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| Ma'aneh Lashon - "Supplications to be said at cemeteries, and many prayers to be said for eradication of evil decrees..." Horodna 1804. |
INTRODUCTION:
Visiting graves of great rabbis, besides enjoying more and
more popularity, has also become something of a spiritual art form today to the
extent that in some circles it is a means of attaining social status.
In this article, which I have based on the research of
Professor Elliot Horowitz (1953-2017) we will look at the development and
evolution of the notion of visiting graves both for intercession and sometimes even
for prayer.[1] Professor Horowitz studied at Yeshivat Kerem
beYavneh and later at Yale and Princeton Universities. He taught Jewish History
at Bar Ilan University and served as co-editor of the Jewish Quarterly Review.
A CONTROVERSIAL HISTORY:
Horowitz is quick to point out that the Jewish custom of
visiting graves has had a chequered history:
“[A]n examination of the
custom's earlier history reveals a range of complex attitudes and even
considerable controversy.”
People were tempted to visit graves to ask the dead to
intercede on their behalf. A grave, as Horowitz aptly puts it, was a natural place of call because of the:
“relative proximity of the dead and the
absolute distance of the Deity.”
TALMUDIC ORIGINS:
The Talmud[2]
suggests two very different reasons for visiting a cemetery specifically during
times of drought. One, a rather rational explanation to show that "(because
of the drought) we are as the dead before You," and the other, a
mystical reason, "that the dead should intercede for mercy on our
behalf."
The Talmud records:
“[Caleb] went to prostrate
himself on the graves of the forefathers. He said to them: ‘My fathers, request
mercy for me that I be spared the [evil] council of the [other] spies.’
POST TALMUDIC TIMES:
The story of Caleb was used in post-Talmudic literature by
two opposing schools of thought. One used it show that intercessory[5]
prayers to the dead had good precedent - while the opponents insisted that
Caleb did not actually pray to the dead but merely visited the graves.
10th-CENTURY:
SAHL BEN MATZLIACH HACOHEN AND R. YAAKOV BEN SHMUEL:
During the 10th-century we start to see
opposition to what was apparently becoming a common practice of intercessory
prayers to the dead. Ironically, it was a Jerusalem Karaite Jew, Sahl ben
Matzlich haCohen (910-990) who provides an early opposition view to the dominating
mainstream view condoning praying to, visiting, or communicating with the dead.
He wrote a letter in response to R. Yaakov ben Shmuel who criticised
the ascetic Karaites, and in turn offered some criticism of the Rabbanite
practices, particularly their teaching Torah in return for payment (grain). Another
major criticism was the practice of venerating graves, particularly that of the
Tannaic (Mishnaic) sage R. Yossi haGellili in Dalata just north of
Safed.
Sahl ben Matzlich haCohen wrote:
“How can I remain silent when some Jews follow the
customs of idolators. They 'sit among the graves and lodge in the vaults'
(Isaiah 65: 4) and 'inquire of the dead' (ve-dorshim el ha-metim [cf Deut. 18:
11]), saying, 'Oh Rabbi Yose the Galilean, grant me a cure!' or 'Vouchsafe me a
child.' They light lamps at the graves of the righteous and 'burn incense on
tiles' (Isaiah 65: 3) ... They perform pilgrimage rites over the graves of the
deceased righteous (ha-zaddikim ha-metim) and make vows to them and appeal and
pray to them to grant their requests."[6]
Sahl also criticized the
custom of the Jews of Babylonia who had venerated the graves of Ezekiel and
of Barukh ben Neriyah[7] for
centuries.
12th-CENTURY:
You will recall the Talmudic practice we quoted earlier of
visiting graves during a drought, and the two very different reasons for so
doing: 1) "(because of the drought) we are as the dead before
You," and 2) "that the dead should intercede for mercy on our
behalf." Over the next
centuries, it is fascinating to see how different rabbis and movements chose
one of these two Talmudic reasons over the other, to suite their worldview on
the matter of grave visitation.
1) R. YOSEF
KIMCHI:
During the 12th-century, R.
Yosef Kimchi wrote in opposition to the second (i.e., mystical) Talmudic
interpretation that the dead can intercede on our behalves:
“Moreover, you believe other things unvindicated by
reason even though Scripture rejects them, such as the belief that the dead
perform miracles ...
See that Scripture
held liable those who consult the dead on behalf of the living ...
Scripture says further, 'The dead do not praise God, nor
do any who go down in silence' (Ps. 115: 17).”[8]
2) RAMBAM:
True to form and right on cue, in his Mishneh Torah[9]
the rationalist Maimonides also chose to ignore the second and more mystical
explanation. Instead, he only made mention of the first reason that without rain
we are “as the dead”.
