Rabbi Michael Leo Samuel

A number of Judaic scholars explain בְּצֶלֶם אֱלֹהִים to mean “in the image of the angels.”[1] However, some medieval rabbinic scholars differ. In the spirit of Midrashic exegesis, R. David Kimchi (1160-1235) and others[2] take a different approach, suggesting that God solicited all of Creation to participate in humankind’s formation; the Creator intended for a human being be a composite of the spiritual and the terrestrial realms. Jewish mystics also tend to see all parts of Creation—from the spiritual heights of the heavenly realm to the nether regions of the earth—converging in humankind.

Modern anthropology illustrates the wisdom of Kimchi’s insight. Humankind also derives many of its basic personality traits not only from God—but from nature.[3] The philosopher, Michael Shermer, observes that morality is not unique to human beings, per se, but can be seen in the animal kingdom as well:

• The following characteristics appear to be shared by humans and other mammals, including and especially the apes, monkeys, dolphins and whales: attachment and bonding, cooperation and mutual aid, sympathy and empathy, direct and indirect reciprocity, altruism and reciprocal altruism, conflict resolution and peacemaking, deception and deception detection, community concern and caring what others think about you, and awareness and response to the social rules of the group. Species differ in the degree to which they express these sentiments, and with our exceptionally large brains (especially the well-developed and highly convoluted cortex) we express most of them in greater degrees than other species. Nevertheless, the fact that such premoral sentiments exist in our nearest evolutionary cousins may be a strong indication of their evolutionary origins. Still, something profound happened in the last 100,000 years that made us—and no other species—moral animals unprecedented in nature.[4]
  

Biologist Lyall Watson also takes a scientific look at the existence of evil, and like Shermer, he sees a mutual affinity between human and animal behavior. Watson once observed a group of young penguins standing on the edge of an ice floe, learning how to swim. Fearful that there might be a leopard seal lurking in the murky waters, the penguins stood their ground and refused to go into the water. As thousands of penguins crowded on the floe, some pushing occurred from the back of the ranks until one of the penguins slipped into the water. After the lone penguin entered the water, a leopard-seal suddenly appeared and ate the small creature.

Reticently, the other penguins backed off until eventually, the group pushed another one of its members into the water. Sure enough, the leopard-seal reappeared and swallowed the second penguin as well. The same process occurred again, and by the fourth time, apparently, the leopard-seal had eaten enough and the fourth penguin was left safe and sound. Afterwards, the entire penguin group jumped in and enjoyed the swimming as if they hadn’t a care in the world. From this incident, Watson deduced that selfishness and cowardice are not just human traits; there are many other species of animals that share these qualities as well.[5]

From a theological perspective, one could say that since God created humanity as a microcosm of the created order, it is only natural that humankind would possess all these traits as part of its moral and evolutionary constitution. Our genetic makeup as a species is hardwired for survival. Driven by a ruthless and determined desire to survive, the success of a species depends upon its ability to reproduce itself, in spite of the odds that face it. Only by understanding the nature of our genetic history, as Watson and Shermer (and others) have formidably argued, will we ever be able to rise above our genetic heritage.

Our ability to see life in synergistic terms is another aspect that makes us different from the rest of Creation. This self-awareness enables us as a species to transcend our own biological evolution by probing the mystery and nature of our being. The actual source of evil does not exclusively derive from the “Fall.” On a deeper level, evil may also emanate from a natural source, which humankind shares with the rest of the animal kingdom.[6] Our will to survive by any means possible, at least in neo- Darwinian terms, may partially explain why human tragedies of the Holocaust and other genocides continue to plague civilization even in the 21^st century.

