the day on which the child was born. It seems the Talmud takes this tack because a doubt about a day of birth is clearly easier to determine than the month of gestation, and the word “doubt” could cover both cases.

            More to the point in this presentation is the idea that a child born in the seventh month of gestation is considered viable and all activities that would require overriding Shabbat may be done for him. A child born in the eighth month of gestation, however, is regarded as dead (“it is like a stone”), and like any corpse, may not be moved on Shabbat due to the rules of muktzeh. These rules prohibit the movement of items that have no use on Shabbat or holy days. The child’s mother may not move him. The most she can do is suckle the baby so that she does not become endangered due to an excess of breast milk.

            It is obvious that this halakha at least shares the Greeks’ ideas about numerology and most likely drew its conclusions on the basis of Hippocratic medicine. In the classical world and late antiquity, Hippocratic medicine and numerology would have been viewed as science, and there would be no reason for the rabbis to ignore these “facts” in deciding the law. Indeed, the medical profession was still accepting the idea that seventh-month babies live and eighth-month ones die from the classical period through late antiquity, the middle ages, and into early modernity (Dr. Rosemary E. Reiss, MD and Avner D. Ash, PhD, “The Eight-Month Fetus: Sources for a Modern Superstition,” Obstetrics and Gynecology, 71:2, 1988, Ohio University, pp. 270–273).

            Our experience with gestation based on observation rather than reliance on numerology has made us aware that babies who gestate for eight months have as much a chance of survival, if not a better one, than babies with less gestation time. It is no wonder that today we consider the science of the rabbis in this halakhic case, and the numerological science of their predecessors, the Greeks, superstition. But as my title suggests, one person’s science is another’s superstition. This transition takes place as more and more sophisticated scientific methodologies supplant older ones.

            This analysis is less a defense of the sages than it is a study of cultural interplay and the use of what were deemed reliable facts when one culture learns from another. As our opening source about the scientific discourse between the rabbis and the sages of the nations indicated, the rabbis were interested in how the world works and Rabbi Judah Hanasi, the preeminent rabbinic figure of the late second century, defended Jewish scientific perceptions when he felt those observations were correct. He was, however, willing to concede that sometimes the perceptions of non-Jewish wise men, most likely Greco-Roman philosopher-scientists, appeared to be more reasonable than the Jewish ones. To the extent that that was generally true in the world of formative rabbinic Judaism, it is not surprising that what was considered scientific fact in the world at large impacted the thinking of the rabbis in the world of the Bet Midrash. Nevertheless, as scientific knowledge of gestation has progressed, it is clear that maintenance of the life of an eighth month fetus is a given (Rebecca Garber, “The Eighth Month Conundrum,” YU Torah, www.yutorah.org › lectures › lecture.cfm › the-eighth-month-conundrum, pp. 1–2.)

The Efficacy of Incantations

            Virtually every society in antiquity and well beyond believed in the efficacy of incantations. Egypt, Sumer, Akkad, Greece, and Rome all used and believed in the power of incantations. This belief was considered to be based on “facts” like the incontrovertible existence of gods, the connection between humans and the natural world they inhabited and over which they had some control, and similar factors. In that respect, incantation was “scientific” and the formulation of incantations was certainly a science, often delegated to expert practitioners.

            One of the bases for the belief in the power of incantations finds its roots in the belief in the power of words. According to the Torah, God’s words caused every created thing to emerge. Hence, Judaism and its interpreters would very naturally consider the power of the word effective in incantations. Beyond the overall belief in incantations held by many rabbis, the different societies that surrounded the rabbis contributed measurably to the formulae they thought worked.

            First, we will consider some of the earliest rabbinic sources dealing with incantations in general. We will then turn our attention to specific incantations and their origins.

            Some rabbis represented in rabbinic literature considered incantations for the purpose of healing effective. One early source, the Mishnah in mSanhedrin 10:1, discusses those who do not enter the World to Come and mentions “one who incants over a wound.” The larger context of this Mishnah is a rabbinic discourse on what qualifies as a prohibited belief or a failure of appropriate belief.

             Is the one who incants involved in one of these problematic beliefs? It seems not, since he uses a verse of the Torah as the powerful element in his incantation. The denial of a portion in the World to Come to one who uses an incantation over a wound lies elsewhere.

            It is Rabbi Akiba who opines that “one who incants over a wound” is excluded from the World to Come. It is not clear, however, that Rabbi Akiba did not believe in the power of incantations and therefore opposed them as superstitious beliefs. Rather, opposition to incantation, at least as the Mishnah records it, appears restricted to the use of the Torah verse, “All the diseases I brought upon Egypt I will not bring upon you, for I am the Eternal, your healer” (Exodus 15:26). Both Talmuds (bSanhedrin 101a, bShevu`ot 15b and pSanhedrin 10:1, 28a–b) understand Rabbi Akiba’s prohibition as resulting from a lack of honor to the Torah, either because incantation includes spitting along with the use of a verse including God’s name, or because the Torah’s sanctity is devalued by secular use.

            It seems that with the Mishnah’s notable exception, rabbinic sources viewed incantations in general as effective. Indeed, a Baraita which the Talmud cites permits “an incantation against snakes and scorpions on Shabbat” (bSanhedrin 101a). The commentators understand this incantation as an effective prophylactic against the damage these poisonous animals can cause.

            The special permission to use this incantation on Shabbat is related to the Shabbat prohibition of hunting or trapping animals. Since the authors of this permissive halakha viewed the incantation against snakes and scorpions as effective, snakes and scorpions would be dsequestered somewhere away from the one using the incantation. One might think this was a form of trapping these animals, which is forbidden on Shabbat. The Baraita negates that idea. Though the incantation may be effective, it does not constitute the physical act of sequestering the snakes and scorpions which would indeed entail violating Shabbat.

A Zoroastrian Influenced Incantation and Cure for Rabies in the Talmud?

