510) L'shem Yichud: Do You Understand What You're Actually Saying?

This guest post by Rabbi Boruch Clinton originally appeared on the B'chol D'rachecha site.

Some days you just can’t open a regular Artscroll siddur without falling down a deep rabbit hole of theological controversy.

You’d figure that the siddur is the very poster child of consensus and ancient tradition. But you’d be wrong. There are, in fact, some odd expressions of extreme beliefs that many recite daily without giving it a second thought. Today’s example is the “l’shem yichud” attached to sefiras haomer (and to putting on tefilin). Artscroll even printed those in their Ashkenaz editions.

What’s the big deal about l’shem yichud? Well there is that famous Noda B’yehuda (חי”ד סי’ צג) who wasn’t at all shy about sharing his general feelings on the subject. But his forceful criticisms were largely focused on the chutzpa of later generations who felt that the mitzva observance of our ancestors - who simply made berachos and then did the mitzvos - was somehow incomplete. He did hint to something darker, but didn’t elaborate.

409) Polemics of Intercession

Pachad Yitzchak by R. Yitzchak Lampronti (1679-1756)

Introduction

This article, based extensively on the research by Professor David Malkiel,[1] looks at a fascinating but understudied anthology of eighteenth-century rabbinic ideas, debates and polemics between mystical and rationalist rabbis on various issues. These include intercessory prayer through the angels, appealing to the deceased, and appealing to various Divine ‘attributes.’ These debates and responsa are recorded in a section of a larger work, the Halachic encyclopedia entitled Pachad Yitzchak.[2] The seventeenth and eighteenth-century rationalist rabbis claim that the belief in these intercessional agents has its origins in non-Jewish sources, while their mystical counterparts counter-charge their interlocuters with the same offence.

371) ‘Tikla’ and the zoharic concept that sin can bring redemption

 

The potter's wheel gives shape to a lump of clay.

Introduction

This article, based extensively on the research by Dr Ruth Kara-Ivanov Kaniel[1] as well as Rabbi Moshe Miller[2], deals with the fascinating yet paradoxical notion in the Zohar of sin as a harbinger or precursor of redemption. The discussion revolves around the Aramaic word Tikla, which appears on two occasions in the Zohar.[3]

366) Changing perceptions of the “other”

 

This manuscript is of the Hebrew translation from the original Arabic Guide of the Perplexed, translated by Samuel Ibn Tibbon (died c. 1230). It was produced in Spain, around 1350. 

Introduction

This article, based extensively on the research by Professor Menachem Kellner[1], examines various perspectives of the “other” in the writings of Maimonides and traces how these teachings were sometimes changed by later editors who attempted to “correct” the original Maimonidean texts. Kellner (2007:1) explains that the reason why later editors and copyists were keen to change the original Maimonidean texts was “to pull the sting of their universalism and make them accord with more widely accepted notions of Jewish separateness and superiority”.

363) Trying to define the theology of Abravanel

 

Introduction

The length, breadth and depth of classical rabbinic thought continues to fascinate and intrigue me unabatedly. One such rabbinic figure is that of Abravanel (1437-1508), who, the more one reads about, the more complicated a personality he becomes.

We noted in an earlier article that Abravanel is difficult to define as being either a rationalist or a mystic as he seems to vacillate between the two approaches. This article, based extensively on research by Professor Eric Lawee[1], explores Abravanel’s complexity even further.

339) DO SOME KABBALISTIC NOTIONS OF G-D VIOLATE BASIC PRINCIPLES OF MONOTHEISM?

 

A 19th century depiction of the Ten Sefirot (unknown origin).

INTRODUCTION:

Kabbalists always had to deal with the challenge of their seemingly multiple perceptions of G-d coming very close to a violation of the monotheistic idea of a single unity of the divine being. In this article, based extensively on the research by Rabbi Professor Marc Shapiro[1], we delve into some of these perceptions in an attempt to see just how far they have sometimes gone.

316) PATTERNS IN THE SUPERCOMMENTARIES ON RASHI:

 

b. Yevamot 63a.

INTRODUCTION:

Rashi’s commentaries on the Torah are well known. However, the commentaries on his commentaries - known as supercommentaries - are less known, even “wholly neglected”. These supercommentaries or Parshanei Rashi number in the dozens by conservative estimates and possibly even in the hundreds.[1]

In this article, based extensively in the research by Professor Eric Lawee[2] of Bar Illan University, we shall explore a sample of different supercommentaries on one single Rashi commentary on a verse in Genesis.

