Introduction
At what point does religion
end and magic begin? Many of the magical activities and beliefs of some
of the sages are, as we shall see, quite surprising. Have some religious
practices become inherently magical, or is something declared “magic” only when
performed (or believed) by the “other”, even if it is identical to ours? This
article is extensively based on the research by Professor J H (Yossi) Chajes[1]
who has opened up important vistas into the extent of Jewish magic.
Talmud
There are many references to
magical activities in the Babylonian Talmud and far less in the Talmud
Yerushalmi. The Bavli presents a rather ambivalent picture of its
attitude toward magic, comparing it to the laws of Shabbat and describing
certain acts as “patur aval asur”, not punishable but nevertheless
forbidden.
Abbaye said:
The laws of keshafm [magic] are like those of the Sabbath. Certain actions are
punished by stoning; some are exempt from punishment, yet forbidden; others are
permitted in the first instance. One who carries out an act is stoned; if he
creates an illusion, he is exempt, yet it is forbidden; and there are those
that are permitted in the first instance, such as was performed by R. Chanina
and R. Oshaia, who spent every Sabbath eve studying the Laws of Creation, by
means of which they created a third-grown calf and ate it.”[2]
Torah
References to kishuf or
magic are astounding considering the Torah’s prohibition in Deuteronomy
(18:10-12):
לֹֽא־יִמָּצֵ֣א
בְךָ֔ מַעֲבִ֥יר בְּנֽוֹ־וּבִתּ֖וֹ בָּאֵ֑שׁ קֹסֵ֣ם קְסָמִ֔ים מְעוֹנֵ֥ן
וּמְנַחֵ֖שׁ וּמְכַשֵּֽׁף׃
Let no one be
found among you who consigns his son or daughter to the fire, or who is an
augur, a soothsayer, a diviner, a sorcerer,
וְחֹבֵ֖ר חָ֑בֶר וְשֹׁאֵ֥ל אוֹב֙ וְיִדְּעֹנִ֔י
וְדֹרֵ֖שׁ אֶל־הַמֵּתִֽים׃
one who casts spells, or one who
consults ghosts or familiar spirits, or one who inquires of the dead.
כִּֽי־תוֹעֲבַ֥ת ה כׇּל־עֹ֣שֵׂה אֵ֑לֶּה
וּבִגְלַל֙ הַתּוֹעֵבֹ֣ת הָאֵ֔לֶּה ה אֱלֹקיךָ מוֹרִ֥ישׁ אוֹתָ֖ם מִפָּנֶֽיךָ׃
For anyone
who does such things is abhorrent to the Lord, and it is because of these
abhorrent things that the Lord your God is dispossessing them before you.
According to this, magic is
practised by the “other” and Jews are to have no association with it in any
form. This being case, one would expect the rabbinic tradition to shy away from
magical practices, yet the sources reveal a very complicated attitude and
position towards magic.
Reflecting as far back to Moshe
Rabbeinu, for example, he is said to have killed the Egyptian using, not a real
sword as the plain meaning suggests, but with the Divine name as the Midrash
in Shemot Rabbah suggests, referred to as the Charba deMoshe or Sword
of Moses.[3] This
expression later became the title of an ancient text on Jewish magic. Lavan (in
Vayeitze, Genesis 30:27) on the other hand, is openly described as
actively using (“nichashti”) divination, but he represents the “other”.
Rav Hai Gaon
Already in the eleventh century,
the rabbinic world was confronted with Ba’alei Shem (plural for Baal Shem)
or Masters of the Name. These were often itinerant magicians and healers
who used magic and amulets. In a question posed by the Jews of Kairouan (Tunisia)
to Rav Hai Gaon (1004-1038) in Pumbedita (Fallujah) concerning the activities
of these Ba’alei Shem, including their alleged ability to travel long
distances in a short time (kevitzat haderech), Rav Hai Gaon responded
with scepticism which was typical of some of the more rationalist Gaonic
rabbis. He regarded these Ba’alei Shem as charlatans involved in
deception. But Rav Hai Gaon was more of a rabbinic exception to the rule which
generally endorsed and even admired such activities.[4]
Defining Ba’alei Shem is
very difficult because some came from scholarly backgrounds and others not. The
practitioner (or Kabbalist in later times) is frequently raised to a
status higher than any other within Judaism, while other times he (or she) is
denigrated and despised. Women were often associated with witchcraft going back
to Talmudic times where Abaye recommends healing techniques he had learned
from his mother.[5] Sometimes
gender and class were the reasons for looking down upon these magical
practitioners, but it seems that more often than not, they were elevated to
almost iconic status.