            As an example of incantations, this extended talmudic passage on attempted cures for contact with rabid dogs or for their bite is instructive. Incantations and attempted cures for rabies are well attested for Sumer and Akkad, two Ancient Near Eastern societies (Wu Yuhong, “Rabies and Rabid Dogs in Sumerian and Akkadian Literature,” Journal of the American Orientalist Society, 121:1, January–March, 2001, pp. 32–43). Obviously, given the likelihood of recovery from this disease, invocation of the gods or other supernatural powers or adjuring them was a last-ditch effort to save the patient. Incantation, often along with medication of some sort, was, as we have seen, believed to be a potent force for healing by the world community in general and by the Jews in particular.

            In mYoma 8:6 there is a discussion about someone whom a rabid dog bit. The Mishnah addresses the question of whether one may feed this individual a lobe of the dog’s liver, which was considered a possible cure. The anonymous Mishnah forbids feeding this to someone on Yom Kippur on the grounds that it is an uncertain cure. Rabbi Mattiyah ben Heresh allowed it because he considered it a true cure (bYoma 84a). A talmudic passage discusses the rabid dog and how to deal with its touch or bite:

One who touches a rabid dog endangers himself, and one who is bitten dies. If one touches a rabid dog and is endangered, what is his cure? He should throw of his clothes and run. A rabid dog touched Rabbi Huna the son of Rabbi Joshua in the marketplace. He threw off his clothes and ran. He said, “I fulfilled in regard to myself, ‘Wisdom preserves its master’ (Ecclesiastes 7:12).”

The one who is bitten dies: What is his cure? Abbaye said, “He should bring the skin of a male hyena and he should write on it, “I, so-and-so the son of my mother, so-and-so, have written on a male hyena’s skin ‘To you, Kanti, Kanti, Qaliros,’ and there are those who say: ‘Qandi, Qandi, Kalurus,’ Yah, Yah, the Lord of Hosts is His name.’” He should then remove his clothes and bury them in a cemetery for a year. He should then retrieve them, burn them in an oven, and spread the ashes on a crossroad.

What should he do for the year’s time? When he drinks water, he should drink only through a brass straw lest he see a demon and endanger himself….(bYoma 84a)

            One wonders how many people survived rabies by using the cures and incantations the Talmud suggests, but one can begin to understand why at least some of the talmudic suggestions were at least reasonable to a degree. For example, the sages acknowledged danger caused by touching a rabid dog. This may have been due to the sages’ belief that the disease infecting the animal could infect humans by contact, which in the case of many diseases is true. The sages’ remedy consisting of casting away the garments which came in contact with the dog would almost suggest a rudimentary germ theory: What the diseased animal touches becomes a source of infection from which one needs to be distance oneself. This might also explain why the one who touches or is touched by a rabid dog must run from his garment. If the garment is a source of infection, the best idea would be to distance oneself from it, just as we would distance ourselves from someone whose disease could be spread aerially.

            We know today that simple contact with a rabid dog will not cause rabies. Only the entry of its saliva or matter from its brain or nervous system into the human body by bite, through a scratch, or through a mucus membrane can cause the disease. So, the “science” of the ancients would be considered superstitious today.

            Turning to the case of a bite by a rabid dog, which even the Talmud initially declares fatal, if there is a remedy at all for the bite, it is by incantation and a variety of rites supposed to provide healing. Here, too, we see what will be a cross-cultural sharing of healing or protective techniques.

            Most immediately noticeable is the incantation formula “Kanti, Kanti, Qaliros” or “Qandi, Qandi, Kalurus” alongside the abbreviated form of the Tetragrammaton and the phrase “the Lord of Hosts is His name” which the bitten individual writes on hyena skin. According to Alexander Kohut in his `Arukh Completum, these foreign words are actually in Middle Persian and refer to Kunda, or in some talmudic manuscripts as Kundis. In the case of Kunda/Kundi, this is a reference to the Zoroastrian demon of madness and destruction, Kundag. If the reference is to Kundis, this is Kundizha, the feminine form of Kundag. The last word of the incantation, Qaliros or Kalurus, may be a combination of the last letter of Kundag’s full name plus liros or lurus, which according to Kohut has the double meaning of madness and female dog in Middle Persian. Thus, this incantation is very much a mixture of a Zoroastrian belief in demons of destruction and madness and the power of the God of Israel to overcome them.

            In regard to the hyena skin, the hyena was considered in antiquity and until this day an animal with magical powers. This was true around the world: in Europe and Western and Southern Asia (J. W. Frembgen, “The Magicality of the Hyena: Beliefs and Practices in West and South Asia,” Asian Folklore, 57: 2, 1998, pp. 331–344). Its skin was believed to possess the power to heal, but mostly people used its body parts as love and fertility charms. Therefore, its use as part of the cure for rabies is not at all surprising. Rather, it is another instance of Jews sharing the cultural norms and “scientific” beliefs of the society in which they lived.

            No doubt the other rites and recommendations that this talmudic passage contains are part of the general society’s best practices for attempting to cure rabies. The Talmud’s remedy is more hopeful in terms of results than the reality is likely to have been. Most people died if a rabid dog bit them, and a year’s survival and full cure as described in the Talmud would have been miraculous.

Spontaneous Generation

            Spontaneous generation is best defined as the production of a living organism from non-living matter. Starting with the Greek philosophers who studied living things, especially Aristotle who summarized the theory, and into the nineteenth century, spontaneous generation was considered a scientific fact that explained such things as the generation of maggots. In that case, it was believed they sprung from rotting meat. The Talmud also accepted the theory of spontaneous generation and even based a Shabbat halakha on it.

            A Mishnaic passage leads into the talmudic discussion that includes the reference to spontaneous generation:

The eight creeping things that are mentioned in the Torah: one who hunts them or wounds them [on Shabbat] is liable; But [as for] other abominations and creeping things, one who wounds them is exempt. One who hunts them for use is liable; Not for use, is exempt…. (mShabbat 14:1)

            The Torah lists eight “creeping things” in Leviticus 11:29–30, and it is to these things the Mishnah refers. According to the Mishnah if one hunts them or wounds them one is in violation of one or the other of two Shabbat prohibitions. Somewhat surprisingly though, someone who wounds other “abominations and creeping things” is exempt, and depending on the reason for which one hunts them is either liable for a Shabbat violation or exempt.