NOTE: The quotation from Rashi upon which this article is based may upset sensitive readers. The intention, however, is not to focus on the subject but rather on the patterns which emerge in the supercommentaries which deal with it.

 

286) GENIZA DOCUMENT REVEALS FIRST STIRRINGS OF ANTI-MAIMONIDEAN SENTIMENT IN EGYPT:

Professor Paul B. Fenton from the Sorbonne - an authority on Geniza manuscripts.

MAIMONIDEAN CONTROVERSIES PART IV:

INTRODUCTION:

It is always fascinating to see how new documents - concerning earlier rabbinic periods we thought we knew - surface from time to time, reminding us that rabbinic personalities, themes and ideas are never stagnant.

This is the story of the discovery of historical documents describing, first hand, events and counter events relating and contemporaneous to Maimonides (1135-1204).

I have drawn extensively from the research[1] of Professor Paul B. Fenton, Co-Director of Hebrew studies at the Université Paris-Sorbonne and an authority on Medieval Hebrew and Arabic manuscripts. He is a graduate of Yeshivat Eitz Chaim and has also taught at Yeshiva University.

PART I:

THE STORY:

Just over a century ago, the German Orientalist[2] Eugen Mittwoch (1876-1942) published a text found in the Cairo Geniza. It was a unique description of Maimonides by an unknown contemporary who lived in Cairo in around 1200. 

Mittwoch had purchased the original text in Cairo during his visit to that city in 1899, just three years after the discovery of Cairo Geniza.

For some reason, at that time the text attracted scant attention from the scholarly world. 

Mittwoch was a professor at Berlin University and despite the Nazi rise to power, he managed to eventually escape to England. During the turmoil, this text was lost.

Almost seventy years later - in 2004 – Professor Paul Fenton was analysing texts from the Institute for Microfilmed Hebrew Manuscripts in Jerusalem. These texts were from the little-known Sofer Collection in London, which includes some Geniza fragments.

One text caught his eye. Amazingly, Fenton recognized the distinctive 800-year-old handwriting of R. Chananel ben Shmuel al-Amshati the Judge (circa 1170-1250), from his previous study of other Geniza fragments.

The text that Fenton was reading was a contemporary description of, and testimony about, Maimonides – and Fenton soon realized that he had re-discovered the original lost Mittwoch manuscript which went missing during the Nazi era. It had somehow made its way into the Sofer Collection - only now the author was no longer unknown but identified as R. Chananel al-Amshati.

THE MITTWOCH MANUSCRIPT:

The Mittwoch manuscript is an important one as it was written by R. Chananel who was in very close contact with Maimonides and it reveals some of his personal details. It also sheds light on the Egyptian origins of what was to become the great Maimonidean Controversies – and particularly on the stirrings of the objections to Maimonides’ interest in Philosophy.

The Mittwoch manuscript was just a part of a larger emerging collection of texts describing the polarization of the Egyptian Jewish community into supporters of Maimonides and fierce opponents. Surprisingly many of the opponents were close members of Maimonides’ own family. From this and other Geniza documents, we get a picture of protest movements beginning to take root in both directions - for and against Maimonides.

PART II:

THE TEXTS:

THE PROTEST MOVEMENT AGAINST AVRAHAM BEN HARAMBAM:

A Geniza document[3] describes the formation of a protest movement in favour of Maimonides but against Maimonides’ son, Avraham ben haRambam, and his growing camp which had mystical tendencies and was involved in a form of Jewish Sufism.

Fenton writes:

“Maimonides’ descendants were the champions of this Judaeo-Sufi tendency.”

[See Rambam’s Only Son – Another Sufi Connection? and ‘Chovot Halevavot’ – A Sufi Connection?]

In this document, we are introduced to the important figure, R. Chananel al-Amshati, mentioned earlier. R. Chananel is described as supporting Avraham ben haRambam and his mystical Sufi circle. Fenton shows how R. Chananel composed his own mystical writings in stark contrast to the rationalist and philosophical teachings of Maimonides. There is no question that R. Chananel was a mystic and an ardent anti-rationalist.