R. Pinchas Katzenellenbogen (1691-1765/7)
R. Pinchas Katzenellenbogen officially
condemned magical practices, yet at the same time, he exhibited a leaning towards
them. He wrote about a magical technique that he had learned from R. Yosef of
Jerusalem, a travelling Baal Shem whom he had met and hosted back in
1720. It called for a most dramatic and cruel practice of grinding the gums of
a child stricken by witchcraft, on the stones of the wall surrounding the
house. He had learned this technique from R. Yosef who taught it to him after “women
witches” had allegedly caused a number of children to die in the town. The
only reason why R. Katzenellenbogen refrained from performing this rite personally
was because “It was beneath my dignity to do this myself, by my own hand.”[6]
Chajes (2011: 66) explains:
“Thus
Katzenellenbogen sought another rabbi to carry out the technique he knew
perfectly well but was loath to perform himself.”
Yet, R. Katzenellenbogen copied
instructions to make a magical ring to treat epilepsy into his ethical will,
which he took from the ethical will of his grandfather. This pattern of
official disavowal of magic practices followed by occasional forays into the
realm of magic, was not uncommon within the rabbinic world.
R. Chaim Vital (1543-1620)
Some rabbis, like R. Chaim Vital,
made no attempt to hide their involvement with magic, sometimes just changing
the terminology, where forbidden “magic” became redefined as permissible
“mysticism”. Chajes cites R. J. Z. Werblowsky, where R. Vital posited an
“unprecedented and original distinction between ‘magic formulae’ [hashba‘ot]
and ‘mystical formulae’ [yihudim].” In this instance, changing the lexicon
was enough to bring hitherto questionable practices within the rubric of Jewish
mysticism.
R. Chaim Vital, the student of R.
Yitzchak Luria (the Arizal), engaged in much Kabbalah ma’asit (practical
Kabbalah). Chajes (2011:63) explains how the Ari did not involve himself
with overt magical procedures, even when they paralleled some of his own
spiritual innovations which included the use of holy names and which became a
primary component of Lurianic Kabbalah. Instead, he sent his young student to
perform rites such as exorcisms.[7]
R. Vital was happy to consult
with women, Jewish and gentile, who were often associated with clairvoyance and
oil divination. He also associated with
gentile men in the same field. Chajes (2011:66) explains:
Collaboration
seems to have been a preferred method of surmounting the countervailing
pressures on rabbinic authorities to remain disengaged from praxis and its indignities
without shirking expectations that their esoteric know-how would benefit their
communities.
R. Vital, in turn, had a rabbinic associate,
R. Yehoshua Albom[8], with
whom he performed various treatments, often with amulets. On one occasion, R.
Vital instructed R. Albom to fashion an amulet for a young girl to prevent her
from being repossessed after the alleged spirit had been exorcised. According to
R. Vital’s account of the episode, the spirit complained that R. Albom did not
‘play by the rules' because he did not use “techniques in the book in his
possession”. Nevertheless, the spirit complimented R. Albom for his skill
in adjurations and spells. This skill he had learned from his teacher R. David
Mughrabi who apparently was “of crippled hands and lame, a skilled scribe
who wrote tefillin, mezuzot, and Torah scrolls with his mouth.”[9]
Anyway, the young girl they
treated later went on to “master the spirits” and became a leading
oracle in her community. R. Vital also records that that R. Albom and this girl
were able to draw down angels which were visible only in mirrors.
This is the type of activity that
was going on in the mystical circles of the seventeenth century.
R. Vital writes about a journey
he undertook to Salahiyya, north of Damascus to consult with a non-Jewish
sorcerer (mechashef), Sheikh ibn Ayyūb, who specialised in healing those
whose illnesses were said to be caused by demons. R. Vital hoped the Sheikh could
help him with an eyes condition from which he suffered. R. Vital describes the
Sheikh using “seven demon kings” to assist him. However, R. Vital writes
that the demons were unable to remain in the same room as him because of his “extreme
holiness”, so he was not able to be cured.