            The Talmud discussion takes its cue from the Mishnaic exemption from Shabbat violation for wounding “abominations and creeping things” other than the eight listed in the Torah:

“…Other abominations and creeping things, one who wounds them is exempt”: However, if one kills them, one violates Shabbat.

Who is the one who teaches this? Rabbi Jeremiah said, “It is Rabbi Eliezer’s teaching,” as it is taught in a Baraita: “One who kills a louse on Shabbat is as one who killed a camel.”

Rav Yosef raised an objection: “Up until this point the Sages did not argue with Rabbi Eliezer (about the violation of Shabbat for killing a creeping thing) except for a louse, which does not reproduce sexually. But the Sages did not dispute his ruling regarding other creeping things that do procreate sexually….”

Abbaye responded (to Rav Yosef), “Is it so that lice do not reproduce sexually? Has it not been said, ‘The holy Blessed One sits and sustains everything from the horns of the wild ox to the eggs of lice’ (b`Avodah Zarah 3b)”

(Anonymous response to Abbaye): “There is a specific species called ‘lice eggs’ (but lice themselves do not procreate sexually)….”

            In antiquity, the general view about the generation of lice was that they were produced by sweat or dust. For Jews, the Torah’s description of the plague of lice brought on Egypt would substantiate this view since “all the dust became lice” (Exodus 8:13).

            By the nineteenth century, Pasteur had proved conclusively that spontaneous generation has no scientific basis. Yet, in an age when no microscopes were available and mere observation was all one could rely on, the appearance of creatures apparently emerging from rotting meat or sweaty parts of the body became the scientific explanation for the source of their existence.

            Anyone believing in spontaneous generation today would be viewed as mistaken at best or foolish at worst. But in antiquity, such a person would have been considered reasonable. Again, one man’s science becomes a later man’s superstition.

Ruach Ra`ah, Evil Spirits, Possession, and Mental Illness

            The Tanakh records one case of ruach ra`ah, which I will translate as “evil spirit,” that affected the emotional state of an individual. That individual was Saul. After Samuel secretly anoints David as king, God’s spirit departs from Saul, “…and an evil spirit (ruach ra`ah) from the LORD began to terrify him” (I Samuel 16:14). The last days of Saul were filled with anxiety, paranoia, and often unreasonable anger directed at David and even his own son. In sum, God caused Saul’s possession by an “evil spirit.”

            The idea of a form of possession by a deity as the cause of mental illness was held by the Mesopotamians. They called various mental illnesses the “Hand of Ishtar” or the “Hand of Shamash” in which the hand of the god seized the victim of the disease (Wikepedia, The History of Mental Disordershttps://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/History_of_mental_disorders).

            Other ancient societies, however, did not view mental illness as possession by a god or demon. Egypt sought the source of disease in the heart or brain. The Greek physicians were divided as to whether mental illness was an imbalance in the so-called “humors,” black bile, yellow bile, phlegm, and blood. Asclepiades rejected the humoral theory as a source for mental illness, while Galen, whose medical opinion eventually won, held that an imbalance of the humors in the brain caused mental illness.

            We are quite aware today that possession by a god or demon is not the cause of such ailments as depression, bipolar disorder, or schizophrenia. Rather, these diseases are due to a multiple possible causes: imbalances in the chemicals of the brain, problems in intra-brain communication, malformations of the brain, and a range of external conditions such as genetics, drug use during pregnancy, abuse, and the like.

            Yet, in late antiquity, rabbinic Jewish sources assigned the cause for these conditions to what we may call “Saul’s original ruach ra`ah.” Here are a few examples of Mishnaic uses of “ruach ra`ah” and halakha based on it:

            In a Mishnaic section we read on Erev Shabbat we find:

One who extinguishes a Shabbat lamp because he fears non-Jews, highwaymen, a “ruach ra`ah,” or for a sick person is exempt (from full Shabbat violation)…. (mShabbat 2:5)

            Similarly, in m`Eruvin 4:1 we find:

Someone who was forcibly taken outside the Shabbat limit (of 2,000 cubits from the city limits) by non-Jews or by a “ruach ra`ah” has only four cubits (in which he may move about on Shabbat). If they returned him (into the Shabbat limit), it is as if they had never taken him outside (the limit)….

            In both sources the term “ruach ra`ah” appears, but what does it mean? Since the sources themselves do not say, we turn to the commentators for clarification.

            In relation to the first Mishnah, Shabbat 2:5, Maimonides and Bertenuro both define “ruach ra`ah” as mental illness. Maimonides seems to equate it with depression in which the depressive finds light uncomfortable and seeks a dark, preferably, lonely place to get rest. Maimonides’ diagnosis seems to fit the symptoms of what he describes in Arabic as “melancholia.” Therefore, to mitigate the torment of a depressive, one could extinguish a Shabbat lamp without violating the Shabbat.

            The second Mishnah, `Eruvin 4:1, indicates a similar meaning for “ruach ra`ah.” If the first mishnaic case seems to indicate some sort of mental illness, here, too, it seems that a one-time, short psychotic episode is implied. Indeed, there exists a phenomenon called somewhat inaccurately “single episode schizophrenia” (Kate Rosen, M. Phil., Phillipa Garrety, PhD, Schizophrenia Bulletin, 31:3, 2005, pp. 735–750) since it appears to turn into full-blown schizophrenia within a few years. But any sort of temporary mental disorientation could easily push someone out of the Shabbat limit, and the same disorientation could bring one back into it. Whether that was due to a single episode of schizophrenia or something else, the law allows full use of the Shabbat limit as long as one was forced out of and back into the Shabbat limit against his will. Obviously, “ruach ra`ah” was seen as a psychological force majeure that could not be resisted any more than non-Jewish attackers.

            While mental illness has been part of the human experience from the earliest times, the notion that the various psychiatric ailments are the product of demons and evil spirits has seen its day. Yet, for the ancients, how could they explain the frequently sudden changes in behavior mental illness caused? Everything from humoral imbalance, not that far from the theory of chemical imbalance as the cause for mental illness, to possession explained the phenomenon. So, once again, one person’s science is another’s superstition.