So, how does one define the uniqueness of the Divine image in an age of scientific awareness and incredulity? How do human beings differ from their evolutionary predecessors? Shermer notes there are several aspects that make human beings different from the rest of the animal world, and they are (1) self-awareness and knowledge that others are also self-aware; (2) possessing the ability for human choice and freedom; (3) awareness of one’s own consciousness; (4) the ability to utilize symbolic logic in evaluating and determining ethical behavior; (5) recognizing the consequences of one’s deeds; (6) taking responsibility for one’s decisions. From a religious perspective, I would add that humankind’s ability to respond to a Higher Authority outside of one’s own psyche is also indicative of a human spiritual vocation. In the final analysis, the ability to experience personal transformation, individuation and transcendence is what makes human beings more Continue Reading

James L. Kugel, a Modern Orthodox rabbinic scholar, demonstrates a willingness to engage and integrate the historical-critical methods of biblical criticism, especially remarkable when considering his theological background and training. Kugel points out several other differences between the P school vis-à-vis the J school, which are deserving of special mention. Speaking as someone who was trained originally in the Hassidic tradition, I can personally attest to the courage and intellectual integrity Kugel possesses. Most Orthodox scholars would never have the strength of religious convictions to express the kind of ideas Kugel champions in his writings. Bravo! The following article is Part I of my con-versation with James Kugel that I wrote in my new commentary on Genesis, “Birth and Rebirth Through Genesis: A Timeless Theological Conversation (Genesis 1-3).”

WARNING: The article is fairly lengthy and probably too technical for people who are unfamiliar with the basic theories of the Documentary Hypothesis. If reading gets too boring, do what I do-skip it! For those who are more of the stout of heart, enjoy!

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According to Kugel, P’s theology contains some of the most “chilling conceptions” the ancients ever had about the Deity:

• It was already noticed that the God of Genesis 2-3 had a more “hands-on” approach to creating the world than the God of chapter 1, attributed by scholars to P. In chapter 1, God simply speaks and things happen—suddenly there is light, suddenly there is a firmament, and so forth. One would not be wrong to characterize this God as somewhat more impersonal. But even this description is more personal than the God revealed in later portions of the priestly text, according to scholars. Recent analysis has in fact highlighted the difference between the way God is depicted in the priestly parts of Genesis and the way He is depicted after that. In P’s part of Leviticus, for example, God does not speak in the first person, “I will do this” or “I have ordered that”—not even to Moses. It is as if P seeks to deny that God can be thought of as a person-like Being, one who can say “I.” So too, P’s God does not personally punish people; punishment just somehow falls on wrongdoers and they are “cut off” (in the passive voice) or otherwise disciplined (P doesn’t say how). Nor does He personally forgive; instead; it is forgiven to the sinner who makes good his infraction. P’s version of the giving of the Torah at Mount Sinai is consistent with this picture; Moses enters the cloud and hears a voice, but the people outside hear nothing at all. All this seems to correspond to something profound in P’s theology.[1]

Clearly, there is scriptural support to Kugel’s theological position. However, closer scrutiny reveals that P’s depiction of the image of God is not really as “impersonal” as Kugel asserts. For example, it is no linguistic fluke that the divine epithet אֱלֹהִים (‘élöhîm) also means “judge,” for God creates the universe according to a template of order and justice. When a human being adheres to the divine harmony that pervades the cosmos through observing the precepts of the Torah, earthly existence literally becomes enlightened and unencumbered. Life is a journey where every human act carries within it the seeds of its own well-being and life destiny. Alternatively, the sinful act unleashes forces that will engulf and self-destruct the wrongdoer, or at the very least, make one’s life difficult to manage. This thought is captured beautifully in Psalm 1:

Happy are those who do not follow the counsel of the wicked,

Nor follow the path of sinners,

Or has joined the company of the impudent;

Rather, the teaching of the Lord is his delight,

God’s teaching they study day and night.

They are like a tree planted beside streams of water,

That yields fruit in its season,

Whose foliage never wither,

And whatever it produces thrives.

But the wicked are different!

They are like the chaff driven by the wind

Therefore, the wicked cannot survive judgment

Nor will sinners be in the assembly of the just

The LORD loves the way of the just

But the path of the wicked leads to ruination

Psalm 1:1-7

Psalm 1 stresses that throughout our existence we must learn to recognize the difference between the wheat from the chaff, and the real from the illusory; we must consciously choose between the experience of being connected with the divine, or the feeling of being spiritually anxious and homeless. Regardless of our individual choices, one thoughtful or thoughtless action impacts the world. This message runs like a stream of consciousness throughout the Genesis narratives.