Synagogues and ‘laboratories’
During the sixteenth century,
most of the exorcisms took place in the houses of the people possessed. But
later, the ceremonies moved to the synagogues. The exorcisms became public
events, with a minyan of ten men required to make up the quorum. The
minyan was necessary to place the spirit under a Cherem or Ban.[10]
These events became, according to Chajes (2011:67), “a kind of sacred
theatre… and perhaps even consciously designed, to reinforce rabbinic authority.”
R. Leon Modena (1571-1648)
The seventeenth-century Venetian
R. Leon Modena writes in his autobiography, Chayei Yehudah, how magical
activity took place in what one may call ‘laboratories’. This was also because
the practices sometimes involved experimentation with alchemy. He describes how
his son Mordechai became the apprentice of the priest Joseph Grillo. After
serving out his apprenticeship, Mordechai “arranged a place in the Ghetto
Vecchio and with his own hands made all the preparations needed for the craft”.[11]
R. Samuel Falk, the Baal Shem
of London (1708–1782)
R. Yakov Emden wrote vehemently in
his Sefer haHitavkut against R. Samuel Falk, known as the Baal Shem of
London. [See Kotzk
Blog: 179) THE BAAL SHEM OF LONDON:] He also ridiculed another Baal Shem,
Moshe David in his Megillat Sefer. Yet, R. Emden made a gold ring with a
name engraved in it to try and heal a sick girl.
Like the Arizal and R.
Katzenellenbogen, R. Falk did not have a hands-on approach to his spiritual
activity but instead relied on collaboration, which according to Chajes
(2011:67) meant that he used rabbis who “were of a lower social and
intellectual profile” to perform the mechanical aspects of the
administering the magic. Commonly, one of these tasks was the recitation of
psalms.
R. Falk had an assistant, R. Tzvi
Hersh, and they had a dedicated space which they rented space on London Bridge
for their magical work. They treated this space with reverence and conducted
lengthy ceremonies there. R. Tzvi Hersh and other associates were expected to
remain awake all night, reciting psalms, to keep demons from filling the void
were they to leave. Chajes (2011:68) writes:
The
positioning of a magical laboratory in such a central public location also made
it easily accessible to clients, not an insignificant consideration for a ba‘al
shem whose livelihood depended on providing services to a wealthy clientele.
The notebooks of Falk and his assistant indeed shed considerable light on the
economics of magical activity, providing a window into the financial dimension
of running a “magic business.”
Chajes emphasises that
proficiency in magic, often brought authority to the mystical rabbi, who would
have been greatly respected for his ability to heal and exorcise.
R. Yehuda heChasid (1150-1217)
R. Yehuda heChasid also starts out by warning people not to practise magic because of its inherent danger. Chajes
(2011:69) explains that often mystical rabbis who indulged in such activities
were regarded as heroes because they were unafraid to face the dangers. Because
of the danger, R. Yehuda heChasid writes in his Sefer Chasidim:
Therefore one
ought to distance himself from doing all of these, and also resist [engaging
in] dream questions [e.g.,] in order to know what wife to take or in what
matter he will or will not always succeed…how many did [adjurations] and how
many asked [dream questions] and were diminished or apostatized or fell
seriously ill, they or their children? And one should not ask others to do so
for him. Nothing is thus better for a person than to pray to the Blessed Holy
One for all his needs.[12]
However, R. Yehuda heChasid
himself wrote an amulet that he claimed could revive the dead. Furthermore, he
is described as defeating the bishop of Salzburg, who had come to Regensburg to
kill him. Encouraging the bishop to look out of a window:
R. Judah, by
means of mystic names, made the window grow longer and narrower so that he
could not get his head out again and was nearly strangled.[13]
Chajes (2011:78) explains this
dichotomy between what seems to be two different approaches of R. Yehudah
heChasid:
The
principled anti-magical stance of R. Judah in Sefer Hasidim may reflect his
historical personality, but it seems certain that the R. Judah of hagiography
acts in a manner that the R. Judah of Sefer Hasidim would have had to condemn.
It is sometimes very difficult to
separate fact from fiction and objective history from hagiography, the latter
being an idealised and exaggerated account of the life of a rabbi or tzadik.