Conclusion

            This article has pointed to a number of phenomena that the ancient world held to be scientific, though today we know they have no scientific basis at all and are, at least in our opinion, superstitions. Many of these phenomenon are not at all worthless since they show that rabbinic Jews took part along with all of humanity in the attempt to explain their world. Indeed, if they had not, where halakha required knowledge of nature, they would have been not been prepared for the work that was quintessentially theirs.

            Further, the examples assembled here show the sages intersecting with their surroundings. Whether it was the Greco-Roman or Sassanid Babylonian world, Jews, rabbinic or otherwise, participated in the scientific “best practices” of their time. Cross-cultural knowledge was not foreign to them nor eschewed by them.

            Last, but not least, we should be aware that what we consider normal Jewish practice is, in fact, often superstition. On the parchment of your mezuzah you will find what is more or less an incantation—kuzu b’mukhsaz kuzu based on a letter transference of “the Eternal our God is the Eternal” (Hashem Elo-henu Hashem). Even Sha-dai on the mezuzah may be a protective name to ward off a shed, a demon, who shares two letters of God’s Holy name. And when did an observant caterer ever serve fish with meat or not provide different silverware for each? Why? Because the mixture of the two could cause halitosis, or worse, davar aher, usually understood as leprosy (bPesahim 76b).

            Of course, science has a stronger hold on the human consciousness today than ever before. Nevertheless, as much as human beings seek to be rational beings, there is a side of us that assumes or hopes that there are forces, especially the power of God, that we can call on when all else fails. When what is palpably superstition harms us, rather than having out hopes dashed by trust in that which won’t help, perhaps we should put our trust in the best science can do and the God who guides the hand of the practitioner. Yet, human nature being what it is, a red string tied around one’s wrist may give enough spiritual solace to give some people longer life than expected.

            For all that rationality is significant, the irrational also has shown to be powerful. What many of us would deem one person’s superstition may indeed turn out to be not totally lacking in what we will discover to be based in psychological science.

In his study of the killer heat wave that struck Chicago in 1995, Eric Klinenberg found that elderly people died especially when they lacked social networks.  The heat was just as deadly, but the old men and women who lived alone survived, in general, if they had someone to look in on them, to call them, or to ask how they were doing.  Without that minimal level of social contact, they were much less likely to survive.   You can read Klienberg’s conclusions in his book, Heat Wave: A Social Autopsy of Disaster in Chicago. 

Like the Chicago heat wave, the coronavirus pandemic seems more deadly for the old than for the young.  It seems probable that it will, again like the heat wave, especially strike socially isolated people.  The visitor who asks after someone’s health could well make the difference between survival and death.  But now, faced with the corona virus, we all need to isolate ourselves, to limit our meetings with people.  We must not pay physical visits to our neighbors; telecommunications must replace physical visits.

Observant Jews, however, generally will avoid using telecommunications devices for three consecutive days next week: two days of Yom Tov running right into Shabbat (a little easier in Israel, with only one day of Yom Tov).   For an old person living alone, those three days might prove deadly.   Even for a couple, if one of the two must go the hospital, the other will remain at home, isolated, worried, not expecting to communicate  with anyone.

Perhaps, under these circumstances, observant Jews must use telecommunications to keep tabs on isolated neighbors, friends, or relatives.  Observant Jews in isolation must decide whether to use devices to call on their support systems.

What guidance can we offer to people facing these decisions?

I trust that your local rabbi has extensive knowledge of the intricacies of halakhah, the rules of Jewish observance.  However, this question does not depend on the intricacies of halakhah.  It does depend on your assessment of the reality: How frail is Aunt Sadie? Might Uncle Harry remember to take his medicine? What could happen if I get seriously depressed?

No one absolutely knows how to assess this reality. It depends, to some extent, on guesswork.  You have to act or not act based on incomplete knowledge.  You – whether you are frail and isolated, or whether you know someone in that category, you have to decide.  What should you do?

Consider what the Talmud advises in a possibly related case:

If a child gets locked in a room on Shabbat, the Talmud rules that one must chop down the door to free the child.  Whoever does this more quickly deserves praise, and one does not need to ask permission from a rabbinic court (Yoma 84b).

Later authorities codify this ruling (Rambam Shabbat 2:17; Shulhan Arukh, Orah Hayyim 328:13).  R. Yosef Karo adds “whoever asks (for permission in such a situation) spills blood” (Orah Hayyim 328:2). R. Y. M. Epstein goes further: “Whoever is asked spills blood.”  Why?  If the student asks whether to intervene instead of acting at once, that shows that the teacher “should have taught the public that intervening to protect life takes precedence over the laws of Shabbat”   (Arukh HaShulhan, Orah Hayyim 328:1).

Do you feel conflicted about whether to call on your neighbor, or to call your neighbor for help? Rabbi Eugene Korn puts the answer to this dilemma succinctly: “In the end, after taking in as much halakhic knowledge as we can, it is a personal decision because only the people directly involved can best assess the gravity of the potential pikuach nefesh (intervention to protect life) status of  Aunt Sadie.”

Rabbi Korn continues: “I would also add that if we are placed in an existential dilemma like this, it is better to be  machmir (strict) on safek pikuach nefesh (a doubtful need to intervene to protect life) than on lo tivaru aish” (“do not light a fire on Shabbat”.Exodus 35:3 or whatever other prohibition may exist on using telecommunication on Shabbat).

Yoel Finkelman wisely suggests that rabbis do have a role in the determination:

Perhaps the job of rabbis, who know the halakhah but not necessarily the reality, is to guide people who know more about their friends and relatives to be willing to pick up the phone. The prohibition is deeply ingrained and visceral. People will need help to believe that they can and should reach out using electronic devices.

In short, to use a phrase from the Talmud: “Be more strict about danger than about prohibitions.”

All of us are deeply concerned by the Covid 19 pandemic. We worry about health…physical, spiritual, mental, emotional, financial etc.  Most of us are sheltering in place; our world is contracting.