In fact, Rambam discouraged the visiting of graves in
general.[10]
Rambam’s typically stark rationalist views were often
difficult for other rabbis to accept without some form of ‘reinterpretation’.
Here are two examples of how Rambam was ‘reworked’ by later
commentators:
a) R. YITZCHAK BEN SHESHET PERFET:
R. Yitzchak ben Sheshet Perfet (1326-1408), also known as
Rivash, suggested that Rambam’s statement not to visit graved be read in conjunction with a previous statement concerning
graves of the righteous which should not be marked with a form of monument. Hence, the Rivas
explains, that Rambam simply meant that we should not be distracted by the
elaborate graves of the righteous but simply remember the dead for their deeds.[11]
Horowitz points out that ironically, the Rivash’s own tomb
in Algiers became a major pilgrimage site to which, as one traveller noted “the sick
and the unfortunate of every faith came to pray."[12]
b) R. DAVID
IBN ZIMRA:
Another reinterpretation of Rambam was
by R. David ibn Zimra (1479-1573), also known as Radbaz. He suggested Rambam
was not referring to visiting graves but to the heathen practice of opening
graves in order to commune directly with the dead. Thus visiting the graves was
in his interpretation of Rambam, was permissible and he reminds us that “Jews
everywhere have been accustomed to visit their dead and to prostrate themselves
upon their graves.”[13]
3) R. ELIEZER OF METZ:
R. Eliezer of Metz expressed the controversial view that the prohibition of ‘inquiring
of the dead’ applied only when initiated after death, but it was permissible to
put a living person under oath to return after his death and answer any
questions he might be asked.[14]
13th-CENTURY:
1) CHASIDEI ASHKENAZ:
In 13th-century
Germany, the mystical work Sefer Chasidim written by the Chasidei
Ashkenaz or German pietists, followed the second (and mystical) Talmudic interpretation
that intercessory prayers to the dead were permissible and effective.
The Sefer Chasidim comments on the words of Barzillai, just
before he died, to King David:
"’Pray let your servant return that I may die in my
own town, near the graves of my father and mother.’[15]
- because the dead derive benefit when their loved ones visit their graves and
pray on behalf of their souls, improving their lot in the next world. And also,
when they are asked, they pray on behalf of the living, as when Caleb ben
Yefuneh prostrated himself upon the graves of the Patriarchs."[16]
In keeping with this sentiment, when
the leader of Chasidei Ashkenaz, R. Yehudah heChasid passed away, his
gravesite became a point of pilgrimage for Jews for centuries thereafter.
2) R. CHAIM PALTIEL:
In the late 13th-century, Rabbi Chaim Paltiel of
Magdeburg (a student of R. Meir of Rothenberg) followed the first (and
rationalist) Talmudic interpretation that intercessory prayers are not
sanctioned by Judaism. Apparently, pilgrimages to graves were common practice in
his time and he tied to dissuade at least ‘women and uneducated men’
from participating in them because he feared they would pray to the dead,
something tantamount to idolatry.
R. Chaim Paltiel’s teshuva or responsum - regarding
someone who had taken an oath to visit cemeteries - on this matter is an early
example of a rift in approach to the popular practice of visiting graves, and
he fervently opposed such practices and found ways to absolve people from such
vows. He suggested people donate to charity the same amount of money as they
would have spent on travel to the pilgrimage site.
R. Chaim Paltiel’s position is significant because, as
Horowitz put it:
“It was to be used as a critique of intercessionary
prayer by later authorities as well, suggesting the emergence during the Middle
Ages, beyond Karaite circles alone, of a counter-tradition to the dominant
Talmudic view that prayer to the dead was not biblically prohibited.”
Amazingly, R. Paltiel was apparently
reticent to rather suggest that the person who had taken the vow simply request
his or her needs to G-d directly because he knew how ingrained the belief of
intercessory prayers to the dead were amongst the ordinary religious masses.
3) THE ZOHAR:
On the other hand, it should come as no surprise that the
foundation work of Jewish mysticism, the Zohar, chose to elaborate upon
the second (and mystical) Talmudic reason that the dead can “intercede for
mercy on our behalf.”
According to the account in the Zohar,[17]
two Tannaic sages R. Chizkiah and R. Yeisa were travelling in the
Galilee when they heard a voice of one of the dead in a cemetery near where
they had stopped. R. Yeisa was prompted to ask why it was that we had the
custom of visiting a cemetery when experiencing a drought – because the Torah
tells us not to “inquire of the dead”? R. Chizkiah responded that the
verse referred only to idolaters who are considered dead, but the dead of
Israel are considered to be living even after death.
R. Chizkiah continued:
"When the other peoples visit their dead, they do so
with sorcery in order to arouse evil spirits with their help. But when Israel
visit their dead they come in repentance before God, they come with a broken heart
and fasting into His presence, and all so that the holy souls might plead for
mercy for them before God.”