However, this theological notion is certainly not at all unique to P but is present in the theology of J as well, a good example being the story of the Exodus. When YHWH commands mighty Pharaoh to release the Israelites, the Egyptian monarch soon discovers that there are consequences to his disobedience. Soon, his entire country is plagued by a series of natural disasters that bring misery and suffering to all of his people. Nature, herself, rebels against the rule of tyranny and attempts to set the record straight once and for all. The great spiritual “chain of being” found in the tradition of P, is equally present in the stories attributed to J and not just P, as Kugel claims.

Kugel further asserts that in Leviticus, God does not speak to mortals in the first person.[2] Evidence for such a theory seems inconclusive. The fact remains that there are ample instances where God does speak in the first person, as personal pronouns appear throughout Leviticus, which is the locus classicus of priestly texts.[3] These passages are replete with numerous anthropomorphisms that one would not expect to see if P truly had an aversion for using them. Note, also, that whenever God says, “I will . . . ,” it is always spoken in the context of a dialogue with His covenantal party. There is absolutely nothing “impersonal” about this exchange between God and Moses, or with Aaron and the Israelite people. God is also portrayed by the Holiness Code of Lev. 19 as being intensely personal and concerned with ethical human conduct. Therefore, P appears to be more concerned with the human condition than Kugel is willing to acknowledge.

Still, in Leviticus 26-28, P paints a very different picture. God does announce that He will take it upon Himself to personally afflict wrongdoers (note the repetitive phrase, “I will . . .”) who violate the commandments. Thus, the biblical language illustrated in Leviticus 26-27 is as anthropomorphic in its imagery as any passage found in the J tradition. In each of these passages, the Creator is always depicted as playing an active role in administering retribution whenever it is warranted.

• Prayer, Sacrifice and the Priestly Theological View

One of the most extraordinary claims Kugel makes pertains to the relationship between sacrifice and prayer:

• Perhaps the most striking thing to scholars about the God of P is that people do not pray to Him. The book of Psalms is full of prayers and songs of praise to God, many of them quite ancient, and scholars have established that the majority of these psalms were composed to be recited in God’s “house,” the temple where He was deemed to be present. But a reader of P would never guess that this was so. P describes in great detail the offerings in the temple, but he never says a word about prayers or songs being recited there. In fact, in P people never pray; what good would it do? P’s God is an almost impersonal force. So, too, the ancient festive hymns praising Him are never mentioned in P either . . . . . . In our own modern society, such a vision of God might actually appear comforting to some. After all, without quite putting the thought in words, we live in a world that is based on ruling out a role for the divine in daily life. That would suit P just fine—keep supporting the temple, he would say, and we’ll keep offering the sacrifices. Meanwhile, political upheavals, natural catastrophes, the suffering of the righteous—these are not problems for P’s theology; God is enthroned in splendid isolation. He has no interests in thank-yous, so save your breath.[4]

Kugel assumes that sacrifice did not co-exist with prayer, yet, in Hosea 14:3 we find: וּנְשַׁלְּמָה פָרִים שְׂפָתֵינוּ (û|nüšallümâ pärîm Süpätêºnû) “Instead of bulls we will pay the offering of our lips” (NJPS), which suggests that prayer is the equivalent of sacrifice, or, prayer is a replacement for sacrifice. The Talmud bears this wisdom out: “With what shall we replace the bullocks we formerly offered to You? ‘Our lips,’ in the prayer we pray to thee.[5] Rabbinic tradition attributes the institution of prayer to the patriarchs[6] or to a Mosaic decree and this tradition has remained an important part of the sacrificial cult since its inception.[7] Perhaps it could be said in defense of Kugel’s claim, that the Hosea passage represents an evolutionary change in the theological imagination of ancient Israel; Hosea expresses a thought that is not present in P—at least as it is understood in the Pentateuch. However, closer study of the Leviticus texts does not bear this out. If anything, the imagery of Hosea is predicated upon the sacrificial imagery of Leviticus.