The ancient Israelites were enslaved in Mitsrayim—the Hebrew name for Egypt. The word mitsrayim comes from the root tsar, meaning “narrow and confined.” The Israelites were not only in physical servitude, but they suffered from the psychological pains of being in bondage. They lacked freedom to go where they wanted when they wanted. It was a depressing, anxiety-ridden time.

We now find ourselves in a modern-day mitsrayim. We are dealing with the narrowing of options and with confinement.

Rabbi Benzion Uziel, late Sephardic Chief Rabbi of Israel, offered an explanation of the Korekh “sandwich” eaten during the Seder. This custom goes back to Hillel the Elder who used to put together the matzah and maror and eat them together. This was based on the verse (Bemidbar 9:11) that instructed people to eat the Pessah offering with matzah and maror.

Rabbi Uziel noted that the matzot were eaten after the Israelites left Egypt, and are therefore a symbol of freedom. The bitter herbs, maror, are eaten as a reminder of slavery in Egypt. We eat both of them together to remind us that freedom and slavery are intertwined elements of life. We always find ourselves between exile and redemption. But even at a time when we are experiencing the bitter herbs of life, we should be awake to the possibility of redemption; we must maintain hope.

Today when we are in a sort of mitsrayim--when our lives are increasingly confined and narrowed-- we need to strengthen ourselves as much as possible. Each word of comfort and consolation is helpful. Each prayer to the Almighty is important. We need to reach out as often as possible to relatives and friends, to those who may be feeling excessive isolation and loneliness. We push back at the powers of mitsrayim by trying to enlarge our lives through communication with others (while strictly observing the social distancing rules). Phone calls, emails, online interactions help bring light into our lives.

This year’s Sedarim will indeed be different from all other Pessah nights. We pray that the Almighty will give strength and wisdom to all the health care professionals and scientists who are working so diligently to combat the pandemic. We pray that the Almighty will bless all of us with all manner of good health. We pray for a speedy end to this world wide plague.

May we soon emerge from this time of mitsrayim and may we soon enter a period of freedom and redemption.

To our members and friends

We congratulate our Campus Fellows for their ongoing programming through this difficult time of COVID-19. They have transitioned to Zoom and other technologies to reach their peers, and now their programs are available to students on other campuses. We appreciate how our Ideas and Ideals are bringing meaningful discussion to students everywhere.

Looking ahead to next year, if you know of college students who might be good representatives for our Institute on their campuses, please have them contact me, [email protected].

Here are the latest programs from our Fellows.

Rabbi Hayyim Angel

National Scholar

Institute for Jewish Ideas and Ideals

Yona Benjamim (Columbia)

In my initial proposal I outlined two events, one on the memory of the history of the Mishnah, and one on the uses of text criticism in learning. This changed slightly wherein I instead chose to have the two topics be both related to text study. One being lower criticism, and the second being higher criticism. I hosted both gatherings in the dorms and each had about 13-15 attendees.

The first event began with a discussion of what lower criticism entails (explaining the manuscript traditions and the ways in which they can be compared.) We then discussed why this mode of criticism has at times been more acceptable in traditional circles, as it does not threaten the aura of the text but rather discusses its recension through time.  However I brought a case in which lower critical observations show that traditional understandings of a topic in the Mishnah are perhaps misinformed due to very early scribal errors. This case was meant to show that the insights the method provides are large and should be invited, but that one should not think that one will not be challenged by what one learns. We discussed the idea of Yeridat-Hadorot as a way to understand the potential failures of textual transmission in our tradition. 

The second event largely concerned higher criticism, which I disseminated some prior reading about. We discussed how it might initially seem to be antithetical to a reverential attitude towards Rabbinic texts and Halacha, however I offered a Shamma Freidman article I had read in a previous class which outlines what I consider to be a positive take on what text study can offer. I also taught a series of Mishnayot and their parallel texts which I was writing my final research paper on so as to explain what learning with a source critical perspective can look like. 

Overall both events were a success. I discussed the institute at both and explained how I felt the values of the institute were reflected in the learning we were doing. This was received well and I expect similar enthusiasm could be had for more events like this in the future. 

Zac Tankel (McGill University)

Last semester, we had two Institute events. The first was on October 3^rd, and it was a shiur by David Chaim Wallach, a Judaic studies teacher from one of the local high schools. The topic was religiously observant Jews in prison and repentance. You can see the social media page for the event here: https://www.facebook.com/events/2473512592698137/. 

The second was a discussion group that I ran on November 28^th, based on Afterlife in Jewish Thought from Keys to the Palace.  https://www.facebook.com/events/474138363453231/

Ayelet Rubenstein (University of Pennsylvania)

I am planning on leading a discussion about different models of Jewish leadership over Zoom. In addition, I am working on planning a Pesach-oriented discussion related to the topic of freedom in our lives today.

Avi Siegal (Princeton University)

Rabbi Yitzchak Blau's class on "Women in the Exodus Narrative" on 3/2 was a success. It was publicized as "Co-sponsored by the Institute for Jewish Ideas and Ideals." The class was well-attended given our community's size: around 20 students came. Before Rabbi Blau began speaking, I said a few words about the Institute and then passed around a sheet on which students could write down their names in order to subsequently receive information from me about signing up for the University Network. I later followed up with those students.

For my second event this semester, I'm thinking of leading a Zoom chaburah on the topic of triage in Halakhah.

Marta Dubov (Ryerson University)

On February 15, we organized about 12 students to come together and experience a community-wide Shabbaton together. A number of them have expressed interest in joining the university network, as well as potentially taking on the role as fellows on their own campuses.

Ari Barbalat (University of Toronto)

In partnership with Rabbi Aaron Greenberg of JLIC, we hosted scholar Roy Doliner. He spoke on the topic: “The Ox and the Donkey: The Secret Meaning of the Bible’s Odd Couple.”

Eli Hyman, Ora Friedman (Yeshiva University)

We’re working with Steven Gotlib (RIETS) to plan two panel discussions (see Steven Gotlib’s report below).