The document also reveals a telling piece of information that both R. Chananel and Avraham ben haRambam together attended the posthumous sale of the personal library of a fellow member of this Egyptian mystical Sufi circle, R. Avraham heChasid who passed away in 1223. This sale (or auction?) took place in the Palestinian Synagogue in Cairo, and was even attended by prospective Muslim buyers, which bespeaks the Sufi connection.

THE PROTEST MOVEMENT AGAINST MAIMONIDES:

The larger and more formidable protest movements, however, were against Maimonides and were led by Maimonides’ son, Avraham ben haRambam and R. Chananel.

WHO WAS R. CHANANEL?

Members of the mystical group of Avraham ben haRambam received the title ‘heChasid’. R. Chananel also received that appellation as he is referred to as R. Chananel heChasid haDayan, clearly indicating he was a prominent member of the mystical group.

R. Chananel was the Chief Judge of Cairo and possibly the father-in-law of Avraham ben haRambam. This would have made him an in-law to Maimonides himself.[4]

Maimonides makes reference to a certain ‘pious judge’ (haDayan heChasid) in three instances in his letters, and it is likely that he was referring to R. Chananel.[5] R. Chananel was very close to Maimonides. Fenton suggests that around 1200, R. Chananel was commissioned to copy part of Maimonides’ Guide of the Perplexed for R. Yosef Ibn Shamun. R. Chananel, also having an Andalusian[6] handwriting style[7] would have been well suited to deciphering Maimonides’ distinctive Andalusian cursive.

R. CHANANEL AL-AMSHATI BECOMES MAIMONIDES’ FIRST COMMENTATOR:

R. Chananel, becomes the first commentator on Maimonides’, and the albeit sparse record of his writings are largely concerned with his commentary on Maimonides’ Mishneh Torah.

R. CHANANEL BECOMES AN ARDENT OPPONENT OF MAIMONIDES:

But R. Chananel also becomes one of Maimonides’ first outspoken opponents.

Fenton is quick to point out that although R. Chananel copied Maimonides’ writings and commentated on his texts, he was far from a devoted adherent to Maimonides’ thoughts and philosophies. In fact, quite to the contrary, as evidenced by R. Chananel writing his own version of Sefer haMitzvot (originally penned by Maimonides). He also parts ways with Maimonides on a number of issues including the counting of the commandments (i.e., which commandments are officially included within the 613 mitzvot).

It seems that he chose the same title for the work as Maimonides in order to outdo him. 

Fenton explains that whereas Maimonides was often concise, R. Chananel:

“...provides a fully-fledged exposition for each mizvah, involving a definition of the precept, its scriptural source, its rabbinic sources, its sub-categories, and a full halakhic discussion of the topic.”

Additionally, R. Chananel took issue with Maimonides’ reliance on philosophy and rationalism, as Fenton writes:

“...for fear that its study may lead the uninitiated into irreligion and heresy.”

Thus R. Chananel’s ideas were clearly at odds with those of Maimonides on so many levels.

The more we read about R. Chananel, the more we see that he emerges as an outright opponent of Maimonides. 

R. Chananel does not neglect to remind us that Maimonides’ own father - R. Maymun - was also opposed to the study of philosophy and rationalism.

According to a text found in the Cairo Geniza:

“[Maimonides’] father, our master Maymun...had never delved into these [philosophical or rational] disciplines, not even for a day, despite his [having]...beheld the discourse of the compositions of our Master [Maimonides][8].”[9]

This indicates that Maimonides’ father refused to even read the philosophical writings of his own son.

CRITICISM OF MAIMONIDES’ VIEW ON PROVIDENCE:

R. Avraham ben haRambam joins in the opposition and writes how he opposes philosophy and how he disagrees with, amongst many other issues, his father’s view on Providence where Maimonides flirts with the idea that G-d does not always actively control everything.

[See A Leaf Falls from a Tree – Accident or Providence?]

Between Avraham ben haRambam and R. Chananel we now have the rumblings of what was to become a strong anti-Maimonidean movement in Egypt. These were the beginnings of two very distinct movements within Judaism which would shape much of its future debate and scholarship: the mystics versus the rationalists.