The relationship between sacrifice and confession is stressed in numerous passages in the Levitical literature: (1) With regard to the guilt and trespass offerings (Leviticus 5:5), it is significant that the Torah insists spiritual rehabilitation of the sinner must begin with the verbal act of confession, thus preceding the sacrificial act. Atonement begins within the heart and soul of the worshipper in order for Divine forgiveness to become effective (cf. Psa. 51:16). Confession, per se, is crippled unless it is motivated by one’s sincere feelings of remorse and contrition.[8] (2) The Yom Kippur offering referred to in Leviticus 16:21, establishes confession as a pre-condition for atonement and purification, without which the Yom Kippur offering is useless. (3) In Leviticus 26:39-42, we discover that the act of verbal confession atones for sins that can no longer be expiated through sacrifice—a reality that is caused by the state of Israel’s expulsion from her homeland. It seems difficult to imagine how any kind of atonement offering could be effective without the verbal declaration of confession. (4) Based on the priestly legislation of Numbers 5:7, all acts of fraud, perjury and embezzlement are no less morally defiling than that of leprosy. In many ways, these moral failings ought to be considered far worse since crimes of moral turpitude require an act of will and a denial of conscience; cultic impurity that is due only to physical circumstances pale in comparison. To enter God’s Presence, there must be an effort expended to repair the breaches that undermine social justice and personal trust. To facilitate the spiritual renewal of a sinner, one must make a confession and bring the appropriate atonement offering. In the priestly worldview, those individuals who defile the spiritual integrity of the Tabernacle are a far greater affront to its purity than those suffering from physical ailments such as leprosy, unusual body discharges, and corpse contamination. This same point is also repeatedly stressed throughout the prophetic literature.

From this perspective, the collage of verses referenced above prove that prayer, at least in the form of a confession, existed early on in the priestly traditions of Leviticus and Numbers and played a vital role in the sacrificial cult. The evidence for this assertion contradicts Kugel’s image of an isolated deity who is indifferent to human offerings. Sacrifice in the Tanakh always involves more than just rote ritual; the act of sacrifice adds a sacred dimension to the community and individual, but this sacredness is contingent upon the moral integrity and purity of mind and deed of the person offering the sacrifice. Human morality in the final analysis is, according to P’s theology, the benchmark of the Divine Image referred to in Genesis 1:26.

From an anthropological standpoint it is fair to ask, what primal society didn’t offer prayer along with its sacrifices? Among nearly all the major religions of the world, the relationship between sacrifice as a means of expiation, always presupposes the existence of a Higher Being, whose moral character demands a change in the worshipper’s moral behavior, namely, that individual is personally responsible for the removal of his sin. Human fault may occasionally be traced to a moral lapse, but it can also be due to the failure of properly carrying out a ritual, or may even be the result of an unconscious reason that requires expiation. In terms of the other types of sacrifice, thanksgiving offerings are invariably accompanied with prayers of praise, acknowledgement and gratitude for the goodness the worshipper receives.

• Priestly Theology and the Priestly Benediction

Perhaps one of the most personal and best known ancient priestly prayers[9] that Kugel does not take into consideration is the Priestly Benediction of Numbers 6:22-27:

The Lord spoke to Moses, saying: Speak to Aaron and his sons, saying, “Thus you shall bless the Israelites: You shall say to them,

“The Lord bless you and keep you;

May the Lord make his face to shine upon you, and be gracious to you;

May the Lord lift up his countenance upon you, and give you peace.”

So they shall put my name on the Israelites, and I will bless them.

The visceral power of this prayer is due to the fact it is shamelessly anthropomorphic. While discursive theological language speaks much ado about the nature of God, it cannot begin to describe in words the actual experience of God. Prayer flows from a heart that is alert and open to the miniature synchronicities which disclose God in the world. Biblical theology stresses that even with all its obvious limitations—anthropomorphism is the language of encounter par excellence throughout the Tanakh. Continue Reading

• Lilith as an Archetype of the “Terrible Mother”

The following article comes from my new Neo-Jungian commentary on Genesis, “Birth and Rebirth Through Genesis: A Timeless Theological Conversation (Genesis 1-3).” In this selection, we shall explore other aspects of the Lilith archetype based on the insights of the Jungian psychologist Erich Neumann.