Additionally, the event that we were planning on doing (a Shiur followed by a discussion/Q and A with Rabbi Hajioff), is still on.  We hope to have it over Zoom early in May, and the topic will be “Five Signs We Are Close to Mashiach and the End of Days.”

Steven Gotlib (Rabbi Isaac Elhanan Theological Seminary, Yeshiva University)

For this semester's events, I'll be transitioning online and hosting two panel discussions on "Reimagining Jewish Community in the Wake of COVID-19." Each panel will be framed by some words of Torah I give, followed by a discussion on how we've can make the best of the situations we find us in. 

The first panel, scheduled for next Thursday evening from 8:30-10pm will be framed with "Zooming into the Future: R. Shagar, R. Nachman and the Matrix" followed by a panel discussion with speakers representing the four corners of Jewish community: Yeshiva, Day School, Campus, and Synagogue. 

The second panel, Date TBD, will be framed around "Love, Romance, and Covenant Across Social Distance" and will focus more on interpersonal and intrapersonal relationships from both a psychotherapeutic and rabbinic perspective. 

The ancient and so-far uncured disease of “anti-Semitism” is reflected in Megillat Esther.  Haman tells the king: “There is a certain people scattered abroad and dispersed among the peoples in all the provinces of your kingdom; and their laws are diverse from those of every people; neither keep they the king’s laws; therefore it profits not the king to let them be.” (Esther 3:8). Haman’s description of the situation is insidious and hateful. It slanders the Jewish people who, although they follow their own religious laws, also are law-abiding people who follow the king’s laws.

The disease of anti-Semitism has persisted through the generations and continues today, with all its false accusations, paranoia and dangerous consequences. How are we to cope with this deep-seated irrationalism? How are we to explain this to our children and grandchildren?

                                                                     *   *   *

Each generation of Jewish parents and grandparents seems to face the same dilemma. We teach our children and grandchildren that all humans are created in the image of God; that we should respect and assist others; that love of God necessarily entails love of God’s creations.

Yet, these right and proper teachings are challenged by the realities which our children and grandchildren witness with their own eyes. They see thousands of missiles shot at Israel by Hamas terrorists with the aim of killing as many Jews as possible. They see throngs of Palestinians cheering as missiles are launched to murder Jews. They hear the rantings of the President of Iran who calls for the annihilation of Israel. They read of anti-Semitic diatribes and attacks by anti-Semites throughout the world. They see the large number of countries at the United Nations who consistently vote against Israel, who consistently side with those who would destroy Israel. They know of the so-called humanitarian groups and journalists who seem to find fault only with Israel, but rarely, if ever, with the vicious enemies of Israel. 

We Jewish parents and grandparents constantly teach our young generations about love of God, love of humanity, the sanctity of human life. Yet, there are so many millions of fellow human beings who are saturated with hatred, who engage in murderous activities against us. And there are so many millions of others who are complicit with the evils of anti-Semitism by their neutrality or silence.

How can we teach of love in a world filled with hatred? How can we teach that all humans are created in the image of God, when so many humans are actively trying to murder us? How can we preach the goodness of humankind, when so much of humankind is engaged in violence? 

For thousands of years, our people have weathered the storms of persecution. In spite of the senseless hatred and violence perpetrated against us in so many lands, the Jewish people are still here to tell our story.  Our enemies always disappear; we always survive. That is an iron law of history. And that bothers the anti-Semites greatly.

Why do anti-Semites give us such a hard time? Why do people who do not even know us express hatred and malevolence toward us? Why do Israel’s enemies persist in demonizing the Jewish State, rather than  finding a way to co-exist peacefully and happily?

Jews represent an infinitesimal fraction of the world’s population. Yet, so much negative energy is directed against us! I suppose we should feel complimented to receive so much attention!

Our enemies are astounded and troubled by the fact that such a tiny Jewish people has been able to accomplish so much. We gave the world Moses, King David, Isaiah and Queen Esther. Our Bible is venerated by Christianity and Islam and has been a major influence for human civilization. Our sages have produced an unmatched legacy of literature dedicated to righteousness, ethics and law. For thousands of years, our communities have striven to maintain the highest ideals of our tradition.

Jews have distinguished themselves for service to humanity far out of proportion to our numbers. Our enemies resent our persistent commitment to excellence: generations of Jewish doctors and teachers, social workers and scientists, artists and philanthropists, business people and diplomats. They resent the incredibly high proportion of Jewish Nobel Prize winners and other world-class intellectuals and writers.

Some hate us because they see in us a highly educated, highly idealistic, highly charitable group. In contrast to their much larger groups, we are an annoying paradigm. The enemies of Israel do not understand how a tiny Jewish State has become a world leader in science and technology, agriculture and industry. How can such a small State, constantly embattled and boycotted by much of the Arab world, be so amazingly successful in so many ways? How is it that only Israel of all countries in the Middle East has been able to maintain a vibrant and dynamic democracy, a society that gives so much freedom to all its citizens?

Our enemies solve their dilemma by denying or belittling Jewish virtues, or by blaming us for preventing their own advancement. When they cannot come to grips with their own shortcomings, they look for a scapegoat: and we are a convenient target since we are so small and yet so visible. If anything, their anti-Semitism is a blatant admission of their own failings and weaknesses. Those who devote themselves to hatred thereby undermine their own humanity.

The Jewish people are persistent in believing in the ultimate goodness of humanity. In spite of all our enemies and all their hatred, we remain eternally optimistic. We believe that reason and benevolence will prevail. We work to make society better and to alleviate suffering. We believe that even wicked human beings can be redeemed through love and compassion. We can point to many millions of people who think kindly and warmly toward Jews and toward the Jewish State. The good people far outnumber the anti-Semites.

When we come under fire from anti-Semites, we call on our collective historic memory to give us strength. We have survived the millennia due to the incredible courage and fortitude of our forebears. We are the children of the prophets who taught justice, righteousness and love to the world. Our teachings are right: the world simply hasn’t absorbed them as yet.

How can we teach of love in a world filled with hatred? How can we teach that all humans are created in the image of God, when so many humans are actively trying to murder us? How can we preach the goodness of humankind, when so much of humankind is engaged in violence? 