R. Chananel unambiguously takes the side of the Judaeo-Sufis and mystics of Egypt. He aligns himself with Avraham ben haRambam who writes:

“God has enabled (the true adherents of the Law who have grasped its secret meaning), to understand by means of His Law what the scientists and philosophers do not understand, and He has established for them, by means of His signs and miracles, proof for what the latter deny apropos His knowledge...of particulars and His regard for the conditions of men and His personal providence for every individual person...just as He provides for every individual species among the species of nature...”[10]

This is a very significant piece of writing because it shows how Maimonides made a distinction between Hashgacha Peratit (where G-d is said to take care of every single individual down to the most minuscule detail) and Hashgacha Kelalit (where G-d is said to take care only of the general species in the broadest of terms).

Some question whether Maimonides applied the principle of Hashgacha Kelalit to humans or only to the non-human species within nature[11]. From Avraham ben haRambam’s writings, it is apparent that he believed his father sometimes applied Hashgacha Kelalit even to humans.

This was obviously a point of great contention because Avraham ben haRambam wrote on the same issue in another work:

“Aristotle [whose teachings influenced Maimonides]...considered...the Creator to be ignorant of particulars and suchlike [in other words Aristotle and by extension Maimonides negated the principle of Hashgacha Peratit][12], and therefore...just as he is mistaken in these beliefs, so is he mistaken in all his statements.”[13]

CRITICISM OF MAIMONIDES’ VIEW OF PROPHECY:

Fenton also discovered another relevant but anonymous text which harshly criticises Maimonides’ view on prophecy which, again, is typically downplayed by him (Maimonides).

Maimonides believed that:

"[A]ll prophecy is a function of the prophet's divinely inspired imagination. Every appearance of God and His surrogates in Scripture is to be understood as an imaginative construction, not to be taken literally. The events depicted did not occur other than in the prophet's imagination." [19]

The text, from the Firkovic Collection, criticizes that view and states:

“Goodness, how weak is their [the school of Maimonides] statement but how great its harm to the soul! 

Had they just stated that...God transmits his influence to his saints in a manner whose essence we mortals do not know, their claim would have had a more salutary effect upon the soul...

However, they have led men astray...”[14]

ORIGINS OF ANTI-PHILOSOPHY TENDENCIES:

Fenton describes the historical influences behind the rise in anti-Maimonidean sentiment:

“The anti-philosophical stand of Maimonides’ close successors must be seen in the light of the change of intellectual climate in the wake of the decline of philosophy in the Muslim world and, in the immediate case of Egypt, the vigorous spread of Sufism in that land, and its hostility towards profane science and philosophy.”

MAIMONIDES TURNS TO SOUTHERN FRANCE FOR SUPPORT:

In a profoundly moving letter from Maimonides to R. Yonatan haCohen of Lunel in southern France - which became a bastion of Maimonidean support - he writes:

“My colleagues at this difficult time, you and those that reside in your region are the only ones that hold aloft the banner of Moses[15]. While you study the Talmud, you cultivate the other sciences, whereas here in the East [i.e., Egypt][16], men of wisdom diminish and disappear. Thus salvation will only come to us through you.”[17]

THE ANTI-MAIMONIDEAN MOVEMENT GROWS:

Just nineteen years after Maimonides’ passing, Daniel Ibn al-Mashati haBavli joins the large anti-Maimonidean movement and writes that Maimonides had created an 'alternate Torah'. Daniel Ibn al-Mashati advocated a return to mysticism which he called ‘Chasidut’ and an abandonment of the evils of Maimonidean philosophy.

Daniel al-Mashati writes:

“[Maimonides decided to give] an allegorical interpretation to the words of the Torah so that they would be in keeping with philosophical speculation. Thus he interpreted the biblical and rabbinic texts in an unprecedented manner, expressly stating that he had derived the latter from his own mind and had not learned them from a master. He paid no attention to the beliefs and explanations current among the nation...

Verily the Torah has become as two laws indicating a divergency which goes beyond the gap between each’s beliefs, its negative opinion of the other and its attribution to them of ignorance and heresy.”[18]

This sharp piece of writing underscores the vitriol which was to become the hallmark of the growing Maimonidean Controversies.

ANALYSIS:

Were it not for the discovery of such revealing texts from the Cairo Geniza, we may never have fully understood the genesis of the Maimonidean Controversies in Egypt.

The theological schism which began within the confines of Maimonides’ own family, overflowed to, and was reflected in, the rivalry between the rationalists and Judaeo-Sufis of Egypt. 

It then spread to the West manifesting in a universal controversy between the philosophers and mystics in general. That great theological controversy continues to this day.