Afterwards we shall look at other portraits of Lilith found in a variety of different literary resources, such as: the Talmud and Zohar, archaeological discoveries—and lastly—from the literature of Jewish feminism, which has transformed Lilith into a modern folk-heroine for women. While these portrayals introduce a definite recasting of the Lilith story, one fascinating feature remains: Lilith is a resilient figure of ancient mythology; over time Lilith continues to receive a new facelift to disguise her personality to a new generation of readers—from rabbis who fantasized about her sexual availability, to feminists who find Lilith’s desire for freedom most compelling. (Note that * are used for paragraph indentations because of the limitations of Word Press word processing)

Jungian psychologist Erich Neumann argues in his psychological study, The Great Mother (2d ed., New York, 1963), that Lilith personifies the archetype of the “Terrible Mother,” while also analogous to the Greek Gorgon and harpies. These mythic figures personify the archetypal image of negativity—that of destroyer—latent in the feminine psyche; as such. Horrified by what they saw, the ancients retold this tragedy in the language of myth. Lilith represents the sinister side of femininity. Neumann shows how this pattern develops cross-culturally:

• And the dark side of the Terrible Female is a symbol for the unconscious. And the dark side of the Terrible Mother takes the form of monsters, whether in Egypt of India, Mexico or Etruria, Bali or Rome. In the myths and tales of all peoples, ages, and countries—and even in the nightmares of our own nights—witches and vampires, ghouls and specters, assail us, all terrifyingly alike. . . . Thus the womb of the earth becomes the deadly devouring maw of the underworld, and beside the fecundated womb and the protecting cave of earth and mountain gapes the abyss of hell, the dark note of the depths, the devouring womb of the grave and of death, of darkness without light, of nothingness. For this woman who generates life and all living things on earth is the same who takes them back into herself, who pursues her victims and captures them with snare and net. Disease, hunger, hardship, ware above all, are her helpers, and among all peoples the goddesses of war and the hunt express man’s experience of life as a exacting blood.

• [1] It is in India that the experience of the Terrible Mother has been given its most grandiose form as Kali, “dark, devouring time, the bone-wreathed Lady of the place of skulls . . .[2] But all this—and it should not be forgotten—is an image not only of the Feminine but particularly and specifically of the Maternal. For in a profound way life and birth are always bound up with death and destruction. That is why this Terrible Mother is ‘Great,’ and this name is also given to Ta-urt, the gravid monster, which is hippopotamus and crocodile, lioness and woman, in one. She too is deadly and protective. There is a frightening likeness to Hathor, the good cow goddess . . .”[3]

Talmudic and Kabbalistic Depictions of Lilith

The Talmud makes ample mention of Lilith’s activities. Lilith is described as a female night-demon whose erotic nature evokes a desire for illicit sexual relationships (succubus). Lilith’s physical attributes are also described in detail; she is depicted as having long hair and wings[4] and the rabbis warn all men not to sleep alone in a house lest Lilith come and seduce them in their dreams (T. B. Shabbat 151b).[5] Lilith is especially popular in the Zohar where she appears as the seductress supreme.[6] In all likelihood the rabbinic stories about Lilith were, in part, intended to prevent young rabbinic scholars from the sins of masturbation and illicit sexual relations which the Zohar equates to the crime of murder. The scholar, Rabbi Joshua Trachtenberg explains:

• As a result of the legend of Adam’s relations with Lilit [sic], although this function was by no means exclusively theirs, the Lilits were most frequently singled out as the demons who embrace sleeping men and cause them to have nocturnal emissions which are the seed of a hybrid progeny. . . . As the demons whose special prey is lying-in women, it was found necessary to adopt an extensive series of protective measures against her. . . . We seem to have here a union of the night demon with the spirit that presides over pregnancy, influenced no doubt by the character of the Babylonian Lamassu, and the lamiae and striga of Greek and Roman folklore.[7]

Trachtenberg’s insight is obviously accurate. According to the Zohar, a man who masturbates in this world will be treated in the next life like one who is worse than a murderer—since he has, in effect, murdered his own seed; in God’s eyes he is considered the most reprehensible kind of human being.[8] In a strange way, the Zohar sees Lilith as the guardian of family purity. Any couple failing to observe the laws governing sexual abstention risks incurring her wrath. Even making love by candle light can result in Lilith causing children to become epileptic and risk being pursued and killed by Lilith.[9] One may deduce from the Zohar’s condemnation that the fate of young men or children dying is a talionic punishment for having spilled seed. The proof text for this is the story of Er and Onan, who died rather than give their seed to Tamar (Gen. 38:1-10).[10]

Archaeology has discovered special incantation bowls that were used to help a person seek protection from “demons, demonesses, lilis, liliths, plagues, evil satanic beings and all evil tormentors that appear.”