This is how Horowitz interprets the conclusion of this Zohar:
“It would appear, therefore, that the Spanish author[18]
of the Zohar [who lived in a Christian environment][19]
felt the need to find an explanation, possibly in response to Jewish
rationalist criticism, for why Christian prayer to saints at their shrines was
idolatrous but Jewish prayer at the graves of the righteous was not.”
14th-CENTURY:
R. YEHUDAH BEN ASHER OF TOLEDO:
During the 14th-century, R. Yehudah ben Asher of
Toledo mentioned intercessory prayers at gravesites quite glibly as it was
clearly considered a common Jewish practice.
Horowitz writes:
“It is worth noting that in the prayer which R. Judah b.
Asher composed for his own recitation when visiting such graves he was careful
to avoid speaking directly to the deceased even though he was clearly
interested in the latter's intercession on his behalf.”
He solved this dilemma by using the following carefully
worded formula:
''And may God in His mercy raise up for us the righteous
one buried in this grave. May my prayer be heard here, and may he [= the
deceased] too pray on our behalf, blessing us continually and at all hours."
15th-CENTURY:
1) R. MOSHE MINZ:
R. Moshe Minz, just like R. Chaim Paltiel earlier, also ruled
in a responsum that those who participated in the popular practice of taking
vows to visit graves could easily be absolved because:
“[T]here are great authorities
who have condemned such practices as 'inquiring of the dead,' for most women
and the unlearned make them intercessors between themselves and their Master."[20]
2) MAHARIL:
Similarly, in a responsum of R. Yaakov Moelin, known as the
Maharil, he cautioned those who had planned to visit a grave in Regensburg
(probably the grave of R. Yehudah heChasid) not to direct their prayers to the
dead.[21]
Yet, surprisingly, he also seems to have been interested
in magical techniques to administer oaths to the dead in order to prevent them
from coming back to harm the living. This magical procedure involved direct
communication with the dead.[22]
17th-CENTURY:
BACH:
In the 17th-century special
prayer books, such as Ma’aneh Lashon, were produced to be used at
gravesite visitations and pilgrimages. The Prague publication was so popular it
was later printed in Yiddish.
An outstanding feature of this book was
the prayers which were directly addressed to the departed.
These prayers were referenced by R.
Yoel Sirkes (1561-1640) also known as the Bach,[23] who
explained we can ignore opposition views to cemetery prayers by the likes of R.
Chaim Paltiel (although he agreed with him) because they had become so
acceptable over time. The Bach wrote that “no teacher should attempt to
prevent or abolish this custom.”[24]
Interestingly Chabad published an edition of Ma'aneh Lashon in English with "prayers to be said at the graveside of the righteous" which it says is "universal in acceptance and appeal."
18th-CENTURY:
VILNA GAON:
While cemetery visitations were
becoming even more popular with the rise of the Chassidic movement, opponents
to the movement like the Vilna Gaon (1720-1797) voiced their objections to such
practices.
After the Vilna Gaon visited his
mother’s grave on the first anniversary of her passing, he mentioned to his
brother that he was not happy visiting a cemetery and never again returned.[25]
Later Lithuanian rabbis like R. Haim
Volozhin (d. 1821) and R. Haim Soloveitchik (d. 1918) adopted similar
positions.
19th-CENTURY:
CHASSIDIC
SECTS:
It is well known how popular
pilgrimages to graves of Chassidic leaders, across the spectrum, have become in
recent times. Some of these gatherings have sometimes even taken on a cult-like
and often almost carnival atmosphere with huge numbers of participants from all
walks of life attending. It is considered a great merit to be included in such
gatherings and many are encouraged and even sponsored to join in.
NORTH
AFRICAN GRAVE VENERATION:
North African Jews, particularly those
of Morocco, developed what Horowits calls “a virtual cult of venerated
saints whose graves were treated as sacred spaces of the highest order.”
The Moroccan Jews were highly
influenced by local Arab and Berber marabout not just in grave
veneration but in other matters as well.
Horowitz writes:
“As in other areas of religious life, Jews in Muslim
lands were more easily influenced by the practices of their neighbours than
were the Jews of Christian Europe, who tended more
strongly (until modern times) to avoid overt imitation of
rituals associated with the dominant religion.”
Very often Jews and Muslims shared
their veneration of each other’s saints. Sometimes, when the Muslims adopted a
Jewish saint, entire villages would convert to Islam, just so as maintain contact
with their departed righteous leaders.