As we see particularly in the last text (by Daniel al-Mashati), Maimonides is accused of bringing a foreign, non-Jewish element to Judaism, which had no precedent whatsoever within previous rabbinic thought, and which he did not ‘learn from a (Jewish) master’.

He is accused of ignoring an imagined authoritative mainstream which was determined solely on the basis of ‘current’ Jewish thought and not on the basis of historical investigation. 

[For an example of possible earlier rabbinic precedents for Maimonidean theology, see Two Diverse Midrashic Conceptions of G-d.]

And, most importantly, he is accused of irreconcilably creating ‘two laws’ - or two religions - from what was presented as having been an alleged long continuum of monolithic and homogenous theology but was instead only extrapolated from the then ‘current’ trends.

A student of contemporary Judaism, who understands how these undercurrents continue to play out today, will immediately recognize that not much has changed since them.

FURTHER READING:

For more on the Maimonidean Controversies, see: 

Between Provence and Barcelona. 

The Politics Behind the Piety 

Displacing Maimonides’ Mishneh Torah. 

The South Will Rise Again?. 

How Rashi was Used as ‘Leverage’ During the Maimonidean Controversies.]

---

[1] Paul B. Fenton, A Re-Discovered Description of Maimonides by a Contemporary.

[2] An Orientalist is defined as someone from the West who studies the language, culture, history or customs of countries in eastern Asia.

[3] See Goitein as in previous note.

[4] However, in one Geniza document, R. Chananel is referenced as being the father-in-law to Maimonides: S. D, Goitein, New documents from the Cairo Geniza, p. 717. It has also been suggested the R. Chananel may have been a student of Maimonides: M. Friedman, The Family of Ibn al-Amshati, p. 271-297. This is evidenced by details of R. Chananel attending lectures by Maimonides.

[5] However, D. Baneth identifies the ‘pious judge’ with R. Yitzchak ben Sasson, a permanent member of Rambam’s Beit Din.

[6] Andalusia is the historical region of southern Spain.

[7] Even though R. Chananel’s family had been in Egypt for four generations, it is common for Maghrebi (North-Western African) Jews, known as Magrebim, to proudly have held on to their distinctive handwriting style. The Jews of Andalusia adopted the Maghrebi style of handwriting.

[8] Parentheses mine.

[9] London, Collection Soffer, Geniza 29.

[10] Abraham Maimonides, High Ways to Perfection, ed. Rosenblatt, vol. II, 133.

[11] Maimonides’ writings in Mishneh Torah often contradict his writings in his Guide of the Perplexed, so there is some uncertainty in this matter. (See Mishneh Torah, Hilchot Ta'anit 1:1-3.)

[12] Parentheses mine.

[13] Abraham Maimonides, Ma’amar al Darshot Chazal, in R. Margulies Milchamot Hashem (Jerusalem 1953), 86.

[14] P. Fenton, Criticism of Maimonides in a Pietist Text from the Genizah, Ginzey Qedem 1 (2005): 158-160.

[15] This may be a reference to the biblical Moses but it is more likely a reference to Moses Maimonides himself.

[16] Parenthesis mine.

[17] Iggerot haRambam, ed. Y. Shailat vol. II (Jerusalem 1987) p. 559.

[18] Taqwim al-adyan. 2^nd Firkovic Collection I. 3132, Fols. 76b-77a. Saint Petersburg, Russian National Library.
[19] Alfred L. Ivri, The Weight of Midrash on Rashi and Maimonides, p. 314. 

276) MAGICAL PAPYRI TEXTS AND EARLY JEWISH MYSTICISM:

A Greek magical papyrus text.

- A SHARED MAGICAL TRADITION -

INTRODUCTION:

In this article, we will explore some ancient non-Jewish (pagan) papyrus magical texts which are, surprisingly, interwoven with early rabbinical magic themes. We will see how some obscure magical spells in these pagan papyri texts – ironically – can only be understood through a knowledge of corresponding themes in early Jewish mystical[1] literature.

I have drawn from Rabbi Professor Daniel Sperber[2] who is a Talmud professor at Bar Ilan University, who gives us a window into the 3^rd-century world of Jewish mysticism.

PAGAN INFLUENCE ON EARLY JEWISH MYSTICAL LITERATURE:

A number of Greek, Coptic and Gnostic papyrus texts dealing with magical charms and incantations have been discovered. The interesting thing about this discovery is that Jewish names and rabbinic themes were interwoven with pagan names and themes - as if a common magical culture existed.