• As one scholar notes, “The liliths were but one class of an elaborate taxonomy of malevolent spiritual beings. The sexually aggressive character of the lilis and liliths accounts for the fact that exorcistic texts are often expressed in formal divorce terminology, such as this text (No. 35, Isbell): ‘Again, bound and seized are you, evil spirit and powerful lilith. . . . But depart from their presence and take your divorce and your separation and your letter of dismissal. [I have written against] you as demons write divorces for their wives and furthermore, they do not return [to them].’”[11]

 

• Recasting Lilith—A Bad Girl Becomes Good—Judith Plaskow’s New Midrash

With the advent of women’s liberation movements, Lilith has undergone a dramatic make-over; now, Lilith is widely regarded by many women as a heroine who is the first woman to insist on having an egalitarian relationship with her mate. Judith Plaskow blames Adam for the expulsion of Lilith from her home, which gave rise to men’s subjugation of women as we have witnessed throughout history. Different from the story recounted earlier from The Alphabet of Ben Sira, Plaskow weaves a short neo-midrashic story about Lilith’s moral rehabilitation, entitled “Applesource”:

• In the beginning, the Lord God formed Adam and Lilith from the dust of the ground and breathed into their nostrils the breath of life. Created from the same source, both having been formed from the ground, they were equal in all ways. Adam, being a man, didn’t like this situation, and he looked for ways to change it. He said, “I’ll have my figs now, Lilith,” ordering her to wait on him, and he tried to leave her the daily tasks of life in the garden. But Lilith wasn’t one to take any nonsense; she picked herself up, uttered God’s holy name, and flew away. “Well, now, Lord,” complained Adam, that uppity woman you sent me has gone and deserted me.” The Lord, inclined to be sympathetic, sent His messengers after Lilith, telling her to shape up and return to Adam or face dire punishment. She, however, preferring anything to living with Adam, decided to stay where she was. And so God, after more careful consideration this time, caused a deep sleep to fall on Adam and out of one of his ribs created for him a second companion, Eve . . . Meanwhile Lilith, all alone, attempted from time to time to rejoin the human community in the garden. After her first fruitless attempt to breach its walls, Adam worked hard to build them stronger, even getting Eve to help him. He told her fearsome stories of the demon Lilith who threatens women in childbirth and steals children from their cradles in the middle of the night. The second time Lilith came, she stormed the garden’s main gate, and a great battle ensued between her and Adam in which she was finally defeated. This time, however, before Lilith got away, Eve got a glimpse of her and saw she was a woman like herself . . . One day, after many months of strange and disturbing thoughts, Eve, wandering around the edge of the garden, noticed a young apple tree she and Adam had planted, and saw that one of its branches stretched over the garden wall. Spontaneously, she tried to climb it, and struggling to the top, swung herself over the wall.

• She did not wander long on the other side before she met the one she had come to find, for Lilith was waiting. At first sight of her, Eve remembered the tales of Adam and was frightened, but Lilith understood and greeted her kindly. “Who are you?” they asked each other, “What is your story?” And they sat and spoke together, of the past and then of the future. They talked for many hours, not once, but many times. They taught each other many things, and told each other stories, and laughed together, and cried, over and over, till the bond of sisterhood grew between them. Meanwhile, back in the garden, Adam was puzzled by Eve’s comings and goings, and disturbed by what he sensed to be her new attitude toward him. He talked to God about it, and God, having His own problems with Adam and a somewhat broader perspective, was able to help out a little—but He was confused, too. Something had failed to go according to plan. As in the days of Abraham, He needed counsel from His children. “I am who I am,” thought God, “But I must become who I will become.”[12] Continue Reading