We teach these things because they are true, and because they are the ideas and ideals that can best bring fulfillment to humanity. In spite of so much hatred and evil in the world, the Jews teach love and righteousness.

The day will come when hatred and bigotry will disappear from humanity. In the meanwhile, we must stay strong, courageous and faithful to our tradition. And to our collective Jewish memory.

Get some FRESH AIR.

At least twice a day or as much as you can -even while in quarantine. Even just sitting next to an open window and breathing deeply with eyes closed can be a virtual break from sitting around inside.

Get some SUN.

Again, as much as you can- especially if you are in quarantine. Exposure to direct sunlight helps your body make Vitamin D.

Find a sunny spot in your house/apartment/yard and soak up some rays for 15-30 minutes (unless, of course, it's cloudy).

WRITE something.

Encourage your grandchildren to put thoughts down in words. Inventive spelling is wonderful for the younger children. For yourselves, you can start keeping a diary or journal. Transform your thoughts and feelings into a poem. Write a letter to someone you love - an actual letter, on paper, that you put in an envelope with a stamp - grandchildren especially love to receive those. 

MOVE your body.

Get some physical activity. Stretch and exercise along with a YouTube video. Try the 7-minute workout. Just get the body in motion. Our Director of Athletics, Coach Dejon, has been posting awesome exercise activities on our instagram account and MDS MiBayit.

LAUGH a lot and often.

Laugh and play as much as you can… laughter is the best medicine. Game nights, movie nights, joke books, and looking through family photos and videos can lighten things up and take off some of the pressure.

DISCONNECT from your devices.

This one is tricky when we have to be on our devices for much of the day to attend to the news and stay connected with friends, etc. If you are with your grandchildren, try and carve out some time for unplugging for them. During un-screened time, encourage your grandchildren to read a real book, draw, play cards or board games, dress up, imaginary play, do a puzzle.

Go on an "INFORMATION DIET."

We are encouraging everyone to take breaks from the media…. and stick to reliable, less emotional sources for your news. Turning off the computer and TV and disconnecting can give you and your family some distance and help you put things into perspective and frame the conversation for your children and grandchildren. 

TALK to someone.

It is 100% normal, natural and predictable for people to feel really uncomfortable in this situation. It is very hard to live our lives with a heightened level of worry and uncertainty with which we are currently living. Can talking to someone about your angst and worries change the things that are making you feel that way? Probably not. Can talking to someone change the way you feel about those things? Probably. Believe it or not, talking about your feelings, saying them out loud to another person who listens to you and validates how you feel, actually makes those feelings easier to bear.  

Sending you lots of positive energy and motivation! We can do this!!!

Best,

Ariella Azaraf, School Social Worker and Michal Agus Fox, School Psychologist

Angel for Shabbat, Parashat Bo

by Rabbi Marc D. Angel

Rabbi Yitzhak Shemuel Reggio, a 19th century Italian Torah commentator, offers an interesting insight concerning the plague of darkness. The Torah states that Egyptians spent three days in deep darkness while “all the children of Israel had light in their dwellings.”

Rabbi Reggio opines that the plague of darkness did not befall the land of Egypt—but rather the eyes of the Egyptians. Egypt itself was full of light; but while the Israelites continued to enjoy that light, the eyes of the Egyptians were blanketed in darkness. If an Egyptian stood right next to an Israelite, the Egyptian would be unable to see--but the Israelite would see clearly.

Rabbi Reggio notes that after the plague of darkness, the Torah reports that “the man Moses was very great in the land of Egypt, in the eyes of Pharaoh’s servants and in the eyes of the people.” It seems that the Egyptians did not recognize the greatness of Moses until after they had experienced darkness. This plague somehow caused a transformation within them. They started to see things differently, more clearly. It took darkness to make them see the light!

For many years, the Egyptians did not think twice about their enslavement of the Israelites. This was a “normal” fact of life, not to be questioned. They did not see that anything was morally wrong with the status quo. They had grown so accustomed to their pattern of thinking, that they did not question the validity of their assumptions and their lifestyle.
When they were plunged into absolute darkness, they began to realize how wrong they had been. They came to understand that their assumptions and patterns of behavior were immoral. When they “saw the light”, they then recognized the greatness of Moses. He was, after all, telling the truth! He—not Pharaoh—was the agent of truth.

The transformation within the minds of the Egyptians may also be evidenced by the Torah’s later statement that the children of Israel found favor in the eyes of the Egyptians, so that the Egyptians gave them presents. The Egyptians no longer saw the Israelites as slaves, as objects to be exploited; rather, they saw the Israelites as fellow human beings who had been cruelly mistreated. Egyptians felt empathy toward the Israelites, whom they had previously treated so callously and viciously. They wanted to give them presents, to demonstrate human solidarity.

Rabbi Reggio’s insight might be extended to relate to human life in general. People live with assumptions, values, and patterns of behavior typical of their societies. They do not necessarily self-reflect: are these assumptions true? Are these values moral? Are these patterns of behavior ethical? It is highly difficult to rise above one’s milieu and judge one’s reality in a dispassionate, honest manner.

Professor Daniel Kahneman, the Israeli Nobel Prize winner in Economics, has coined the phrase “illusion of validity.” He points out that we tend to think that our own opinions and intuitions are correct. We tend to overlook hard data that contradict our worldview and to dismiss arguments that don’t coincide with our own conception of things. We operate under the illusion that our ideas, insights, intuitions are valid; we don’t let facts or opposing views get in our way.

The illusion of validity leads to innumerable errors, to wrong judgments, to unnecessary confrontations. If we could be more open and honest, self-reflective, willing to entertain new ideas and to correct erroneous assumptions—we would find ourselves in a better, happier and more humane world.

The ancient Egyptians had the illusion of validity, believing that their murderous, slavery-ridden society was fine. They did not question their lifestyle, opinions or worldview. It took the plague of darkness to make them think more carefully about the nature of their society—and the nature of their own humanity. Once they “saw the light”, they were able to make positive adjustments. Although Pharaoh and his army continued to foster the pre-darkness views, the people as a whole seem to have re-oriented their way of thinking and acting.