Sperber writes:

“One of the outstanding features of this material is the welter of Jewish and pagan names which are used almost interchangeably, indicating the degree to which Jews and pagans were profoundly influencing one another...

[Furthermore] elements of Hellenistic magical lore penetrated the Jewish world, leaving their traces in Rabbinic literature, most especially in the early Jewish mystical literature.”

This interwovenness, according to Sperber, is so profound that clearer pagan texts can sometimes explain difficult and unclear rabbinic mystical texts – as can these rabbinic texts elaborate on obscure pagan texts. This leads one to the conclusion that Jews and non-Jews shared the same cultural magic and mystical tradition. 

Not only did they apparently share mystical traditions but Sperber even maintains he may have uncovered some 'lost' rabbinic writings scattered within these pagan texts! We will analyse two such examples in Part 1 and 2 which follow.

PART 1:

INTERCONNECTEDNESS BETWEEN RABBINIC TEXTS AND POPULAR MAGICAL TEXTS:

Here is one example of how an existing rabbinic text can shed light on one of these difficult popular magical texts dealing with various spells. In the collection of papyri housed in the Paris Library[3] there is a spell which reads:

“For I adjure thee by him that revealed the hundred and forty tongues and divided them by his command.”

Secular scholars were at a loss to explain this text. 

They assumed it referred to 140 languages which were somehow divided by G-d’s command. They assumed, based on a reading of Genesis Ch. 10, that after the flood, the generation of Noah’s descendants numbered seventy and spoke seventy languages becoming the 'Seventy Nations of the World'. But why not just say 70 instead of 140 being divided by 2?

Fascinatingly, there is a rabbinic text which can explain this obscure papyrus text. A rabbinic textual tradition in the Sifre[4], dating back to the second century CE, maintains that there were 140 nations of the world (not 70 as commonly understood)!

This Sifre is later discussed in Shir haShirim Rabba[5]:

“Seventy of them [i.e., the nations of the world] know their paternal ancestry but not their maternal ancestry, and seventy of them know their maternal ancestry but not their paternal ancestry...”

This is why 140 is divided by 2 to make 70. Evidently, the Shir haShirim Rabba text is an attempt at reconciling the common understanding that there are 70 nations of the world with the earlier Sifre claiming that there are 140.

A LOST RABBINIC TEXT?

Sperber suggests that this Paris text may, in fact, be a lost rabbinic text:

“It would appear that our passage from the Paris papyrus is based upon a (lost) homily which similarly grappled with the apparent contradiction between the two sets of numbers.”

Amazingly, this papyrus text seems to be dealing with exactly the same problem as, and presents the same solution to, that expressed in the Shir haShirim Rabba.

If this text is indeed a lost piece of rabbinic magical tradition, it is interesting that it comfortably formed part of the general pagan magical literature. This shows just how interconnected some of these early Jewish and non-Jewish magical texts were. There does appear to have been a common mystical tradition or certainly one which overlapped in multiple areas.

PART 2:

ANOTHER LOST MIDRASH?

Following similar patterns, Sperber continues with the suggestion that we can trace another lost rabbinic statement, in another spell mentioned in the Paris texts.

THE ‘SEAL’ ON THE TONGUE:

The same section of our magical papyrus text contains the following spell which also confounded the scholars:

“For I adjure thee by the seal which Solomon laid upon the tongue of Jeremiah and he spake.”

One scholar, Adolf Deissmann (d. 1937), a German Protestant theologian who specialized in the ancient Greek language writes:

“I do not know what this refers to. The tradition is probably connected with the LXX Jer. 1:6-10."[6]

[The LXX is a reference to the Septuagint, which means ‘seventy’ or in Roman numerals LXX, after the 70 (or 72) scholars who translated the Torah into Greek.]

Sperber explains that it does indeed correspond to a reference in the Book of Jeremiah (although not to the Septuagint version[7]). The reference is to the prophet Jeremiah’s inauguration into the world of prophecy, where a ‘seal’ of some sort was placed on his tongue.

According to rabbinic tradition, this ‘seal’ or 'signet ring' alludes to the renowned ‘seal of Solomon’[9] which is alleged to have had the power to produce prophetic oracles.