According to a study, the Moroccan Jews
had no less than 652 saints (both male and female). 126 of them were shared and
equally venerated by both Jews and Muslims. Sometimes Jews even venerated Muslim saints.[26]
Interestingly, even amongst Moroccan
Jewry’s own ranks, R. Yosef Mashash (1892-1974) criticised the excessive
pilgrimages to and veneration of these tombs.
ANALYSIS:
What emerges from this overview is that sometimes even
rabbis - who were not all that enthusiastic about certain ideas that were widely
accepted by the masses - did not want to go against the grain of the populace.
This is not without precedent as there is the notion of ‘going
out into the streets and observing what the people are doing’ and the
belief in a mass form of ruach ha’kodesh or prophecy of the
Jewish People as a whole.
On the other hand, there have always been other rabbis who
cautioned that sometimes we dance to close to the fire and flirt dangerously
with concepts and practices that are not entirely compatible with pure monotheism.
We see this with the reactions of Rambam, for example, to a
range of principles held dear by what he calls the ‘ignorant masses’. However,
it is not only the masses but also the leadership that espouses such notions.
These include the firmly established concept of sacrifices
which Rambam (and reflected in Rav Kook) says was only meant to be a temporary dispensation
for the Jews who left Egypt and couldn’t imagine religion without sacrifice – but it was not meant to be
considered an ideal to perpetuate into the future. [See How
Rashi and Rambam Part Ways on the Deepest of Issues].
We see this with the belief in angels [See Angels
in Rabbinic Literature], the belief in praying to angels [See Praying to
Angels], the belief in demons [See A
Babylonian Context to the Babylonian Talmud] and evil spirits [See Netilat
Yadayim – A means of Expelling Evil Spirits or a Simple Ablution?] which
occupy a centre stage position in much of the literature.
We even see it in
relatively recent times with many groups courting ideas of Sabbateanism [See Rabbinic
Forays into the Matrix of Sabbatean Kabbalah].
The irony is that we are so particular in Halachic
observance yet we often let down our guard (no pun intended) when it comes to some basic and primary concepts of
monotheism.
[1]
Elliott Horowitz, Speaking to the Dead: Cemetery Prayer in Medieval and Early
Modern Jewry.
[2]
Ta’anit 16a.
[3]
Sotah 34b.
[4]
The Gemara continues to state that Joshua did not need to go with Caleb as
Moshe had already prayed for mercy for him.
Caleb, however, had vacillated on this matter.
[5]
Sometimes the term intercessionary is used instead of intercessory
but the meaning is the same: the deceased is asked or expected to intercede on
behalf of the petitioner.
[6] S. Pinsker,
Lickute Kadmoniot: Appendix, 32.
[7]
The 6th-century BCE scribe and friend of the prophet Jeremiah.
[8]
Joseph Kimhi, The Book of the Covenant, ed. and
trans. Frank Talmage (Toronto: 1972) 66.
[9]
Ta’aniot 4:17.
[10] Mishneh
Torah, Laws of Mourning 4: 4 (ve-lo yifneh adam levaker kevarot).
[11]
R. Isaac b. Sheshet, Responsa, 2 vols., ed. D.
Metzger (Jerusalem: 1993)
no. 421.
[12]
See N. Slouschz, Travels in North Africa (Philadelphia:
1927) 320, and
Hershman, Rabbi Isaac ben Sheshet Perfet, 61.
[13]
See his commentary on Mishneh Torah, Laws of Mourning 4:4.
[14] SeferYereim
(Vilna: 1891-1902) 374, no. 335.
[15] II Samuel 19:37.
[16]
Sefer Chasidim no. 450.
[17]
Zohar III, 71a and b.
[18]
Horowitz’s allusion to the Spanish author or the Zohar would refer to R. Moshe
de León at around 1280 who is said to have pseudepigraphically authored the
Zohar. Gershom Scholem famously referred
to the Zohar as a ‘Kabbalistic novel’. This view is in sharp contradistinction
to that of many traditionalists who believe the Zohar was written a thousand
years earlier by the Mishnaic Tanna, R. Shimon bar Yochai. See Mysteries
behind the origins of the Zohar.
[19]
Parenthesis mine.
[20] Resonsa, ed. Domb
(Jerusalem: 1991) no. 79.
[21] Responsa,"
no. 118, Sefer Maharil, ed. Spitzer, 270.
[22]
Horowitz cites Yisrael Yuval on this matter, see Yuval, Scholars, 89 (letter to
Maharil from R. Isaac Erweiler).
[23]
An abbreviation for his magnum opus Bayit Chadash.
[24]Bayit
Chadash on Yoreh De’ah, no. 217.
[25] Aliyyot
Eliyahu (Vilna: 1874) 66. See also Ma'aseh Rav (Jerusalem:
1987).
The Kotzker Rebbe refused to go to cemetaries saying, "There is no one there." He defended himself by saying, "I am not a graveyard Jew."
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