R. Yehuda heChasid’s successor,
R. Eleazar of Worms, though, seems not to object even officially against
manipulating “names” and “energies”, and he even composes berachot
or blessings serving those ends. He writes in his Sefer Hashem:
The [name] is
transmitted only to the meek, who do not get angry, and to the God-fearing, who
perform the commandments of their Creator. It is transmitted only over water,
as it is written, “the voice of the Lord is over the waters” (Ps 29:3). Before
the master teaches his disciples, they should bathe in water and immerse
themselves in [the ritual bath that measures] fo[rty][14]
se’ah. They should don white clothes and fast on the day he will teach them
[the names], and they should stand in the water up to their ankles [thighs][15].
Then the
master opens his mouth in fear and says, “Blessed are you, O Lord, our God,
king of the universe, Lord, God of Israel, you are one and your name is one,
and you have commanded us to conceal your great name, for your name is awesome.
Blessed are you, Lord, who reveals his secret to those who fear him, the one
who knows all secrets.”[16]
Maimonides the rationalist:
There are no such things as magic, angels or demons
Rambam (1135-1204) takes an
almost lonely stand against magic and against rabbis involving themselves with
it. He simply states that it is prohibited by the Torah, and anyway is not real
and does not even exist! Maimonides also maintains that angels only exist in
the imagination of the beholder and
that demons did not exist at all. These concepts are, in his view, at variance
with basic monotheism. (Some have similarly suggested that “monotheism”
has, in a sense, been subverted to a form of what may be described as “monolatry”).
Maimonides was persecuted for his
rationalism and in late fourteenth century Spain, a (forged) letter was circulated
in his name, claiming that he had given up his rationalism and embraced
mysticism and magic. The letter, allegedly to his student, in a style that
resembles his authentic letter that introduced the Guide for the Perplexed,
explains how he had a change of heart and that he now recants all his previous
rationalism. The letter goes on to expound on his newfound belief in the power
of the Divine names. Clearly, whoever wrote the pseudo-Maimonides letter
extolling the virtues of magical pursuits, knew exactly who Maimonides was and
what he thought, as it mimics his writing style.
Poignantly, yet distressingly,
Chajes (2011:79) sums up this need to frame rationalist rabbis as mystics who
master the magical arts, buy showing the belief in the popular mindset that
without the ability to do magic, the rabbi has no enduring stature:
It is nothing
if not a sign of unease with the prospect of leaving a cultural hero’s
posthumous image devoid of the mighty charge of magical prowess.
Knowledge, intellect, learning
and understanding pale into insignificance if a great rabbi cannot be perceived
by the people as being able to change the natural order of
reality for their benefit.
[1] J. H.
Chajes, J. H., 2011, ‘Rabbis and Their (In)Famous Magic: Classical Foundations,
Medieval and Early Modern Reverberations,’ in Ra’anan S. Boustan, et al., eds.,
Jewish Studies at the Crossroads of Anthropology and History: Authority,
Diaspora, Tradition, Penn Press, Philadelphia, 58-79.
[2] B. Sanhedrin
67b.
[3] See
How Moses Killed the Egyptian in Kotzk
Blog: 210) HOW REALITY ON THE GROUND INFORMS PERCEPTIONS OF HEAVEN.
[5] b.
Shabbat 66b.
[6] P.
Katzenellenbogen, Yesh Manchilin (Jerusalem, 1986), 97.
[7] J. H.
Chajes, 2003, Between Worlds: Dybbuks, Exorcists, and Early Modern Judaism,
Philadelphia, 71–85
[8] M.
Benayahu, 1967, Toldot haAri, Jerusalem, 299–306.
[9] Shtober,
S., ed., 1994, Sefer Divrei Yosef le-R. Yosef Sambari, Jerusalem, 414.
[10] Nigal,
G., 1994, Dybbuk Stories in Jewish Literature, Jerusalem, 51. (Hebrew)
[11] Mark
R. Cohen, M. R., ed. and trans., 1988, The Autobiography of a
Seventeenth-Century Venetian Rabbi: Leon Modena’s Life of Judah, Princeton,
N.J., 108.
[12] Margalioth,
Sefer Chasidim, 194, §205.
[13] Gaster,
Ma‘aseh Book, 370, §174.
[14]
Parenthesis mine.
[15]
Parenthesis mine.
[16] Eleazar
ben Judah of Worms, Sefer ha-shem (Jerusalem, 2004), 1. The translation is from
E. R. Wolfson, Through a Speculum That Shines: Vision and Imagination in
Medieval Jewish Mysticism (Princeton, N.J., 1994), 239.
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