Sperber writes:

“If our reconstruction be correct, we have here the traces of a lost Midrash...”

Sperber, interestingly, goes on to suggest that while the verse in Jeremiah 1:9 actually states:

"Then the Lord put forth his hand and touched my [i.e., Jeremiah’s] mouth."

However, there were rabbis who were uncomfortable with the anthropomorphic innuendo that G-d has a ‘hand’ and, instead, explained that G-d had sent an angel to touch the mouth of Jeremiah. This was quite a common technique whereby the rabbis often reworked uncomfortable anthropomorphic texts.

[See Reading Rabbinic Texts through Modern ‘Filters’ and The Notion that G-d has a Body.]

The Paris papyrus text may be an example of this very trend. Hence the concept of the ‘seal of Solomon’ placed in Jeremiah's mouth, possibly brought by an angel (or by Solomon[8] as the text implies) but certainly with no reference to  G-d’s hand, is a better alternative. Sperber suggests that this papyrus text, therefore, may indeed be a lost Midrash from the anti-anthropomorphic rabbinic school.

THE ARRAY OF RABBINIC REFERENCES TO A MAGICAL ITEM PLACED IN THE MOUTH:

As further support for Sperber's interpretation, we will now look at an array of parallel rabbinic teachings concerning the placing of ‘magical’ items on the tongue to produce some form of prophecy or supernatural outcome.

1) PLACING AMULETS ON (OR UNDER) THE TONGUE:

Placing amulets on (or under) the tongue to achieve certain required outcomes became a common custom in the Jewish mystical world.

In one instance we read about a practice to send dreams to one's neighbour by writing a spell “upon a plate of silver” and placing in the mouth of a rooster.[10]

2) PLACING A RING IN THE MOUTH:

According to Sefer haRazim, sometimes a special ring was placed in a person’s mouth to achieve certain results.[11]

3) HOW TO MAKE ‘TERAFIM’:

When Yakov and Rachel (Leah, Bilah and Zilpah) left Lavan’s house to return to Canaan, Rachel took (stole) her father’s (Lavan’s) terafim[12] while he was out. These terafim, also referred to as ‘household goods’ were in fact idols. The common reason given for taking her father’s idols is that she didn’t want him to worship them.[13]

The Midrash Tanchuma[14] describes how these terafim were made:

“And how did they make [them]? They would bring a first-born man, slaughter him, and salt him with salt and oils. Then they wrote on a golden plate the name of an unclean spirit, and placed the plate with magic under his tongue. Then they placed him in (a niche in?) a wall, and lit before him candles, and prostrated themselves before him, and he would speak with them in oracles – (or: in a magical manner).”

The Targum Yerushalmi[15] states that the golden plate which was placed under the tongue was endowed with ‘kismin’ or ‘magic powers’.  

This Midrash and Targum, again, indicate the widespread and common belief held by Jews and non-Jews that golden and silver plates and certain ‘seals’ or rings placed in the mouth can produce supernatural outcomes.

4) NEBUCHADNEZZAR’S AMULET:

According to Shir haShirim Rabba[16], Nebuchadnezzar who destroyed the First Temple, also used a similar technique:

“What did that wicked man (Nebuchadnezzar) do? He took the diadem [headpiece] of the High Priest and placed it into the mouth (of the idol - cf. Daniel 3:1), and it began to speak [saying]: I am the Lord, thy God...”

The Zohar[17] writes similarly:

“[Nebuchadnezzar] took a vessel of the Temple vessels on which was engraved the Holy Name, and placed it in the mouth of the idol, and from that moment it began to speak wondrous things...”

As does the Tikkunei Zohar[18]:

 “[A]nd afterwards they would place the Ineffable Name (Shem haMeforash) in the mouths of the images (of the zodiacal constellations-the Mazzalot), and they would speak...”

From all these sources it is clear that it was commonly believed that placing a ‘magic item’ in the mouth could cause a person or object to speak in an oracular or prophetic manner. 

However, based on the Paris papyri, we now know that this was not just a rabbinic idea but one held to be similarly true by the general non-Jewish mystical culture at that time.

Thus Sperber is able to speculatively reconstruct two lost rabbinic homilies positioned comfortably within a general papyrus text of pagan magic.

ANALYSIS:

Sperber’s research is fascinating although even he admits that he has not conclusively shown beyond a shadow of a doubt that he discovered lost rabbinic teachings.