The plague of darkness might symbolize the need for each of us to periodically clear our minds, re-evaluate our assumptions, and see where we might have fallen victim to the illusion of validity. In the darkness and quiet of our inner selves, we can try to shed light on our opinions, values, attitudes and behaviors. We can try to rise above ourselves, as honestly and objectively as we can.

An old proverb has it that “no one is so blind as the one who refuses to see.” We might offer an addendum to this proverb: “no one sees so clearly as the one who has first experienced darkness.”

Our National Scholar, Rabbi Hayyim Angel, published a new Book Review in Tradition (the journal of the Rabbinical Council of America) discussing the interface between religious Bible study and archaeology.

Koren Publishers has embarked on an impressive new project, a popular companion to the Torah presenting contemporary research on archaeology, Egyptology, flora and fauna, geology, the languages and realia of the ancient Near East, and other areas that elucidate aspects of the biblical text. It is presented in a similar engaging manner to the Hebrew series, Olam HaTanakh, and like that Hebrew work was composed by a team of scholars who specialize in a variety of fields of scholarship. There are brief articles and glossy photographs, maps, and illustrations that bring these areas to light. Living up to the standard that the community has come to expect from Koren publications, the volume is an impressive work of graphic design, with a high aesthetic sense. Unlike Olam HaTanakh, which also offers a running commentary on biblical books, The Koren Tanakh of the Land of Israel discusses specifically those background areas that may enhance our understanding of the text within its real-world setting.

This series is written from an Orthodox perspective. Its authors believe that God revealed the Torah to Moses, and they utilize contemporary scholarship as a tool for understanding God’s word. The articles generally are presented judiciously, rather than reaching conclusions that exceed the biblical and archaeological evidence. The volume does not purport to be original scholarship, but rather synthesizes contemporary academic scholarship in an accessible and Orthodox-friendly manner.

Here are a few brief examples of how the authors highlight elements of the background of the narrative and laws...

To read the complete review, please go to 

https://traditiononline.org/11255-2/ 

Should a person feel guilty for using an English ArtScroll Gemara (as opposed to struggling with the original Aramaic)?

The Talmud (Shabbat 31a) cites the opinion of Rava about what we will be asked when we eventually come before the heavenly court. One of the questions is: kavata itim leTorah, did you set aside fixed times to study Torah. Regular study of Torah is expected of us, and we will have to answer for ourselves in due course.

Torah study can be in any language one understands. The important thing is to understand what we read and to connect our study to service of Hashem. Over the centuries, Jews have studied Torah in many languages—Hebrew, Aramaic, Greek, Arabic, Spanish, German,Yiddish etc.  I hope and assume that none of those Jews ever felt guilty for studying in the vernacular they understood.

When one studies Talmud today, it’s fine to use editions that provide translations and explanations in the vernacular. The goal is to understand what we read. It is hoped, though, that one will eventually become proficient enough to study the original text on its own.

No one should ever feel guilty for studying Torah in the vernacular. Guilt should only be felt if we fail to set aside times for Torah study each day. The heavenly court has its question ready for us: let us be sure to have our answer ready.

Should we try to preserve Yiddish as a living language in America or Israel?

Over the centuries, Jews developed languages such as Yiddish, Judeo-Spanish, Judeo-Arabic etc. These languages reflected Jewish societies that were largely cut off from the larger societies around them. Jews spoke their own languages, ran their own schools, published their own books and newspapers.

For most Jews today, the sociological reasons for maintaining a distinctive Jewish language no longer apply. Jews speak the language of the land as their mother tongue. Sociological realities relentlessly undermine the need for a distinctive “Jewish” language.

Yiddish remains a living language among Chassidim and others who seek to insulate their group from the “outside” society. For them, the language is alive and well.

I grew up among Sephardim of Judeo-Spanish background. My grandparents’ generation spoke Judeo-Spanish as their mother tongue. My parents spoke the language fluently to their parents and elders…but spoke to us in English. We understood our elders when they spoke Judeo-Spanish…but our mother tongue is English. My generation is the last to hear Judeo-Spanish as a vibrant, living language.

There are efforts to maintain vestiges of the language and tradition…prayers, folksongs, proverbs etc. But it is highly unlikely that it will ever again be spoken as a mother-tongue. Instead of lamenting this fact, we should be striving to derive lasting lessons from Judeo-Spanish civilization. The same is true for Yiddish outside Chassidic circles.  Instead of lamenting the decline, let us draw on the treasures of Yiddish culture to enhance and enrich the Jewishness of ours and future generations.

I wrote a memoir about growing up in the Sephardic community of Seattle, and how the Americanization process has impacted on us: A New World: An American Sephardic Memoir . It can be ordered on this link: https://www.jewishideas.org/new-world-american-sephardic-memoir-rabbi-marc-angel

Is it appropriate for a Jew to own a (non-violent) pet dog?

The Shulhan Arukh (Hoshen Mishpat 409:3) rules that it is forbidden to raise a “kelev ra”-- a bad, ferocious dog—unless it is chained down. The Rama notes that it is permissible to raise tame dogs and that in fact this was a fairly common practice.

Since it is halakhically permitted to own a non-violent dog, each individual can decide whether or not to have a pet dog. No one else has the right to pass judgment on whether it is or is not appropriate for a Jew to own a pet dog.

Dog owners should realize, though, that some people are afraid of dogs, others are allergic to dog hair, and yet others are simply uncomfortable in the presence of dogs…even tame dogs. Owners should be sensitive to the needs and feelings of those who visit their homes or who are met while walking their dogs. Even good dogs can seem to be “bad” in the eyes of those who have an aversion to dogs.

If Jews want to own non-violent pet dogs, they are welcome to do so. If they want to own guard dogs, they need to be sure that these dogs are kept under proper control so that they do not harm innocent victims. Dog owners should be highly sensitive to the concerns of others who are not “dog lovers” and who may be frightened or displeased to have a pet dog bark at them, jump on them, or lick their hands.

The Turkish author, Orhan Pamuk, observed: “Dogs do speak, but only to those who know how to listen.”