5 Jan
Thoughts on Genesis 4:7 — Demons at the Door?
The imagery of sin “lurking at the door,” (Genesis 4:7) has puzzled commentaries since ancient times. Modern biblical scholarship approaches the text differently from traditional exegetes, but no less Midrashically. The Hebrew word for “crouching,” רֹבֵץ (röbëtz), is the same as an ancient Babylonian word referring to an evil demon named Rabisu, which awaits its prey along the roadside or at the door of a building (ANET 103c).[1] Sin may thus be pictured here as a demon, waiting to devour Cain like a wild animal attacking its prey; it desires to have him. The older JPS version of Genesis translated the verse much the same way: “Sin is the demon at the door.” E. Fox similarly renders this passage as: “at the entrance is sin, a crouching-demon toward you his lust—but you can rule over him.”[2]
If it is true that the verb רֹבֵץ is indeed related to the Akkadian mythical demon named rabisu, then the following neo-Midrashic interpretation may apply: Cain failed to grasp God’s words properly. God referred to “the demon within him,” who was his real enemy, but Cain instead perceived that his brother was the real “demon” standing at the door waiting to trip him up. Thus, getting rid of his brother would finally vanquish his personal demon. One of the perennial messages of the Cain and Abel story now becomes clear: When a man demonizes his own brother, he ceases to be brother and becomes the “Other”—an enemy who must be vanquished at all costs.
Another extrapolation is possible. Resentment and anger remain embedded in the individual’s psyche until these negative emotions are consciously confronted, released and discarded. The Torah thus teaches us that every person must recognize the inner conflicts that rage within one’s soul; these unconscious forces are capable of becoming demonic influences. In Jungian terms, the Shadow can be a potent ally once its presence is confronted in an honest and straightforward way. However, if a person denies this presence, these dark emotions (psychologically characterized as one’s “inner demons”) may surface unexpectedly and may powerfully overwhelm one’s judgement.
R. Hirsch takes issue with the idea that sin is “lurking” as though it wishes to pounce upon its innocent prey. Quite the contrary! The verb רֹבֵץ invariably connotes “the most peaceful, undisturbed resting, with no incitement to attack or molest. . . . Therefore, “Aptly, is חַטָּאת ‘sin,’ appeal to the senses, here given the masculine gender רֹבֵץ .[3] Its power is not to be underestimated. It has the power to master you, but it remains quietly behind your door.”[4]
Hirsch’s insight is theologically and sound and it has a strong basis in numerous rabbinic texts concerning free will. Sinfulness (or perhaps more specifically— human evil and malevolence) has a power and a presence only if we invite it into our lives. Sinfulness becomes a personal reality whenever we give in to the path of least resistance. When this occurs, the feeling of guilt gradually becomes non-existent. Although its negative influence is incremental and steady, giving in to evil’s temptation produces a state of psychological and spiritual enslavement in its unwitting victims. One Sage likened the evil inclination to a spider-web: if a person continues to yield to temptation, that “spider-thread” becomes like cart ropes; as it is said “Woe to those who tug at guilt with cords of vanity, and at sin as if it were with a cart rope!” (Isa. 5:18).[5]
Another rabbinic source likened the overall process of sin to a slow seduction, which ultimately enslaves its master: “The evil prompting is at first like a wayfarer who comes to the door of a house and, finding that there is no one to stop him goes into the house and becomes a guest. Finding that there is still no one to stop it; the unwanted presence of evil takes liberties and acts as if it were the master.”[6] The more aware we are of it, the more we become conscious of our guilt. On the other hand, the more oblivious we are of our evil, the more unconscious we are of its effects. This same theological point will become even more obvious in the story of Pharaoh and his famous “heart condition”; after misusing his freedom, he loses his capacity to be an autonomous person. In the end Pharaoh becomes like an addict, a slave of his compulsion.
Notes:
[1] Some scholars suggest that the rābiṣu demon, which is alluded here, instigated Cain to commit murder. “On the other hand, the Akkadian sources portray the rābiṣu as a being that attacks its victims, not as one that tempts them to commit sin” (K. v. d., Toorn, B. Becking, and P. W. v. d Horst. Dictionary of Deities and Demons in the Bible [2nd extensively rev. ed.] Leiden; Boston; Grand Rapids, MI.: Brill; Eerdmans, 1999), 683.
[2] Parallels of this belief may also be found in Egyptian mythology concerning the role of Anubis, who was described as a black jackal or as a man with a jackal’s or dog’s head crouching “on his belly.” In one of the better known stories contained in the Book of Going Forth by Day, is a description of the great judgment hall where Thoth and Anubis oversee the weighing of the human heart (ab) on a giant scale. The ab is balanced against a feather, symbol of ma’at (the principle of order and truth), which is the Egyptian term for cosmic and social order and justice. Alongside stands a crocodile monster ready to devour those hearts that are too heavy. If the dead man has lived a life in accordance with ma’at, the deceased is then declared to be maa kheru, “true of voice,” and is acquitted in the court of Osiris, and the soul becomes immortal. If the person is found to have a heavy heart, Anubis leads the person to be eaten by the crocodile deity, who acts as the “devourer of the dead” (E.A. Wallis Budge, The Book of the Dead, Dover, DE: Dover Publishers, 1967, 1899], 26).
[3] Hirsch later goes on to add that man’s control of sin ought to be like a man’s control of his wife so that under his guidance, both will realize their greatest spiritual potential.
[4] The Pentateuch: Translation and Commentary by Samson Raphael Hirsch (New York: Judaica Press, 1971), Vol. I, 102.
[5] BT Sukkah 52a.
[6] Genesis Rabba 22:6.
Posted by Yochanan Lavie on 05.01.12 at 12:50 am
Somehow I think your piece reminds me of Hegel’s Master/Servant paradigm, but I haven’t fully figured it out. The Jungian idea of the Shadow reminds me of the codependent relationship described by Hegel, but with a happier resolution. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Master-slave_dialectic
Posted by admin on 05.01.12 at 12:50 am
I will look it up. I am working on a new article about the Haredi distaste for sun and moon imagery. It’s very interesting. Stay tuned…