Nevertheless, regardless of how one chooses to read Sperber, what we do see and what is abundantly evident is that there were large swathes of common areas of overlap between the early rabbinic position on magic and that of the Greek, Coptic and Gnostic pagan world. 

This muddies the waters and makes it extremely difficult to know the difference between an original Jewish idea and that stemming from the outside pagan magical and mystical community.

Jewish mysticism, as presented today, is a far cry from the original style of mysticism and magic as presented in the older Jewish texts. Today’s mysticism is portrayed as a clean and sophisticated philosophical system of lofty spiritual ideas and concepts - but this wasn’t always the case.

At some point, the system was radically changed from a very raw and folk-rooted magical and superstitious tradition common to the non-Jewish world, to the well-polished theosophy which we find today.

Rambam (1135-1204) was against mysticism and, as we know, presented an alternate system of spiritual rationalism. This began a series of religious controversies which still continue to this day because, despite the theological makeover, we still see an unwillingness to let go of elements of basic theurgy (magic) as was practiced in earlier times.

Thus, for example, the manner in which we teach our children about angels in our contemporary Torah schools, stands in sharp contradistinction to way Rambam understood them. In his view, angels did not manifest as supernatural beings but were rather states of human perception.

Rambam did not believe that the Jewish mystical tradition (as practiced in his day and by extension, certainly thereafter) went all the way back to Sinai. This was to become one of the main points of mystical contention between Maimonides and Nachmanides who did believe that the mystical roots originated at Sinai. [See Who Owned the Early Kabbalah?]

Rambam believed that he knew the origins of Jewish mysticism and that he understood that, to a large extent, it simply reflected some of the common superstitions of the ancient world.

One of the great ironies of the Maimonidean controversies is that it is Rambam himself who the mystics accuse of misrepresenting Judaism by incorporating an overly Greek (Aristotelian) worldview.

FURTHER READING:

Angels in Rabbinic Literature.

Mutually Exclusive Attitudes Towards Kabbalah.

Chasidei Ashkenaz – These Are Not Superstitions.

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[1] I intentionally use the terms ‘magical’ and ‘mystical’ interchangeably with reference to earlier theosophy.  Today the separation between ‘theoretical’ and ‘practical’ mysticism is said to be somewhat more distinct. One could argue, however, that even today, when (innocent) attempts are made to manipulate mystical knowledge or ‘direct’ it, it is no longer in the category of theoretical theosophy but has technically crossed back over to theurgy (magic).

[2] Daniel Sperber, Some Rabbinic Themes in Magical Papyri.

[3] Bibliothèque Nationale, Suppl. grec. no. 574.11.

[4] Sifre Devarim, 311.

[5] Shir haShirim Rabba, 6:8.

[6] Adolf Deissmann, Light from the Ancient East, transl. Strachan (London, 1927), pp. 255-66.

[7] The Septuagint verses read in English translation: “And the Lord stretched out his hand to me and touched my mouth, and the Lord said to me, “Behold, I have given my words to your mouth.”

[8] Sperber also suggests that the original text had been corrupted and should read the “by the seal of Solomon” and not “by the seal which Solomon laid...”

[9] See Gittin 68a. In Arabic lore "Bism Illâh" (=in the name of God) is both on the tongue of Jesus and on the seal of Solomon.  E. A. Wallis Budge, Amulets and Talismans (1961 ed.), p. 70. It is possible that the Muslims begin their sermons with this reference in order to take advantage of the ‘seal’ and thus speak in ‘prophecy’. The 'seal' is known as Khātam Sulaymān and refers to the signet ring of King Solomon.

[10] M. Gaster , The Sword of Moses, (London 1898), p. 39 no. 70.

[11] Sefer ha-Razim, ed. M. Margalioth (Jerusalem 1966), pp. 105-06.

[12] Similar objects are also referenced in Judges 17:5, 2 Kings 23:24 and Zecharia 10:2.

[13] Other reasons are that by possessing these terafim, she could claim her father’s inheritance and also use them as fertility amulets.

[14] Tanchuma, Vayetzei 12.

[15] Bereishit, 31:19.

[16] Shir haShirim, Rabba 7:9.

[17] Zohar, Terumah 2, fol. 175b. 

[18] Tikkunei Zohar, Tikkun 66, fol. 97b.